Melbourne House, Volume 2 | Page 7

burden of her displeasure fall on Mrs. Gary. She was bitterly hurt at her mother's action, however; doubly hurt, at the loss and at the manner of it; and the slow tears kept coming and rolling down to wet her pillow. For a while Daisy pondered the means of getting her treasure back; by a word to her father, or a representation to Preston, or by boldly demanding the spoon of Mrs. Gary herself. Daisy felt as if she must have it back somehow. But any of these ways, even if successful, would make trouble; a great deal of trouble; and it would be, Daisy had an inward consciousness all the time, unworthy of a Christian child. But she felt angry with Mrs. Gary, and as if she could never forgive her. Daisy, though not passionate, was persistent in her character; her gentleness covered a not exactly yielding disposition.
In the midst of all this, Dr. Sandford came in, fresh from his morning's drive, and sat down by the bedside.
"Do you want to go down stairs, Daisy?"
"No, sir; I think not."
"Not? What's the matter? Are you of a misanthropical turn of mind?"
"I do not know. Dr. Sandford; I do not know what that is."
"Well, now you have got back to human society and fellowship, don't you want to enjoy it?"
"I should not enjoy it to-day."
"If I do not see you down stairs, you will have to stay up till another day."
"Yes, sir."
"What is the matter, Daisy?" And now the doctor bent over and looked hard in her face. The wet spot in her pillow no doubt he had seen long ago. Daisy's eyes drooped.
"Look up here, and give me an answer."
"I can't very well tell you, sir."
"Why do you not want to go down stairs?"
"Because, Dr. Sandford, I am not good."
"Not good!" said he. "I thought you always were good."
Daisy's eye reddened and her lip twitched. He saw that there was some uncommon disturbance on hand; and there was the wet spot on the pillow.
"Something has troubled you," he said; and with that he laid his hand--it was a fresh, cool hand, pleasant to feel--upon Daisy's forehead, and kept it there; sometimes looking at her, and as often looking somewhere else. It was very agreeable to Daisy; she did not stir her head from under the hand; and gradually she quieted down, and her nerves, which were all ruffled, like a bird's feathers, grew smooth. There were no lines in her forehead when Dr. Sandford took away his hand again.
"Now tell me," said he smiling, "what was the matter? Shall I take you down to the library now?"
"O no, sir, if you please. Please do not, Dr. Sandford! I am not ready, I am not fit."
"Not fit?" said the doctor, eyeing her, and very much at a loss what to make of this. "Do you mean that you want to be more finely attired before you make your appearance in company?"
"No, sir," said Daisy. It struck her with a great sorrow, his saying this. She knew her outward attire was faultless; bright and nice as new silver was every bit of Daisy's dress, from her smooth hair to her neat little slippers; it was all white and clean. But the inward adorning which God looked at--in what a state was that? Daisy felt a double pang; that Dr. Sandford should so far mistake her as to think her full of silly vanity, and on the other hand, that he should so much, too well judge of her as to think her always good. The witnessing tinge came about Daisy's eyelids again.
"Dr. Sandford, if people tell you their private affairs, of course it is confidential?"
"Of course," said the doctor, without moving a muscle.
"Then I will tell you what I meant. I am not good. I am dressed well enough; but I have anger in my heart."
Dr. Sandford did not say how much he was surprised; for Daisy looked as meek as a lamb. But he was a philosopher, and interested.
"Then I am sure you have had reason, Daisy."
"I think I had," said Daisy, but without looking less sorrowful.
"Do you not consider that one has a right to be angry when one has a reason?"
"But one shouldn't stay angry," said the child, folding her hands over her heart.
"How are you going to help it, Daisy?"
"There is a way, Dr. Sandford."
"Is there? But you see I am in the dark now. I am as much abroad about that, as you were about a journey of three hundred years to the sun. When I am angry I never find that I can help it. I can maybe help using my horsewhip; but I cannot manage the anger."
"No--" said Daisy, looking up at him, and thinking how terrible it must be to have to encounter anger