"Not notice!" exclaimed Florence. "Why, he asked after you almost directly after he had got into the house; and he has inquired where you were at least half a dozen times."
"The prince is very kind," said Margaret, "but I will not come down to-night, dear."
"You do not like all these people coming?" said the princess; "and yet you would like them, they are all so nice and—and friendly: it is a sort of holiday for them, you know."
"I am sure they are very nice, dear," said Margaret, "but I would rather be alone."
There was nothing more to be urged against such quiet decision, and the princess kissed her and reluctantly went down to the salon.
A maid who had been set apart to wait upon Margaret brought her her dinner, and Margaret took up her book afterward, and tried to lose herself in it. Now and again she took a candle and looked at her picture, and every time she looked at it the present faded and the past stood out before her.
What was Blair doing now? Had the woman, his wife, returned to him? Where was he, and was he happy? No, Margaret thought, there could be no happiness for him unless he were utterly destitute of heart and could forget the girl whose love for him had led her to ruin and dishonor!
From these sad thoughts she was aroused by a knock at the door and the voice of the princess calling softly:
"May we come in, dear?"
Margaret opened the door, and there stood the prince beside his sister.