initial commit of ebook 14671HEADmain

25 files changed, 62121 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/14671-0.txt b/14671-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0342c70
--- /dev/null
+++ b/14671-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,12599 @@
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14671 ***
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+Mary Pickford Edition
+
+Dorothy Vernon of
+Haddon Hall
+
+BY
+
+CHARLES MAJOR
+
+AUTHOR OF
+WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER,
+YOLANDA, ETC.
+
+
+ILLUSTRATED WITH
+SCENES FROM THE PHOTOPLAY
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
+
+Made in the United States of America
+
+Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1908
+
+
+Printed in U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+To My Wife
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                     Page
+
+A TOUCH OF BLACK MAGIC                                  1
+
+CHAPTER
+   I. I RIDE DOWN TO HADDON                             3
+  II. THE IRON, THE SEED, THE CLOUD, AND THE RAIN      19
+ III. THE PITCHER GOES TO THE WELL                     35
+  IV. THE GOLDEN HEART                                 62
+   V. MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE                           91
+  VI. A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN                  108
+ VII. TRIBULATION IN HADDON                           130
+VIII. MALCOLM NO. 2                                   163
+  IX. A TRYST AT BOWLING GREEN GATE                   181
+   X. THOMAS THE MAN-SERVANT                          211
+  XI. THE COST MARK OF JOY                            239
+ XII. THE LEICESTER POSSIBILITY                       260
+XIII. PROUD DAYS FOR THE OLD HALL                     281
+ XIV. MARY STUART                                     302
+  XV. LIGHT                                           333
+ XVI. LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE                    360
+
+
+
+
+
+A TOUCH OF BLACK MAGIC
+
+
+I draw the wizard's circle upon the sands, and blue flames spring from its
+circumference. I describe an inner circle, and green flames come
+responsive to my words of magic. I touch the common centre of both with my
+wand, and red flames, like adders' tongues, leap from the earth. Over
+these flames I place my caldron filled with the blood of a new-killed doe,
+and as it boils I speak my incantations and make my mystic signs and
+passes, watching the blood-red mist as it rises to meet the spirits of
+Air. I chant my conjurations as I learned them from the Great Key of
+Solomon, and while I speak, the ruddy fumes take human forms. Out of the
+dark, fathomless Past--the Past of near four hundred years ago--comes a
+goodly company of simple, pompous folk all having a touch of childish
+savagery which shows itself in the fierceness of their love and of their
+hate.
+
+The fairest castle-château in all England's great domain, the walls and
+halls of which were builded in the depths of time, takes on again its
+olden form quick with quivering life, and from the gates of Eagle Tower
+issues my quaint and radiant company. Some are clad in gold lace, silks,
+and taffetas; some wear leather, buckram and clanking steel. While the
+caldron boils, their cloud-forms grow ever more distinct and definite,
+till at length I can trace their every feature. I see the color of their
+eyes. I discern the shades of their hair. Some heads are streaked with
+gray; others are glossy with the sheen of youth. As a climax to my
+conjurations I speak the word of all words magical, "Dorothy," and lo! as
+though God had said, "Let there be light," a fair, radiant girl steps from
+the portals of Haddon Hall and illumines all my ancient company so that I
+may see even the workings of their hearts.
+
+They, and the events of their lives, their joys and sorrows, their virtues
+and sins, their hatreds, jealousies, and loves--the seven numbers in the
+total sum of life--pass before me as in a panorama, moving when I bid them
+move, pausing when I bid them pause, speaking when I bid them speak, and
+alas! fading back into the dim gray limbo of the past long, long ere I
+would have them go.
+
+But hark! my radiant shades are about to speak. The play is about to
+begin.
+
+
+
+
+Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+I RIDE DOWN TO HADDON
+
+
+Since I play no mean part in the events of this chronicle, a few words
+concerning my own history previous to the opening of the story I am about
+to tell you will surely not be amiss, and they may help you to a better
+understanding of my narrative.
+
+To begin with an unimportant fact--unimportant, that is, to you--my name
+is Malcolm François de Lorraine Vernon. My father was cousin-german to Sir
+George Vernon, at and near whose home, Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, occurred
+the events which will furnish my theme.
