Daisy Miller

“ After this Daisy was never at home, and Winterbourne ceased to meet her at the houses of their common acquaintances, because, as he perceived, these shrewd people had quite made up their minds that she was going too far. They ceased to invite her; and they intimated that they desired to express to observant Europeans the great truth that, though Miss Daisy Miller was a young American lady, her behavior was not representative— was regarded by her compatriots as abnormal. ”

“ But for all the exquisiteness of Daisy Miller there were discernible in it certain black lines which, like the dark veining in a crocus that foretells its decay, showed that this was a loveliness which was in the very act of passing. The young American might have been so worked upon by his friends that he could readily believe his Daisy a light woman, but he need not have manifested his acceptance of this belief by being grossly rude to her and by reflecting that if "after Daisy's return there had been an exchange of jokes between the porter and the cab-driver ... ”

“ I'm very fond of society, and I have always had a great deal of it. I don't mean only in Schenectady, but in New York. I used to go to New York every winter. In New York I had lots of society. Last winter I had seventeen dinners given me; and three of them were by gentlemen," added Daisy Miller. "I have more friends in New York than in Schenectady— more gentleman friends; and more young lady friends too," she resumed in a moment. She paused again for an instant; she was looking at Winterbourne with all her prettiness in her lively eyes and in her light, slightly monotonous smile. ”

“ He immediately perceived, from her tone, that Miss Daisy Miller's place in the social scale was low. "I am afraid you don't approve of them," he said.
"They are very common," Mrs. Costello declared. "They are the sort of Americans that one does one's duty by not—not accepting."
"Ah, you don't accept them?" said the young man.
"I can't, my dear Frederick. I would if I could, but I can't."
"The young girl is very pretty," said Winterbourne, in a moment.
"Of course she's pretty. But she is very common."
"I see what you mean, of course," said Winterbourne, after another pause. ”

“ He had never, as yet, had any relations with young ladies of this category. He had known, here in Europe, two or three women—persons older than Miss Daisy Miller, and provided, for respectability’s sake, with husbands—who were great coquettes—dangerous, terrible women, with whom one’s relations were liable to take a serious turn. But this young girl was not a coquette in that sense; she was very unsophisticated; she was only a pretty American flirt. Winterbourne was almost grateful for having found the formula that applied to Miss Daisy Miller. ”

“ Walker, leaning forward in her victoria, with her hands devoutly clasped.
"Well, it ought to be, then!" said Daisy. "If I didn't walk I should expire."
"You should walk with your mother, dear," cried the lady from Geneva, losing patience.
"With my mother dear!" exclaimed the young girl. Winterbourne saw that she scented interference. "My mother never walked ten steps in her life. And then, you know," she added, with a laugh, "I am more than five years old."
"You are old enough to be more reasonable. You are old enough, dear Miss Miller, to be talked about." ”

“ Then she heard that there was to be a grand wedding up at the hall that night. Her false lover was about to wed the beautiful heiress, his social equal, his chosen mate.
Poor little Daisy had been plucked as carelessly as a wayside flower, and thrown aside to die.
The poor old mother, half crazed by her daughter’s shame and despair, cried bitterly:
“You have only yourself to blame, girl! I brought you up to shun rich young men; I told you they had no use for poor girls but to wreck their lives. ”

“ He felt the young girl's pretty eyes fixed upon him through the thick gloom of the archway; she was apparently going to answer. But Giovanelli hurried her forward. "Quick! quick!" he said; "if we get in by midnight we are quite safe."
Daisy took her seat in the carriage, and the fortunate Italian placed himself beside her. "Don't forget Eugenio's pills!" said Winterbourne as he lifted his hat.
"I don't care," said Daisy in a little strange tone, "whether I have Roman fever or not!" ”

“ Jewel went on, in a thick, excited voice. "My little twin sister died, too, in a few hours after she came into the world. Then old Maria, who lived until then with Daisy Forrest, allowed her master to persuade her into a cruel wrong. In short, my dead twin sister was buried upon Daisy Forrest's breast, and you, her loving child, were imposed upon my mother as her own—my mother, who hated your mother with the bitterest hate, and who, if she had dreamed of your identity, would have gone mad with rage." ”

