"That settles it," said mamma. "You shall be Hugh Marshall's wife. Don't tell me a word against it, Daisy, for I will not hear you. I do not like Marshall as well, myself, but his property is even larger, I believe; and as I am not in love, I may be allowed to think of such things. It is away over on the Mississippi; but we cannot help that. I will make Hugh happy to-day, and then - you shall, Daisy."
"No, mamma, - never. It cannot be."
"It must, Daisy. You have compromised yourself, and me. You have allowed these gentlemen's attentions; you have been seen everywhere with them; you owe it to yourself and them to declare your choice of one of them now. You must make up your mind to it. If you are not in love, it cannot be helped; that will come in time; but I think you are. Hey, Daisy?" she said, lifting my chin with her forefinger and looking into my face, - "isn't it true? Isn't it true? Ah, silly thing! - Eyes that are wells of sweetness for somebody - for all down they go, - a mouth that has smiles enough for somebody, - though it trembles, - and what does this rose leaf mean, that is stealing over every one of your two cheeks? it is a witness to somebody, who has brought it there. Go - I know all about it. You may make your confession to Hugh, if you like it best."
I thought mamma would have broken my heart. I rose up in despair.
"To-day, Daisy," mamma repeated. "It must be done to-day."
What could I say? I did not know.
"Mamma, it is not as you think. I do not care for Hugh
Marshall."
"Is it De Saussure, then?" she asked, turning quickly upon me.
"No, mamma."
"Is it Preston Gary?" she asked, with a change in her voice.