Daisy Thornton Part 8

Everything the child had asked for was there except the picture. That Daisy dared not send, lest it should look too much like thrusting herself upon Guy's notice and wound Julia his wife.

Daisy was strangely pitiful in her thoughts of Julia, who would in her turn have pitied her for her delusion, could she have known how sure she was that but for the tardiness of that letter Guy would have chosen his first love in preference to any other.

And it was well that each believed herself first in the affection of the man to whom Daisy wanted so much to send something as a proof of her unalterable love. They were living still in the brown cottage; they were not able to buy Elmwood back. Oh, if she only dared to do it, how gladly her Christmas gift should be the handsome place which they had been so proud of. But that would hardly do; Guy might not like to be so much indebted to her; he was proud and sensitive in many points, and so she abandoned the plan for the present, thinking that by and by she would purchase and hold it as a gift to her namesake on her bridal day. That will be better, she said, as she put the last article in the box and saw it leave her door, directed to Guy Thornton's care.

Great was the surprise at the Brown Cottage, when, on the very night before Christmas the box arrived and was deposited in the dining-room, where Guy and Julia, Miss Barker and Daisy, gathered eagerly around it, the later exclaiming:

"I knows where it tum from, I do. My sake-name, Miss Mac-Dolly, send it, see did. I writ and ask her would see, an' see hab."

"What!" Guy said, as, man-like, he began deliberately to untie every knot in the string which his wife in her impatience would have cut at once. "What does the child mean? Do you know, Julia?"

"I do. I'll explain," Miss Barker said, and in as few words as possible she told what she had done, while Julia listened with a very grave face, and Guy was pale to his lips as he went on untying the string and opening the box.

There was a letter lying on the top which he handed to Julia, who steadied her voice to read aloud:

"New York, December 22, 18-.

"Darling little _sake-name_ _Daisy_:-Your letter made Miss Mack-Dolly very happy, and she is so glad to send you the doll with a _shash_, and the other toys. Write to me again and tell me if they suit you. G.o.d bless you, sweet little one, is the prayer of

"_Miss McDonald_."

After that the grave look left Julia's face, and Guy was not quite so pale, as he took out, one after another, the articles, which little Daisy hailed with rapturous shouts and exclamations of delight.

"Oh, isn't she dood, and don't you love her, papa?" she said, while Guy replied:

"Yes, it was certainly very kind in her, and generous. No other little girl in town will have such a box as this."

He was very white, and there was a strange look in his eyes, but his voice was perfectly natural as he spoke, and one who knew nothing of his former relations to Miss McDonald would never have suspected how his whole soul was moved by this gift to his little daughter.

"You must write and thank her," he said to Julia, who, knowing that this was proper, a.s.sented without a word, and when on the morning after Christmas Miss McDonald opened with trembling hands the envelope bearing the Cuylerville post-mark, she felt a keen pang of disappointment in finding only a few lines from Julia, who expressed her own and little Daisy's thanks for the beautiful Christmas box, and signed herself:

"Truly, _Mrs. Guy Thornton_."

Not Julia, but Mrs. Guy, and that hurt Daisy more than anything else.

"Mrs. Guy Thornton! Why need she thrust upon me the name I used to bear?" she whispered, and her lip quivered a little, and the tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered all that lay between the present and the time when she had been Mrs. Guy Thornton.

She was Miss McDonald now, and Guy was another woman's husband, and with a bitter pain in her heart, she put away Julia's letter, saying, as she did so, "And that's the end of that."

The box business had not resulted just as she hoped it would. She had thought Guy would write himself, and by some word or allusion a.s.sure her of his remembrance, but instead, there had come to her a few perfectly polite and well-expressed lines from Julia, who had the _impertinence_ to sign herself Mrs. Guy Thornton! It was rather hard and sorely disappointing, and for many days Miss McDonald's face was very white and sad, and both the old and young whom she visited as usual wondered what had come over the beautiful lady, to make her "so pale and sorry."

CHAPTER XI.-AT SARATOGA.

