Daisy in the Field Part 48

"What about you?"

"I think he thinks only that, - what I said, papa."

"And how came you to think he thinks anything about it?"

"Papa -"

"Has he ever told you his thoughts?"

"No, sir; certainly."

"Then what do you mean, Daisy."

"Papa - we have talked."

"But not about that?"

"No, papa; not about Mr. Dinwiddie's feelings, certainly. But I am sure he understands."

"What, my pet?"

"My feelings, papa."

"Your feeling about himself?"

"Yes."

"How should he understand it, Daisy?"

"I think he does, papa -"

"You say, you 'have talked'? What course did your talk take?"

My heart beat. I saw what was coming now, - what ought to come. It was my time.

"It was a very general course, papa. It did not touch, directly, my feeling for Mr. Dinwiddie, or anybody."

"Indirectly?"

"I think - I do not know - I half fancied, Mr. Dinwiddie thought so."

"Thought what?"

"That it did touch some feeling of mine."

"Not for himself. For some other?"

"Yes -" I whispered.

"For whom?" he said abruptly. And then as I hesitated, -

"For one of those two?"

"What two?"

"De Saussure or Marshall?"

"Oh, no, papa!"

"Your cousin Gary?"

"Oh, no, papa!"

"Have I lost you, Daisy?" he said then in a different tone, gentle and lingering and full of regret. My breath was gone; I threw my arms around his neck.

"Why did you never tell me before, Daisy?"

"Papa, - I was afraid."

"Are you afraid now?"

"Yes."

"Let us have it over then, Daisy. Who is it that has stolen you from me?"

"Oh no one, papal" I cried. "No one could. No one can."

"Who has tried, then?"

"A great many people, papa; but not this person."

"How has it come to pa.s.s then, my pet? And who is this person?"

"Papa, it came to pa.s.s without anybody's knowing it or meaning it; and when I knew it, then I could not help it. But not what you say has come to pa.s.s; n.o.body has stolen or could steal me from you."

"I have only lost, without any other being the gainer," said papa a little bitterly.

"No, papa, you have not lost; you cannot; I am not changed, papa, do you not see that I am not changed? I am yours, just as I always was, - only more, papa."

Papa kissed me, but it cut me to the heart to feel there was pain in the kiss. I did what my lips could to clear the pain away.

"Half is not as much as the whole, Daisy," he said at length.

"It may be, papa. Suppose the whole is twice as large as it used to be?"

"That is a good specimen of woman's reasoning. But you have not told me all yet, Daisy. Who is it that holds the other half?"

There was so much soreness and disappointment shown in papa's words, rather in the manner of them, that it was extremely difficult for me to carry on the conversation. Tears are a help, I suppose, to other women. They do not come to me, not at such times. I stood still in papa's arms, with a kind of dry heartache. The pain in his words was a terrible trial to me. He folded me close again and kissed me over and over, and then whispered, -