the question, - Daisy, what are you going to say to him, when
you see him? I walked and thought.

Our correspondence must cease. I must tell him that. - It was
dreadfully hard to think it, but I knew it must cease. I could
not receive letters from Christian in Switzerland, and
certainly I could not write them, without the knowledge of my
father and mother; - and if I could, I would not. We must stop
writing; we must be hundreds of miles apart, know that dangers
clustered round the path of one if not both, know that clouds
and uncertainties hung over all our future, and we must not
write. And I must tell Mr. Thorold so. It was very hard; for I
did not flatter myself with an easy bright clearing away of
our difficulties by and by, even if the storm of the war
should roll over and leave Christian to encounter them with
me. I did not hope that explanations and a little persuasion
would induce my mother and my father to look favourably on a
Northern suitor for their daughter's hand. My father? - he
possibly might give up his pleasure for the sake of my
happiness; with my mother I saw no such possibility. It was
useless to hope they would let me write to an officer in the
Union army. If any chance at all for my happiness were in the
future, it must lie in changes not yet accomplished, or in Mr.
Thorold's own personal power of recommending himself; rather
in both these. For the present - I could not tell how long -
now, soon, as soon as I should leave Washington again, we must
be separated. I wished I could see Thorold that very evening!
In Washington - maybe not far off - and days so few - and I
could not see him! I sat down again and put my head in my
hand. Had I done wrong, made any unconscious mistake neglected