Miss McDonald - Page 41/65

"Bring out your boat," he would say. "It's time we were off, for the

tide is at its height, and the river is running so fast. I thought once

it would take Daisy, but it left her, and I am glad. When I am fairly

over and there's nothing but my big, freckled hulk left, cover my face

and don't let her look at me, though I'll be white then, not red. Oh,

Daisy, Daisy, my darling, you hurt me so cruelly!"

Those were terrible days for Daisy, but she never flinched from her

post, and stood resolutely between the sick man and that other one in

the corner until the latter seemed to waver a little; his shadow was

not so black, his presence so all-pervading, and there was hope for Tom.

His reason came back at last, and the fever left him, but weak as a

child, with no power to move even his poor wasted hands which lay

outside the counterpane and seemed to trouble him, for there was a

wistful, pleading look in his gray eyes as they went from the hands to

Daisy, while his lips whispered faintly, "Cover."

She understood him, and with a rain of tears spread the sheet over them,

and then on her knees beside him, said to him amid her sobs: "Forgive me, Tom, for what I did when I was crazy. You are not repulsive

to me. You are the truest, best, and dearest friend I ever had, and

I--I--oh, Tom, I wish I had never been born."

Daisy did not stay by Tom that night. There was no necessity for it, and

she was so worn and weary with watching that the physician declared she

must have absolute rest or be sick again herself. So she remained away,

and in a little room by herself fought the fiercest battle she had ever

fought, and on her knees, with tears and bitter cries, asked for help to

do right. Not for help to know what was right. She felt sure that she

did know that, only the flesh was weak, and there were chords of love

still clinging to a past she scarcely dared think of now lest her

courage should fail her. Guy was lost to her forever; it was a sin even

to think of him as she must think if she thought at all, and so she

strove to put him from her--to tear his image from her heart and put

another in its place, even Tom, whom she pitied so much, and whom she

could make so happy.

"No matter for myself," she said. "No matter what I feel, or how sharp

the pain in my heart, if I only keep it there and never let Tom know. I

can make him happy, and I will."