Daisy in the Field

not an enthusiast or a fanatic."

  "It is not enthusiasm, papa, to believe God's promises. Itcan't be fanaticism, to be glad of them."

  "Promises?" said papa. "What are you talking of?"

  "Papa, I am a servant of Christ," I said; I remember I wasarranging the sticks of wood on the fire as I spoke, and itmade pauses between my words; - "and He has promised to takecare of His servants and to let no harm come to them, - noreal harm; - how can I be afraid, papa? My Lord knows, - Heknows all about it and all about me; I am safe; I have nothingto do to be afraid."

  "Safe from what?"

  "Not from trouble, papa; I do not mean that. He may see thatit is best that trouble should come to me. But it will notcome unless He sees that it is best; and I can trust Him."

  "My dear child, is there not a little fanaticism there?"

  "How, papa?"

  "It seems to me to sound like it."

  "It is nothing but believing God, papa."

  "I wish I understood you," said papa, thoughtfully.

  So I knelt down beside him and put my arms about him, and toldhim what I wanted him to understand; much more than I had everbeen able to do before. The pain and sorrow of the past fewweeks had set me free, and the rest of heart of the last fewdays too. I told papa all about it. I think, as Philip did toQueen Candace's servant, I "preached to him Jesus."

  "So that is what you mean by being a Christian," said papa atlast. "It is not living a good moral life and keeping allone's engagements."

  " 'By the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified.'Even you, papa, are not good enough for that. God's law callsfor perfection."

  "Nobody is perfect."

  "No, papa; and so all have come short of the glory of God."

  "Well, then, I don't see what you are going to do, Daisy."

  "Christ has paid our debt, papa."

  "Then nobody need do anything."

  "Oh, no, papa; for the free pardon that is made out for youand me - the white robe that Christ counsels us to buy of Him- waits for our acceptance and is given only on conditions. Itis ready for every one who will trust Christ and obey Him; afree pardon, papa; a white robe that will hide all ourugliness. But we must be willing to have it on theconditions."

  "And how then, Daisy?"

  "Why, this way, papa. See, - I am dead - with Christ; it is asif I myself had died under the law, instead of my substitute;the penalty is paid, and the law has nothing to say to a deadmalefactor, you know, papa. And now, I am dead to the law, andmy life is Christ's. I live because He lives, and by HisSpirit living in me; all I am and have belongs to Christ; thelife that I live, I live by the faith of the Son of God, wholoved me and gave Himself for me. I am not trying to keep thelaw, to buy my life; but I am _keeping_ the law, because Christhas given me life - do you see, papa? and all my life is loveto Him."

  "It seems to me, Daisy," said papa, "that if faith is all,people may lead what lives they choose."

  "Papa, the faith that believes in Christ, loves and obeys Him;or it is just no faith. It is nothing. It is dead."

  "And faith makes such a change in people's feelings andlives?"

  "Why, yes, papa, for then they live by Christ's strength andnot their own; and in the love of Him, and not in the love ofthemselves any longer."

  "Daisy," said papa, "it is something I do not know, and I seethat you do know; and I would like to be like you anyhow. Prayfor me, my child, that I may have that faith."

  I had never done it in his presence before, but now I kneltdown by the table and uttered all my heart to the One whocould hear us both. I could not have done it, I think, a fewweeks earlier; but this last storm had seemed to shake me freefrom everything. What mattered, if I could only help to showpapa the way? He was weeping, I think, while I was praying; Ithought he sought to hide the traces of it when I rose up; andI went from the room with a gladness in my heart that said,"What if, even if Thorold is lost to me! There is somethingbetter beyond."

  Papa and I seemed to walk on a new plane from that day. Therewas a hidden sympathy between us, which had its root in thedeepest ground of our nature. We never had been one before, aswe were one from that time.