There were no more letters from Mrs. Guy Thornton until the next Christmas, when another box went to little Daisy, and was acknowledged as before. Then another year glided and a third box went to Daisy, and then one summer afternoon in the August following, there came to Saratoga a gay party from New York, and among other names registered at one of the large hotels was that of Miss McDonald. It seemed to be her party, or at least she was its center, and the one to whom the others deferred as to their head. Daisy was in perfect health that summer, and in unusually good spirits; and when in the evening, yielding to the entreaties of her friends, she entered the ball-room, clad in flowing robes of blue and white, with costly jewels on her neck and arms, she was acknowledged at once as the star and belle of the evening. She did not dance,-she rarely did that now, but after a short promenade through the room she took a seat near the door, and was watching the gay dancers, when she felt her arm softly touched, and turning saw her maid standing by her, with an anxious, frightened look upon her face.

"Come, please, come quick," she said, in a whisper; and following her out, Miss McDonald asked what was the matter.

"_This_, you must go away at once. I'll pack your things. I promised not to tell, but I must. I can't see your pretty face all spoiled and ugly."

"What do you mean?" the lady asked, and after a little questioning she made out from the girl's statement, that in strolling on the back piazza she had stumbled upon her first cousin, of whose whereabouts she had known nothing for a long time.

This girl, Marie, had, it seemed, come to Saratoga a week or ten days before, with her master's family consisting of his wife and two little children. As the hotel was crowded, they were a.s.signed rooms for the night in a distant part of the house, with a promise of something much better on the morrow. In the morning, however, the lady, who had not been well for some days, was too sick to leave her bed, and the doctor, who was called in to see her, p.r.o.nounced the disease,-here Sarah stopped and gasped for breath, and looked behind her and all ways, and finally whispered a word which made even Miss McDonald start a little and wince with fear.

"He do call it the _very-o-lord_," Sarah said, "but Mary says it's the _very old one_ himself. She knows, she has had it, and you can't put down a pin where it didn't have its claws. They told the landlord, who was for putting them straight out of doors, but the doctor said the lady must not be moved,-it was sure death to do it. It was better to keep quiet, and not make a panic. n.o.body need to know it in the house, and their rooms are so far from everybody that n.o.body would catch it. So he let them stay, and the gentleman takes care of her, and Mary keeps the children in the next room, and carries and brings the things, and keeps away from everybody. Two of the servants know it, and they've had it, and don't tell, and she said I mustn't, nor come that side of the house, but I must tell you so that you can leave to-morrow. The lady is very bad, and n.o.body takes care of her but Mr. Thornton. Mary takes things to the door, and leaves them outside where he can get them."

"What did you call the gentleman?" Miss McDonald asked, her voice faltering and her cheek blanching a little.

"Mr. Thornton, from Cuylerville, a place far in the country," was the girl's reply; and then, without waiting to hear more, Miss McDonald darted away, and going to the office, turned the leaves of the Register to the date of ten or eleven days ago, and read with a beating heart and quick coming breath:

"Mr. and Mrs. Guy Thornton, two children and servant. No. -- and --."

Yes, it was Guy; there could be no mistake, and in an instant her resolution was taken. Calling her maid, she sent for her shawl and hat, and then, bidding her follow, walked away in the moonlight. The previous summer when at Saratoga, she had received medical treatment from Dr.

Schwartz, whom she knew well, and to whose office she directed her steps. He seemed surprised to see her at that hour, but greeted her cordially, asked when she came to town and what he could do for her.

"Tell me if this is still a safeguard," she said, baring her beautiful white arm, and showing a large round scar. "Will this insure me against disease?"

The doctor's face flushed, and he looked uneasily at her as he took her arm in his hand and examining the scar closely, said:

"The points are still distinct. I should say the vaccination was thorough."

"But another will be safer. Have you fresh matter?" Daisy asked, and he replied:

"Yes, some just from a young, healthy cow. I never use the adulterated stuff which has been humanized. How do I know what humors may be lurking in the blood? Why, some of the fairest, sweetest babies are full of scrofula."

He was going on further with his discussion, when Daisy, who knew his peculiarities, interrupted him.

"Never mind the lecture now. Vaccinate me quick, and let me go."

It was soon done; the doctor saying, as he put away his vial:

"You were safe without it, I think, and with it you may have no fears whatever."

He looked at her curiously again as if asking what she knew or feared, and observing the look, Daisy said to him:

"Do you attend the lady at the hotel?"

He bowed affirmatively and glanced uneasily at Sarah, who was looking on in surprise.

"Is she very sick?" was the next inquiry.

"Yes, very sick."

"And does no one care for her but her husband?"