Daisy in the Field Part 45

"It certainly is worth coming for," said papa. "Our journey realises more than all I had hoped from it, Daisy."

"I am so glad, papa!"

"But you, Daisy, how is it with you? You seem to me a little, and not a little, _distraite_."

"I have so much to think of, papa."

"More than I have?"

"Why, yes, papa," I said, half laughing. "I think so."

"You must have fields of speculation unknown to me, Daisy."

"Yes, papa. Some time I want to talk to you about them."

"Isn't now a good time?" said papa, carelessly.

I was silent a while, thinking how to begin. It was a good time, I knew, and I dared not let it pa.s.s. I had been waiting till Mr. Dinwiddie should have left us and papa and I be quite alone; and he was to join us again as soon as we started on our northward journey. Now was my best opportunity. All the more, for knowing that, my heart beat.

"Papa," I began, "may I ask you a few questions, the better to come at what I want?"

"Certainly. Your questions, Daisy, I have always found stimulating."

"Then first, what is it you think of most, in looking over from this place to Jerusalem?"

"Of course," said papa, rousing himself, "the prominent thought must be the wonderful scene that was acted there eighteen hundred years ago; not the course of history before or after. Is that what you mean?"

"I mean that, papa. I mean the death of Christ. Papa, what was that for?"

"Why, as I understand it, Daisy, it was a satisfaction to the justice of G.o.d for the sins of the world. Are you going to put me through a course of theology, Daisy?"

"No, papa. But do you think it was for all the world, or only for a part of them?"

"For all, of course. The Bible words I take to be quite clear on that point, even if it were possible that it should have been otherwise."

"Then it was for you and me, papa?"

"Yes."

"And for those ignorant Moslems that live in the city now?"

"Yes, of course it was; though I think they will not have much good of it, Daisy."

"Never mind that, papa. Then it was for my old June, and for Maria and Darry and Pete and Margaret, and all the rest of our people at Magnolia?"

"Yes," said papa, rousing up a little. I did not look at him.

"Papa, don't you think the Lord Jesus loves the people for whom He died?"

"Certainly. It is inconceivable that He should have died for them if He did not love them. Though that is also a great mystery to me, Daisy."

"Papa, don't you think that, having died for them, He holds them precious?"

"I suppose so," said papa slowly.

"Every one?"

"Yes."

"Do you think He loves one man less than another because his skin is darker?"

"Certainly not, Daisy."

"Then papa - should we?"

"I do not know that we do," papa said, after a pause.

"Papa, think. What would you say to our, or anybody's, holding white men in slavery - making them work without wages - and forcing them to obey under the lash?"

"They are an inferior race, Daisy," papa answered again after a pause. His voice showed he did not enjoy the conversation; but it was needful for me to go on.

"Papa, they have been kept down. But suppose they were inferior, - since Christ died for them, does He not love them?"

"I have no doubt of it."

"Then, papa, what will He say to us, for keeping those whom He loves and died for, at arms' length or under our feet? and what will He say to us for keeping them out of the good He died to give them?"

"We do not, Daisy! They have their religious privileges."

"Papa, I have lived among them as you never did. They may not meet together to pray, on pain of the lash. They cannot have Bibles, for they are not allowed to read. They have no family life; for husbands and wives and parents and children are parted and torn from each other at the will or for the interest of their owners. They live like the animals."

"Not on my estates!" said papa, rousing himself again. "There is no selling and buying of the people there."

"Pete's wife was forcibly taken from him, papa, and then sent South."

"By whom?"

"By Edwards. And the rest of the hands were in mortal fear of him; utterly cowed. They dared not move without his pleasure."

"Abuses," papa muttered; - "nothing to do with the system."

"What must the system be where such things are possible? where one such thing is possible? And oh, papa, they suffer! there is no such thing as real comfort of life; there is no scope or liberty for the smallest upward tendency. Nothing is their own, not their own time; they have no chance to be anything but inferior."

"They have all the essentials of comfortable living, and they are comfortable," said my father.

"Papa, they do not think so."

"Few people do think so," said papa. "It is a vice of humanity."