Daisy In The Field - Page 178/231

When the summer drew on, to my great pleasure we went to

Switzerland again. We established ourselves quietly at

Lucerne, which papa was very fond of. There we were much more

quiet than we had been the fall before; Ransom having gone

home now to take his share in the struggle, and our two

Southern friends who had also gone, having no successors like

them in our little home circle. We made not so many and not so

long excursions. But papa and I had good time for our

readings; and I had always a friend with whom I could take

counsel, in the grand old Mont Pilatte. What a friend that

mountain was to me, to be sure! When I was downhearted, and

when anything made me glad; when I was weary and when I was

most full of life; its grand head in the skies told me of

truth and righteousness and strength; the light and colours

that played and rested there, as it held, the sun's beams and

gave them back to earth, were a sort of promise to me of

beauty and life above and beyond this earth; yes, and of its

substantial existence now, even when we do not see it. They

were a little hint of what we do not see. I do not exactly

know what was the language of the wreaths of vapour that robed

and shrouded and then revealed the mountain, with the

exquisite shiftings and changings of their gracefulness; I

believe it was like, to me, the floating veil that hides God's

purposes from us, yet now and then parting enough to let us

see the eternal truth and unchangeableness behind it. I told

all my moods to Mont Pilatte, and I think it told all its

moods to me. After a human friend, there is nothing like a big

mountain. And when the news of Gettysburg and Vicksburg came;

and mamma grew furious; and I saw for the first time that

success was truly looming up on the horizon of the North, and

that my dear coloured people might indeed soon be free; that

night Mont Pilatte and I shouted together.

There came no particular light on my own affairs all this

time. Indeed mamma began to reproach me for what she called my

disloyal and treacherous sentiments. And then, hints began to

break out, very hard to bear, that I had indulged in

traitorous alliances and was an unworthy child of my house. It

rankled in mamma's mind, that I had not only refused the

connection with one of the two powerful Southern families

which had sought me the preceding year; but that I had also

discouraged and repelled during the past winter several

addresses which might have been made very profitable to my

country as well as my own interests. For what had I rejected

them all? mamma began to ask discontentedly. Papa shielded me

a little; but I felt that the sky was growing dark around me

with the coming storm.