by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XXX.
VOICE OF THE PRINCE.
Daisy felt quite certain that the Prince had come. Jasmine greeted herold friend of St. Paul's Cathedral with sparkling eyes and effusivewords of welcome. Primrose, too, was very pleased to see any one whobrought such a contented look into Daisy's little face, for the childasked herself to sit in his arms, and laying her head on his shoulder,she listened with pleasure to some wonderful fairy stories which herelated. While Noel was by, Daisy seemed quite to forget her nervousfancies--she even spoke confidentially of ogres who tried to makethemselves friendly, and she asked Arthur, with a very puzzled,anxious face, if a little girl, who was so unfortunate as to have anogre for a friend, could ever get rid of him.
"Oh, yes; he might turn into an enemy," answered Arthur.
But here poor Daisy shuddered violently, and turned very white.
"No, no," she said; "not into an enemy, never into an enemy, dear Mr.Arthur."
"What matter is it to you, little maid?" answered Arthur cheerily,though he regarded her with very keen observation. "There is no ogregoing to trouble you as either friend or enemy; If he does he willhave to meet me. I am the Prince, you know, and my mission in life isto slay the wicked ogres."
"Oh! but his poor wife and his children!" half sobbed Daisy; "couldn'tyou lock him up in a tower, dear Prince?"
Arthur smiled, and gradually managed to lead the child's thoughts intoanother direction. He was already gaining the greatest possibleinfluence over her, and he managed, on the occasion of his secondvisit, to coax her to let him carry her across to Miss Egerton's for acouple of hours. Dove met them as Arthur was carrying the child away,and he first scowled, and then smiled obsequiously. Daisy turneddeadly white, and Noel felt that she trembled.
DOVE MET THEM. Palace B]
"I'm coming back to-night, Mr. Dove," she called out, in a shakylittle voice; and Dove answered--
"Pleased to hear it, missy; the attics would be lonesome without you,missy."
"Daisy," whispered Noel, "tell me something--is Dove the ogre?"
"Oh, don't, don't, Mr. Prince!" answered back the child. "No, no, ofcourse not; why, he's only poor Mr. Dove--a friend of mine."
When Daisy reached Miss Egerton's and found herself seated in thatlady's cosy little drawing-room, with sponge-cakes _ad libitum_ toeat, and Noel sitting by and willing to give up all his time to herbenefit, she cheered up wonderfully; a faint color came to her whitelittle cheeks, and Miss Egerton, as she passed the open drawing-roomdoor, heard one or two silvery peals of laughter coming from her lips.
"Bless the child!" thought the kind woman; "how much better she iswhen she is out of that house. What nice influence that good fellow,Arthur, has over her. I do trust the silly little one will soon giveup her fancies--for they surely can be nothing but fancies--and cometo live with me."
But when the twilight fell Daisy ceased to laugh, the anxious andtroubled look returned to her face, and after a time she said toArthur, in her pretty coaxing way--
"Take me home now, please, Mr. Prince."
Two days afterwards Noel called at the girls' lodgings Daisy alone wasin, but to all his entreaties she now turned a deaf ear. No, she didnot want to go out; she would rather stay in her own dear, nice oldattics; she was never so happy anywhere as in her own attics. She wasvery fond of Miss Egerton, but she did not think she would like tolive with her. Miss Egerton kept a bird, and Daisy had a greatdislike to birds.
"Please, Mr. Prince," she said, in conclusion, "stay with me here foran hour or two, and tell me a beautiful story."
Noel was rather clever at making up impromptu stories, and he nowproceeded to relate a tale with a moral.
"There was a kind lady who had prepared lovelyguest-chambers--beautiful they were, and worthy of a palace."
Here Noel stopped, and looked hard at his little listener.
"Do you know why they were so lovely, little maid?"
"No; please tell me, Mr. Prince. Oh, I am sure this is going to be areal true fairy tale--how delicious!" and Daisy leaned back on hersofa with a sigh of content.
"The rooms were beautiful, Daisy," continued Arthur "because the wallswere papered with Goodness and the chairs, and the tables, and thecarpets, and the sofas, and the thousand-and-one little knick-knacks,were placed in the rooms by Self-Denial, and the windows were polishedvery brightly by Love herself, and she kept the key which opened thechamber doors."
