Chapter 13

AN ENGAGEMENT

The expedition to Annecy had been determined on, and papa and mamma were to go. I went in a carriage with them, while the others were on horseback; so I had a nice quiet time, which suited me; a time of curious secret enjoyment. It seemed as if a gratulation came to me from every blade of grass and every ray of sunlight; because I was a servant of God, and as wholly given up to do His will as they were. There was communion between them and me. Of those "ministers of His, that do His pleasure," I would be one; to do what He had for me to do in the world, should be my care and joy at once; and the care of myself - I left it to Him. One goes light when one does not carry that burden.

"Daisy, you are dreadfully sober," said mamma.

"Not _dreadfully_, mamma, I hope," I said with a smile.

"You are pale too," she went on. "Mr. Randolph, Daisy thinks too much."

"It is an old weakness of hers," said papa. "I am afraid it is beyond our reach, Felicia."

"I will break it up for to-day," said mamma as the carriage stopped and Mr. De Saussure came to the steps. "Charles, Daisy has got into a brown study. I give her to you in charge, not to allow anything of the sort again till we get home. And order luncheon at once, will you. I can't go walking or sight- seeing without that."

Mr. de Saussure gave me his arm and took me with him, as he said, to help about the luncheon. It was soon spread out of doors, beneath the shade of some large trees, and we gathered round it in holiday mood. Bread was sweet, with that page of beauty spread out before my eyes all the time; - for between the boles of the trees and under their hanging branches I could see the glittering waters of the lake and a bit of its distant shore. I did not go into a brown study, however, not wishing to give occasion to Mr. De Saussure's good offices. I thought he had quite enough enjoyed his charge during the business before luncheon. To my disappointment, after the meal papa declared himself tired and went to lie down.

"We have forgotten our agreement," said Mr. De Saussure. "At luncheon, we were all to tell, Mrs. Randolph, what we think the worthiest thing to live for."

"Were we?" said mamma. "That sounds like one of Daisy's problems."

"It is not hers, however," he rejoined; "any further than that I am mainly curious to know what she will say about it."

"You ought to be equally anxious about my opinion, it seems to me," mamma said.

"Do I not know it already? Pour la patrie, - does anything go before that in your mind? Honestly, Mrs. Randolph, - is it not in your opinion the worthiest thing anybody can do, to fight, or to die - still better, - for the independence of the South?"

"You do not think so," said mamma, "or you would be there."

"I am selfish, and have selfish hopes and fears. But you think so?"

"Let us hear what you consider the worthiest object of life," said mamma.

"It is not my turn. Miss Randolph, your mother has spoken - the next honour belongs to you."

"The worthiest object of life?" I said. "Is that the question?"

"It will not be a question, when you have answered it," De Saussure said gallantly.

"You will not like my answer," I said. "I should think it would be, To please God."

"But that is not an answer, pardon me. Of course, the Supreme Being is pleased to see people following the worthiest object; and the question is, What is the _worthiest?_"

I did not like to hear Mr. De Saussure's tongue touch themes where it was not at home. The conversation was too serious for light handling; but I could not get out of it.

"You will find that my answer includes all," I said. "It is impossible to lay down a rule, as to particulars, that will fit all cases. It is the best thing one man can do, to lay down his life for his country; the best thing another man can do is to stay at home and devote himself to the care of an infirm mother or father; but in either case, for God."

"I do not understand -" said Mr. Marshall.

"Suppose the one goes to the battlefield for his own glory, and the other stays at home for his own ease?"

"Don't you think glory is a thing to live for?" said Ransom, with an indignant expression that reminded me painfully of our childish days.

"Yes," I said slowly, - "I do; but not the praise of men, which is so often mistaken. The glory that comes from God, - _that_ is worth living for."

"What an incomprehensible girl you are!" Ransom answered impatiently.

"She'll mend -" said mamma.

"But, Miss Randolph," said Mr. Marshall, "the care of infirm relatives, a father or a mother, can anything make that unworthy?"

"Not in itself," I said; "but suppose a man's duty calls him away? It might. You can suppose such a case."

"I see what I have to expect," mamma said with a laugh. "Daisy will take care of me, until some duty calls her away. I will not count upon you, Daisy, any longer than that. De Saussure, what is _your_ estimate of life's objects? On honour, now!"

"I can think of nothing better than to live for somebody that one loves," he said.

"I knew you would say that," she rejoined. "Hugh, what do you say?"

"I need to go to school, Mrs. Randolph."

"Well, go to school to Daisy," said mamma with another light laugh. "And come, let us walk, or we shall not have time. EugŠne Sue, is it, that we are going to see?"

