Dorothy, with a heavy load at her heart, wore a bright and even smiling face.  She received the flattering service of her admirers as of old, and danced impartially with all who asked for the privilege.

Even Sir Edward Stanley, although she cordially disliked him, came in for a goodly share of her favours.  He had noted a change in her conduct of late, and that change was for the better.  He imagined that she was readier to accept his advances, and when he had communicated his thoughts to his brother, they were confirmed in almost every respect.  Sir Thomas had remarked exactly the same change, and they readily ascribed it to a yielding of the maiden’s spirit.

Little did they suspect that this alteration in her bearing was due to any other cause than that Manners was being forgotten, and in his happiness at the change, Sir Edward was content to let her enjoy herself as she listed, feeling sure that ere the end of another month there would be another bridal party, in which Dorothy Vernon and himself would be the principal actors.

When the merriment was at its highest, and the boisterousness was at its climax, Dorothy remembered that the time was fast approaching when she would have to depart.  Her lover—­he who had risked so much for her sake—­would be waiting in the cold meadow with the horses waiting for her! and she sank down to rest, well knowing the terrible strain she would soon be called upon to endure.

“Fair Mistress Dorothy is tired, I perceive,” quoth a young knight, as he approached her, longing for her company in another dance.

“Aye,” she answered.  “I have danced too much, sir knight, and my shoe pinches too,” she added, with perfect truth.

“Then by my troth,” responded the gallant youth, “I swear you have a full small shoe.”

“Come, Dorothy,” said Margaret as she came up to her sister’s side, “here is a gentle knight who would dance with thee,” and she gravely introduced the veteran cavalier De Lacey.

“You will forgive me awhile, will you not, Sir John?” said Dorothy, “for I am wearied and the room is over hot,” and smiling back at the gracious reply of the old knight, who accepted her excuse, she retired to the corner of the room, while the disappointed De Lacey proceeded to join company with Sir Benedict a Woode, and found solace in quaffing the baron’s wine.

Dorothy’s heart was beating fast; the critical moment had come.  She was close beside the door which led into the ante-chamber, and a slight noise in that apartment recalled to her memory the fact that her faithful maid Lettice was waiting for her there.

She lingered, and her resolution wavered.  It was hard to go and leave behind the scenes of merry childhood and all the pleasant recollections connected with the home; and as she sat there undecided, many pleasant recollections rushed back into her memory and pleaded powerfully with her tender heart.  But the greatest pang of all was the parting from the baron.  She loved him sincerely, and she knew that he loved her dearly in return.  This it was which now held her back, but the movements of her maid in the adjoining room continually reminded her that her lover would be waiting for her with an anxious heart.