“But, I tell you what, Din, you are getting a good bargain. There is no finer girl, or a smarter one either, on the globe. You people here cannot half appreciate her.”
For more than a week, Baron Bors failed to show any signs of improvement, and the Professor thought he perceived clearly that his case was fast getting beyond hope. He deemed it prudent, however, to keep his opinion from the members of the Baron’s family. But the Baron himself soon reached the same conclusion, and one day Lady Bors came out of his room to summon Sir Dinadan, Ysolt, Sir Bleoberis, who was now formally betrothed to Ysolt, and the Professor, to the Baron’s bedside.
The Baron said to them, in a feeble voice, that he felt his end approaching, and that he desired to give some instructions, and to say farewell to his family. Then he addressed himself first to Sir Dinadan, and next to Ysolt. When he had finished speaking to them he said to Lady Bors,—
“And now, Ettard, a final word to you. I am going away, and you will need another friend, protector, companion, husband. Have you ever thought of any one whom you should like, other than me?”
“Never, never, never,” said Lady Bors, sobbing.
“Let me advise you, then. Who would be more likely to fill my place in your heart acceptably than our good and wise and wonderful friend Sir Baffin?”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed the Professor with a start.
“Your son is to marry his daughter; and she will be happy to be here with him in the castle. Promise me that you will try to love him.”
“Yes, I will try,” said Lady Bors, wiping her eyes and seeming, upon the whole, rather more cheerful.
“That,” said the Baron, “does not altogether satisfy me. I place upon you my command that you shall marry him. Will you consent to obey?”