tiful, and necessary. She seemed to act
under compulsion. She would laugh, for the purpose, no doubt, of showing
her dimples and her teeth, and would lean her head to one side pigeon-wise
to display her eyes to the best advantage, and then would she shyly glance
toward Sir John to see if he was watching her. It was shameless, but it
could not be helped by Dorothy nor any one else. After a few moments of
mute pleading by the girl, broken now and then by, "Please, please," I
said:--

"If you give to me your promise that you will never speak of this matter
to any person, I will tell you the gentleman's name. I would not for a
great deal have your father know that I have held conversation with him
even for a moment, though at the time I did not know who he was."

"Oh, this is delightful! He must be some famous, dashing highwayman. I
promise, of course I promise--faithfully." She was glancing constantly
toward Manners, and her face was bright with smiles and eager with
anticipation.

"He is worse than a highwayman, I regret to say. The gentleman toward whom
you are so ardently glancing is--Sir John Manners."

A shock of pain passed over Dorothy's face, followed by a hard, repellent
expression that was almost ugly.

"Let us go to Aunt Dorothy," she said, as she turned and walked across the
room toward the door.

When we had closed the door of the tap-room behind us Dorothy said
angrily:--

"Tell me, cousin, how you, a Vernon, came to be in his company?"

"I told you that I met him quite by accident at the Royal Arms in
Derby-town. We became friends before either knew the other's name. After
chance had disclosed our identities, he asked for a truce to our feud
until the morrow; and he was so gentle and open in his conduct that I
could not and would not refuse his proffered olive branch. In truth,
whatever faults may be attributable to Lord Rutland,--and I am sure he
deserves all the evil you have spoken of him,--his son, Sir John, is a
noble gentleman, else I have been reading the book of human nature all my
life in vain. Perhaps he is in no way to blame for his father's conduct
He may have had no part in it"

"Perhaps he has not," said Dorothy, musingly.

It was not a pleasant task for me to praise Sir John, but my sense of
justice impelled me to do so. I tried to make myself feel injured and
chagrined because of Dorothy's manner toward him; for you must remember I
had arranged with myself to marry this girl, but