"I said nothing against that," my mother replied. But my
father, clasping me in his arms, whispered, "We will be servants together, Daisy."
That word sent me to bed with a whole heartful of
thankfulness. I could bear anything now, if his words meant
what I hoped they did. And I should have security, too,
against any too great trial of my affection and duty to him
and to mamma.
An expedition had been arranged for the next day; in which my
brother and his friends were to take me upon the lake. Mamma
and papa would not go. It was a day, in one sort, of such
pleasure as I had never known till then. The beautiful water,
the magnificent shores of the lake, the wonderful lights on
the mountains, almost took me out of this world; to which they
seemed scarcely to belong. I cannot tell what a pang in the
midst of this pleasure the thought of Mr. Thorold brought with
it. The life I was living now was so very far from his life,
and so unlike; my part of the world was now so very distant
from his, - there was such an abyss between; - and yet the
Swiss hills were so glorious, and I was enjoying them. I began
to wonder, as we were sailing towards home in the end of the
day, what work I had to do in this new and strange place; why
was I here? Perhaps, to learn patience, and have faith grow
strong by trial, while all my life hopes waited upon a will
that I did not know and must trust. Perhaps, to stand up for
Christian truth and simplicity in the face of much opposition.
Perhaps, to suffer, and learn to bear suffering.
"You are fatigued, Miss Randolph?" said the soft voice of De
Saussure.
"Or beauty of scenery, so much beauty, makes you melancholy,"
said Mr. Marshall. "It always makes me so, if I let myself
think of it."
"Why should it make any one melancholy?" I asked. "I think
beauty has the contrary effect."
"A little beauty. But very great and wonderful loveliness - I
don't know why, it always moves me so. It is something too far
beyond me; it is unlike me; it seems to belong to another
stage of being, while I am held fast in this. It mocks me, -
somehow."
"It does not do so with me," I said.
"Ah, it is your world!" De Saussure said, laughing. "It could
not do so with you very well."
"But look at Mont Pilatte now," resumed Mr. Marshall, - "with
that crown of light on its brow; - does it not give you the
feeling of something inapproachable - not literally but
spiritually, - something pure, glorious, infinite - something
that shames us mortals into insignificance?"