"No," he said. "No," then he was silent a minute; "but there is one thing I wish you would do—it is for myself. I want you to alter a picture of yours I have got."
"Really!" she cried eagerly. "Of course I will!"
"Thanks!" he said gravely, "I knew you would not refuse me. I will go and fetch it, for I have brought it with me."
He left the room, and the other three waited expectantly. While he was gone, Margaret took up her palette and brush, and absently began mixing some colors.
He re-entered the room presently with a canvas-inclosed case, and, unlocking it, placed upon the easel the famous picture of the Long Rock.
Blair uttered an exclamation, but Margaret stood and regarded it in silence, though her face was very pale.
"I want you to alter this for me," said the prince, gravely and gently. "Can you not guess how?"
She looked up at him inquiringly, then, reading his meaning in his eyes, she took up a large brush, filled it with black paint, and in another minute the picture had disappeared.
Florence uttered an exclamation of dismay, but the prince inclined his head, and as Margaret turned and hid her face on Blair's breast, he said:
"That is what I wanted. Now, in deed and in truth, my friends, we may say that the past is blotted out; not even the shadow of it can mar the happiness of your future; a future made bright with a love that has been tried in the furnace and found not wanting."