“Doll!” he exclaimed.

There was no reply.

“Doll,” he repeated, in a little louder tone as he pushed door and tapestry aside and entered the room.  “Doll!”

“It is not Dorothy, Master Manners,” replied a gentle voice, “it is I, Lettice, her maid.”

His heart stood still; chilled with despair.

“Where is she?” he cried.  “Tell me, will she come?”

“Nay, she cannot come; Dame Maude is with her, getting ready for the feast.

“And Dorothy cannot come,” he repeated, with downcast eyes.  “Hast thou seen her; has she had my message?”

“One may not speak with her when my lady is there,” said the maid, “but she read it in my eyes.  I would, Master Manners, I could help thee more, but I fear that cannot be.”

“Bid her keep her tryst to-night, Lettice,” he replied, “and thou wilt serve thee well.”

“I fear me she cannot.  Oft has she tried and failed; she is watched too well.  An she were to pass the gate alone the whole Hall would know of it.”

“Look, then, Lettice, could you come?”

Lettice often had done so before to meet her own stalwart young lover in the privacy of the wood, and she blushed at the question.

“I come?” she replied, “happen I might were I but to speak to the chamberlain first.”

“Speak to him, then, for mercy’s sake, speak,” replied the lover, quickly.  “Lend Doll your hood and shawl, none will know the difference in the dark.  Tell the porter to expect you.  There, adieu; fail me not, good Lettice,” and without leaving her time to make reply he rushed hastily out of the room, and left her alone to carry out his instructions as best she could.

Dusk was rapidly deepening into darkness when John Manners stole out of his humble abode to wend his way to the old trysting place, whither he had been so frequently of late.  His progress was watched by a pair of eager, jealous eyes, as their owner silently but surely dogged his every footstep; and when the tree was reached at last Manners lay wearily down at its foot, fully resolved not to depart from thence until he had brought matters to a crisis.  At the same moment the figure of a young man glided stealthily into the cover of a bush within a few yards of where the other lay.  Manners was not aware of the fact; he had neither seen nor heard his pursuer, and in happy ignorance of the circumstance he awaited Dorothy’s appearance.

The night was chilly, for the snow had just departed from off the ground, and the fast gathering leaden clouds threatened to quickly cover it over again; but, buoyed up with hope and excitement, Manners heeded it not.  Quietly, but not calmly, he lay, impatiently awaiting the coming of his love.

At last she came, but she approached so silently that her lover was not aware of her presence until she spoke.

“John,” she exclaimed, “I am here.”

He was upon his feet in an instant.