“Tut, man,” she laughed; “so has every beggar.  Prithee, now, as a matter of business, what have you to offer?  Nothing.”

“What!  Surely you do not want to barter her away?” cried Manners.  “Why talk of business?”

“Certainly not,” she replied; “but it is our duty to make as good an alliance for her as we can.  You ought to perceive that this is to her advantage, and if you care for her welfare as much as you would have us believe, you would help us to secure it for her, instead of placing her in a position which can only breed discontent and mischief,” and without giving Manners time to reply she swept proudly out of the room and left him alone with his sorrow.

CHAPTER XX.

The trothplight.

  Yet even now it is good to think,
  While my few poor varlets grumble and drink,
  In my desolate hall where the fires sink;
  Of Dorothy sitting glorious there,
  In glory of gold and glory of hair,
  And glory of glorious face most fair;
  Likewise to-night I make good cheer,
  Because this battle draweth near,
  For what have I to love or fear?

  W. Morris (adapted).

John Manners sought out Dorothy as soon as the interview was concluded, and he was fortunate enough to find her alone.

Poor Dorothy; she had long expected this meeting, and she had tried to prepare herself to face it.  Her love, subjected to such a terrible strain, had come like gold out of the refining fire.  It had grown stronger and better, and as she saw her lover emerge from the room she realised for the first time how much she really loved him.

The tale was soon told, and as he poured into her ears the unwelcome tidings her tender heart was lacerated by each successive word.

“And now, my own sweet Dorothy,” he concluded, “you know all.  I have told thee all the pitiful story.  Would to God it had been a pleasant tale I had to tell thee, but alas!  I have told thee but the truth.”

He looked fondly into her face, and wondered how often he would be permitted to see it more.  It was deadly pale, and her lips quivered again as she endeavoured to keep them tightly closed.

“John,” she murmured, “in any matter but this I should obey them; but—­but——­” She broke down under the mental strain.  It was a terrible struggle between conflicting affections, and, unable to sustain it, she would have fallen in a faint upon the ground had not the strong arms of her lover supported her.

Manners laid her gently down upon the bank and sprinkled some water upon her, for they were on the slopes of the Wye, and in a few moments she mastered her feelings and opened her eyes.

“I am dizzy,” she apologetically exclaimed, as she saw the form of her beloved bending over her.  “I shall be better soon.”

She fulfilled her prediction quickly, and when he would have led her back into the Hall she begged him to wait.