"Only his house, madam. Miss Randolph, I am charged, you know, with your studies to-day."

I was not in the mood of accepting Mr. De Saussure's arm, but just then it was the only thing to do. My mother and Ransom and Hugh Marshall were presently some little distance behind, an interval separating us; and Mr. De Saussure and I followed the shores of the lake, taking such counsel together as our somewhat diverse moods made possible. I was thinking, what a life of hard work the two prophets Elijah must have known in their time; he who was first of the name, and his greater successor, John the Baptist. Each of them worked alone, against a universal tide of adverse evil that flooded the land. If I found it so sorrowful to be alone in my family and society, what must they have felt with the whole world against them. And Elijah's spirit did once give out, brave as he was: "It is enough, O Lord; take away my life." I thought I could understand it. To be all alone; to have no sympathy in what is dearest to you; to face opposition and scorn and ridicule and contumely while trying to do people good and bring them to good; to have only God on your side, with the bitter consciousness that those whom you love best are arrayed against him; your family and country; - I suppose nobody can tell how hard that is to endure, but he who has tasted it. My taste of it was light indeed; but a half hour with Miss Cardigan would have been inexpressibly good to me that day. So I thought, as I walked along the bank of the lake with Mr. De Saussure; and then I remembered "my hiding-place and my shield."

"You are very silent to-day, Miss Randolph," said my companion at length. I may remark, in passing, that _he_ had not been.

"It is enough to look, and to think," I answered, "with such a sight before one's eyes."

"Do you know," said he, "such independence of all the exterior world, - of mortals, I mean, - is very tantalising to those disregarded mortals?"

"Do you find it so? It is fair then to presume, in a place like this, that what takes up my attention has not so much charm for you."

"That is severe!" he said. "Do you think I do not see all this beauty before us? But pardon me, - have _you_ seen it?"

"I have tasted it every step of the way, Mr. De Saussure."

"I am rebuked," he said. "You must excuse me - I had counted upon the pleasure of seeing you enjoy it."

"One's enjoyment is not always heightened by giving it expression," I said.

"No, I know that is your theory - or practice," he said. "My sisters are always so vehement in their praises of anything they like, that nobody else has a chance to know whether he likes it or not. I generally incline to the _not_."

I added no remark upon Mr. De Saussure's or his sisters' peculiar way of enjoying themselves.

"But you _are_ uncommonly silent," he went on presently; - "_triste_, _rêveuse_. It is impossible not to suffer from it, - in one who values your words as much as I do."

"Why, I thought you were apt to look upon things from a different point of view, - not from mine," I said.

"I must be wrong then - always. Miss Randolph, you are of a gentle and kind disposition, - I wish you would be my Mentor!"

"I am not old enough to be Mentor," I said.

"To be mine! Yes, you are," he rejoined eagerly. "I would not have you a day older."

"I shall be that to-morrow," I said, laughing.

"But if you were mine," he said, changing his tone, "every day would only add to your power and your qualifications for doing me good. And I know that is what you love."

"I cannot see that I have done you the least good, so far, Mr. De Saussure," I said, amused. "I think you must be mistaken."

"Will you try, Daisy?" he said insinuatingly, and stopping short in our walk.

"Try what, Mr. De Saussure?" I said, beginning to be bewildered.

"Surely you know! You are a little cruel. But you have the right. Be my Mentor - be my darling - promise to be, one of these days, my wife."

I dropped my arm from Mr. De Saussure's and stood in a maze, I might say with truth, frightened. Up to that minute, no suspicion of his purpose or mind regarding me had entered my thoughts. I suppose I was more blind than I ought to have been; and the truth was, that in the utter preoccupation of my own heart, the idea that I could like anybody else but Mr. Thorold, or that anybody else could like me, had been simply out of sight. I knew myself so thoroughly beyond anybody's reach, the prior possession of the ground was so perfect and settled a thing, that I did not remember it was a fact hidden from other eyes but mine. And I had gone on in my supposed walled-in safety; - and here was somebody presuming within the walls, who might allege that I had left the gate open. However, to do Mr. De Saussure justice, I never doubted for a moment that his heart might be in any danger of breaking if I thrust him out. But for all that, I lost my breath in the first minute of discovery of what I had been doing.

"You hesitate," said he. "You shall command me, Daisy. I will go instantly, hard as it would be, and give all my power to furthering the war at home; - or, if you bid me, I will keep out of it, which would be harder still, were you not here instead of there. Speak, won't you, -a good word for me?"

