“Mary, will you write and implore him to let Greatorex recall him. Greatorex has given me his promise to do so, if Guy consents.”
Mary shook her head. “Guy is very fond of me, I know. In many things I could influence him, but not in this. It is no use your writing to him, you have less influence over him than I. If he would not listen to me, he will not listen to you.”
“Then he is doomed.” The poor old Earl’s head sank on his breast, and he surrendered himself to despair.
And now had come Mary’s great opportunity, and she took advantage of it. She was no mean diplomatist at any time.
“I shall not move him, you will not move him. And you say you cannot move Greatorex. There is just one person in the world who might persuade him. I am not quite sure even about her.”
Lord Saxham was very subdued, very penitent, but there was still some of the old Adam left in him. He answered quickly; the voice was still quavering, but there was in it a querulous note.
“You mean that—”
Lady Mary lifted a warning finger; she knew he was going to say “minx.”
“Father, please, this is no time for old and foolish animosities. Guy’s life is at stake, through his noble, perhaps exaggerated, sense of honour. You and I are powerless to alter his determination. There is just a chance that Isobel will be more successful. Will you put your pride in your pocket and ask her to plead with him?”
It was a hard struggle, but in the end Lord Saxham’s affection for his son won. The old aristocrat gave in.