"It is so light yet, and you come so near the house."
"You walk with other people, don't you?"
"I am not afraid of the other people."
"Are you afraid of me?" said he smiling; and then growing
grave, "We may have only a few times, Daisy; let us make the
most of them."
How could I start anything after that. I was mute; and Mr.
Thorold began upon a new theme.
"Daisy, how long have you been in Washington?"
"Christian, I could not let you know. I was always hoping to
see you somewhere."
"Sounds as if you felt guilty," he said. "Confess, Daisy; you
look as if you were afraid I would be angry. I will not be
very hard with you."
I was afraid; and he was angry, when I told him. His face
flushed and his eye changed, and turned away from me.
"Christian," I said, "I was very unwilling that Dr. Sandford
should know anything about it; that was my reason. If I had
written to you, you know you would have come straight to where
I was; and the risk was too great."
"What risk?" he said. "I might have been ordered away from
Washington; and then we might never have met."
"Are you vexed?" I said gently.
"You have wronged me, Daisy."
It gave me, I do not know whether more pain or pleasure, the
serious grave displeasure his manner testified. Neither pain
nor pleasure was very easy to express; but pain pressed the
hardest.
"I have been looking for the chance of seeing you; looking the
whole time," I said. "Everywhere, it was the one thing I was
intent upon."
"Daisy, it might have been lost altogether. And how many days
have been lost!"
I was silent now; and we walked some steps together without
anything more. But the next words were with a return to his
usual clear voice.
"Daisy, you must not be afraid of anything."
"How can I help it?" I asked.
"Help it? - but have I brought those tears into your eyes?"
It was almost worth while to have offended him, to hear the
tone of those words. I could not speak.
"I see you are not very angry with me," he said; "but I am
with myself. Daisy, my Daisy, you must not be so fearful of
unknown dangers."
"I think I have been fearful of them all my life," I answered.
"Perhaps it is my fault."
And with unspeakable joy I recognised the truth, that at last
my life was anchored to one from whom I need neither fear nor
disguise anything.
"To fear them is often to bring them." he added.
"I do not think it will, in my case," I said. "But, if Dr.
Sandford had known you were coming to see me, he might have
carried me off from Washington, just as he did from West Point
last year."