“I did nothing of the sort,” said Dorothy, laughingly.  “He caught my hand several times, but I withdrew it from him”

I knew she spoke the truth regarding her hand, so I tried again.

“You—­you hung your head and kept your eyes cast down, and you looked—­”

“Oh, I hung my head, I cast down my eyes, and I looked?” she answered, laughing heartily.  “Pray let me ask you, Master Fault-finder, for what use else are heads and eyes made?”

I was not prepared to say that the uses to which Dorothy had put her head and eyes were not some of the purposes for which they were created.  They are good purposes, too, I admit, although I would not have conceded as much to Dorothy.  I knew the girl would soon wheedle me into her way of thinking, so I took a bold stand and said:—­

“It is my intention to tell John about your conduct with Leicester, and I shall learn for what purpose he thinks eyes and heads are created.”

“Tell John?” cried Dorothy.  “Of course you may tell John.  He well knows the purposes of heads and eyes, and their proper uses.  He has told me many times his opinion on the subject.”  She laughed for a moment, and then continued:  “I, too, shall tell John all that happened or shall happen between Lord Leicester and me.  I wish I could tell him now.  How I wish I could tell him now.”  A soft light came to her eyes, and she repeated huskily:  “If I might tell him now; if I might tell him now.  Why, Malcolm, I despise Leicester.  He is a poor, weak fool.  He has no more force nor strength than I have.  He is not a man.  He is no more attractive than a woman.  He wanted to kiss me.  He begged me to give him but one.  It is but a poor kiss which a man gets by begging.  Think you I would give him one?  Had he but touched my lips, think you I would ever allow John to soil himself again by kissing them?  Fear not, Malcolm.  Fear not for John nor for me.  No man will ever receive from me a favor, the granting of which would make me unfit to be John’s—­John’s wife.  I have paid too dearly for him to throw him away for a penny whistle that I do not want.”  Then she grew earnest, with a touch of anger:  “Leicester!  What reason, suppose you, Malcolm, have I for treating him as I do?  Think you I act from sheer wantonness?  If there were one little spot of that fault upon my soul, I would tear myself from John, though I should die for it.”

Her laughing mood had passed away, and I feared to say that I could see no reason other than coquetry for her conduct, I feared the red-haired tigress would scratch my eyes out.

“I have wanted to see you,” she continued, “that I might tell you of my plans and of the way they are working out, but now since you have spoken to me in this manner, Sir Malcolm Francois de Lorraine Vernon, I shall tell you nothing.  You suspect me.  Therefore, you shall wait with the rest of the world to learn my purposes.  You may tell John all you have seen and heard.  I care not how quickly you do it.”  Then with a sigh:  “I pray God it may be very soon.  He will wish for no explanation, and he shall one day have in me a rich reward for his faith.”