Daisy in the Field

"Daisy doesnot care about all these things. Why should she? To see and toconquer are the same thing with her, whatever becomes of yourSouthern and Northern camps and armies."

  "Indeed I do care," I said.

  "For receptions at the White House? - or military reviews? -or parades, or encampments? Confess, Daisy."

  "Yes, I care," I said. "I care about some of these things."

  "I am glad to hear it," said Mrs. Sandford. "I really thought,Daisy, you were superior to them all. Why, child, you havedone nothing but meditate, in the gravest manner, ever sincewe took seats in the cars this morning. I was thinking thatnothing but cabinet ministers would interest you."

  This would not do. I roused myself and smiled.

  "What do you think of your ward?" said Mrs. Sandfordpointedly.

  "I think more of her guardian," said the doctor somewhatdryly.

  "How soon are you going to send Daisy to Europe?"

  "According to orders, just as soon as I can satisfy myselfwith a good opportunity. I wish you would go."

  "Meanwhile, it is a very good thing that she should come here.It will keep her from _ennui_ at least. Washington is alive,that is one thing; and Daisy, my dear, we may mount musketsyet. Come, let us go and get a good night's sleep while thatis possible."

  I was glad to be alone. I took off my dusty travelling dress,refreshed myself with a bath, put on a wrapper, and sat downto think.

  I found my heart was beating in a way that showed some mentalfever. What was I about? what was I going to do? I askedmyself.

  I sat with my head in my hands. Then I got up and walked thefloor. I found that I was determined to see Mr. Thorold, andto see him as soon as possible. Yet I had no certain means ofcommunicating with him. My determination was a vaguedetermination, but it sprung from the necessity of the case. Imust see Mr. Thorold. Both of us in Washington for a littlewhile now, no foresight could tell when again we might be neareach other. It might well be never. I would see him. Then camethe question, - Daisy, what are you going to say to him, whenyou see him? I walked and thought.

  Our correspondence must cease. I must tell him that. - It wasdreadfully hard to think it, but I knew it must cease. I couldnot receive letters from Christian in Switzerland, andcertainly I could not write them, without the knowledge of myfather and mother; - and if I could, I would not. We must stopwriting; we must be hundreds of miles apart, know that dangersclustered round the path of one if not both, know that cloudsand uncertainties hung over all our future, and we must notwrite. And I must tell Mr. Thorold so. It was very hard; for Idid not flatter myself with an easy bright clearing away ofour difficulties by and by, even if the storm of the warshould roll over and leave Christian to encounter them withme. I did not hope that explanations and a little persuasionwould induce my mother and my father to look favourably on aNorthern suitor for their daughter's hand. My father? - hepossibly might give up his pleasure for the sake of myhappiness; with my mother I saw no such possibility. It wasuseless to hope they would let me write to an officer in theUnion army. If any chance at all for my happiness were in thefuture, it must lie in changes not yet accomplished, or in Mr.Thorold's own personal power of recommending himself; ratherin both these. For the present - I could not tell how long -now, soon, as soon as I should leave Washington again, we mustbe separated. I wished I could see Thorold that very evening!In Washington - maybe not far off - and days so few - and Icould not see him! I sat down again and put my head in myhand. Had I done wrong, made any unconscious mistake neglectedany duty, that this trouble had come upon me? I tried tothink. I could not find that I had to blame myself on any suchscore. It was not wrong to go to West Point last summer. Iheld none but friendly relations with Mr. Thorold there, sofar as I knew. I was utterly taken by surprise, when at MissCardigan's that night I found that we were more than friends.Could I hide the fact then? Perhaps it would have been rightto do it, if I had known what I was about; but I did not know.Mr. Thorold was going to the war; I had but a surprisedminute; it was simply impossible to hide from him all whichthat minute revealed. Now? Now I was committed; my truth waspledged; my heart was given. My heart might be broken, butcould never be taken back. Truth must be truth; and my lifewas Mr. Thorold's if it belonged to anybody but my father andmother. I settled that point. It was needless ever to look atit again.

