"If either of you fails me it will make me most unhappy" she said, and there was a note of sincerity, in her voice that was unmistakable.
"Thank you," I murmured. "We shall not fail you."
When Blakely returned with the grand duke, he came straight to me. What he expected was an explanation; what he actually received was the worst scolding of his life. But the poor boy was so apologetic and so humble, I finally relented, and kissed him, and told him all about his mother's call, and its surprising consequences.
"I suppose I should be grateful," I said, "but the idea of going to the ducal dinner fills me with rage."
"Let's be ill, and dine together."
"I can't, I've given my word. And then there's Dad; he feels now that all the prophecies he has uttered in regard to your mother have at last come true. It's only my wicked pride that's talking, dear. Please don't pay any attention to it."
And then Blakely said one of the sweetest things he ever said to me. Of course, it wasn't true but it made me so happy. "Dearest," he said "everything I should love best to be, you are."
Before dressing for dinner, Dad came to my room "to talk things over," as he put it. He was so superbly satisfied with himself and the world, I could hardly forbear a smile.