"If Mr. Randolph pleases," said the voice of Juanita, — "the
doctor recommended quiet, sir."
Off went Mr. Randolph at that, as if he knew it very well, and
had forgotten himself. He took a chair, and set it in the open
doorway, using the door-post as a rest for his head; and then
the cottage was silent. The wind breathed more gently; the
stars shone out; the air was soft after the storm; the
moonlight made a bright flicker of light and shade over all
the outer world. Now and then a grasshopper chirruped, or a
little bird murmured a few twittering notes at being disturbed
in its sleep; and then came a soft sigh from Daisy.
On noiseless foot the black woman stole to the couch. Daisy
was weeping; her tears were pouring out and making a great wet
spot on her pillow.
"Is my love in pain?" whispered the black woman.
"It's nothing — I can't help it," said Daisy.
"Where is it — in the foot?"
"It's all over, I think; in my head and everywhere. Hush,
Juanita; never mind."
Mrs. Benoit, however, tried the soothing effect of a long
gentle brushing of Daisy's head. This lasted till Daisy said
she could bear it no longer. She was restless.
"Will my love hear a hymn?"
"It will wake papa.
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