"How sweet!" said Daisy.
"Yes; there were two rooms, and they were very sweet. To live theremeant to get into an abode of peace. As to ogres, they would fall downdead on the threshold of such rooms. There were only two, and theywere up high in a small house, and without the gilding and the glorywhich I spoke of they would have seemed humble enough, but to thosewho knew their secret, and what their owner had done for her expectedguests, they appeared a very Palace Beautiful. Now, Daisy, I must tellyou something so sad. The rooms were ready, but the guests did notarrive. Three guests were expected, but the kind lady who had preparedthe rooms, who had papered them with Goodness, and furnished them withSelf-Denial, and brightened them with Love, waited and longed for hervisitors in vain.
"Two of the visitors were most anxious to come, but one--a littleone--although she looked very gentle and had a sweet expression andblue eyes, and seemed quite the sort of little girl who would notwillingly hurt a fly, held back. It never entered into her head thatshe was selfish, and was making two or three people who loved her bothanxious and unhappy. She preferred to live in rooms which, bycomparison, were like dungeons; for the owners had never put Love intothem, and had never thought of Self-Denial in connection with them.There, Daisy-flower, I have done. It seems a pity that the little girlshould have been so selfish, does it not?"
"But how does the story end, Mr. Arthur? You have really only justbegun."
"I only know the beginning, Daisy," said Noel, as he rose to leave. "Ihave not an idea whether that Palace Beautiful will ever receive itsvisitors, whether that kind lady will ever be made happy, or whetherthat little girl will ever cease to be selfish."
A few moments afterwards Noel went away, and poor Daisy turned herface to the wall and wept.
Of course, the very obvious moral had hit her hard, poor little maid!Oh! if she could really only confide in Arthur--he was so nice andstrong, and he looked so contemptuously at Mr. Dove that day when hewas carrying Daisy across the road to Miss Egerton's.
"I don't believe he would be afraid of Mr. Dove," she whisperedsoftly, under her breath. "Oh dear! why am I so terribly frightened?Why does he make my heart beat? and why do I shake so when I see him?Well, I'll never tell about his bringing me up the stickysweetmeats--of course I'll not tell. I promised I wouldn't; it wouldbe dreadful to break one's promise. Of course I know where people gowho break their promises. No, I promised Mr. Dove, and I must always,and always, and always keep my word; but I did not promise him thatI'd stay here. He wanted me to, and I just had it on the tip of mytongue, for I was dreadfully frightened, but he heard a noise, and hewent away. I'm so glad I didn't promise, because the Prince says Ishould go and live in the Palace Beautiful. He thinks I'm a selfishlittle girl. Oh dear! how terrified I shall be, but I won't be aselfish little girl, and keep Primrose and Jasmine away from thePalace, and break the kind lady's heart. I must try and write a veryprivate little note to Mr. Dove, and tell him that though I am goingaway I'll always and always keep my word about the sweeties, and I'llalways be his truest of friends, although I do fear him more thananything in the world."
Here Primrose came in, and poor little Daisy roused herself, and triedto talk cheerfully.
"Primrose," she said, "do you mind my writing a letter which nobody isto see?"
Primrose laughed.
"You funny pet!" she said; "if no one is to see the letter why do youtrouble to write it?"
"I only mean, Primrose," continued Daisy, "that you are not to see it,nor Jasmine, nor Miss Egerton, nor Mr. Noel. It is to--to somebody;but you are not t
o be curious, Primrose, nor to ask any questions.It's a most terribly important letter, and when it's written I'm goingto put it in the post myself. I'll go out with you, and you must turnyour back when I drop it into the pillar-box. You'll be very happywhen it's written, Primrose, and I'm doing it for you and Jasmine, andbecause I won't be a selfish little girl."
Primrose stooped down and kissed Daisy.
"You may write your letter and post it," she said, "and I'll try notto be the least bit curious, Eyebright. Now sit down and write away,you have a nice quiet hour before Jasmine comes in to tea."
"So I have," answered Daisy; "thank you, Primrose. Please don't sayanything to me when I'm writing."