"You must do nothing at my command, Mr. de Saussure," I said. "I have known you only as mamma's and my brother's friend; - I never thought you had any other feeling; and I had no other towards you."

"Mrs. Randolph _is_ my friend," he said eagerly. "She does me the honour to wish well to my suit. She looks at it, not with my eyes, but with the eyes of prudence; and she sees the advantages that such an arrangement would secure. I believe she looks at it with patriotic eyes too. You know my estates are nearly adjoining to yours. I may say too, that our families are worthy one of another. But there, I am very conscious, my worthiness ends. I am not personally deserving of your regard - I can only promise under your guidance to become so."

A light broke upon me.

"Mr. De Saussure" - I began; but he said hastily, "Let us go on - they are coming near us;" and I took his offered arm again, not wishing more than he to have spectators or hearers of our talk; and now that the talk was begun, I wished to end it.

"Mr. de Saussure," I said, "you are under a serious mistake. You speak of my estates; I must inform you that I shall never, under any circumstances, be an heiress. Whoever marries me - if I ever marry - will marry a poor girl."

"Pardon me -" he began.

"Yes," said I interrupting him; - "I know of what I speak."

"What can you mean, Miss Randolph?"

"I assure you, I mean exactly what I say. Pray take it so."

"But I do not understand you."

"Understand this, - that I shall be a penniless woman; or something very like it. I am making no jest. I am no heiress - as people think."

"But you confound me, Miss Randolph," he said, looking both curious and incredulous. "May I ask, what can be the explanation of your words? I know your Magnolia property - and it is, I assure you, a very noble one, and unencumbered. Nothing can hinder you from inheriting it - at some, we hope, of course, very distant day."

"Nevertheless," I said, "if I live to see that day, I shall be very poor, Mr. De Saussure."

"You will condescend to explain so extraordinary a statement?"

"Is not my word sufficient?"

"Pardon me, a thousand times; but you must see that I am in a difficulty. Against your word I have the word of two others - your mother and your brother, who both assure me of the contrary. May it not be, that they know best?"

"No, Mr. De Saussure; for the fact depends on something out of their knowledge."

"It is out of my knowledge too," he said.

I hesitated a little, and then said, -

"I will explain myself, Mr. De Saussure, trusting to your honour to keep silence about it. I am a friend of the coloured people."

"Oh! - So are we all," he said.

"And I will never be rich at their expense."

"By their means, is not necessarily at their expense," he said gently.

"It is at their expense," I repeated. "I do not choose to be rich so. And the religion I live by, forbids me to do to others as I would not like they should do to me."

"I am sure, by that rule, your dependants at Magnolia would implore you not to give them over to other hands. They will never have so kind a mistress. Don't you see?" he said with the same insinuating gentleness.

"I shall give them over to no other hands. I would make them as free as myself."

"Make them free!"

"That is what I would do."

"You cannot mean it," he said.

"You see, Mr. De Saussure, that I shall be very poor."

"You are playing with me."

"I am very serious."

"It is rank Northern madness!" he said to himself. "And it is Mrs. Randolph's daughter. The thing is impossible."

"It _is_ Mrs. Randolph's daughter," I said, withdrawing my hand from his arm. "I pray you not to forget it."

"Pray, forgive me!" he said eagerly. "I was bewildered, and am yet. I did not know where I was. It seems to me I cannot have heard you aright."

"Quite right, Mr. De Saussure."

"But just reflect!" he said. "These creatures, whose cause you are advocating, they are but half human; they cannot take care of themselves; their very happiness is identified with their present position."

"It is not the view they take of it."

"They are incapable of forming any judgment on the matter."

"At least they know what _they_ mean by happiness," I said; "and in their mouths it is not a synonym with slavery. And if your words are true, Mr. De Saussure, in the case of some of those poor people, - and I know they are, - it is one of the worst things that can be said of the system. If some of them are brought so low as to be content with being slaves, we have robbed them of their humanity."

"It is absolutely Northern radicalism!" said Mr. De Saussure to himself.

"No," I said, - "it is Christian justice and mercy."

"You will allow me to represent to you, without any presumption, that there are very many Christians, both at the South and North, who do not look at the matter with your eyes."

"I suppose they have never really seen it," I answered sadly. "People that have always lived close to something, often do not know what it is. My father has never seen it - nor, my mother. _I_ have."

"They would not agree with you; your views would not harmonise with theirs."

"And therefore I trust to your honour to keep silence respecting mine."

"I am bound," he answered gloomily; and we walked a few minutes in silence.

"You will change your manner of thinking, Miss Randolph," he began again. "Yours is the vision of inexperienced eyes and of impulsive generosity. It will not remain what it is."

