Melbourne House Part 140

Her words were inexpressibly tender and sorrowful. The doctor was unrelenting.

"Your mother desired it."

"Did mamma? ?"

"Yes; she wished me to carry you home with me. Come, Daisy! It is hard, but it is less hard after all than it would be for you to wander about here; and much better."

Daisy in her extremity sunk her head on the doctor's shoulder, and so remained, motionless, for more minutes than he had to spare. Yet he was still too, and waited. Then he spoke to her again.

"I will go," said Daisy.

"You wanted something first?"

"I did not want anything but to change my gloves. It is no matter."

Very glad to have gained his point, the doctor went off with his charge; drove her very fast to his own home, and there left her in Mrs. Sandford's care; while he drove off furiously again to see another patient before he returned to Melbourne.

It was a long day after that to Daisy; and so it was to Mrs.

Sandford. Nora Dinwiddie was no longer with her; there was n.o.body to be a distraction or a pleasure to the grave little child who went about with such a weird stillness, or sat motionless with such unchildlike quiet. Mrs. Sandford did not know what to do; but indeed nothing could be done with Daisy.

She could not be amused or happy; she did not wish Nora were there; she could only keep patient and wait, and wait, with a sore, straining heart, while the hours pa.s.sed, and Dr.

Sandford did not come, and she had no tidings. Was she patient? It seemed to Daisy that her heart would burst with impatience; or rather with its eager longing to know how things were at home, and to get some relief. The hours of the day went by, and no relief came. Dr. Sandford did not return.

Daisy took it as no good omen.

It was hard to sit at the dinner-table and have Mr. and Mrs.

Sandford showing her kindness, while her heart was breaking.

It was hard to be quiet and still, and answer politely and make no trouble for her entertainers. It was hard; but Daisy did it. It was hard to eat too; and that Daisy could not do.

It was impossible.

"Mustn't be cast down," said Mr. Sandford. He was one of the people who look as if they never could be. Black whiskers and a round face sometimes have that kind of look. "Mustn't be cast down! No need. Everybody gets a tumble from horseback once or twice in his life. I've had it seven times. Not pleasant; but it don't hurt you much, nine times in ten."

"Hush, Mr. Sandford," said his wife. "Daisy cannot feel about it just as you do."

"Never been thrown yet herself, eh! Give her one of those peaches, my dear ? she will like that better than meats to- day. Eat one of my red-cheeked peaches, Daisy; and tell me whether you have any so good at Melbourne. I don't believe it."

Daisy peeled her peach. It was all she could bear to do. She peeled it carefully and slowly; there never was a peach so long in paring; for it was hardly more than finished when they rose from table. She had tried to taste it too; that was all; the taste never reached her consciousness. Mrs. Sandford knew better than her husband, and let her alone.

Daisy could think of nothing now but to watch for the doctor; and to do it with the most comfort and the best chance she placed herself on the steps of the piazza, sitting down on the uppermost step. It was a fair evening, warm and mild; and Mrs.

Sandford sitting in her drawing-room with the windows open was but a few feet from Daisy, and could observe her. She did so very often, with a sorrowful eye. Daisy's att.i.tude bespoke her intentness; the child's heart was wound up to such a pitch of expectation that eye and ear were for nothing else. She sat bending both upon the road by which she looked for the doctor to come; her little figure did not stir; her head rested slightly on her hand with a droop that spoke of weariness or of weakness. So she sat looking down the road, and the sweet October light was all over her and all around her. Mrs.

Sandford watched her, till the light lost its brightness and grew fair and faint, and then began to grow dim. Daisy sat still, and Mrs. Sandford looked at her, till a step within the room drew her attention on that side.

"Why, there you are!" said the lady ? "come the other way.

What news?"

"I have no news."

"Yes, but how is Mr. Randolph?" The lady had dropped her voice very low.

"He is sensible."

"Sensible!" Mrs. Sandford said with a startled look; but then drawing the doctor silently to her side, she pointed to the watching, anxious little figure there on the steps. It did not need that Dr. Sandford should speak her name. Daisy had perfectly well heard and understood the words that had pa.s.sed; and now she rose up slowly and came towards the doctor, who stepped out to meet her.

"Well, Daisy ? have you been looking for me?" he said. But something in the little upturned face admonished him that no light words could be borne. He sat down and took her hand.

"Your father looks better than he did this morning; but he feels badly yet after his fall."

Daisy looked at him and was silent a moment.

"Will they send for me home?"

"Not to-night, I think. Mrs. Randolph thought better that you should stay here. Can't you do it contentedly?"

Daisy made no audible answer; her lip quivered a very little; it did not belie the singular patience which sat upon her brow. Her hand lay yet in the doctor's; he held it a little closer, and drew the child affectionately to his side, keeping her there while he talked with Mrs. Sandford upon other subjects; for he said no more about Melbourne. Still while he talked he kept his arm round Daisy, and when tea was brought he hardly let her go. But tea was not much more to Daisy than dinner had been; and when Mrs. Sandford offered to show her to her room if she desired it, Daisy accepted the offer at once.

Mrs. Sandford herself wished to supply the place of June, and would have done everything for her little guest if she could have been permitted. Daisy negatived all such proposals. She could do everything for herself, she said; she wanted no help.

A bag of things had been packed for her by June and brought in the doctor's gig. Daisy was somehow sorry to see them; they looked like preparations for staying.

"We will send for June to-morrow, Daisy, if your mamma will leave you still with me."

"Oh, I shall go home to-morrow ? I hope," said Daisy. "I hope ?" she repeated, humbly.

"Yes, I hope so," said Mrs. Sandford. She kissed Daisy and went away. It was all Daisy wanted, to be alone. The October night was mild; she went to the window; one of the windows, which looked out upon the gra.s.s and trees of the courtyard, now lighted by a faint moon. Daisy sunk down on her knees there; the sky and the stars were more homelike than anything else; and she felt so strange, so miserable, as her little heart had never known anything like before. She knew well enough what it all meant, her mother's sending her away from home, her father's not being able to bear any disturbance.

Speak as lightly, look as calmly as they would, she knew what was the meaning underneath people's faces and voices. Her father had been very much hurt; quite well Daisy was a.s.sured of that. He was too ill to see her, or too ill for her mother to like her to see him. Daisy knelt down; she remembered she had a Father in heaven, but it seemed at first as if she was too broken-hearted to pray. Yet down there, through the still moonlight, she remembered His eye could see her, and she knew He had not forgotten His little child. Daisy never heard her door open; but it did once, and some time after it did again.

"I do not know what to do ?" said Mrs. Sandford, downstairs.

There the lamps made a second bright day; and the two gentlemen were busy over the table with newspapers and books.

Both of them looked up, at the sound of her perplexed voice.

"That child, ?" said Mrs. Sandford. "She is not in bed yet."

The lady stood by the table; she had just come from Daisy's room.

"What is she doing?" her husband asked.

"I don't know. She is kneeling by the open window. She was there an hour ago, and she is there yet. She has not moved since."

"She has fallen asleep ?" suggested Mr. Sandford. "I should say, wake her up."

"She is too wide awake now. She is lifting her little face to the sky, in a way that breaks my heart. And there she has been, this hour and more."

"Have some supper directly, and call her down, ?" was the second suggestion of the master of the house. "It will be supper-time soon. Here ? it's some time after nine."

"Grant, what is the matter with Mr. Randolph? Is it very serious?"

"Mrs. Randolph thinks so, I believe. Have you spoken to Daisy?"

"No, and I cannot. Unless I had good news to carry to her."

"Where is she?" said the doctor, getting up.