use this battle draweth near,
For what have I to love or fear?

W. MORRIS (adapted).

John Manners sought out Dorothy as soon as the interview was
concluded, and he was fortunate enough to find her alone.

Poor Dorothy; she had long expected this meeting, and she had tried
to prepare herself to face it. Her love, subjected to such a terrible
strain, had come like gold out of the refining fire. It had grown
stronger and better, and as she saw her lover emerge from the room she
realised for the first time how much she really loved him.

The tale was soon told, and as he poured into her ears the unwelcome
tidings her tender heart was lacerated by each successive word.

"And now, my own sweet Dorothy," he concluded, "you know all. I have
told thee all the pitiful story. Would to God it had been a pleasant
tale I had to tell thee, but alas! I have told thee but the truth."

He looked fondly into her face, and wondered how often he would be
permitted to see it more. It was deadly pale, and her lips quivered
again as she endeavoured to keep them tightly closed.

"John," she murmured, "in any matter but this I should obey them;
but--but----" She broke down under the mental strain. It was a
terrible struggle between conflicting affections, and, unable to
sustain it, she would have fallen in a faint upon the ground had not
the strong arms of her lover supported her.

Manners laid her gently down upon the bank and sprinkled some water
upon her, for they were on the slopes of the Wye, and in a few moments
she mastered her feelings and opened her eyes.

"I am dizzy," she apologetically exclaimed, as she saw the form of her
beloved bending over her. "I shall be better soon."

She fulfilled her prediction quickly, and when he would have led her
back into the Hall she begged him to wait.

"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,