Still Dorothy did not feel comforted. A nameless fear which she could scarcely define by words had crept into her heart, and a smoldering flame of jealousy burst suddenly forth; and that was the beginning of a terrible end.
She leaned wearily back in her seat, and looked so white that Katy was frightened.
"Shall I get you a glass of ice-water, Miss Dorothy?" she cried.
The pale lips murmured assent, and she flew to do her mistress' bidding.
Left to herself, Dorothy sprang hastily to her feet.
"It almost seems as if I shall go mad!" she murmured—"yes, mad—with this terrible fear clutching at my heart! I must have air. I am stifling!"
All unmindful of the errand upon which she had sent Katy, Dorothy rose hastily to her feet, and, remembering that there was a rear entrance leading from the ball-room near where she sat, she groped her way thither.
The night air fanned her feverish cheek, but it did not cool the fever in her brain or the fire that seemed eating into her very heart. A thousand fancies, so weird and strange that they terrified her, seemed to take possession of her brain. She had relied so entirely upon what they had told her—that Miss Vincent was very plain—that the feeling of jealousy had never before occurred to her; for well she knew that Harry Kendal was a beauty-worshiper, and that no matter how much he might be thrown in contact with a girl who was plain of face, he would never dream of being anything else than simply courteous to her.
Now affairs seemed to take on a new and hideous form.
She recalled each and every incident that had taken place since Miss Vincent's arrival, and