Melbourne House Part 130

"Much obliged, ma'am."

"Not to me. My dressing has nothing to do with that. But Preston, what shall we do with Frederica's handkerchief? She can _not_ hold it ? right."

"Like a queen ?" said Preston. "I do not know ? unless we could scare her out of her propriety. A good fright would do it, I think. But then the expression would not suit. How is the Game, Mrs. Sandford?"

"Perfect! admirable! You and Hamilton do it excellently ? and Daisy is a veritable angel."

"How does _she_ like it all?" Mrs. Randolph inquired.

"Aunt Felicia, she is as much engaged as anybody."

"And plays as well," added Mrs. Sandford.

"She has found out to-day, aunt Felicia," Preston went on, speaking rather low, "that she ought to have a string of red stones round her head instead of white ones."

Mrs. Randolph smiled.

"She was quite right," said Mrs. Sandford. "It was a matter of colour, and she was quite right. She was dressed for Queen Esther, and I made her look at herself to take the effect; and she suggested, very modestly, that stones of some colour would do better than diamonds round her head. So I subst.i.tuted some very magnificent rubies of yours, Mrs. Randolph; quite to Daisy's justification."

"Doesn't she make a magnificent little 'Fort.i.tude,' though!"

said Eloise.

"The angel will be the best," said Mrs. Sandford. "She looks so naturally troubled. But we have got a good band of workers.

Theresa Stanfield is very clever."

"It will do Daisy a world of good," said Mrs. Gary.

CHAPTER x.x.xXV.

QUEEN ESTHER.

All this while Daisy's days were divided. Silks and jewels and pictures and practising, in one part; in the other part, the old cripple Molly Skelton, and her basket of bread and fruit, and her reading in the Bible. For Daisy attended as regularly to the one as to the other set of interests, and more frequently; for the practising party met only three times a week, but Daisy went to Molly every day.

Molly was not sick now. Daisy's good offices in the material line were confined to supplying her with nice bread and b.u.t.ter and fruit and milk, with many varieties beside. But in that day or two of rheumatic pains, when Molly had been waited upon by the dainty little handmaiden who came in spotless frocks and trim little black shoes to make her fire and prepare her tea, Daisy's tenderness and care had completely won Molly's heart. She was a real angel in that poor house; no vision of one. Molly welcomed her so, looked at her so, and would perhaps have obeyed her as readily. But Daisy offered no words that required obedience, except those she read out of the Book; and Molly listened to them as if it had been the voice of an angel. She was learning to read herself; really learning: making advances every day that showed diligent interest; and the interest was fed by those words she daily listened to out of the same book. Daisy had got a large-print Testament for her at Crum Elbow; and a new life had begun for the cripple. The rose-bush and the geranium flourished brilliantly, for the frosts had not come yet; and they were a good setting forth of how things were going in the house.

One lovely October afternoon, when air and sky were a breath and vision of delight, after a morning spent in dressing and practising, Daisy went to Molly. She went directly after luncheon. She had given Molly her lesson; and then Daisy sat with a sober little face, her finger between the leaves of the Bible, before beginning her accustomed reading. Molly eyed her wistfully.

"About the crowns and the white dresses," she suggested.

"Shall I read about those?" said Daisy. And Molly nodded. And with her little face exceedingly grave and humble, Daisy read the seventh chapter of the Revelation, and then the twenty- first chapter, and the twenty second; and then she sat with her finger between the leaves as before, looking out of the window.

"Will they all be sealed?" said Molly, breaking the silence.

"Yes."

"What is that?"

"I don't know exactly. It will be a mark of all the people that love Jesus."

"A mark in their foreheads?"

"Yes, it says so."

"What mark?"

"I don't know, Molly; it says, 'His name shall be in their foreheads.' " And Daisy's eyes became full of tears.

"How will that be?"

"I don't know, Molly; it don't tell. I suppose that everybody that looks at them will know in a minute that they belong to Jesus."

Daisy's hand went up and brushed across her eyes; and then did it again.

"Do they belong to Him?" asked Molly.

"Oh, yes! Here it is ? don't you remember? ? 'they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.' "

"So they are white, then?" said Molly.

"Yes. And His mark is on them."

"I wish," said the cripple, slowly and thoughtfully, ? "I wish 'twas on me. I do!"

I do not think Daisy could speak at this. She shut her book and got up and looked at Molly, who had put her head down on her folded arms; and then she opened Molly's Testament and pressed her arm to make her look. Still Daisy did not speak; she had laid her finger under some of the words she had been reading; but when Molly raised her head she remembered the sense of them could not be taken by the poor woman's eyes. So Daisy read them, looking with great tenderness in the cripple's face.

" 'I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.' That is what it says, Molly."

"Who says?"

"Why, Jesus says it. He came and died to buy the life for us ?

and now He will give it to us, He says, if we want it."

"What life?" said Molly, vaguely.

"Why, _that_, Molly; that which you were wishing for. He will forgive us, and make us good, and set His mark upon us; and then we shall wear those robes that are made white in His blood, and be with Him in heaven. And that is life."

"You and me?" said Molly.

"Oh, yes! Molly ? anybody. It says 'whosoever is athirst.' "

"Where's the words?" said Molly.

Daisy showed her; and Molly made a deep mark in the paper under them with her nail; so deep as to signify that she meant to have them for present study or future reference or both.

Then, as Molly seemed to have said her say, Daisy said no more and went away.

It was still not late in the afternoon; and Daisy drove on, past the Melbourne gates, and turned the corner into the road which led to Crum Elbow. The air was as clear as October could have it; and soft, neither warm nor cold; and the roads were perfect; and here and there a few yellow and red maple leaves, and in many places a brown stubble field, told that autumn was come. It was as pleasant a day for a drive as could possibly be; and yet Daisy's face was more intent upon her pony's ears than upon any other visible thing. She drove on towards Crum Elbow, but before she reached it she turned another corner, and drew up before Juanita's house.