It hung over her like a black cloud, and her fears were like muttering thunder.

But the sense of right, the love of the Master in whose service she was suffering, the trust in his guiding hand, made Daisy walk with that strange, quiet dignity between the one Sunday and the other.

Mr.Randolph fancied sometimes when she was looking down, that he saw the signs of sadness about her mouth; but whenever she looked up again, he met such quiet, steady eyes, that he wondered.

He was puzzled; but it was no puzzle that Daisy's cheeks grew every day paler, and her appetite less.
"I do not wish to flatter you"-- said Mrs.Gary one evening--"but that child has very elegant manners! Really, I think they are very nearly perfect.

I don't believe there is an English court beauty who could shew better." "The English beauty would like to be a little more robust in her graces," remarked Gary McFarlane.
"That is all Daisy wants," her aunt went on; "but that will come, I trust, in time." "Daisy would do well enough," said Mrs.Randolph, "if she could get some notions out of her head." "What, you mean her religious notions?
How came she by them, pray ?" "Why there was a person here--a connexion of Mrs.Sandford's--that set up a Sunday school in the woods; and Daisy went to it for a month or two, before I thought anything about it, or about him.