e him," responded Dorothy, with
tears in her eyes and eagerness in her voice. "Oh, my queen, do not lead
me to hope, and then plunge me again into despair. Give me no
encouragement unless you mean to free him. As for my part, take my life
and spare John's. Kill me by torture, burn me at the stake, stretch me
upon the rack till my joints are severed and my flesh is torn asunder. Let
me die by inches, my queen; but spare him, oh, spare him, and do with me
as you will. Ask from me what you wish. Gladly will I do all that you may
demand; gladly will I welcome death and call it sweet, if I can thereby
save him. The faint hope your Majesty's words hold out makes me strong
again. Come, come, take my life; take all that I can give. Give me him."

"Do you believe that I am an ogress thirsting for blood, Dorothy, that you
offer me your life for his? You can purchase Sir John's life at a much
smaller cost." Dorothy rose to the queen with a cry, and put her arms
about her neck. "You may purchase his freedom," continued the queen, "and
you may serve your loving queen at one and the same time, if you wish to
do so."

Dorothy had sunk back into the bed, and Elizabeth was sitting close by her
side; but when the queen spoke she turned her head on the pillow and
kissed the royal hand which was resting upon the coverlid.

"Ah, you are so good, so true, and so beautiful," said Dorothy.

Her familiarity toward the queen was sweet to the woman, to whom it was
new.

Dorothy did not thank the queen for her graciousness. She did not reply
directly to her offer. She simply said:--

"John has told me many times that he was first attracted to me because I
resembled you."

The girl had ample faith in her own beauty, and knew full well the subtle
flattery which lay in her words. "He said," she continued, "that my hair
in some faint degree resembled yours, but he said it was not of so
beautiful a hue. I have loved my hair ever since the day he told me that
it resembled your Majesty's." The girl leaned forward toward the queen and
gently kissed the royal locks. They no more resembled Dorothy's hair than
brick dust resembles the sheen of gold.

The queen glanced at the reflection of her hair in the mirror and it
flatly contradicted Dorothy. But the girl's words were backed by
Elizabeth's vanity, and the adroit flattery went home.

"Ah, my child," exclaimed her Majesty softly, as she leaned forward and
kissed Dorothy's fair cheek.

Dorothy w