sure to the day when
her house would be freed from the presence of this lady.

The month of August was the limit of the visit, and Daisy would have
gone then had there been any place to go to except Stoneleigh. But there
was not; no friendly door was open to her. She could not return to
London, and she would not go to Stoneleigh: so, she resolved to remain
where she was until Lord Hardy returned to his country seat in Ireland,
and then she would go there and take Archie and Bessie with her.

To carry out this purpose she began suddenly to droop and affect a
languor and weakness she was far from feeling, for she had really never
been better in her life, and Archie knew it, and watched her with dismay
as she enacted the role of the interesting invalid to perfection. A
little hacking cough came on, with a pain in her side, and finally, to
Mrs. Smithers' horror, she took to her bed the last week in August,
unable to sit up, but overwhelmed with grief at her inability to travel,
and fear lest she should be a burden upon her hostess, and outstay her
welcome.

Never dreaming that it was a farce to gain time, Mrs. Smithers made the
best of it, and saw guest after guest depart, until only the Welsh
McPhersons remained, and she was longing to get away herself to the
north of Scotland, where she was due the middle of September.
Fortunately Lord Hardy went home sooner than he had intended, and wrote
to Daisy and her husband that his house was ready for them, and then the
invalid recovered her strength rapidly, and was able in three days to
leave Penrhyn Park, and travel to Ireland with Archie, who had fought
hard to return to Stoneleigh and begin the new life he had resolved
upon. But Daisy knew better than to go to Hardy Manor without him, and
she persuaded him to go with her and then to Paris, from which place she
made a flying visit to Monte Carlo, where she met with such success that
she did not greatly object to spending the holidays at Stoneleigh,
whither they went just before Christmas.

It was at this time that Archie received his aunt's letter offering to
take little Bessie and bring her up as a sensible, useful woman. For a
moment Archie's heart leaped into his throat as he thought of
emancipating his child from the baneful influence around her, but when
he remembered how desolate he should be without her, he said:

"I cannot let her go."

Upon one point, however, he was still resolved; he would remain at
Stoneleig