"Inexperienced eyes see the clearest," I answered. "The habit of wrong is no help towards judging of the right."

"You will think differently by and by."

"Not while I am a servant of God and He commands me to break every yoke, to do as I would be done by, to look not on my own things, but also on the things of others. We owe our poor people not liberty only, but education, and every advantage for restored civilisation; - a great long debt."

"And is this the reason why you will not look favourably on my suit?" he said after another interval.

"It is a reason why you will not wish to prosecute it, Mr. De Saussure."

"You are very severe!" he said. "Do you really think that?"

"You know it is true. I do not wish to be severe."

"Have you then no kindness for me?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You are so dreadfully calm and cool!" he said. "One has no chance with you. If this matter were not in the way, would you have any kindness for me, Daisy? Is this all that separates us?"

"It is quite enough, Mr. De Saussure. It is as powerful with you as with me."

"I am too late, I suppose!" he said, as it seemed to me, rather spitefully. As he was too late, it was no use to tell him he could never have been early enough. I was silent; and we walked on unenjoyingly. Vexation was working in his countenance, and a trace of that same spite; I was glad when we came to the end of our way and the other members of our party closed up and joined us.

As I cared nothing for the house they had come to see, I excused myself from going any nearer, and sat down upon the bank at a little distance while they gratified their curiosity. The view of the lake and lake shores here was very lovely; enough to satisfy any one for a long while; but now, my thoughts only rested there for a minute, to make a spring clear across the Atlantic. Mr. Thorold was very close to me, and I was very far from him; that was the burden of my heart. So close to me he had been, that I had never dreamed any one could think of taking his place. I saw I had been a simpleton. Up to that day I had no suspicion that Mr. De Saussure liked me more than would be convenient; and indeed I had no fear now of his heart being broken; but I saw that his unlucky suit made a complication in my affairs that they certainly did not need. - Mamma approved it; yes, I had no doubt of that. I knew of a plantation of his, Briery Bank, only a few miles distant from Magnolia and reputed to be very rich in its incomings. And, no doubt Mr. De Saussure would have liked the neighbourhood of Magnolia, and to add its harvest to his own. And all the while I belonged to Mr. Thorold, and nobody else could have me. My thoughts came back to that refrain with a strong sense of pain and gladness. However, the gladness was the strongest. How lovely the lake was, with its sunlit hills!

In the midst of my musings, Hugh Marshall came and threw himself on the ground at my side. I welcomed him with a smile; for I liked him; he was a friend; and I thought, - This one does not want me at any rate. I was a great simpleton, I suppose.

"I was afraid you had deserted me to-day," he said.

"I am sure, it is I who might rather have thought that of you," I answered; and indeed I had wished for his company more than once.

"You could not have thought it!" he said.

"Have you satisfied your curiosity with Eugene Sue's house?"

"I do not care to look at anything that you don't like," he replied.

"Cigars? -" I suggested.

"No indeed. If you disapprove of them, I shall have no more fellowship with them."

"That is going quite too far, Mr. Marshall. A man should never give up anything that he does not disapprove of himself."

"Not to please somebody he wishes to please?"

"Of course," I said, thinking of Mr. Thorold, - "there might be such cases. But in general."

"This is one of the cases. I wish to please you."

"Thank you," I said earnestly. "But indeed, I should be more pleased to have you follow your own sense of right than any notion of another, even of myself."

"You are not like any other woman I ever saw," he said smiling. "Do you know, they all have a passion for command? There are De Saussure's mother and sisters, - they do not leave him a moment's peace, because he is not at home fighting."

I was silent, and hoped that Mr. De Saussure's friends might now perhaps get him away from Geneva at least.

"You think with them, that he ought to go?" Hugh Marshall said presently with a shadow, I thought, on his words.

"I would not add one more to the war," I answered.

"Your mother does not think so."

"No."

"Mrs. Randolph has almost signified to me that her favour will depend on my taking such a course, and doing all I can to help on the Confederacy."

"Yes, I know," I said rather sadly; "mamma feels very strongly about it."

"You do not?"

"Yes, Mr. Marshall, I do; but it is in a different way."

"I wish you would explain," he said earnestly.

"But I do not like to set myself in opposition to mamma; and you ought to do what you yourself think right, Mr. Marshall; not what either of us thinks."

"What do _you_ think is right?" he repeated eagerly.

"My thoughts do not make or unmake anything."

"They make - they will make, if you will let them - the rule of my life," he answered. "I have no dearer wish."

I was struck with dismay.

"Please do not say that!" I said trembling. "My thoughts should rule only my own life; not anybody, else's."

"One more!" said Hugh Marshall. "They must rule one more. There will be one, somewhere, whose highest pleasure will be to please you, as long as he has a life to give to it. - Will you take mine?" he said after a pause and in a lower tone. "I offer it to you undividedly."

It cannot be told, the sickness of heart which came over me. The mistake I had made in my blindness, the sorrowfulness of it, the pain I must give, the mischief it might do, I saw it all at once. For a while, I could not find words to speak. Hugh studied my face, and must have seen no ground of hope there, for he did not speak either. He was quite silent and left it to me. Oh, Lake of Annecy! what pain comes to me now with the remembrance of your sweet waters.

I turned at last and laid my hand upon Hugh's arm. He did not mistake me; he took my hand in his, and stood looking at me with a face as grave as my own.

"What is the matter, Daisy?" he said sorrowfully.

"I have made a miserable mistake!" I said. "Cannot we be friends, Mr. Marshall? - dear friends, and nothing more?"

"Why 'nothing more'?"

"I can be no more to you," I answered.

"Why not?"

"I have not the feeling. I have not the power. I would, if I could."

"It is I who have made a mistake," he said, as he dropped my hand.

"No, it is I," I said bitterly. "I have been childishly wrong. I have been foolish. It never entered my thought, that you - or anybody - liked me, except as a friend."

"And he got your heart without your knowing it?"

"Who?" said I, frightened.

"De Saussure, of course."

"De Saussure! No indeed. I would a thousand times rather give it to you, Hugh. But, I cannot."

"Then it will come," said he, taking my hand again; "if you can say that, it will come. I will wait."

"No, it will not come," I said, as we looked one another in the face. "I can be only a friend. May I not be that?"

He eyed me keenly, I saw, and my eyes for a moment fell. He let go my hand again.

"Then, I understand," - he said. "Shall we go? I believe it is time."

"Where is mamma?" I asked, looking about in some bewilderment now.

"Mrs. Randolph and the rest have gone on; they are some distance ahead of us by this time."

And what were they all thinking too, by this time! In great dismay I turned to go after them with my unwelcome companion. We walked in silence; I blaming myself greatly for stupidness and blindness and selfish preoccupation, which had made me look at nobody's affairs but my own; and grieving sadly too for the mischief I had done.

"Mayn't we be friends, Mr. Marshall?" I said somewhat timidly at last; for I could not bear the silence.

"I can never be anything else," he said. "You may always command me. But I have not misunderstood you, Daisy? You meant to tell me that - _some one_ has been more fortunate than I, and been beforehand with me ?"

"I did not mean to tell you that," I said in a good deal of confusion.

"But it is true ?" he said, looking searchingly at me.

"Nobody knows it, Hugh," I said. "Not my mother nor my father."

The silence fell again and again became painful. The others of our party were well in advance. - We caught no glimpse of them yet.

"We will be friends, Mr. Marshall?" - I said anxiously.

"Yes, we will be friends, Daisy; but I cannot be a friend near you. I cannot see you any longer. I shall be a wreck now, I suppose. You might have made me - anything !"

"You will make yourself a noble name and place in the world," I said, laying my hand on his arm. "The name and the place of a servant of God. Won't you, Hugh? Then you will come to true joy, and honour - the joy and honour that God gives. Let me have the joy of knowing that! I have done so much mischief, - let me know that the mischief is mended."

"What mischief have you done?" he asked, with his voice roughened by feeling.

"I did not know what I was leading you - and others - into."

"You led to nothing; except as the breath of a rose leads one to stretch out one's hand for it," he answered. "The rose has as much design!"

He turned aside hastily, stooped for a little twig that lay on the roadside, and began assiduously breaking it up. And the silence was not interrupted again, till we came in sight of our friends in advance of us, leisurely walking to let us come up. Then Hugh and I plunged into conversation; but what it was about I have not the least remembrance. It lasted though, till we joined company with the rest of our party, and the talk became general. Still I do not know what we talked about. I had a feeling of thunder in the air, though the very stillness of sunlight beauty was on the smooth water and the hilly shore; and I saw clouds rising and gathering, even though Mont Blanc as we returned that evening showed rosy hues to its very summit in the clear heaven. I can hardly tell how, my mother's manner or something in it, made me sure both of the clouds and the thunder. It was full of grace, tact and spirit, to such a point of admiration. Yet I read in it, yes, and in that very grace and spirit, a certain state of the nervous powers which told of excitement at work, or a fund of determination gathering; the electric forces massing somewhere; and this luminous play only foretold the lightning.