+
+Of the ancient lineage of the house of Vernon I need not speak. You
+already know that the family is one of the oldest in England, and while it
+is not of the highest nobility, it is quite gentle and noble enough to
+please those who bear its honored name. My mother boasted nobler blood
+than that of the Vernons. She was of the princely French house of Guise--a
+niece and ward to the Great Duke, for whose sake I was named.
+
+My father, being a younger brother, sought adventure in the land of
+France, where his handsome person and engaging manner won the smiles of
+Dame Fortune and my mother at one and the same cast. In due time I was
+born, and upon the day following that great event my father died. On the
+day of his burial my poor mother, unable to find in me either compensation
+or consolation for the loss of her child's father, also died, of a broken
+heart, it was said. But God was right, as usual, in taking my parents; for
+I should have brought them no happiness, unless perchance they could have
+moulded my life to a better form than it has had--a doubtful chance, since
+our great virtues and our chief faults are born and die with us. My
+faults, alas! have been many and great. In my youth I knew but one virtue:
+to love my friend; and that was strong within me. How fortunate for us it
+would be if we could begin our life in wisdom and end it in simplicity,
+instead of the reverse which now obtains!
+
+I remained with my granduncle, the Great Duke, and was brought up amid the
+fighting, vice, and piety of his sumptuous court. I was trained to arms,
+and at an early age became Esquire in Waiting to his Grace of Guise. Most
+of my days between my fifteenth and twenty-fifth years were spent in the
+wars. At the age of twenty-five I returned to the château, there to reside
+as my uncle's representative, and to endure the ennui of peace. At the
+château I found a fair, tall girl, fifteen years of age: Mary Stuart,
+Queen of Scotland, soon afterward Queen of France and rightful heiress to
+the English throne. The ennui of peace, did I say? Soon I had no fear of
+its depressing effect, for Mary Stuart was one of those women near whose
+fascinations peace does not thrive. When I found her at the château, my
+martial ardor lost its warmth. Another sort of flame took up its home in
+my heart, and no power could have turned me to the wars again.
+
+Ah! what a gay, delightful life, tinctured with bitterness, we led in the
+grand old château, and looking back at it how heartless, godless, and
+empty it seems. Do not from these words conclude that I am a fanatic, nor
+that I shall pour into your ears a ranter's tale; for cant is more to be
+despised even than godlessness; but during the period of my life of which
+I shall write I learned--but what I learned I shall in due time tell you.
+
+While at the court of Guise I, like many another man, conceived for Mary
+Stuart a passion which lay heavy upon my heart for many years. Sweethearts
+I had by the scores, but she held my longings from all of them until I
+felt the touch of a pure woman's love, and then--but again I am going
+beyond my story.
+
+I did not doubt, nor do I hesitate to say, that my passion was returned by
+Mary with a fervor which she felt for no other lover; but she was a queen,
+and I, compared with her, was nobody. For this difference of rank I have
+since had good cause to be thankful. Great beauty is diffusive in its
+tendency. Like the sun, it cannot shine for one alone. Still, it burns and
+dazzles the one as if it shone for him and for no other; and he who basks
+in its rays need have no fear of the ennui of peace.
+
+The time came when I tasted the unutterable bitterness of Mary's marriage
+to a simpering fool, Francis II., whom she loathed, notwithstanding absurd
+stories of their sweet courtship and love.
+
+After her marriage to Francis, Mary became hard and callous of heart, and
+all the world knows her sad history. The stories of Darnley, Rizzio, and
+Bothwell will be rich morsels, I suppose, for the morbid minds of men and
+women so long as books are read and scandal is loved.
+
+Ah, well, that was long ago; so long ago that now as I write it seems but
+a shadow upon the horizon of time.
+
+And so it happened that Francis died, and when the queen went back to
+Scotland to ascend her native throne, I went with her, and mothlike
+hovered near the blaze that burned but did not warm me.
+
+Then in the course of time came the Darnley tragedy. I saw Rizzio killed.
+Gods! what a scene for hell was that! Then followed the Bothwell
+disgrace, the queen's imprisonment at Lochleven, and my own flight from
+Scotland to save my head.
