"Yes, there are two other things I want," was her reply, still stroking him; "I want to see you look happier, and feel happier, and I want some one to come back safe from the war."
Life is at best but a succession of moods that, like a pendulum, ever vibrate between mirth and sadness. Circumstances will almost invariably force the vibrations to greater extremes, but just as surely will its opposite mood return. Though clouds darken to-day, the sun will shine to-morrow; and if sorrow comes, joy will follow; while ever above the rippled shores of laughter floats the mist of tears.
In some respects Liddy was a peculiar girl. While loving those near her with almost pathetic tenderness and constantly striving to show it, she shrank like a scared child from any public exhibition of that feeling. She had another peculiarity that might be called a whim—she loved to try experiments upon her own feelings to see what effect they would have. It was this that had been the real cause of her desire to attend the military funeral that had taken place in Southton a few months previous. Since her mother's death Liddy had remained at home nearly all the time. She seldom went to the village, because to do so awakened unpleasant memories. To drive past the now vacant academy or near the depot was to awaken unhappy thought and force her into a sad mood. The seclusion of her home seemed more in harmony with her feelings. She had but few intimate friends, and even those jarred upon her now, and her father was the best, and the only one she cared to be with. One day in mid-summer, she surprised him with a strange request.
"Father," she said, "I want to go fishing. I don't mean to tramp through the brush along a brook, but I want you to take me to some pretty pond where there are trees all around, and where I can sit in a boat on the shady side and fish. We will take a basket of lunch and have a nice time. If we cannot catch fish we can pick pond lilies. Will you go?"
As there was nothing that loving father would not do for his only child, it is needless to say that the trip was made.
When Liddy began to catch fish, and he noticed how excited she became, he said, with quiet humor: "Which would you rather do, Liddy, put your fish in the boat or hang them up in the trees? Tut, tut!" he continued, as he saw a deep shadow creep over her face, "you will have Charlie to bait your hook next summer, never fear!"
That night she wrote to her soldier boy: "I coaxed father to take me fishing to-day. I wanted to see if it wouldn't bring me nearer to you or you to me. I came home in a sad mood, however, though I learned one thing, and that is wherein lies the fascination of fishing. It's the constant expectation of getting a bite that takes your mind away from all else."
With the autumn evenings came the time for open fires, and Liddy had hard work to keep her spirits up. There were so many tender associations lurking in the firelight, and so much that brought back the past and gone hours of happiness that it was painful instead of cheerful. Thanksgiving time and the holidays were days of sadness instead of joy. The long eighteen months of constant dread and suspense had worn upon her nerves and was slowly changing her from a light-hearted, happy girl to a saddened, waiting woman. The winter slowly dragged its weary length, and one evening, about a year from the time she had attended the military funeral, she broke down entirely. She had tried piano practice for a time and then reading, but neither availed to occupy her thoughts or drive away the gloom. Finally she sat down beside her father, who was reading, and said piteously:
"Father, please talk to me; tell me stories, scold me—anything! I am so utterly wretched I am ready to cry!"
"My child," he answered tenderly, stroking the fair head that was resting against his arm, "don't let your mind brood so much upon your own troubles; try and think how many there are who have more to bear than you have."