"Why, I should be delighted, though I begin to feel quite like a wise and travelled body. And think how women are coming from abroad and from Canada, and going West, and all over, and reach their destination safely. But I shall be very glad all the same, and your mother will be wild with joy." "I am afraid we do not think of the pleasure we can give our elders, who, in the nature of things, have less time for the enjoyment of their children. And I feel ashamed that I have allowed the time to slip by, content with a hurried letter. I mean to do better in the future." "And I applaud your decision," exclaimed M. de Ronville. "Oh, I think you young people really do not know how much happiness you can give us elders just by the sight of your happy faces, and a little cordial attention." Daffodil glanced at Dr. Langdale with a smile that seemed almost a caress, it was so approving, enchanting. Aldis Bartram caught it and turned away, saying-- "I must leave you to perfect arrangements. I am late now, so I must wish you good-morning," bowing himself out of the room. He was very busy, and did not go home to dinner, as he had been doing of late. And it was not until he was walking home in the late afternoon that he allowed himself to think of Daffodil's departure. "She will marry Dr. Langdale and come back here to live, which will be a great pleasure to M. de Ronville," he said to himself, remembering it had his friend's approval. And why should it not have his? Yet he felt as if he did not cordially assent. And if she returned next winter--he lost a sudden interest in the plan. They would be lovers and there would be their joy and satisfaction flaunted in everybody's face. How could Daffodil keep so bright and cheerful? Had she any real depth? Did not every change, every new plan appeal to her just the same? But if he had seen her with her arms about Mrs. Jarvis' neck, and the tears in her eyes, he would not have made the comment to himself. And the tender, beseeching tone in which she was saying-- "Oh, you will not let him miss me too much. And when it is pleasant, won't you walk about the garden with him and praise his roses and the flowers he cares for? And keep him thinking that he is better, and has years yet to live, and if Mr. Bartram will go on being devoted to him." "Mr. Bartram seems to have grown more tenderly thoughtful. Of course, he has a great deal on his mind, and now there are so many perplexing questions about the country, and when one is tired out with the day's work it is hard to rehearse it all over. Oh, my dear, I think you have worked a change in us all with your sweet, generous ways, and your lovely outflowing youth. I am afraid I was beginning to think too much of my own comfort."