"But suppose out of obedience to you she should sign the contract?" I asked.
"Malcolm, you don't know Doll," he replied. Then, after a pause, "Neither do I. I wish she were well married."
When I left Sir George, I found Dorothy in close consultation with the queen and two of her ladies. I heard the name of Lord James Stanley spoken amid suppressed laughter, and I suspected Dorothy had on foot some prank touching that young man, to which her Majesty was a party.
After dinner the Stanleys came a-wooing. The party consisted of father, son, and four retainers, who looked as if they had been preserved in alcohol for the occasion, so red were their faces.
The Earl of Derby was a fine old gentleman of the rural type. His noble son was an uncouth rustic, who had no thought above a stable boy or tavern maid, nor any ambition above horse trading. His attire was a wonder to behold. He wore a ruff of stupendous proportions. His trunks were so puffed out and preposterous in size that they looked like a great painted knot on a tree; and the many-colored splendors of his sleeves, his hat, his hose, and his shoes were dazzling to the eye. Add to this wondrous raiment feet and hands that could not be satisfactorily disposed of, and an unrest of manner painful to behold, and you may possibly conceive the grandiose absurdity of Dorothy's wooer. The sight of him almost made Sir George ill; and his entrance into the long gallery, where the queen was seated with her ladies and gentlemen, and Sir George and his friends standing about her, was a signal for laughter in which her Majesty openly joined.
I shall not lead you through the tedious ceremony of presentation and introduction, nor shall I tell you of the pompous manner in which one of the earl's retinue, a lawyer, read the marriage contract. The fact that the contract was read without the presence of Dorothy, whom it so nearly concerned, was significant of the small consideration which at that time was given to a girl's consent. When all was ready for the signing, Dorothy was summoned.
Sir George stood beside the Stanleys, and his nervousness was painfully apparent. Two servants opened the great doors at the end of the long gallery, and Dorothy, holding up the skirt of her gown, bounded into the room. She kneeled to the queen, and turned toward her uncle Stanley and her lover-cousin with a low bow. Then she courtesied and said—
"Good even, uncle, and how do you do, cousin. Have you come to inspect me, and, perchance, to buy?"
Sir George's face bore an expression of mingled shame, wonder, and alarm, and the queen and her suite laughed behind their fans.
"It is well," continued Dorothy. "Here am I, ready for inspection." Thereupon she began to disrobe herself before the entire company. Leicester laughed outright, and the queen and her ladies suppressed their merriment for a moment, and then sent forth peals of laughter without restraint. Sir George stepped toward the girl and raised his hand warningly, but the queen interposed:—