Miss McDonald

She took that name again, and with it, also, Margaret, feeling that
Daisy was far too girlish an appellation for one who clad herself almost
in widow's weeds, and felt, when she stood at poor Tom's grave, more
wretched and desolate than many a wife has felt when her husband was put
from her sight.

Tom had meant to make her parents independent of her so that she need
not have them with her unless she chose to do so, for, knowing Mr.
McDonald as he did, he thought she would be happier alone, but God so
ordered it that within three months after poor Tom's death they made
another grave beside his, and Daisy and her mother were alone.

It was spring-time now, and the two desolate women bade adieu to their
dead, and made their way to England, and from there to Scotland, where
among the heather hills they passed the summer in the utmost seclusion.

Here Daisy had ample time for thought, which dwelt mostly upon the past
and the happiness she cast away when she consented to the sundering of
the tie which had bound her to Guy Thornton.

"Oh, how could I have been so foolish and so weak," she said, as, with
intense contempt for herself, she read over the journal she had kept at
Elmwood during the first weeks of her married life.

Guy had said it would be pleasant for her to refer to its pages in after
years, little dreaming with what sore anguish of heart poor Daisy would
one day weep over the senseless things recorded there.