  It was but a few days, and another thing happened. The mailbag had come in as usual, and I had gathered up my littleparcel of letters and gone with it to my room, before Iexamined what they were. A letter evidently from Mr. Dinwiddiehad just made my heart leap with pleasure, when glancing atthe addresses of the rest before I broke the seal of this, Isaw what made my heart stand still. It was the handwriting ofMr. Thorold. I think my eyes grew dim and dazed for a minute;then I saw clearly enough to open the envelope, which showedsigns of having been a traveller. There was a letter for me,such a letter as I had wanted; such as I had thirsted for; itwas not long, for it was written by a busy man, but it waslong enough, for it satisfied my thirst. Enclosed with it wasanother envelope directed to papa.

  I waited to get calm again; for the joy which shot through allmy veins was a kind of elixir of life; it produced too muchexhilaration for me to dare to see anybody. Yet I think I wasweeping; but at any rate, I waited till my nerves were quietand under control, and then I went with the letter to papa. Iknew mamma was just gone out and there was no fear ofinterruption. Papa read the letter, and read it, and looked upat me.

  "Do you know what this is, Daisy?"

  "Papa, I guess. I know what it was meant to be."

  "It is a cool demand of you," said papa.

  I was glad, and proud; that was what it ought to be; that waswhat I knew it suited papa that it should be. I stood by themantelpiece, waiting.

  "So you knew about it?"

  "Mr. Thorold said he would write to you, papa. I had beenafraid, and asked him not. I wanted him to wait till he couldsee you."

  "One sees a good deal of a man in his letters," said papa;"and this is a man's letter. He thinks enough of himself,Daisy."

  "Papa, - not too much."

  "I did not say too much; but enough; and a man who does notthink enough of himself is a poor creature. I would not have aman ask me for you, Daisy, who did not in his heart think hewas worthy of you."

  "Papa, you draw nice distinctions," I said half laughing.

  "That would be simple presumption, not modesty; this ismanliness."

  We were both silent upon this; papa considering the letter, orits proposal; I thinking of Mr. Thorold's manliness, andfeeling very much pleased that he had shown it and papa haddiscerned it so readily. The silence lasted till I began to becurious.

  "What shall we do now, Daisy?" papa said at last. I left himto answer his own question.

  "Hey? What do you wish me to do?"

  "Papa, - I hope you will give him a kind answer."

  "How can I get it to him?"

  "I can enclose it to an aunt of his, whom I know. She can getit to him. She lives in New York."

  "His aunt? So you know his family?

  "No one of them, papa, but this one; his mother's sister."

  "What sort of a person is she?"

  So I sat down and told papa about Miss Cardigan. He listenedwith a very grave, thoughtful face; asking few questions, butkissing me. And then, without more ado, he turned to the tableand wrote a letter, writing very fast, and handed it to me. Itwas all I could have asked that it might be. My heart filledwith grateful rest.

  "Will that do?" said papa as I gave it back.

  "Papa, only one thing more, - if you are willing, that weshould sometimes write to each other?"

  "Hm - that sounds moderate," said papa. "By the way, why wasnot this letter written and sent sooner? What is the date? -why, Daisy! -"

  "What, papa?"

  "My child, this letter, - it is a good year old, and more;written in the beginning of last winter."

  It took me a little while to get the full bearings of this;then I saw that it dated back to a time quite anterior to thecircumstances of Faustina St. Clair's story, whatever thatamounted to. Papa was all thrown back.

  "This is good for noth
ing, now, you see, Daisy."

  "Oh, no, papa."

  "For the purposes of action."

  "Papa, it does not matter, the date."

  "Yes, Daisy, it does; for it speaks of a man of last year, andmy answer would go to a man of this year."

  "They are not different men, papa."

  "I must be assured of that." He was folding up his letter, hisown, and I saw the next thing would be to throw it into thefire. I laid my hand over his.

  "Papa, don't do that. Let me have it."

  "I cannot send it."

  "Papa, let me have it.