  I had something else to tell Mr. Thorold; and here I took upmy walk through the room, but slowly now. I was not going tobe an heiress. I must tell him that. He must know all aboutme. I would be a poor girl at last; not the rich, very rich,Miss Randolph that people supposed I would be. No yearlyrevenues; no Southern mansions and demesnes; no power of nameand place. Would Mr. Thorold care? I believed not. I had nodoubt but that his care was for myself alone, and that heregarded as little as I the adventitious circumstances ofwealth and standing which I intended to cast from me.Nevertheless, _I_ cared. Now, when it was not for myself, I didcare. For Mr. Thorold, I would have liked to be rich beyond myriches, and powerful above my power. I would have liked topossess very much; that I might make him the owner of it all.And instead, I was going to give him as poor a wife as ever hecould have picked up in the farm-houses of the North. Yes, Icared. I found I cared much. And though there was not, ofcourse, any wavering of my judgment as to what was right, Ifound that to do the right would cost me something; more thanI could have thought possible; and to tell Mr. Thorold of itall, was the same as doing it. I walked down a good manybitter regrets, of pride or affection; I think both were atwork; before I dismissed the matter from my mind that night.

  I think I had walked a good part of the night while I wascogitating these things and trying to bring my thoughts intoorder respecting them. While I was at last preparing forsleep, I reflected on yet another thing. I always looked backto that evening at Miss Cardigan's with a mixture of feelings.Glad, and sorrowful, and wondering, and grateful, as I was inthe remembrance, with all that was mingled a littledispleasure and disapproval of myself for that I had allowedMr. Thorold so much liberty, and had been quite so free in mydisclosures to him of my own mind. I did not know how it hadhappened. It was not like me. I ought to have kept him more ata distance, kindly of course. One, or two, kisses - my cheekburnt at the thought - were the utmost he should have beenallowed; and I ought to have been more reserved, and withoutdenying the truth, to have kept myself more in my own power. Iresolved I would do it in the future. I would keep my ownplace. Mr. Thorold might indeed know what he was to me andwhat I was to him; I did not mean to hide that; but he must besatisfied with knowing it and not take any liberties with theknowledge.

  So I went to sleep; but my sleep was heavy and scarcelyrefreshing. I woke up, startled with the thought that I was inWashington and might see Christian to-day. And I found thedesire quite outran the possibility.

  I was therefore ready to agree to all the plans of mycompanions; which included for that day a ride to the campsand the President's reception. Abroad, amidst the stir of men,especially where soldiers were or soldiers' work was done, Imight hope to see Christian. What then, if I saw him? I leftthat point. One thing at a time.

  CHAPTER III.

  IN REVIEW

  There were a party of us that went that morning to see thesights in the neighbourhood of Washington. On horseback wewere; Dr. Sandford and Mrs. Sandford, Colonel Forsyth, whom Ihad seen at West Point, another gentleman, and myself. Isuppose my senses were keened by anxiety; I never shall forgetthe wonderful beauty of the afternoon and of what we came tosee. In some intense moods of mind, it seems as if everysunbeam had daguerreotyping power, and memory the preparednessto receive and retain. And I could tell even now, where therewas a sunny bank, and where a group of sun-touched trees; thering of our horses' hoofs is in my ear with a thought; and Icould almost paint from memory the first view of the camp wewent to see. We had crossed over into Virginia; and thisregiment, - it was Ellsworth's they told me, - was encampedupon a hill, where tents and trees and uniforms made a bright,very picturesque, picture. Ellsworth's corps; and he was gone
already. I could not help thinking of that; and while the restof the party were busy and merry over the camp doings, I satin my saddle looking over some lower grounds below the hill,where several other regiments were going through certainexercises. It looked like war! it went through my heart. AndEllsworth's soldiers had lost their commander already. Verylikely there was somebody to miss and mourn him; somebody athome; his mother - a young wife, perhaps -

  "Is Daisy tired already?" Dr. Sandford's voice was at my side.

