"And then you will have done the wise and safe and just and loving thing! Who taught you to ignore formalities? They are one's evidence of title. Build your fence. It will be like saying to Storri: So far shalt thou come and no farther."
Bess looked curiously at Richard. She had mentioned Storri in a mood of mischief, as one spurs a gamesome horse to stir its mettle. Richard's brow was a thundercloud.
"Why do you name Storri with Dorothy?—a serpent and a dove!" he said, in tones very slow and full.
"Dorothy will tell you," replied Bess. "She will turn marvelously loquacious, once she finds herself behind her fence."
"How shall I go to her?" exclaimed Richard. "My heart will be sick until I've told her."
"You will not have long to wait," said Bess laughingly. "She should have been here ten minutes ago. I can't see what detains her."
Richard looked bewildered and a little shocked. "Surely," he began, "Dorothy didn't——"
"No, no; you are not the victim of a plot, Sir Suspicious One!" cried Bess. "It is a wonder that you are not, for your dullness surpasses belief. Do you imagine Dorothy doesn't see you every time you walk this street? that she hasn't seen you to-day? that she didn't see you come in? that she won't invent some pretext for running over? Oh, foolish, foolish bridegroom! You may guess how foolish by peeping from the window, for here your Dorothy comes."
At this, the benignant Bess, having questioned, advised, admonished, and, in a measure, berated Richard, gave him her hand, as if she would give him courage; and Richard, with the praiseworthy purpose of getting all the courage he could, lifted it to his lips. That was the blasting tableau at the moment Dorothy stood in the door.
"Oh!" cried Dorothy. Then her brow crimsoned, and her eyes began to shine like angry stars.