"Perhaps--not," she replied hesitatingly. "I have never thought," the girl continued poutingly, "that you did anything of which I should be jealous; but she--she--oh, I hate her! Let us not talk about her. Jennie Faxton told me--I will talk about her, and you shall not stop me--Jennie Faxton told me that the white woman made love to you and caused you to put your arm about her waist one evening on the battlements and-" "Jennie told you a lie," said John. "Now don't interrupt me," the girl cried nervously, almost ready for tears, "and I will try to tell you all. Jennie told me the--the white woman looked up to you this fashion," and the languishing look she gave John in imitation of Queen Mary was so beautiful and comical that he could do nothing but laugh and cover her face with kisses, then laugh again and love the girl more deeply and yet more deeply with each new breath he drew. Dorothy was not sure whether she wanted to laugh or to cry, so she did both. "Jennie told me in the middle of the night," continued Dorothy, "when all things seem so vivid and appear so distorted and--and that terrible blinding jealousy of which I told you came upon me and drove me mad. I really thought, John, that I should die of the agony. Oh, John, if you could know the anguish I suffered that night you would pity me; you would not blame me." "I do not blame you, Dorothy." "No, no, there-" she kissed him softly, and quickly continued: "I felt that I must separate her from you at all cost. I would have done murder to accomplish my purpose. Some demon whispered to me, 'Tell Queen Elizabeth,' and--and oh, John, let me kneel again." "No, no, Dorothy, let us talk of something else," said John, soothingly. "In one moment, John. I thought only of the evil that would come to her--her of Scotland. I did not think of the trouble I would bring to you, John, until the queen, after asking me if you were my lover, said angrily: 'You may soon seek another.' Then, John, I knew that I had also brought evil upon you. Then I _did_ suffer. I tried to reach Rutland, and you know all else that happened on that terrible night. Now John, you know all--all. I have withheld nothing. I have, confessed all, and I feel that a great weight is taken from my heart. You will not hate me, will you, John?" He caught the girl to his breast and tried to turn her face toward his. "I could not hate you if I would," he replied, with quick-coming breath, "and God knows I would not. To love you is the sweetest joy in life," and he softly kissed the great lustrous eyes till they closed as if in sleep. Then he fiercely sought the rich red lips, waiting soft and passive for his caresses, while the fair head fell back upon the bend of his elbow in a languorous, half-conscious sweet surrender to his will. Lord Rutland and I had turned our backs on the shameless pair, and were busily discussing the prospect for the coming season's crops.