“ Daisy declared.
"Well," said Winterbourne, "when you deal with natives you must go by the custom of the place. Flirting is a purely American custom; it doesn't exist here. So when you show yourself in public with Mr. Giovanelli, and without your mother—"
"Gracious! poor mother!" interposed Daisy.
"Though you may be flirting, Mr. Giovanelli is not; he means something else."
"He isn't preaching, at any rate," said Daisy, with vivacity. "And if you want very much to know, we are neither of us flirting; we are too good friends for that: we are very intimate friends." ”

“ The girl is delightfully pretty, but I thought I understood from you the other day that she was a young lady du meilleur monde."
"So she is!" answered Winterbourne; and having assured himself that his informant had seen Daisy and her companion but five minutes before, he jumped into a cab and went to call on Mrs. Miller. She was at home; but she apologized to him for receiving him in Daisy's absence.
"She's gone out somewhere with Mr. Giovanelli," said Mrs. Miller. "She's always going round with Mr. Giovanelli." ”

“ Walker was silent a moment; she gave a rapid glance at Winterbourne. "I shall be glad to see Mr. Giovanelli," she then said.
"He's an Italian," Daisy pursued with the prettiest serenity. "He's a great friend of mine; he's the handsomest man in the world— except Mr. Winterbourne! He knows plenty of Italians, but he wants to know some Americans. He thinks ever so much of Americans. He's tremendously clever. He's perfectly lovely!"
It was settled that this brilliant personage should be brought to Mrs. Walker's party, and then Mrs. Miller prepared to take her leave. ”

“ Walker.
"Neither do I," subjoined Mrs. Miller. "You'll get the fever, as sure as you live. Remember what Dr. Davis told you!"
"Give her some medicine before she goes," said Randolph.
The company had risen to its feet; Daisy, still showing her pretty teeth, bent over and kissed her hostess. "Mrs. Walker, you are too perfect," she said. "I'm not going alone; I am going to meet a friend."
"Your friend won't keep you from getting the fever," Mrs. Miller observed.
"Is it Mr. Giovanelli?" asked the hostess.
Winterbourne was watching the young girl ”

“ He saw the old sexton, who had now replaced the turf and flowers on Daisy Forrest's grave, looking at them curiously as he leaned on his spade, and he beckoned him to approach.
Then he gave the old man a brief account of John Forrest's story, telling him that his father had been a rich man, and that poor Daisy's child was going home with him to live with her grandparents. He did not tell him that this great-grandfather was a nobleman, thinking that Flower would not wish to create too much sensation. ”

“ She was glad that the cars went straight through Lincoln Station without changing. She could not bear to be reminded of that terrible night when the talon-like fingers of her unknown assailant had closed stranglingly about her white throat, and of all the sorrows that had followed after. The girl, so young and tender, shuddered as with an ague chill, wondering how she had lived through it all.
"And poor Daisy Lynn! poor Daisy Lynn! what ever became of that unhappy girl?" she wondered, pitifully, and her thoughts wandered to the girl's sad love story. "How sorrowful it is to go mad for love!" ”

“ I deceived this poor girl with a mock marriage, then deserted her, returning to make you my lawful bride. Realizing her despair, she has returned and chosen to die beneath my horses’ feet. I have given my life vainly in the effort to save poor little Daisy.”
Geraldine realized that people were crowding round [63] about her, that the white face of the “best man” was close to hers, his arms shielding her from falling to the ground, but she kept her eyes glued on that pale, dying face, and her ears strained not to lose a sound of that weak, dying voice. ”

“ It was too hard to linger there long, bowed down with shame and sorrow. She moved away presently to seek the place where her erring mother had been laid to rest, and so came upon the old sexton busily digging a grave. There were a few loiterers about, and a veiled lady sat in the shadow of a weeping willow near by, but Flower noticed no one. She went toward the old man, and asked, timidly:
"Will you tell me where to find the grave of Daisy Forrest?" ”

