Dorothy had heard at various times just enough of these plots to fill her heart with alarm when she learned that John was about to be engaged in them. Her trouble was twofold. She feared lest personal injury or death might befall John; and jealousy, that shame of love, gnawed at her heart despite her efforts to drive it away.
"Is she so marvellously beautiful?" Dorothy asked of me over and over again, referring to Mary Stuart. "Is she such a marvel of beauty and fascination that all men fall before her?"
"That usually is the result," I replied. "I have never known her to smile upon a man who did not at once respond by falling upon his knees to her."
"Ah, then, I am lost," she responded, with a tremulous sigh. "Is--is she prone to smile on men and--and--to grow fond of them?"
"I should say, Dorothy, that both the smiling and the fondness have become a habit with her."
"Then she will be sure to choose John from among all men. He is so glorious and perfect and beautiful that she will be eager to--to--O God! I wish he had not gone to fetch her."
"You need have no fear," I said reassuringly. "While Mary Stuart is marvellously beautiful and fascinating, there is at least one woman who excels her. Above all, that woman is pure and chaste."
"Who is she, that one woman, Malcolm? Who is she?" asked the girl, leaning forward in her chair and looking at me eagerly with burning eyes.
"You are already a vain girl, Dorothy, and I shall not tell you who that one woman is," I answered laughingly.
"No, no, Malcolm, I am not vain in this matter. It is of too great moment to me for the 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.