nity," I responded; "but I warn you, Sir George, that if Dorothy
proves disinclined to marry me, I will not accept her hand."

"Never fear for Doll; she will be all right," and we parted.

Doll all right! Had he only known how very far from "all right" Dorothy
was, he would have slept little that night.

This brings me to the other change of which I spoke--the change in
Dorothy. Change? It was a metamorphosis.

A fortnight after the scene at The Peacock I accidentally discovered a
drawing made by Dorothy of a man with a cigarro in his mouth. The girl
snatched the paper from my hands and blushed convincingly.

"It is a caricature of--of him," she said. She smiled, and evidently was
willing to talk upon the subject of "him." I declined the topic.

This happened a month or more previous to my conversation with Sir George
concerning Dorothy. A few days after my discovery of the cigarro picture,
Dorothy and I were out on the terrace together. Frequently when she was
with me she would try to lead the conversation to the topic which I well
knew was in her mind, if not in her heart, at all times. She would speak
of our first meeting at The Peacock, and would use every artifice to
induce me to bring up the subject which she was eager to discuss, but I
always failed her. On the day mentioned when we were together on the
terrace, after repeated failures to induce me to speak upon the desired
topic, she said, "I suppose you never meet--meet--him when you ride out?"

"Whom, Dorothy?" I asked.

"The gentleman with the cigarro," she responded, laughing nervously.

"No," I answered, "I know nothing of him."

The subject was dropped.

At another time she said, "He was in the village--Overhaddon--yesterday."

Then I knew who "him" was.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Jennie Faxton, the farrier's daughter, told me. She often comes to the
Hall to serve me. She likes to act as my maid, and is devoted to me."

"Did he send any word to you?" I asked at a venture. The girl blushed and
hung her head. "N-o," she responded.

"What was it, Dorothy?" I asked gently. "You may trust me."

"He sent no word to me," the girl responded. "Jennie said she heard two
gentlemen talking about me in front of the farrier's shop, and one of them
said something about--oh, I don't know what it was. I can't tell you. It
was all nonsense, and of course he did not mean it."

"Tell me all, Dorothy," I said, seeing that she really wanted to speak.

"