"But to the prince the young sparks were beyond measure attentive. They seemed delighted of an evening to see him snug in his high-backed chair by the fire; and one would run and bring his slippers and warm them, another pulled off his shoes, while a third brought his wine, and a fourth his hubble-bubble. Then they sang lullabies to him and patted his shoulder till he fell asleep; then-- "But the prince awoke at last in every sense of the word. 'No longer,' he cried, 'will I keep an open house that young sparks may pay attentions to my wife. I will issue no more invitations, give no more parties; Sylvina's father must return to his lonely house by the forest. I and my bride will live but for each other.' "He spoke thus because the green demon Jealousy had aroused him. "So the prince dismissed nearly all his servants; and in his house by the forest Sylvina's father was more lonesome now than ever. Sylvina had been a dutiful daughter, and she tried hard to be a dutiful wife; but nothing that she did was properly construed by her old husband. If she laughed and was gay, he called her giddy; if she seemed sad, he told her she was pining for her 'pauper lover;' if she showed him marked affection, he thought she was but cajoling to deceive him. Ah dear, ah dear, how miserable she was! for her ways were not his ways, because his age was not hers." Richards paused again. "And the poor lover whom Sylvina deserted?" said Gerty. "Tell me about him. Did he pine and die?" "Oh no. But here comes Flora. I'll finish the story another day, Gerty." "Why, this _is_ a pleasure!" cried Flora. "Who could have thought of finding you here? I say, Gerty, let us keep Mr. Richards to ourselves alone for the rest of the evening. My work is all complete, and father is busy in his room. Supper in the boudoir here!--Not a word, Mr. Richards; you have no say in the matter at all." Then Flora rang the bell. And a long delightful three hours the girls and their friend spent too. It is almost needless to say that the chief subject of conversation was Jack, or that Sir Digby Auld was not spoken of or thought of even once. "Heigh-ho!" said Richards, as he stood in his room that night, "heigh-ho! and I have come down to break bad tidings to Flora and her father. How ever can I do it! A lawyer ought to have no heart, but I have one. Worse luck! worse luck!"