Daisy's Post

Dr. Sandford and I stood together on the deck of the steamer,
looking at the lessening shore. I was afraid the doctor should
see how I looked, yet I could not turn my eyes from it. I had
given up the care of myself; I could bear to see America
fading out of my sight; yet it seemed to me as if I left Daisy
and her life there, and as if I must be like a wandering
spirit from another world till I should come back to those
shores again. I would minister to my father and mother, but
nobody would minister to me. And I thought it was very likely
very good for me. Maybe I was in danger of growing selfish and
of forgetting my work and all happiness except my own and
Thorold's. I could do nothing for either of those now; nothing
actively. But I called myself up as soon as that thought
passed through me. I could always pray; and I could be quiet
and trust; and I could be full of faith, hope and love; and
anybody with those is not unhappy. And God is with his people;
and he can feed them in a desert. And with that, I went down
to my stateroom, to sob my heart out. Not altogether in
sorrow, or I think I should not have shed a tear; but with
that sense of joy and riches in the midst of trial; the
feeling of care that was over my helplessness, and hope that
could never die nor be disappointed sin spite of the many
hopes that fail.