Dorothy had been half expecting some such course of action on the part of De la Zouch for some time past, and had carefully prepared a stinging answer which should once and for ever decide the question between them. Though she was petted and admired on almost every hand, yet she had sense enough to value such conduct at its proper worth; and whilst with the coquetry of a queen of hearts she accepted all the homage that love-sick cavaliers brought to her, she looked below the surface, and had a private opinion of her own about all those with whom she was brought into contact. Her opinion of Sir Henry de la Zouch was distinctly unfavourable to that knight; for, with the instinct of a woman, she had divined from the very beginning that his motives were more mercenary than genuine, and in spite of all his protestations of love towards her, he had failed to convince her that he loved her for herself alone. A little watching on her part had quickly convinced her that the dislike she felt for him was not without sufficient reason, and as the evidence against him accumulated, she congratulated herself that she had escaped the clutches of a villain of so wily a disposition. Long before the appearance of John Manners she had determinedly refused all the advances of her would-be lover, and his every attempt had been met by her with chilling sarcasm; or, were she in a lighter mood, she had retreated into safer ground under cover of a burst of merriment. Had De la Zouch been possessed of ordinary perceptions he would have noticed that his conduct was alienating Dorothy from him more and more; but, like many others, he was so eager to gain his ends that he was partially blind as to the means employed. The manner in which Sir Henry had just preferred his suit had taken her so completely by surprise that she had entirely forgotten what she meant to say; but the indignation she felt at his conduct in detaining her against her will would have deprived her of the power of expressing the prettily turned speech so long prepared, even if she had remembered it. She fled into the house, and without casting a look behind to see if she were being pursued or not, she rushed through the deserted state chambers and never stopped until she found herself in her own room and had turned the key in the lock. She flung herself down upon the bed, and her overwrought feelings found relief in tears. How long she would have so remained would be impossible to say, but she had barely succeeded in locking herself in when she was startled by a gentle rap at the door. She stopped her sobbing and listened. Surely De la Zouch would never venture to follow her to her own boudoir! No, it was incredible, and she dismissed the idea. The silence was broken only by a second rap at the door. It was too gentle for Sir Henry, it must be her tire-maid, Lettice, or her sister Margaret, maybe. She rose up, and in a tremulous voice inquired who was there.