The next morning she pretended to be feeling much better than she really was, so that the doctor would permit her to be helped down to the parlor to lie on the little blue sofa. When he gave his consent, she insisted on wearing her very daintiest white morning gown, with fluffy lace trimmings, though her aunt said she didn’t see that it mattered how she dressed, seeing that Mr. Sherwood was away. Daisie answered, with a burning blush: “It is Mr. Sherwood’s friend that is coming to call on me; so, of course, I want to look nice.” This satisfied the old lady, and when Dallas Bain came at the earliest permissible hour she simply ushered him into the parlor and left him alone with Daisie, excusing herself on the plea of domestic duties. They were alone together--the pair of unacknowledged lovers--in the simple, dainty room, with its blue-and-white hangings that harmonized so exquisitely with the girl’s radiant fairness. The summer breeze swayed the lace curtains at the window and diffused the odor of white roses growing on a bush outside, disposing the mind to thoughts of love and purity. Daisie, in her soft white robe, with her bandaged foot on a cushion, and the loose curls of her shining hair veiling her form in sunshine, reclined on a sofa, looking very unlike an invalid, so bright were her eyes and so rosy her face from the warm blood that coursed through her throbbing heart. Dallas bent down and took her soft white hand in a gentle pressure, murmuring audaciously: “I ought to be repenting in dust and ashes the accident that caused you such pain, I know; but--how can I regret the accident that gave me the delight of knowing you, Miss Bell?” He had quite forgotten that he had decided two weeks ago that it was not worth his while trying to know her, forgotten that Royall Sherwood had told him she was silly. The incidents of yesterday had drawn them nearer together than months of formal acquaintance could have done. He had held that sweet form in his arms, close to his heart, during a long ride, had feasted his eyes, unreproved, on her beauty, had even dared press reverent lips on her golden hair and one limp white hand. It seemed to him, in the delirium of love that had come upon him, that all this made her his own, sealed her as his, to have and to hold forever. He drew a chair close to her sofa, and they began to talk to each other--incoherently, I am afraid, for how could they preserve the formal dignity of strangers?--and very soon he saw that her mind was as lovely as her face, her words well chosen, her voice low and musical, her smile like sunshine, and her laughter a chime of silver bells. If he had been keeping back a remnant of his heart, he surrendered now at discretion to this adorable creature. Within half an hour he was saying gently: