"Have I ever injured you in any manner? Have I ever harmed you by thought, word, or deed?"
Dorothy's only answer was a sob.
"Perhaps you are a canting fanatic, and it may be that you hate me for the sake of that which you call the love of God?"
"No, no, madam," I said, "that was not the reason."
"Do you know the reason, Malcolm?" asked Mary, addressing me for the first time. My name upon her lips had a strange effect on me. It was like the wafting to my nostrils of a sweet forgotten odor, or the falling upon my ears of a tender refrain of bygone days. Her voice in uttering my name thrilled me, and I hated myself for my weakness.
I told Mary that I did not know Dorothy's reasons, and she continued:—
"Malcolm, you were not a party to my betrayal for the sake of revenging yourself on me?"
"God forbid!" I answered. "Sir John Manners will assure you of my innocence. I rode with Mistress Vernon to a cross-road within a league of Rutland, hoping thereby to assist her to give you and Sir John the alarm."
My admission soon brought me into trouble.
"I alone am to blame," said Dorothy, faintly.