  I roused myself and said we had had a pretty brisk ride, and Ihad not been on horseback in a long time; which was true and Ifelt it.

  "Has it been too much for you?" he said, with a change oftone.

  I disclaimed that.

  "These war-shows make you thoughtful?"

  "They give me something to think about."

  "They need not."

  "How can they help it?"

  "Daisy, I am confident there is not the slightest danger toWashington. Do you think I would have brought you intodanger?"

  "Oh, I am not thinking of danger to myself!" I exclaimed. "Iam not afraid in that way."

  "For the country, are you afraid?"

  "Dr. Sandford, do you think there is real danger to thecountry?" I asked.

  "The South will do what they can."

  "Do you expect the North will be able to stand against them?"

  "_You_ do not," - he said smiling.

  "I know nothing about it," I said; "or at least, I know verylittle of what the North can do. Of course, I know _some_Northern soldiers will fight as well as any; but, do youthink, Dr. Sandford, they can stand - the greater part of them- do you think they can meet the bravery and skill of theSouth and get the better?"

  I asked anxiously. Dr. Sandford's brow grew grave.

  "Daisy, I don't know, as you say; but I have lived among theNorthern people in my life; and when a Yankee 'takes anotion,' he is as tough a customer as ever I wish to have todeal with."

  "But they are not accustomed to fighting," I said.

  "I am afraid they will be, before it is through."

  "Then you think they are as brave as the South? Can they be?"

  Dr. Sandford laughed at me a good deal. Nevertheless, I couldnot find out what he thought; and I knew, I thought, what hedid not know so well. I knew the fiery proud spirit of mynative portion of the people. While his banter fell on myears, my eyes went off to the sunlit green fields where thetroops were parading; on Southern soil; and I saw inimagination the rush and fury of vengeful onset, which mightcome over those very fields; I saw the unequal contest; I saw- what happened soon after. I sighed as I turned my eyes tothe doctor again.

  "You are more of a Southerner than I thought you," he said.And I fancied some gratification lurked behind the words.

  "But _you_ are true?" I exclaimed.

  "True!" said the doctor, smiling. "True to what? I hope I amtrue."

  "I mean, you are a true Northerner? you do not sympathise withthe South?"

  "I do not think they are in the right, Daisy; and I cannot sayI wish they should succeed. It is very natural that you shouldwish it."

  "I do not," I said. "I wish the right to succeed."

  "I believe you do, or you would not be Daisy. But, with awoman, - excuse me, - the right is where her heart is."

  Dr. Sandford touched so much more than he knew in this speech,I felt my cheek grow hot. I thought at the same time that hewas speaking with the intent to find out more than he knew. Iwas silent and kept my face turned from him.

  "You do not plead guilty," he went on.

  "The charge is not guilt, but weakness," I said coolly.

  "Weakness!" said the doctor. "Not at all. It is a woman'sstrength."

  "To be misled by her feelings?"

  "No; to be _led_ by them. Her feelings tell her where the rightis - generally. You are Daisy; but a woman, and thereforeperhaps no exception. Or _are_ you an exception? How is it,Daisy?"

  "I do not wish the South to succeed, Dr. Sandford - if that iswhat you mean."

  "It is quite enough," he said, "to constitute you a remarkableexception. I do not know three more at this minute, in thiscause. You will not have the sympathies of your father andmother, Daisy?"

  "No, Dr. Sandford."

  "Your cousin, Mr. Gary, whom we saw last summer; - on whichside is he?"

  "I have not heard from him since he came to Washington. I donot know where he is. I want to find out."

  "We can easily find out," said the doctor. "If Colonel Forsythdoes not know, we shall see somebody this evening probably whocan tell us about him."

  We rode home through the lingering sunlight of that long day;uniforms, camps, fortifications, cannon, on all sidesproclaiming the new and strange state of things upon which thecountry had fallen; busy people passing and repassing in alldirections; an air of life and stir everywhere that would havebeen delightful, if the reason had been only different. Itsaddened me. I had to make a constant effort to hide the factfrom my companions. One of them watched me, I knew. Dr.Sandford thought I was tired; and proposed that we shoulddefer going to the White House until the next occasion; but Icould not rest at home and insisted on carrying out theoriginal scheme for the day. I was in a fever now to see Mr.Thorold; keeping up a constant watch for him, which weariedme. To watch with more hope of success, I would go to thePresident's reception. Mr. Thorold might be there.

