But at length the morning sun had crept around the side of the cottage, found its way through the window, and fell so full on Daisy's face, that she could dream only of dazzling, dazzling light, which seemed burning into her eyes, and made her open them wide, at length.
And then, alas! how every thing was changed! Her first thought was of the fairy; but she had gone, and Daisy had been sleeping in her mother's easy chair, and felt cold and lonely as she looked around upon the silent room.
No music there, no flowers and angelic faces, and clouds like chariots of pearl, with golden wings to hurry them along; no father to take her in his arms, and call her his little Daisy.
She closed her eyes, and tried to sleep again, for it seemed to her a great deal better to dream than to be awake in such a dreary little world as that. But suddenly Daisy thought of her mother, and almost at the very moment was aroused by a moan from another part of the room.
She ran to Susan's side, and found her sick, and wretched as she was the night before; so Daisy bathed her head, and brought her some fresh water from the spring; and when she could not comfort her in any other way, began to tell her dreams, how she had seen her father again, and felt sure he must be still alive.
As Susan listened, she dried her tears, and kissed Daisy so fondly that the little girl no longer wished to be asleep, but was glad that she had power to run about, and prattle, and amuse her lonely mother.
For she remembered Peter's last words now, that she must be a good girl, and help, not herself, not sit still and have pleasant dreams, but help her mother.
And this Daisy felt resolved to do, if only for his sake.