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.

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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.

"Can it be I was ever that silly little fool?" she said bitterly, as she

finished her journal. "And how could Guy love me as I know he did. Oh,

if I but had the chance again, I would make him so happy! Oh, Guy,

Guy--my husband still--mine more than Julia's, if you could know how

much I love you now; nor can I feel it wrong to do so, even though I

never hope to see your face again. Guy, Guy, the world is so desolate,

and I am young, only twenty-three, and life is so long and dreary with

nothing to live for or to do. I wish almost that I were dead like Tom,

only I dare not think I should go to heaven where he has gone."

In her sorrow and loneliness Daisy was fast sinking into an unhealthy,

morbid state of mind from which nothing seemed to arouse her.

"Nothing to live for--nothing to do," was her lament until one golden

September day, when there came a turning point in her life, and she

found there was something to do.

There was no regular service that Sunday in the church where she usually

attended, and as the day was fine and she was far too restless to remain

at home, she proposed to her mother that they walk to a little chapel

about a mile away, where a young Presbyterian clergyman was to preach.




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