XII. WHAT DAISY DID.
The Arrest—Doubt and Love—Daisy and the Necklace—
The Search—The heart of Daisy Snarle.
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Why, true, her heart was all humanity,
Her soul all God's; in spirit and in form,
Like fair. Her cheek had the pale, pearly pink
Of sea-shells, the world's sweetest tint, as though
She lived, one-half might deem, on roses sopped
In silver dew; she spoke as with the voice
Of spheral harmony which greets the soul,
When, at the hour of death, the saved one knows
His sister angel's near: her eye was as
The golden pane the setting sun doth just
Imblaze, which shows, till heaven comes down again,
All other lights but grades of gloom; her dark,
Long rolling locks were as a stream the slave
Might search for gold, and searching find.
Festus.
In an upper room of a miserable, dingy house
which faced the spot where the old Brewery used
to stand, Edward Walters sat one January evening
reading the Express. There was one paragraph
among the city items which he had read several
times, and each reading seemed to strengthen a
determination which had, at the first perusal, grown
up with him.
“Right or wrong, I'll do it!”
With which words he folded the paper, and placed
it in his pocket.
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Daisy, too, read the paragraph that night, and
the blood rushed into her cheeks, then left them very
pale.
It was simply a police report—such as you read
over your morning coffee, without thinking how
many hearts may be broken by the sight of that
little cluster of worn out type. A young man,
no name given, recently a clerk in the house of
Messrs. Flint & Snarle, had been arrested on the
charge of stealing a case of jewels from his employers.
Daisy, with dry eyes, read it again and again.
Dark doubt and trusting love were at conflict for
a moment; for doubt had pride for its ally, and love
was only love. But the woman conquered. Mortimer,
who had been arrested early in the forenoon,
found means to send Daisy a note, in which he
simply said—“I am charged with stealing the necklace,
but I am as guiltless of the crime as you,
Daisy.”
Mrs. Snarle came in the room while our little
heroine held the note in her hand.
“Mother,” said Daisy, averting her head, “Mortimer
will not come home to-night”
With this she threw the note into the fire, and
left Mrs. Snarle alone, before the good lady asked
any questions.
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“That's very odd!” soliloquized Mrs. Snarle,
briefly.
“You tell me that you are innocent,” said Daisy,
looking at a small portrait of Mortimer which hung
over the fire-place—“I do not question, I only believe
you!”
And then Daisy did a very strange thing, and yet
it was very like Daisy. She untied the brown
ribbon which bound her dark lengths of hair, allowing
them to fall over her shoulders; then she braided
the string of pearls with her tresses, and brought
the whole in a beautiful band over her forehead.
And she looked like a little queen with this coronal
of jet and pearl shading her brows.
Daisy next picked the jewel-case to pieces, and
threw the minute shreds into the street. This was
scarcely done, when the door-bell rang impatiently.
The girl peeped from the window.
The two men at the door-step were not to be
mistaken. Daisy's fingers trembled as she undid the
fastenings of the door.
“We have orders to search this house, miss,”
said one of the officers, touching the vizor of his
cap respectfully.
Daisy choked down a sob, and led them with an
unnatural calmness from room to room.
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Every place in the little house was investigated,
but in vain; no necklace was to be found. Yet
twice the breath of one of the searchers fell on the
pearls in Daisy's hair. The two officers left the
house in evident chagrin.
When they had gone, the girl sat on the stairs
and sobbed.
Happily for her wishes, Mrs. Snarle had been
absent during the search; and thus far had been
kept in ignorance of Mortimer's disgrace. But
Daisy could not hope to keep it a secret from her
long, for they both would probably be summoned
as witnesses in open court. The thought of giving
evidence against Mortimer went through Daisy's
heart like an intense pain. It terrified her, and
her warm little heart was floating on tears all
day.
The cloud which had fallen on her seemed to
have no silver lining; all was cold, black and sunless.
But there is no mortal wound to which some
unseen angel does not bring a balm—
“There are gains for all our losses!”
Daisy remembered Mortimer's words: “Promise
that you will not doubt me, whatever may occur in connection
with this necklace—that you will love me,
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though I may be unable to explain condemning circumstances,
or dispel the doubts of others
”—and the
words came to her freighted with such hope and
tenderness, that her sleep that night was deep and
refreshing. Doubt had folded its wings in the
heart of Daisy Snarle.
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Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, 1836-1907 [1857], Daisy's necklace: and what came of it (A literary episode). (Derby & Jackson, New York) [word count] [eaf446T].
