Her young life seemed to have crumbled down upon her and crushed her heart, and all for one gentle imprudence.
'Oh my mother!' she murmured,--'an' thou couldst hear me, thou wouldst help me an' thou couldst.

Thy poor Dorothy is sorely sad and forsaken, and she knows no way of escape.

Oh my mother, hear me!' As she spoke, she looked away from the moat to the sky, and spread out her arms in the pain of her petition.
There was a step behind her.
'What! what! My little protestant praying to the naughty saints! That will never do.' Dorothy had turned with a great start, and stood speechless and trembling before lord Herbert.
'My poor child!' he said, holding out both his hands, and taking those which Dorothy did not offer--'did I startle thee then so much?
I am truly sorry.

I heard but thy last words; be not afraid of thy secret.
But what hath come to thee?
Thou art white and thin, there are tears on thy face, and it seems as thou wert not so glad to see me as I thought thou wouldst have been.

What is amiss?
I hope thou art not sick--but plainly thou art ill at ease! Go not yet after my Molly, cousin, for truly we need thee here yet a while.' 'Would I might go to Molly, my lord!' said Dorothy.