Melbourne House Part 145

"So I have. I am going to visit a patient. Perhaps you would like to make the visit with me."

"To one of your patients, Dr. Sandford?"

"Yes, one. Not more than one. But I think that one would like to see you."

A light came into Daisy's face, and colour started upon her cheeks, almost painfully.

"Dr. Sandford ? do you mean?"

"I think so, Daisy," said her friend, quietly. "It will do no harm, ? if you are a good child."

He was so quiet, that it stilled Daisy's feeling, which else might have been impetuous. There was danger of that, as the child's eye and cheek bore witness. But she only said, "I'll get ready, Dr. Sandford ?" and went off in orderly style till she reached the hall, and was out of sight. Then Daisy's feet made haste up the stairs. In three minutes she was back again, with her hat and gloves in her hand.

The doctor threw down his newspaper and drew her up to him.

"Daisy, can you be quiet?"

"I think so, Dr. Sandford."

"I think so too; therefore I tell you beforehand that I wish it. Your father has not fully recovered his strength yet; and it would not be good for him to be excited. You will be very glad to see him, and he will be very glad to see you; that is quite enough; and it would be too much, if you were to show him how glad you are."

Daisy said nothing, but she thought within herself she could not do that!

"Can you command yourself, Daisy?"

"I will try, Dr. Sandford."

"You _must_ do it ? for my sake," added the doctor.

"Dr. Sandford," said Daisy, "was that what you meant?"

"When?"

"When you said, if I was a good child?"

"It must have been that I meant, I think. I could have said it in no other connection."

"The pony-chaise, ma'am, for Miss Randolph ?" said a servant at the door.

"The chaise may go away again, Daisy, I suppose," said Mrs.

Sandford. "You will not want it."

"Yes, she will," said the doctor, ? "to drive to Melbourne.

Go, Daisy, since you are ready; I will follow you. That little waddling fellow can be overtaken without any great difficulty."

"Do you want me to drive slowly, sir?"

"Not at all," said the doctor; "only drive well, for I shall come and see."

If ever a little pride in her driving accomplishments had lodged in Daisy's mind, she certainly did not feel it that afternoon. She drove without knowing very well how she drove; she did not think of Dr. Sandford's criticism, or admiration; what she thought of, was the miles of the road to Melbourne.

They were not very many, and unconsciously the eager spirit in Daisy's fingers made itself known to Loupe's understanding, through the medium of the reins. He travelled better than usual, so that they were not more than half way from Melbourne when the doctor's gig overtook them. And then Loupe went better yet.

"Remember, Daisy, and keep quiet ?" said the doctor, as he took her out of the chaise. Daisy trembled, but she followed him steadily through the hall and up the stairs, and into her father's room. Then she went before him, yet even then she went with a moderated step, and stood by her father's couch at last, silent and breathless. Breathless with the very effort she made to keep silent and quiet. With excitement too; for Mr. Randolph was looking feeble and pale, more than Daisy had ever seen him, and it frightened her. He was not in bed, but on a sofa; and as Daisy came to his side he put out his arm and drew his little daughter close to him. Without a word at first and Daisy stooped her lips to his, and then stood hiding her face on his shoulder; perfectly quiet, though trembling with contained emotion, and not daring to say anything, lest she should say too much.

"Daisy," said her father, ? "Daisy, ? do you know I have been ill?"

There was a little, little tone of surprise or disappointment in the voice. Daisy felt it, knew it, but what could she do?

She was afraid to speak, to say anything. She turned her face a little to Dr. Sandford; he saw an agony struggling in the eye that appealed to him. This was not what he wanted.

"She knows it almost too well," he said, coming to the rescue; "I have been her gaoler all these days; ? a severe one."

"Are you glad to see me, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph.

Daisy half raised herself, half glanced at his face, and turning from him threw herself upon Dr. Sandford's arm with a cry, and gave way to a deep pa.s.sion of weeping. Deep and still; her sobs could not but be heard, but they were kept under as much as the heaving of that little breast could bear.

Mr. Randolph's pale face flushed; and the doctor saw that his precautions had been too good.

"Why, Daisy!" he said, lightly, "is this your self-command?"

"Let me have her ?" said Mr. Randolph. "Self-command is a good thing, doctor; but people may have too much of it."

And getting hold of Daisy's hand, which the doctor brought within his reach, he again drew the sobbing child to his breast and folded her close in both his arms. The sobs were very soon hushed; but during all the rest of the doctor's visit, and through all the conversation that took place, Daisy and her father never changed their position. The conversation indeed was not much, being confined to a few quiet questions and answers and remarks; and then Dr. Sandford took his departure, leaving Daisy very unconscious of his movements. He only waved his hand to Mr. Randolph, with a smile at Daisy who did not see him.

"Daisy ? my darling ?" said Mr. Randolph, when he was gone.

"Papa! ?" came in a whisper.

"What is the matter?"

Daisy lifted her face from its resting-place and kissed, with kisses that were like velvet, first one side of her father's mouth, and then the other.

"Papa ? Dr. Sandford told me I must keep quiet."

"Well, you shall," said Mr. Randolph. "That is right enough.

You shall keep quiet, and I will go to sleep."

So he did. But he did not loose his hold of Daisy; and she lay, still as happiness could make her, with her head upon his breast. She knew, she was conscious, that he must be very feeble yet, to go to sleep in that way; but she was with him again, and in his arms, and her heart was so full of joy that it could do nothing but overflow in silent thanksgivings and prayers. Daisy would not have stirred till he did, no matter how long it might have been; but there came an interruption. A door opened, and Mrs. Randolph appeared on the threshold, and so soon as she saw Daisy, beckoned her to come to another room. Mr. Randolph's arms had relaxed their hold somewhat, and Daisy obeyed the signal, and left him.

Her mother wanted then to know all the story of her days at Mrs. Sandford's; and Daisy had a good deal to tell. That is, Mrs. Randolph's questionings made it so. Daisy herself would not have had it a long story. Then she must see June, and Joanna; and then came dinner. It was not till the afternoon was well pa.s.sed that the call came for her to go to her father again. Daisy had watched and waited for it; her mother had forbidden her to go in without it. At last she was sent for, and Daisy sprang away.

Mrs. Randolph was there.

"No noise! ? remember," she said, lifting her finger as Daisy came in. Daisy came near slowly. Her father held out his hand to her, and folded her in his arms again.

"You are such a noisy child!" he said, ? "your mother does wisely to warn you."

"She is an excitable child," ? said Mrs. Randolph; ? "and I think you want warning too."

"We will keep each other quiet," said Mr. Randolph.