  Mrs. Sandford, I remember, was very earnest about my dress. Iwas in no danger from gratified or ungratified vanity now; itwas something else that moved me as I robed myself for thatreception. And I met my escort in the drawing-room, forgettingthat my dress could be a subject of interest to anybody butone, - who might not see it.

  "Why, that is - yes! that is the very same thing you wore tothe cadets' hop; the last hop you went to, Daisy?" Mrs.Sandford exclaimed, as she surveyed me.

  "It will do, won't it?" I said. "I have had nothing new madethis spring."

  "Do!" said the lady. "What do you think, Grant?"

  Dr. Sandford's face was a little flushed.

  "Anything will do," he said. "It makes less difference thanladies suppose."

  "It has more to do than gentlemen ever imagine!" Mrs. Sandfordreturned indignantly. "It is very good, Daisy. That pure whitesomehow suits you; but I believe everything suits you, mydear. Your mother will be a proud woman."

  That sentence laid a little weight on my heart, which had justbeen springing with undefined hope. I had been thinking ofsomebody else who might perhaps be not displeased with me.

  I sought for his figure that night, among the crowds at thePresident's reception; amidst all the other interests of thehour, that one was never forgotten. And there were manyinterests certainly clustering about Washington and Washingtonsociety then. The assembly was very peculiar, very marked,very striking in many of its characteristics. The women werefew, much fewer than make part of ordinary assemblies; the menwere unusually well-looking, it seemed to me; and had an airof life and purpose and energy in definite exercise, which wasvery refreshing to meet. Besides that, which was generallytrue, there were in Washington at this time many marked men,and men of whom much was expected. The last have been first,it is true, in many an instance; here as elsewhere;nevertheless, the aspect of things and people at the time wasnovel and interesting in the highest degree. So, was the talk.Insipidities were no longer tolerated; everybody was _living_,in some real sense, now.

  I had my second view of the President, and nearer by. It didnot disappoint me, nor change the impression produced by thefirst view. What a homely face! but I thought withal, what afine face! Rugged, and soft; gentle, and shrewd; MissCardigan's "Yon's a mon!" recurred to me often. A man, everyinch of him; self- respecting, self-dependent, having a sturdymind of his own; but wise also to bide his time; strong towait and endure; modest, to receive from others all they couldgive him of aid and counsel. But the honest, keen, kindly eyeswon my heart.

  The evening was very lively. There were a great many people tosee and talk
to, whom it was pleasant to hear. Dr. Sandford, Ialways knew was a favourite; but it seemed to me this eveningthat our party was thronged. Indeed I had little chance andless time to look for Mr. Thorold; and the little I could useavailed me nothing. I was sure he was not there; for hecertainly would have seen me. And what then? It would not havebeen agreeable. I began to think with myself that I wassomewhat inconsistent.

  It was not till I got home that I thought this, however. I hadno time for private reflections till then. When we reachedhome, Mrs. Sandford was in a talkative mood; the doctor verysilent.

  "And what do you think of General Scott, Daisy? you have notseen him before."

  "I do not know," I said. "I did not hear him, talk."

  "You have not heard Mr. Lincoln talk, have you?"

  "No, certainly not; not before to night."

  "You know how you like _him_," Dr. Sandford said pointedly.

  "Yes."

  "My dear, you made him the most beautiful reverence that Iever knew a woman could make; grace and homage in perfection;but there was something else in it, Daisy, something more;something most exquisitely expressed. What was it, Grant?"

  "You ought to know," said the doctor, with a grim smile.

  "I do, I suppose, only I cannot tell the word for it. Daisy,have you ever seen the President before?"

  "When he passed through New York," I said. "I stood in thestreet to see him."

  Dr.