George had contented himself with a written communication to Mrs. Derinzy, in which he informed her of Paul's illness, and expressed his conviction that his life depended upon the judicious action of all around him at the present crisis. He did not overestimate Mrs. Derinzy's tenderness towards her son; but he was not prepared, when he went to Paul's rooms on the following day, to find that she had contented herself with inquiring for him, ascertaining that proper arrangements had been made for his being carefully nursed, and announcing her intention of calling upon the doctor. Paul was not in a condition to know anything about her proceedings. When he appeared to be conscious, he named only Daisy and George, and these intervals were rare and brief. They alternated with long periods of stupor; and then it would not have been difficult, looking at the sick man's face, to believe that all care and concern of his with life were over for ever. It was from Daisy George learned that Mrs. Derinzy had been at her son's lodgings, and he allowed her to perceive how much her account of the incident surprised and displeased him. On arriving at Paul's rooms, George found Daisy sitting quietly beside the bed, the sick man's hand in one of hers, while the fingers of the other, freshly dipped in a fragrant cooling essence, lay lightly on his hot wan forehead, on whose sunken temples pain had set its mark. Her dress, of a soft material incapable of whisking or rustling, her hair smoothly packed away, her ringless hands, her noiseless movements, her composed, steady, alert face, formed a business-like realisation of the ideal of a sick-nurse, which impressed the practised eye of George reassuringly, and at the same time conveyed to him a sense of association which he did not at the moment clearly trace out. When he thought of it afterwards, he put it down to a general resemblance to the women employed at his father's asylum. Daisy's beauty was not in a style which George Wainwright particularly admired, and the girl had never attracted him much. He had regarded her with pity and consideration at first, when he had feared that Paul was behaving so badly to her. He had regarded her with anger and dislike when he discovered that she was behaving badly to Paul. Both these phases of feeling had passed away now, and Daisy presented herself to George's mind in a different and far more attractive light. In this pale quiet woman there was nothing meretricious, nothing flaunting; not the least touch of vulgarity marred the calm propriety of her demeanour. George felt assured that he was seeing her in a light which promised for the future, should the marriage which he was forced to hope for, for his friend's sake, be the result of the present complication.