If poor Paul could only have known that, in the first interview between his mother and his love--an interview on which he had often nervously speculated--Daisy had appeared to greater advantage, had looked handsomer, softer, more charming, more graceful, more ladylike than she had ever appeared in her life before! But many days were to pass away before Paul was to know anything of surrounding things or persons; his mind was away in a mysterious region of semi-consciousness, of pain, of unreality. He was assiduously cared for by Daisy and George, by the doctor and the nurse. Even Dr. Wainwright himself superintended the case, and indorsed the mode of treatment of the humbler practitioner. His mother came to see him every day, and a good understanding existed between her and Daisy, though no direct reference to Daisy's relations with Paul had been made. The Captain had shown a decent solicitude about his son; but it is to be feared he rather enjoyed the state of affairs than otherwise as soon as positive danger to Paul's life was no longer to be apprehended. It implied so much of the freedom he loved, no surveillance, no domestic restraints, no regular hours; it was a delicious renewal of the liberty of his bachelor days. There is no need to dwell farther on this portion of the story. After many weeks Paul was pronounced convalescent; and then, by the advice of Dr. Wainwright, whose interest had been gradually awakened in the case, and who had come to like Paul, Daisy abandoned her post. It was determined that the invalid should travel for awhile, and arranged that George should accompany him. Dr. Wainwright undertook to induce him to acquiesce, and to reconcile him to the absence of Daisy. He was too weak to resist, he felt an inner consciousness of his unfitness to bear emotion, which rendered him passively obedient, and he was too happy to be exacting or rebellious. He trusted the future; he felt, in a vague way, that things would go well with him. And on the day fixed for the departure of himself and George on their excursion, he received a little note from Daisy, which sent him on his way rejoicing. It contained only these words: "DEAREST PAUL,--George would have brought me to say goodbye to you; but I could not bear it. You know I hate showing my feelings to anyone but you, and we could not have been alone. Come home soon--no, don't; stay away until you are quite well and strong; and don't forget, for one minute of all the time, "DAISY." "I think you are a humbug," said George Wainwright to Paul as they landed at Calais, and Paul declared his inclination to have everything that could be procured to eat immediately; "you don't look a bit like a sick man." "I'm sure I don't feel like one," returned Paul; "and it's great nonsense your father sending me away like this. But I am not going to complain or rebel; I mean implicitly to obey him----" "And Daisy," interrupted George. "And Daisy, of course."