"So he does, but I have been told that this son of Lord Rutland, whom I
have never seen, has the beauty of--of the devil, and exercises a great
influence over her Majesty and her friends. The young man is not known in
this neighborhood, for he has never deigned to leave the court; but Lady
Cavendish tells me he has all the fascinations of Satan. I would that
Satan had him."

"The feud still lives between Vernon and Rutland?" I asked.

"Yes, and it will continue to live so long as an ounce of blood can hold a
pound of hatred," said the girl, with flashing eyes and hard lips. "I love
to hate the accursed race. They have wronged our house for three
generations, and my father has suffered greater injury at their hands than
any of our name. Let us not talk of the hateful subject."

We changed the topic. I had expected Dorothy to invite me to go with her
to meet Lady Crawford, but the girl seemed disinclined to leave the
tap-room. The Peacock was her father's property, and the host and hostess
were her friends after the manner of persons in their degree. Therefore
Dorothy felt at liberty to visit the tap-room quite as freely as if it had
been the kitchen of Haddon Hall.

During our conversation I had frequently noticed Dorothy glancing slyly in
the direction of the fireplace; but my back was turned that way, and I did
not know, nor did it at first occur to me to wonder what attracted her
attention. Soon she began to lose the thread of our conversation, and made
inappropriate, tardy replies to my remarks. The glances toward the
fireplace increased in number and duration, and her efforts to pay
attention to what I was saying became painful failures.