Melbourne House Part 39

OBEDIENCE.

Daisy had gone but a little way out of the village, when she suddenly pulled up. Sam was at the side of the chaise immediately.

"Sam, I want a gla.s.s of water; where can I get it?"

"Guess at Mrs. Benoit's, Miss Daisy. There's a fine spring of cold water."

"Who is Mrs. Benoit?"

"It's Juanita ? Miss Daisy has heard of Mrs. St. Leonard's Juanita. Mr. St. Leonard built a house for her, ? just the other side o' them trees."

Daisy knew who Juanita was. She had been brought from the West Indies by the mother of one of the gentlemen who lived in the neighbourhood; and upon the death of her mistress had been established in a little house of her own. Daisy judged that she would be quite safe in going there for water.

"If I turn into that road, can I go home round that way, Sam?"

"You can, Miss Daisy; but it's a ways longer."

"I like that;" said Daisy.

She turned up the road that led behind the trees, and presently saw Juanita's cottage. A little grey stone house, low-roofed, standing at the very edge of a piece of woodland, and some little distance back from the road. Daisy saw the old woman sitting on her doorstep. A gra.s.sy slope stretched down from the house to the road. The sun shone up against the grey cottage.

"You take care of Loupe, Sam, and I'll go in," said Daisy ? a plan which probably disappointed Sam, but Daisy did not know that. She went through a little wicket and up the path.

Juanita did not look like the blacks she had been accustomed to see. Black she was not, but of a fine olive dark skin; and though certainly old, she was still straight and tall, and very fine in her appearance and bearing. Daisy could see this but partially while Juanita was sitting at her door; she was more struck by the very grave look her face wore just then. It was not turned towards her little visitor, and Daisy got the impression that she must be feeling unhappy.

Juanita rose, however, with great willingness to get the water, and asked Daisy into her house. Daisy dared not, after her father's prohibition, go in, and she stood at the door till the water was brought. Then, with a strong feeling of kindness towards the lonely and perhaps sorrowful old woman, and remembering to "do good as she had opportunity," Daisy suddenly offered her the beautiful rose-branch.

"Does the lady think I want pay for a gla.s.s of water?" said the woman, with a smile that was extremely winning.

"No," said Daisy, ? "but I thought, perhaps, you liked flowers."

"There's another sort of flowers that the Lord likes," ? said the woman looking at her; "they be His little children."

Daisy's heart was tender, and there was something in Juanita's face that won her confidence. Instead of turning away, she folded her hands unconsciously, and said, more wistfully than she knew, "I want to be one!"

"Does my little lady know the Lord Jesus?" said the woman, with a bright light coming into her eye.

Daisy's heart was sore as well as tender; the question touched two things, ? the joy that she did know Him, and the trouble that following Him had cost her; she burst into tears. Then, turning away, and with a great effort throwing off the tears, she went back to the chaise. There stood Sam, with the pony's foot in his hand.

"Miss Daisy, this fellow has kicked one of his shoes half off; he can't go home so; it's hanging. Could Miss Daisy stop a little while at Mrs. Benoit's, I could take the pony to the blacksmith's ? it ain't but a very little ways off ? and get it put on, in a few minutes."

"Well, do, do, Sam," ? said Daisy after she had looked at the matter; and while he took Loupe out of harness, she turned back to Juanita.

"What is gone wrong?" said the old woman.

"Nothing is wrong," said Daisy; "only the pony has got his shoe off, and the boy is taking him to the blacksmith's."

"Will my lady come into my house?"

"No, thank you. I'll stay here."

The woman brought out a low chair for her, and set it on the gra.s.s; and took herself her former place on the sill of the door. She looked earnestly at Daisy; and Daisy on her part had noticed the fine carriage of the woman, her pleasant features, and the bright handkerchief which made her turban. Through the open door she could see the neat order of the room within, and her eye caught some sh.e.l.ls arranged on shelves; but Daisy did not like to look, and she turned away. She met Juanita's eye; she felt she must speak.

"This is a pleasant place."

"Why does my lady think so?"

"It looks pleasant," said Daisy. "It is nice. The gra.s.s is pretty, and the trees; and it is a pretty little house, I think."

The woman smiled. "I think it be a palace of beauty," she said, ? "for Jesus is here."

Daisy looked, a little wondering but entirely respectful; the whole aspect of Juanita commanded that.

"Does my little lady know, that the presence of the King makes a poor house fine?"

"I don't quite know what you mean," said Daisy, humbly.

"Does my little lady know that the Lord Jesus loves His people?"

"Yes," said Daisy, ? "I know it."

"But she know not much. When a poor heart say any time, 'Lord, I am all Thine!' ? then the Lord comes to that heart, and He makes it the house of a King ? for He comes there Himself. And where Jesus is, ? all is glory. Do not my little lady read that in the Bible?"

"I don't remember" ? said Daisy.

The woman got up, went into the cottage, and brought out a large-print Testament which she put into Daisy's hands, open at the fourteenth chapter of John. Daisy read with curious interest the words to which she was directed: "Jesus answered and said unto him, If a man love Me, he will keep My words: and My Father will love him, and We will come unto him and make Our abode with him."

Daisy looked at the promise, with her heart beating under troublesome doubts; when the voice of Juanita broke in upon them by saying, tenderly, "Does my little lady keep the Lord's words?"

Down went the book, and the tears rushed into Daisy's eyes.

"Don't call me so," she cried, ? "I am Daisy Randolph; ? and I do want to keep His words! ? and ? I don't know how."

"What troubles my love?" said the woman, in the low tones of a voice that was always sweet. "Do not she know what the words of the Lord be?"

"Yes," ? said Daisy, hardly able to make herself understood, ?

"but ?"

"Then do 'em," said Juanita. "The way is straight. What He say, do."

"But suppose ?" said Daisy.

"Suppose what? What do my love suppose?"

"Wouldn't it make it right, if it would do a great deal of good?"

This confused sentence Juanita pondered over. "What does my love mean?"