It was this talk with Daisy which determined me to give up all idea of practising my profession for the present; and the very day after Daisy left us (I would not allow Herbert the satisfaction of knowing that his interference had influenced me, so sure I am that he has a secret grudge against me because he thinks I was the means of ousting his brother Roderick)—the very day after I was well quit of my sister and her betrothed, I went to Dr. Hildyard and told him how matters stood. He was more taken back and affected than I could understand. He was silent for awhile; then he said: “You had better let me see your wife, Paull. She must not stand in your way in this fashion.” For him to see Lilia while entirely in the dark as to the peculiarities of her past life would never do. But we made a compromise. Shortly he would take a holiday, and spend it at the Pinewood. He came, he saw, and was conquered. As I had been for some days entirely at home, Lilia was in the most brilliant of humours. She treated our distinguished guest with all the consideration and respect which Sir Roderick had known so well how to lavish on his favourites; and to this was added a womanly tenderness and reverence under the influence of which Dr. Hildyard expanded and, as it were, blossomed out into a geniality I had not before known in him. It seemed to me that he told my wife the whole story of his life. She was intensely interested, and made so many apt and pertinent remarks that I began to see more than ever that if I pursued my profession, and left her to herself and her hopeless mood, between the two stools I should probably fall to the ground. Thus, she was a perfect woman. Away from me, she was literally _non est_. An embarrassing position. Dr. Hildyard decided me. We had the matter out the day he left us. He said, warmly: “Paull, I confess that from what I heard of your wife, I came here prepared to find her one of three things: mad, a fool, or a victim to hysteria. From what I have seen and observed, I think her one of the sweetest women alive, but a perfect baby.” I told him my growing fear that she was becoming too absorbed in my companionship, that it might in time become almost a monomania. He smiled. “I think that will cure itself,” he said, “by the homœopathic system. You will find two babies less trouble than one.” _Friday, May —._ I was interrupted after that last word (I was writing late, in the study) by quick footsteps down the staircase, and Lilia came in in her dressing-gown. “I was dreadfully frightened!” she said. “I must have fallen asleep, although I _thought_ I was awake, listening for you; and I woke up and you were not there! And the clock struck one!”