“Nay, my lady, you are far from it.  You will excuse me now, I am sure; I am promised a dance with Dorothy shortly,” and he got up and departed, glad to get away so quickly, and deaf to her entreaty to return.

His temper was ruffled, and he walked away to look for his partner, to lose his irritation in the sunshine of her company.

But Dorothy was nowhere to be seen.

He paced up and down the length of the room, chafing at her absence, and peering into every corner and recess as he wandered along.  The dining-room and banqueting-hall were searched equally in vain, and at last the baffled lover concluded that she had retired for a little rest.

He waited, irritated not a little at the long delay.  His eye scanned each passing figure again and again, and rigorously searched each group, but it was all “love’s labour lost;” Dorothy could not be found; and finally, unable any longer to control the forebodings of his suspicious heart, he hastened to the baron and acquainted him with all his fears.

“Tush, man,” replied Sir George gaily; “maybe she is feeling somewhat out of sorts, or happen she is tired.  Margaret!” he called, as the newly-married maiden was passing along, “do thou seek for Dorothy, my Lady Stanley.  Thy new brother, Sir Edward, is jealous of her absence.”

“Ah, prithee do, good Margaret,” added that unhappy knight.  “Her absence just at this time bodes no good, I fear, and makes me feel uneasy.”

“She shall be here soon,” replied Lady Stanley, and she went away to seek the truant sister, leaving her husband to beguile the tediousness of the time by engaging in conversation with his brother.  Sir Thomas was in high glee, and could find no sympathy with the miserable forebodings of his younger brother.

“I tell thee what, Edward,” he said, “thou must let her have more freedom.  You are too rash; you must be astute an you would succeed.  Dorothy is drawn by affection, not driven by ill words or sour looks.  It had been better for thee, I trow, an thou hadst not pressed for the marriage so soon; but thou hast done it now.”

“Lady Maude advised me in it, and I cannot say I repent it now, though my heart does misgive ever and again,” he replied.

“That John Manners,” continued the elder Stanley, “is a good enough man, a likely fellow, and would have done well for Dorothy; aye, and had not you been in the way, he would have won her, too.  Thou art no match for him, Edward; thou art too impatient.”

Edward hung down his head, and gazed uncomfortably upon the floor.  He was conscious of the truth of his brother’s statement, and could not well refute it.  He paused in silence, hoping that the subject would be pursued no further.

“Here comes Margaret,” he said, lifting up his head and feeling mightily relieved that the awkward pause had come to an end; but sorely dismayed to see no Dorothy following behind.