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Chapter 8

           

           “Mymind,mymindaches?”questionedPrincessMary.

           Hemadeamumblingsoundinconfirmationofthis,tookherhand,andbeganpressingittodifferentpartsofhisbreastasiftryingtofindtherightplaceforit.

           “Alwaysthoughts...aboutyou...thoughts...”hethenutteredmuchmoreclearlythanhehaddonebefore,nowthathewassureofbeingunderstood.

           PrincessMarypressedherheadagainsthishand,tryingtohidehersobsandtears.

           Hemovedhishandoverherhair.

           “Ihavebeencallingyouallnight...”hebroughtout.

           “IfonlyIhadknown...”shesaidthroughhertears.“Iwasafraidtocomein.”

           Hepressedherhand.

           “Weren’tyouasleep?”

           “No,Ididnotsleep,”saidPrincessMary,shakingherhead.

           Unconsciouslyimitatingherfather,shenowtriedtoexpressherselfashedid,asmuchaspossiblebysigns,andhertonguetooseemedtomovewithdifficulty.

           “Dearone...Dearest...”PrincessMarycouldnotquitemakeoutwhathehadsaid,butfromhislookitwasclearthathehadutteredatendercaressingwordsuchashehadneverusedtoherbefore.“Whydidn’tyoucomein?”

           “AndIwaswishingforhisdeath!”thoughtPrincessMary.

           Hewassilentawhile.

           “Thankyou...daughterdear!...forall,forall...forgive!...thankyou!...forgive!...thankyou!...”andtearsbegantoflowfromhiseyes.“CallAndrew!”hesaidsuddenly,andachildish,timidexpressionofdoubtshoweditselfonhisfaceashespoke.

           Hehimselfseemedawarethathisdemandwasmeaningless.SoatleastitseemedtoPrincessMary.

           “Ihavealetterfromhim,”shereplied.

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