Madge could have calmed the tempest-tossed sea as easily as she could have induced Dorothy to pause in her mad frenzy.  Jennie Faxton, almost paralyzed by fear of the storm she had raised, stood in the corner of the room trembling and speechless.  Dorothy was out of the room before poor blind Madge could reach her.  The frenzied girl was dressed only in her night robes and her glorious hair hung dishevelled down to her waist.  She ran through the rooms of Lady Crawford and those occupied by her father and the retainers.  Then she sped down the long gallery and up the steps to Elizabeth’s apartment.

She knocked violently at the queen’s door.

“Who comes?” demanded one of her Majesty’s ladies.

“I, Dorothy,” was the response.  “I wish to speak to her Majesty at once upon a matter of great importance to her.”

Elizabeth ordered her ladies to admit Dorothy, and the girl ran to the queen, who had half arisen in her bed.

“You must have affairs of great moment, indeed,” cried Elizabeth, testily, “if they induce you to disturb me in this manner.”

“Of great moment, indeed, your Majesty,” replied Dorothy, endeavoring to be calm, “of moment to you and to me.  Mary Stuart is in England at this instant trying to steal your crown and my lover.  She is now sleeping within five leagues of this place.  God only knows what she is doing.  Let us waste no time, your Majesty.”

The girl was growing wilder every second.

“Let us go—­you and I—­and seize this wanton creature.  You to save your crown; I to save my lover and—­my life.”

“Where is she?” demanded Elizabeth, sharply.  “Cease prattling about your lover.  She would steal both my lover and my crown if she could.  Where is she?”

“She is at Rutland Castle, your Majesty,” answered Dorothy.

“Ah, the Duke of Rutland and his son John,” said Elizabeth.  “I have been warned of them.  Send for my Lord Cecil and Sir William St. Loe.”

Sir William was in command of the yeoman guards.

“Is Sir John Manners your lover?” asked Elizabeth, turning to Dorothy.

“Yes,” answered the girl.

“You may soon seek another,” replied the queen, significantly.

Her Majesty’s words seemed to awaken Dorothy from her stupor of frenzy, and she foresaw the result of her act.  Then came upon her a reaction worse than death.

“You may depart,” said the queen to Dorothy, and the girl went back to her room hardly conscious that she was moving.

At times we cannot help feeling that love came to the human breast through a drop of venom shot from the serpent’s tongue into the heart of Eve.  Again we believe it to be a spark from God’s own soul.  Who will solve me this riddle?