George smiled but dimly, and answered his friend's pleasantries only vaguely. He had not the assurance and certainty with which Paul accredited him. In the great change which had befallen Annette, in the new hope and happiness of her life, he might not have the large share of which his friend believed him confident. He had a true gentleman's diffidence towards the woman he loved, and no assurance at second hand could render him secure. He had awaited his father's message with keen anxiety, and now that it had come, and was so full of goodness, he was feverishly impatient to learn his fate. The time had come, the time which had seemed so hopelessly far off had drawn near with wonderful celerity, and he was to know his destiny--he was to put it to the touch, To win or lose it all. He read his father's letter again--"as soon as you like. I will see her to-day, I will ask her to-day," he said to himself. "There is no risk to her, or my father would not have said this." Then he said to Paul: "You will come with me, won't you?" "Of a surety that will I," answered Paul; "and I will tackle the governor and my mother--you may be sure there's plenty ready for me on the score of Daisy--and leave you to welcome Annette home _en tête-à-tête_." Just as the friends were leaving the house, a servant came in search of George, and stopped him. George asked him with pardonable impatience what he wanted, and the man replied, that Madame Vaughan had been very ill during the night, and the nurse had sent to Mr. George to tell him that she desired to see him at his earliest convenience. George asked the man several particulars about his poor friend, and expressed his readiness to go and see Madame Vaughan immediately; but this act of self-denial was not exacted of him. "She's asleep just now, sir," said the man, "and the nurse would not like to disturb her, she has had such a bad night; but I was not to let you leave the house without telling you, sir." * * * * * Many a less brave man has gone to a battle with a stouter heart than that with which George Wainwright entered the Derinzy mansion, and was ushered into the room where Annette, her aunt, and Mrs. Stothard were assembled. The young lady was seated at the piano; the sounds of music had reached the visitors as they ascended the stairs; and on their entrance she rose. Paul went into the room first. She received her cousin with a smile, and his friend, who followed him closely, with a deep, burning, lasting blush, perceived by Paul, George, and one other. This observer was Mrs. Stothard, who, having performed her share in the general civilities, withdrew, with a meaning and well-satisfied smile in her clear gray eyes, and on her calm, determined, authoritative mouth.