“Nay, nay, John,” she said, “the Lady Maude will soon devise a plan for separating us, but let us remain together while we may.”

“But, Doll, you are ill,” he exclaimed, “and I must take good care of thee.”

“I should be worse were I severed from thee,” she sweetly replied, “and, John, I have somewhat to tell thee.”

“Speak on then, sweet one.”

“You will be true to me, John, whatever happens?” she asked.

She was timid to approach the subject, and blushed deeply at the sound of her own sweet voice.  She had more than half a mind to take the words back lest they should strike a single pang into his heart, but they were spoken, and before she could enter into any explanation, he had bent down and kissed her.

“My precious darling!” he passionately exclaimed.  “I never could forget thee; thy name is written on my heart; I shall never cease to love thee.  The saints forfend me, Doll.  I were a miscreant indeed were I to play traitor to thy love.”

“I shall trust you, John,” she replied, bestowing upon him a look of undisguised affection; “I do trust thee; I shall be happy in thy love.  Whatever trouble comes I shall be happy, because I shall know your heart is trusty and true.”

“That it shall be, Doll,” he cried, “a right trusty heart—­though they do make thee wed Edward Stanley.”

“John!” she exclaimed quickly, flushing scarlet again, “have I not given my troth to thee?  They shall not force me into it.  You can trust me.”

“O, Doll.  My love, my darling, it would break my heart to give thee up; but I must do it for the sake of thy happiness.”

Poor heart, he spoke but the truth, but he spoke it as bravely as he could.

“Hush, John,” Dorothy hastily broke in; “you must not say such things.”

“Alas! you little know, my sweet one, to what misery you would consign yourself if you proved staunch to me,” he continued.  “This fragile form was not made to suffer, but to recline in ease,” he added, as he gazed fondly at the graceful form of the maiden.

“I have recked the cost,” she simply replied.  “You do not doubt me, do you, John?” she asked, looking up into his troubled face.

“Doubt thee, no;” he replied, “but I would save thee from a host of sorrows.”

Dorothy held her head down in silence, and seeing that she did not answer.  Manners continued.

“I must be frank with you, Doll.  The husband they have chosen thee may be an earl in time to come, and is a Derby to boot.  He is rich, and mayhap he may love thee, too, and I—­and I——­”

“Stop, John, stop,” she commanded.  “Would you thus trifle with my love?  I have seen in thee a noble heart, a kind heart, a loving heart.  I have refused many before thee.  I have just refused one lord, and I shall refuse the other.  You would not so dispraise yourself but to dissuade me; but you have yet to learn the constancy of a maiden’s love.”