Daisy in the Field 
 
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Daisy in the Field, by Elizabeth 
Wetherell 
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Title: Daisy in the Field 
Author: Elizabeth Wetherell 
 
Release Date: June 26, 2006 [eBook #18688] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAISY IN 
THE FIELD*** 
Warner, Susan, 1819-1885, Daisy in the field, 1868, Ward Lock edition 
n.d. 
Produced by Daniel FROMONT
DAISY IN THE FIELD 
BY ELIZABETH WETHERELL 
Author of "The Wide, Wide World," "Queechy," etc., etc. 
WARD, LOCK &CO., LIMITED LONDON AND MELBOURNE 
Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and London 
 
CONTENTS 
CHAPTER I. 
THE FIRST SMOKE OF THE BATTLEFIELD 
CHAPTER II. 
AT THE RENDEZVOUS 
CHAPTER III. 
IN REVIEW 
CHAPTER IV. 
ON FOOT 
CHAPTER V. 
ON HORSEBACK 
CHAPTER VI. 
IN THE FIRE
CHAPTER VII. 
DETAILED FOR DUTY 
CHAPTER VIII. 
DAISY'S POST 
CHAPTER IX. 
SKIRMISHING 
CHAPTER X. 
WAITING 
CHAPTER XI. 
A VICTORY 
CHAPTER XII. 
AN ENGAGEMENT 
CHAPTER XIII. 
A TRUCE 
CHAPTER XIV. 
FLIGHT 
CHAPTER XV. 
OLD BATTLEFIELDS 
CHAPTER XVI.
THE FORLORN HOPE 
CHAPTER XVII. 
OUT OF THE SMOKE 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
A MARKED BATTERY 
CHAPTER XIX. 
ONE FALLEN 
CHAPTER XX. 
THE WOUNDED 
CHAPTER XXI. 
THE HOSPITAL 
CHAPTER XXII. 
ORDERS 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
"HERE!" 
"My half-day's work is done; And this is all my part - I give a patient 
God My patient heart. 
"And clasp his banner still, Though all the blue be dim. These stripes, 
no less than stars, Lead after Him." 
CHAPTER I.
THE FIRST SMOKE OF THE BATTLEFIELD. 
While Miss Cardigan went with her nephew to the door, I remained 
standing by the fire, which could have witnessed to so much done 
around it that night. I felt strong, but I remember my cheeks had an odd 
sensation as if the blood had left them. I did not know Miss Cardigan 
had come back, till I saw her standing beside me and looking at me 
anxiously. 
"Will you go and lie down now, my lamb?" 
"Oh, no!" I said. "Oh, no - I do not want to lie down. I have not done 
my studying yet, that I came to do." 
"Studying!" said Miss Cardigan. 
"Yes. I want something out of some of your books. I have not done it. I 
will sit down and do it now." 
"You're much more fit to lie down and go to sleep," said she, 
sorrowfully. "Let be the study, Daisy; and take some rest, while ye 
can." 
"I shall have plenty of time," I said. "I do not want any rest, more than I 
shall get so." 
Miss Cardigan sighed - I had heard more sighs from her that night than 
in all my knowledge of her before; and I sat down on the floor again, to 
pull out again the volumes I had put up, and begin my school work 
anew. As I touched them, I felt how much had come into my hands, 
and fallen out of my hands, since I took them up before, just a few 
hours ago. It would not do to think of that. I resolutely put it back, and 
set myself about getting out of the books the facts I wanted for my 
work. Miss Cardigan left the room; and for a time I turned over leaves 
vigorously. But the images of modern warfare began to mix themselves 
inconveniently with the struggles of long ago. Visions of a grey 
uniform came blending in dissolving views with the visions of 
monarchs in their robes of state and soldiers in heavy armour; it meant
much, that grey uniform; and a sense of loss and want and desolation 
by degrees crept over me, which had nothing to do with the ruin of 
kingdoms. The books grew heavy; my hands trembled; yet still I tried 
to make good work, and bade myself deal with the present and let the 
past and the future alone. The "present" being represented by my 
school day and my studies. Could I do it? The past and the future 
rushed in at last, from opposite sides as it were, and my "present" was 
overthrown. I dropped my books and myself too, as nearly as possible; 
my heart gave way in a deep passion of tears. 
Now I tried to reason myself out of this. What had I lost? I asked 
myself. What were these tears for? What had I lost, that I had not been 
without until only twelve hours before? Indeed rather, what had I not 
gained? But my reasonings were of no use. Against them all, some 
vision of Thorold's face, some sparkle of    
    
		
	
	
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