. It is I who am troubled on the score of
infidelity. John will be with the most beautiful queen--" She broke off in
the midst of her sentence, and her face became clouded with an expression
of anger and hatred. "God curse her! I wish she were dead, dead, dead.
There! you know how I feel toward your English-French-Scottish beauty.
Curse the mongrel--" She halted before the ugly word she was about to use;
but her eyes were like glowing embers, and her cheeks were flushed by the
heat of anger.

"Did you not promise me, Dorothy, that you would not again allow yourself
to become jealous of Queen Mary?" I asked.

"Yes, I promised, but I cannot prevent the jealousy, and I do not intend
to try. I hate her, and I love to hate her."

"Why should you hate her?" I asked. "If John remains true to you, there is
certainly no cause for you to hate any one. If he should be untrue to you,
you should hate him."

"Hate him?" she exclaimed. "That, indeed, is pretty reasoning. If he
should be untrue to me, I should of course hate her. I could not hate him.
I did not make myself love him. I would never have been so great a fool as
to bring that pain upon myself intentionally. I suppose no girl would
deliberately make herself love a man and bring into her heart so great an
agony. I feel toward John as I do, because I must; and I hate your
Scottish mongrel because I must. I tell you, Malcolm, when she comes to
Rutland, if I hear of her trying any of her wanton tricks on John there
will be trouble--mark my words!"

"I ask you to promise me this, Dorothy: that you will do nothing
concerning John and Queen Mary without first speaking to me."

She paced across the room angrily. "I promise you nothing, Malcolm, save
that I shall not allow that woman to come between John and me. That I
promise you, on my oath."

Dorothy continued to shed her luminous smiles on Leicester, though she was
careful not to shine in the queen's presence. My lord was dazzled by the
smiles, and continually sought opportunities to bask in their dangerous
light. As a result of this smiling and basking the great London
heart-breaker was soon helplessly caught in the toils of Doll, the country
maiden. She played him as an angler plays a trout. The most experienced
court coquette could not have done the part better than did this girl,
whose knowledge of the subject was wholly intuitive, for her life had all
been spent amid the green hills and groves of Derbyshire. She so m