Melbourne House Part 52

"That will be better. Is my love thirsty again?"

"Very thirsty! I wish I had some oranges."

"They would be good," said Juanita, bringing another gla.s.s of jelly and water for Daisy.

And then she sat down, and sang softly; hymns in French and English; sweet and low, and soothing in their simple and sometimes wild melody. They soothed Daisy. After a time, wearied and exhausted by all her long day of trial, she did forget pain in slumber. The eyelids closed, and Juanita's stealthy examination found that quiet soft breathing was really proving her fast asleep. The singing ceased; and for a while nothing was to be heard in the cottage but the low rush and rustle of the wind which had driven away the storm clouds, and the patter of a dislodged rain drop or two that were shaken from the leaves. Daisy's breathing was too soft to be heard, and Juanita almost held her own lest it should be too soon disturbed. But the pain of the hurt foot and ankle would not suffer a long sleep. Daisy waked up with a sigh.

"Are you there, Juanita?"

"I am here."

"What o'clock is it?"

Juanita drew back the curtain of the window by Daisy's couch, that the moonlight might fall in and show the face of the little clock. It was midnight.

"It won't be morning in a great while, will it?" said Daisy.

"Does my lady want morning?"

"My foot hurts me dreadfully, Juanita ? the pain shoots and jumps all up my leg. Couldn't you do something to it?"

"My dear love, it will be better by and by ? there is no help now for it, unless the Lord sends sleep. I s'pose it must ache. Can't Miss Daisy remember who sends the pain?"

The child answered her with a curious smile. It was not strange to the black woman; she read it, and knew it, and had seen such before; to anybody that had not, how strange would have seemed the lovingness that spread over all Daisy's features, and brightened on her brow as much as on her lips.

It was not patient submission; it was the light of joyful affection s.h.i.+ning out over all Daisy's little pale face.

"Ay, it isn't hard with Jesus," said the black woman with a satisfied face. "And the Lord is here now, ? praise his name!"

"Juanita ? I have been very happy to-day," said Daisy.

"Ay? how has that been, my love?"

"Because I knew He was taking care of me. It seemed that Jesus was so near me all the time. Even all that dreadful ride."

"The Lord is good!" said the black woman, with strong expression. "But my love must not talk."

She began to sing again. ?

"Oh, what shall I do, my Saviour to praise, So faithful and true, so plenteous in grace.

So good to deliver, so strong to redeem The weakest believer that hangs upon him."

"Oh, that's good, Juanita!" said Daisy. "Hus.h.!.+ ? Juanita, it is very late for anybody to be out riding!"

"Who is out riding, Miss Daisy?"

"I don't know ? I hear a horse's feet. Don't you hear. ?

there!"

"It's some young gentleman, maybe, going home, from a dinner- party."

"Don't draw the curtain, Juanita, please! I like it so, I can look out. The moonlight is nice. Somebody is very late, going home from a dinner party."

"They often be. Miss Daisy, the moonlight will hinder you sleeping, I am afraid."

"I can't sleep. It's so good to look out! Juanita ? there's that horse's feet, stopping just here."

Juanita went to her door, and perceived that Daisy spoke truth. Somebody down at her little wicket had dismounted, and was fastening his horse to the fence. Then a figure came up the walk in the moonlight.

"Juanita!" cried Daisy, with an accent of joy, though she could not see the figure from where she lay, ? "it's papa!"

"Is she asleep?" said the voice of Mr. Randolph the next minute softly.

"No, sir. She knows it's you, sir. Will his honour walk in?"

Mr. Randolph, with a gentle footfall, came in and stood by the side of the couch.

"Daisy ? my poor little Daisy!" ? he said.

"Papa! ?"

This one word was rich in expression; joy and love so filled it. Daisy added nothing more. She put her arms round her father's neck as he stooped his lips to her face, held him fast and returned his kisses.

"Cannot you sleep?" The question was very tenderly put.

"I did sleep, papa."

"I did not wake you?"

"No, papa. I was awake, looking at the moonlight."

"Pain would not let you sleep, my poor darling?"

The sympathy was a little too trying. Tears started to the child's eyes. She said with a most gentle, loving accent, "I don't mind, papa. It will be better by and by. I am very happy."

An indignant question as to the happiness which had been so rudely shaken, was on Mr. Randolph's lips. He remembered Daisy must not be excited; nevertheless, he wondered, for he saw the child's eyes full, and knew that the brow was drawn with pain; and the poor little thin face was as white as a sheet. What did she mean by talking about being happy?

"Daisy, I have brought you some oranges."

"Thank you, papa! ? May I have one now?"

Silently, and almost sternly, Mr. Randolph stood and pared the orange with a fruit knife ? he had thought to bring that too ?

and fed Daisy with it, bit by bit. It was pleasant and novel to Daisy to have her father serve her so; generally others had done it when there had been occasion. Mr. Randolph did it nicely, while his thoughts worked.

"What are you going to do to-night, papa?" she said, when the orange was finished and he stood looking at her.

"Stay here with you."