There was little chance in those days at Lucerne for me to be
alone with papa. The opportunities we had we both enjoyed
highly. Now and then mamma would be late for breakfast, or
even take hers in bed; once in a while go out to a visit from
which I begged off. Then papa and I drew together and had a
good time. One of these chances occurred a few days after the
news came of General Lyon's death. We were alone, and I was
drawing, and papa had been watching me a little while in
silence.
"Daisy," he began, "am I wrong? It seems to me that you do not
look upon matters at home with just the eye that the rest of
us have for them?"
"What matters, papa?" I said, looking up, and feeling
troubled.
"You do not like the war."
"Papa, - do you?"
"Yes. I think our countrymen are right, and of course I wish
that they should have their rights."
"Papa," said I, "don't you think it must be very strong
reasons that can justify so dreadful a thing as a war?"
"Undoubtedly; but the preservation of liberty is one of the
strongest that can be conceived."
"Papa - you know I want liberty for the blacks."
"It is like you, my dear child," my father said, after pausing
a minute; "it is like your generous nature; but Daisy, I think
those people do not want it for themselves."
"Papa, if they did not, I should think it would be one of the
strongest arguments on my side; but I am sure they do. I know
a great many of them that do."
"Did not you, perhaps, bring about that desire in them, by
your kind and possibly somewhat misjudged indulgences?"
"No indeed, papa; it was our overseer, with his wicked ways.
That Mr. Edwards is dreadful, papa!"
"All overseers are not good," said my father with a sigh. "The
people at Magnolia are as well treated, on the whole, - as
they can be anywhere, I think, - I hope."
"You do not know, papa. If they are, you have said all. And
there is our old Maria, who has nothing to do with Mr.
Edwards; she has no hope nor anticipation which does not go
beyond this world; and it is so with a great many of them.
They have that hope; but they sing, "I am bound for the
promised land!" - in a minor key; and to a plaintive air that
makes your heart ache."
"Yours, Daisy," said my father with a somewhat constrained
smile.
"Papa," I went on, trembling, but I thought it best to
venture, - "if the issue of this war could be to set all those
people free, I could almost be glad."