It was empty and dark,
except for the moonlight without; June had not expected her to
be there, and had not made preparation. Daisy went, and
kneeled down in her old place by her window; her eyes filled
as full of tears as they could hold. She bent her little head
to brush them away, but they came again. Daisy was faint and
tired; she wanted her supper very much; and she had enjoyed
the supper-table very much; it was a great mortification to
exchange it for the gloom and silence of her moonlit room. She
had not a bit of strength to keep her spirits up. Daisy felt
weak. And what was the matter? Only — that she had, against
her mother's pleasure, repeated her acknowledgment of the hand
that had given her all good things. How many good things that
day! And was she not to make such acknowledgment any more?
Ought she to please her mother in this? Had she really done
wrong? Daisy could not tell; she thought not; she could not
wish she had not done what she did; but at the same time it
was very miserable to have Mrs. Randolph at odds with her on
such a point as this.
Daisy shed some tears about it; yet not a great many, and
without the least bitterness in them. But she felt faint and
tired and disappointed.
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