There was in her mind no doubt as to what the result would have been had her letter been in time; no doubt of Guy’s preference for herself, no regret that she had written to him, except that the knowledge that she loved him at last would make him wretched with thinking "what might have been," and with the bitter pain which cut her heart like a knife there was mingled a pity for Guy, who would perhaps suffer more than she did, if that were possible. She never once thought of retribution, or of murmuring against her fate, but accepted it meekly, albeit she staggered under the load and grew faint as she thought of the lonely life before her, and she so young. Slowly she went back to her room, while Pauline walked up and down the garden, trying to make out the relationship between the newly-married Thornton and her teacher. "The son of her husband’s father?" she repeated, until at last a meaning dawned upon her, and she said: "Then he must be her brother-in-law; but why didn’t she say so? Maybe, though, that is the English way of putting it;" and having thus settled the matter Pauline joined her mother, who was asking for Mrs. Thornton. "Gone to her room, and her brother-in-law is married. It was marked in a paper, and I read it to her, and she’s sick," Pauline said, without, however, in the least connecting the sickness with the marriage. Daisy did not come down to dinner that night, and the maid who called her the next morning reported her as ill and acting very strangely. Through the summer a malarious fever had prevailed to some extent in and about Rouen, and the physician whom Madame Lafarcade summoned to the sick girl expressed a fear that she was coming down with it, and ordered her kept as quiet as possible. "She seems to have something weighing on her mind. Has she heard any bad news from home?" he asked, as in reply to his question where her pain was the worst, Daisy always answered: "It reached him too late—too late, and I am so sorry." Madame knew of no bad news, she said, and then as she saw the foreign paper lying on the table, she took it up, and, guided by the pencil marks, read the notice of Guy Thornton’s marriage, and that gave her the key at once to Daisy’s mental agitation. Daisy had been frank with her and told as much of her story as was necessary, and she knew that the Guy Thornton married to Julia Hamilton had once called Daisy his wife. "Excuse me, she is, or she has something on her mind, I suspect," she said to the physician, who was still holding Daisy’s hand and looking anxiously at her flushed cheeks and bright, restless eyes. "I thought so," he rejoined, "and it aggravates all the symptoms of her fever. I shall call again to-night." He did call, and found his patient worse, and the next day he asked of Madame Lafarcade: "Has she friends in this country? If so, they ought to know." A few hours later and in his lodgings at Berlin, Tom read the following dispatch: