"Why were you afraid?"
"Papa, I knew you and mamma would not be I pleased; that it
would not be what you would wish; and I feared mamma, and
perhaps you, would forbid him at once."
"Does he write to you?"
"I would not let him, papa, without your permission; and I was
afraid I could not get that."
"What did you expect to do then, Daisy, if I was never to be
told?"
"I thought to wait only till the war should be over, papa, -
when he might see you himself and you might see him. I thought
that would be the best way."
"He did not?"
"No; he insisted on writing."
"He was right. What is the young man's name, Daisy? you have
not told me yet."
"Christian Thorold."
"Thorold," said papa. "It is an English name. Have you heard
nothing from him, Daisy, since you came to Switzerland?"
"Nothing," - I said.
Papa came over again to where I sat on the divan, bent down
and kissed me.
"Am I such a terror to you, Daisy?"
"Oh, no, papa," I said, bursting into tears at last; - "but
mamma - you know if mamma said a word at first, she would
never go back from it."
"I know," he said. "And I choose, for the present, that this
matter should remain a secret between you and me. You need not
tell your mother until I bid you."
"Yes, papa. Thank you."
"And, Daisy," said he stroking my hair fondly, - "the war is
not ended in America yet, and I am afraid we have a long time
to wait for it. Poor child! - But for the present there are no
storms ahead."
I rose up and kissed papa, with a very tender good-night given
and exchanged; and then I went to my room. The Jerusalem
lights were out. But a peace, deep and wide as the blue arch
of the sky, seemed to have spanned my life and my heart.