A Victory

"Daisy, - you are very happy!" my father said one day when I
was sitting with him. We were looking out upon the lake, which
our windows commanded; but I found papa's look had come back
from the window to me.

"You are very happy!" he said.

"Yes, papa, - pretty happy."

"Pretty happy?" said he, putting his hand under my chin and
turning my face again round to him, and then kissing me.
"Pretty and happy, you mean."

"No, papa," I said laughing; - "I don't mean that."

"It is true, though," said he. "There was a bit of a smile
upon your mouth just now - before I spoke; - what were you
thinking of?"

"Papa, it is so glorious, - the lake and its shores in this
sunlight."

"That was all?"

"No, not quite all, papa."

"I thought not. What was the rest of it, Daisy?"

"Papa, I was thinking with joy, that I belong to the wonderful
One who made all that; and so, that the riches of his power
and glory are in a certain sense mine; - just as everything
good in you is mine, papa."

He folded me in his arms and kissed me again, very fondly.

"There is not much good in me, Daisy."

"Yes, papa, - for me."

"But there is a great deal in you, - for somebody."

"For you, papa."

"Nobody else, Daisy?"

He was holding me close in his arms and looking down into my
face. I believe the colour must have come into my cheeks.