Then Daisy in her corner blotted her fingers, and brought a deep flushto her little pale face, and ruined several sheets of note-paper, allof which she carefully tore up to the smallest fragments. At last anepistle, over which she sighed and trembled, and even dropped tears,was finished. It ran as follows:--
"MY DEAR FRIEND, MR. DOVE,--I always and always will be most true toyou. I would not be such a wicked little girl as to break my word foranything I'm going always to keep it, and tortures, even theInquisition, and even the rack, wouldn't get it out of me. Did youever hear of the rack, Mr. Dove? but perhaps you had better not know.Yes, I'll always keep my word, the word that I promised, and no oneshall ever know about you and me and the sticky sweetmeats; but Iwon't keep the word that I didn't promise. You remember how you wantedme to give you another word that I'd always stay here, and keepPrimrose and Jasmine here, instead of letting them go and going withthem to the Palace Beautiful. I almost promised you, for you looked sofierce, and your eyes were so bloodshot, and cruel, and terrible, andI'd great work to keep remembering that you were really my friend; butI'm so glad I did not give you that word too, for now I know that I'dhave done very wrong. A Prince has come to me, Mr. Dove, and told me Iam very selfish to try to keep my sisters out of the Palace Beautiful.He says the walls are covered with Goodness and the furniture is putthere by Self-Denial, and the windows are shining because Love haspolished them up. He says there's no Love and no Goodness here, and hecalls your rooms dungeons. He's a very, very strong Prince, and hekills ogres--he even kills ogres who are friends to little girls.Please, Mr. Dove, this is to say that I'm going away to the PalaceBeautiful, and that I'll always keep my word about the sweeties.
"Your true little friend, DAISY."
Then Daisy fastened her letter, and directed it to Mr. Dove, No. 10,Eden Street, and she asked Primrose for a stamp, and then she and hereldest sister went out, and Primrose turned her back while Daisydropped the letter into the nearest pillar-box.
The moment this was done the child gave a little skip, and caughtPrimrose's hand, and squeezed it hard, and said, in an excited voice--
"Now I've done it! I'm not going to be the selfish little girl whobreaks people's hearts. Primrose, darling let us hurry back to thedungeons, and put all our things together, so that we may reach thePalace Beautiful to-night."
Poor Primrose, who was not in Daisy's secret, and knew nothing ofArthur Noel's allegory, was conscious of a momentary wild fear thather little sister had taken leave of her senses; but she soon began tosee meaning in Daisy's words, and was only too glad to yield to thechild's caprice at once.
That very night, therefore, Miss Egerton's nice rooms were occupied,and that good lady laid her head on her own pillow with a light andthankful heart.
Fortunately for Daisy, Dove was out while the packing was going on,and only Mrs. Dove, with a very black scowl on her face, saw the girlsdrive away in a four-wheeler. She refused to say good-bye to them,and was heard to mutter that the "ongratitude of some folks was pastenduring."
"Here, Dove," she said, when late that night her lord and master camein, "those pretty young ladies as you thought so much of--'the attics'I called them, and always will call them--well, they're gone. They hada four-wheeler, and off they've gone, bag and baggage. For my part Iain't sorry, for now that them attics are painted up and cleaned,which they did out of their own money, I may be able to rise my rent.Those young ladies and I couldn't have kept together much longer.Disobliging, I call them--disobliging, and shabby, and mistrustful;it was only this morning I asked Miss Mainwaring for the loan of sevenand sixpence, and she up and said, 'I'm sorry I can't oblige you, Mrs.Dove.' Those kind of young ladies don't suit me, and I'm thankfulthey're gone. Why, Dove, how you do stare!--there's a letter waitingfor you on the table."
Dove took up his letter and read it carefully once or twice; after hissecond reading he put it into his pocket, and turned to his wife--
"They've gone round to Miss Egerton's; isn't that so, my love?"
"Who do you mean by 'they,' Dove?"
"The three young ladies, of course."
"Oh, I suppose so; but I neither know nor care--I wash my hands ofthem from this day forward!"
"Well, then, look here, Mrs. Dove, my love," said the husband, "I_don't_ wash my hands of them--no, not by no means. It's all right ifthey're gone to Miss Egerton's--there are trap-doors in the roof atMiss Egerton's; I know the build of the house. There are trap-doors inthe roof, and quarter-day is coming on, Mrs. Dove, my only love!"
"Law, Dove! you have a most startling way of saying them poeticlines," answered his wife.