deep in love."

"Nothing," said Lady Crawford, "but a great passion would have impelled
her to act as she did. Why, even Mary of Burgundy, with all her modesty,
won the husband she wanted, ay, and had him at the cost of half her rich
domain."

"I wonder if Dorothy will ever have the man she wants?" said Malcolm,
sighing in a manner entirely new to him.

"No," answered the old lady, "I fear there is no hope for Dorothy. I
wonder who he is? Her father intends that she shall soon marry Lord
Stanley. Sir George told me as much this morning when he started for
Derby-town to arrange for the signing of the marriage contract within a
day or two. He had a talk yesterday with Dorothy. She, I believe, has
surrendered to the inevitable, and again there is good feeling between her
and my brother."

Dorothy tossed her head expressively.

"It is a good match," continued Lady Crawford, "a good match, Malcolm. I
pity Dorothy; but it is my duty to guard her, and I shall do it
faithfully."

"My dear Lady Crawford," said my hat and cloak, "your words and feelings
do great credit to your heart. But have you ever thought that your niece
is a very wilful girl, and that she is full of disturbing expedients? Now
I am willing to wager my beard that she will, sooner than you suspect, see
her lover. And I am also willing to lay a wager that she will marry the
man of her choice despite all the watchfulness of her father and yourself.
Keep close guard over her, my lady, or she will escape."

Lady Crawford laughed. "She shall not escape. Have no fear of that,
Malcolm. The key to the door is always safely locked in my reticule. No
girl can outwit me. I am too old to be caught unawares by a mere child
like Dorothy. It makes me laugh, Malcolm--although I am sore at heart for
Dorothy's sake--it makes me laugh, with a touch of tears, when I think of
poor simple Dorothy's many little artifices to gain possession of this
key. They are amusing and pathetic. Poor child! But I am too old to be
duped by a girl, Malcolm, I am too old. She has no chance to escape."

I said to myself: "No one has ever become too old to be duped by a girl
who is in love. Her wits grow keen as the otter's fur grows thick for the
winter's need. I do not know your niece's plan; but if I mistake not, Aunt
Dorothy, you will in one respect, at least, soon be rejuvenated."

"I am sure Lady Crawford is right in what she says," spoke my other self,
"and Sir George is fortunate in