"You have been the dearest, the best, and the sweetest a girl was ever lucky enough to find!" responded the princess, earnestly.
They walked up and down the terrace for some time, talking about the prince and his many virtues, as a sister who adores her brother will talk to her closest bosom friend; then Margaret went to her own room.
The thought of the coming influx of visitors disturbed her; like most persons who have endured a great sorrow, she shrank from meeting new faces, and she resolved to keep to her own rooms, as it was understood she should do when she pleased, while these gay people remained.
Toward evening the guests arrived, and Margaret, from behind the curtains of her long window, saw several handsome carriages drive up to the great entrance, and a group of ladies and gentlemen—most of the latter in military or court uniforms; in their midst stood the tall figure of the prince, towering above the rest, his handsome face wearing the grave smile of welcome, as he ushered his friends into the house, in which were the usual stir and excitement attending the arrival of a large party.
Margaret drew the lace curtains over her window, and took up a book. Presently the dressing-bell rang, then the dinner-bell, and soon after there came a knock at the door. In response to her "Come in," the Princess Florence entered in her rich evening dress, and ran across the room.
"Why, dear, aren't you dressed?" she exclaimed.
"I am not coming down to dinner to-night, Florence, if you will excuse me," said Margaret, gently.
Florence stopped short, and looked at her with keen disappointment in her blue eyes.
"Not coming down to dinner? Oh, Miss Leslie, I am so sorry! And Ferdy, he will be so disappointed!"
"The prince," said Margaret, smiling at the girl's earnestness. "I do not suppose your brother will notice my absence, Florence."