“ I never saw anything so hospitable. There’s something or other every day. There’s not much dancing; but I must say I never thought dancing was everything. I was always fond of conversation. I guess I shall have plenty at Mrs. Walker’s, her rooms are so small.” When they had passed the gate of the Pincian Gardens, Miss Miller began to wonder where Mr. Giovanelli might be. “We had better go straight to that place in front,” she said, “where you look at the view.”
“I certainly shall not help you to find him,” Winterbourne declared.
“Then I shall find him without you,” cried Miss Daisy. ”

“ And now I'm punished, for Daisy Forrest has come from her grave to look at me and reproach me!"
Some one touched his arm.
"Old man, you're daft. It's a living woman speaking to you."
"What, with that voice and that face?" muttered the old man, dubiously. He peered fearfully at Flower, and muttered, "If 'tain't her ghost, they're as like as two [Pg 91] peas! Well, ma'am, and what is't you're wanting to know?"
"To find Daisy Forrest's grave," said the low, sad voice, with a pitiful tremor in its sweetness; and with that the old man took up his spade and struck it down into the open grave. ”

“ Fielding waited until she finished her light repast, then said:
"I counted the strokes, Maria, and there were just nineteen. So it is a young person whom they are going to bury. Now, tell me at once who it is; you need not be afraid of agitating me. Even if it is one of my friends, I will bear it calmly."
"Ay, Lord!" muttered the old nurse, with a grimace hidden behind her hand. Then she gave Mrs. Fielding a strange look. "Ma'am, it's none o' your friends at all, ma'am—only a poor young gal by the name o' Daisy Forrest." ”

“ Till in the twilight slumbered the daisy,
Turning its sweet face to heaven above."
She never said to her young husband now, as she had said that time in their prison, "You are the lark and I [Pg 132] the little daisy," but she thought it all the more, and the fanciful thought pleased her well.
Maud and Edith, who had first taken Una's part out of generous loyalty to their brother, now began to like their sister-in-law more for her own sake.
At first they said: "It is not so bad as we feared at first. ”

“ Miller's salon by Randolph.
"It's going round at night," said Randolph—"that's what made her sick. She's always going round at night. I shouldn't think she'd want to, it's so plaguy dark. You can't see anything here at night, except when there's a moon. In America there's always a moon!" Mrs. Miller was invisible; she was now, at least, giving her daughter the advantage of her society. It was evident that Daisy was dangerously ill.
Winterbourne went often to ask for news of her, and once he saw Mrs. ”

“ "My father ain't in Europe; my father's in a better place than Europe."
Winterbourne imagined for a moment that this was the manner in which the child had been taught to intimate that Mr. Miller had been removed to the sphere of celestial rewards. But Randolph immediately added, "My father's in Schenectady. ”

“ he was sure she had a spirit of her own; but in her bright, sweet, superficial little visage there was no mockery, no irony. Before long it became obvious that she was much disposed toward conversation. ”

“ Shall I tell you what is wrong with you? You're stiff from inaction. It's a species of cramp, my dear, and there's only one remedy for it. Are you going to take it of your own accord, or must I come round with a physic spoon and make you?"
She laughed a little, though the deep pathos of her shadowed eyes never varied. Daisy's merry voice rose from the lower regions gaily chaffing her cousin.
"Goodness, Blake! I shouldn't have known you. You're as gaunt as a camel. Haven't you got over your picnic at Fort Wara yet? You're almost as scanty a bag of bones as Nick was six months ago." ”

“ Max Brown, which afforded him the plea for putting up with his present lot.
Daisy set on with her discontented face. A very pretty face still; prettier, if anything, than of yore; with the clear eyes and their amber light, the delicate bloom on the lovely features, the sunny, luxuriant hair. She often dressed daintily, wishing in her secret heart, in spite of her resentment, to win back her husband's allegiance. This evening she wore a dark blue silk, one of the remnants of better days, with some rich white lace falling at the throat, on which rested a gold locket, attached to a thin chain. ”