Daisy in the Field | Page 8

very warm June day. I
remember now the cool feeling of her marble hall. Miss Cardigan sat in
her matted parlour, busy as always, looking quiet and comfortable in a
white muslin wrapper, and neat as a pin; also an invariable thing.
Something in the peaceful, settled, calm air of the place impressed me,
I suppose, with a feeling of contrast; of an uninvaded, undisturbed
domain, which changes were not threatening. I had gone over the street
hurriedly; I walked into the room with a slow step.
"Daisy! my dear child!" Miss Cardigan exclaimed, - "is it you? and is
all over? I see it is. Just sit down, and you shall have some strawberries;
you look tired, my love."
I sat still, and waited, and eat my strawberries.
"Miss Cardigan," I said at length, "what is Christian's address in
Washington?"
"In Washington? I don't know. Did he never give it to you?"
"No, ma'am; nothing except 'Washington.' "
"I suppose that is enough. Haven't you written to him?"
"I have written once. - I have been thinking, Miss Cardigan, that I must
stop the writing."
"Altogether?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"His writing too?"
"Yes. My father and mother do not know - and I cannot ask them, - and
-"

"You are right," Miss Cardigan answered sorrowfully. "And yet you
will let your engagement stand, Daisy?"
"I cannot break my part of it, ma'am. I - nor they - cannot change what
is, and what has been done. The future is in their hands - or in God's
hands, rather."
Miss Cardigan sighed.
"And what then, dear, about the address?" she said.
"Because, Miss Cardigan, I am going there. I am going to Washington."
She stopped her work to look at me.
"I am going Saturday. My guardian has sent for me. It is very strange,
Miss Cardigan; but I must go; and I thought I would like to know in
what part of the city Christian is."
"Will you write to let him know? You will, of course. Write just as
usual, child; the letter will reach him."
"Why should I, Miss Cardigan? what use? He cannot come to see me."
"Why not?"
"I would not dare. My guardian watches me well; and he would not like
my seeing Mr. Thorold of all people."
"Why not? Ah, child! there is a rose leaf in each of your cheeks this
minute. That tells the story. Then, Daisy, you had better not go to
Washington. Christian will not bear that very well; and it will be hard
for you too. My dear, it will be hard."
"Yes, ma'am - and hard not to go. I shall go, Miss Cardigan."
"And mayn't I tell him you are there?"
"No, ma'am. If I can, I will let him know somehow."

But a sense of the difficulties, dangers, doubts and uncertainties,
thronging my way, therewith pressed heavily upon me; and I sat in
silence and weariness, while Miss Cardigan put up her work and
ordered tea, and finally went off to her greenhouse. Presently she came
back with a rose in her hand and held it under my face. It was a full
dewy sweet damask rose, rich and fragrant and lovely as such a rose
can be. I took it and looked at it.
"Do ye mind," my old friend said, "how the flowers spoke to you and
brought you messages, when Daisy was a child yet and first came to
see me?"
"I know - I remember," I said.
"Does that no tell you something?"
"What does it tell me?" I said, scarce able to command my words,
under the power of association, or memory, which was laying its
message on my heart, though it was a flower that bore the message.
Inanimate things do that sometimes - I think, often, - when the ear of
the soul is open to hear them; and flowers in especial are the Lord's
messengers and speak what He gives them. I knew this one spoke to
me.
"Listen, and see," Miss Cardigan said.
I looked, and as I looked, these words came up in my mind -
"Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?"
"The Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon Him."
And still as I looked, I remembered, - "In all their afflictions He was
afflicted;" - and, "My God shall supply all your need, according to His
riches in glory by Christ Jesus." The words came into my head; but
apart from the words, the rose seemed to say all these things to me.
People who never heard flowers talk would think me fanciful, I
suppose.

"And you will go to that city of trouble, and you will not let Christian
know?" Miss Cardigan said after a while.
"Yes ma'am. -