e petty vice of vanity to have any part in it. You do not
understand me. I care not for my beauty, save for his sake. I long to be
more beautiful, more fascinating, and more attractive than she--than any
woman living--only because I long to hold John--to keep him from her, from
all others. I have seen so little of the world that I must be sadly
lacking in those arts which please men, and I long to possess the beauty
of the angels, and the fascinations of Satan that I may hold John, hold
him, hold him, hold him. That I may hold him so sure and fast that it will
be impossible for him to break from me. At times, I almost wish he were
blind; then he could see no other woman. Ah, am I not a wicked, selfish
girl? But I will not allow myself to become jealous. He is all mine, isn't
he, Malcolm?" She spoke with nervous energy, and tears were ready to
spring from her eyes.

"He is all yours, Dorothy," I answered, "all yours, as surely as that
death will some day come to all of us. Promise me, Dorothy, that you will
never again allow a jealous thought to enter your heart. You have no cause
for jealousy, nor will you ever have. If you permit that hateful passion
to take possession of you, it will bring ruin in its wake."

"It was, indeed, foolish in me," cried Dorothy, springing to her feet and
clasping her hands tightly; "and I promise never again to feel jealousy.
Malcolm, its faintest touch tears and gnaws at my heart and racks me with
agony. But I will drive it out of me. Under its influence I am not
responsible for my acts. It would quickly turn me mad. I promise, oh, I
swear, that I never will allow it to come to me again."

Poor Dorothy's time of madness was not far distant nor was the evil that
was to follow in its wake.

John in writing to Dorothy concerning his journey to Scotland had
unhesitatingly intrusted to her keeping his honor, and, unwittingly, his
life. It did not once occur to him that she could, under any conditions,
betray him. I trusted her as John did until I saw her vivid flash of
burning jealousy. But by the light of that flash I saw that should the
girl, with or without reason, become convinced that Mary Stuart was her
rival, she would quickly make Derbyshire the warmest locality in
Christendom, and John's life might pay the cost of her folly. Dorothy
would brook no rival--no, not for a single hour. Should she become jealous
she would at once be swept beyond the influence of reason or the care for
con