Walking by Dorothy's side, holding her hand, was a fair young woman whose hair was black, and whose skin was of the white, clear complexion such as we see in the faces of nuns. She walked with a hesitating, cautious step, and clung to Dorothy, who was gentle and attentive to her. But of this fair, pale girl I have so much to say in the pages to come that I shall not further describe her here. When the ladies had entered the inn, my companion and I dismounted, and Manners exclaimed:-- "Did you see the glorious girl who but now entered the inn door? Gods! I never before saw such beauty." "Yes," I replied, "I know her." "How fortunate I am," said Sir John. "Perhaps I may induce you to present me to her. At least you will tell me her name, that I may seek her acquaintance by the usual means. I am not susceptible, but by my faith, I--I--she looked at me from the door-steps, and when I caught her eyes it seemed--that is, I saw--or I felt a stream of burning life enter my soul, and--but you will think I am a fool. I know I am a fool. But I feel as if I were--as if I had been bewitched in one little second of time, and by a single glance from a pair of brown eyes. You certainly will think I am a fool, but you cannot understand--" "Why can't I understand?" I asked indignantly. "The thing you have seen and felt has been in this world long enough for every man to understand. Eve used it upon Adam. I can't understand? Damme, sir, do you think I am a clod? I have felt it fifty times." "Not--" began Sir John, hesitatingly. "Nonsense!" I replied. "You, too, will have the same experience fifty times again before you are my age." "But the lady," said Sir John, "tell me of her. Will you--can you present me to her? If not, will you tell me who she is?" I remained for a moment in thought, wondering if it were right for me to tell him that the girl whom he so much admired was the daughter of his father's enemy. I could see no way of keeping Dorothy's name from him, so I determined to tell him. "She is my cousin, Mistress Dorothy Vernon," I said. "The eldest is Lady Dorothy Crawford. The beautiful, pale girl I do not know." "I am sorry," returned Sir John; "she is the lady whom you have come to marry, is she not?" "Y-e-s," said I, hesitatingly. "You certainly are to be congratulated," returned Manners. "I doubt if I shall marry her," I replied. "Why?" asked Manners. "For many reasons, chief among which is her beauty." "That is an unusual reason for declining a woman," responded Sir John, with a low laugh. "I think it is quite usual," I replied, having in mind the difficulty with which great beauties are won. But I continued, "A woman of moderate beauty makes a safer wife, and in the long run is more comforting than one who is too attractive." "You are a philosopher, Sir Malcolm," said Manners, laughingly.