+
+You will hear of Mary again in this history, and still clinging to her you
+will find that same strange fatality which during all her life brought
+evils upon her that were infectious to her friends and wrought their ruin.
+
+One evening, in the autumn of the year 1567, I was sitting moodily before
+my fire in the town of Dundee, brooding over Mary's disgraceful liaison
+with Bothwell. I had solemnly resolved that I would see her never again,
+and that I would turn my back upon the evil life I had led for so many
+years, and would seek to acquire that quiescence of nature which is
+necessary to an endurable old age. A tumultuous soul in the breast of an
+old man breeds torture, but age, with the heart at rest, I have found is
+the best season of life.
+
+In the midst of my gloomy thoughts and good resolves my friend, Sir Thomas
+Douglas, entered my room without warning and in great agitation.
+
+"Are you alone?" he asked hurriedly, in a low voice.
+
+"Save for your welcome presence, Sir Thomas," I answered, offering my
+hand.
+
+"The queen has been seized," he whispered, "and warrants for high treason
+have been issued against many of her friends--you among the number.
+Officers are now coming to serve the writ. I rode hither in all haste to
+warn you. Lose not a moment, but flee for your life. The Earl of Murray
+will be made regent to-morrow."
+
+"My servant? My horse?" I responded.
+
+"Do not wait. Go at once. I shall try to send a horse for you to Craig's
+ferry. If I fail, cross the firth without one. Here is a purse. The queen
+sends it to you. Go! Go!"
+
+I acted upon the advice, of Sir Thomas and hurried into the street,
+snatching up my hat, cloak, and sword as I went. Night had fallen, and
+darkness and rain, which at first I was inclined to curse, proved to be my
+friends. I sought the back streets and alleys and walked rapidly toward
+the west gates of the city. Upon arriving at the gates I found them
+closed. I aroused the warden, and with the artful argument of gold had
+almost persuaded him to let me pass. My evident eagerness was my undoing,
+for in the hope of obtaining more gold the warden delayed opening the
+gates till two men approached on horseback, and, dismounting, demanded my
+surrender.
+
+I laughed and said: "Two against one! Gentlemen, I am caught." I then drew
+my sword as if to offer it to them. My action threw the men off their
+guard, and when I said, "Here it is," I gave it to the one standing near
+me, but I gave it to him point first and in the heart.
+
+It was a terrible thing to do, and bordered so closely on a broken parole
+that I was troubled in conscience. I had not, however, given my parole,
+nor had I surrendered; and if I had done so--if a man may take another's
+life in self-defence, may he not lie to save himself?
+
+The other man shot at me with his fusil, but missed. He then drew his
+sword; but he was no match for me, and soon I left him sprawling on the
+ground, dead or alive, I knew not which.
+
+At the time of which I write I was thirty-five years of age, and since my
+fifteenth birthday my occupations had been arms and the ladies--two arts
+requiring constant use if one would remain expert in their practice.
+
+I escaped, and ran along the wall to a deep breach which had been left
+unrepaired. Over the sharp rocks I clambered, and at the risk of breaking
+my neck I jumped off the wall into the moat, which was almost dry. Dawn
+was breaking when I found a place to ascend from the moat, and I hastened
+to the fields and forests, where all day and all night long I wandered
+without food or drink. Two hours before sunrise next morning I reached
+Craig's Ferry. The horse sent by Douglas awaited me, but the ferry-master
+had been prohibited from carrying passengers across the firth, and I could
+not take the horse in a small boat. In truth, I was in great alarm lest I
+should be unable to cross, but I walked up the Tay a short distance, and
+found a fisherman, who agreed to take me over in his frail craft. Hardly
+had we started when another boat put out from shore in pursuit of us. We
+made all sail, but our pursuers overtook us when we were within half a
+furlong of the south bank, and as there were four men in the other boat,
+all armed with fusils, I peaceably stepped into their craft and handed my
+sword to their captain.
+
+I seated myself on one of the thwarts well forward in the boat. By my side
+was a heavy iron boat-hook. I had noticed that all the occupants of the
+boat, except the fisherman who sailed her, wore armor; and when I saw the
+boat-hook, a diabolical thought entered my mind and I immediately acted
+upon its suggestion. Noiselessly I grasped the hook, and with its point
+pried loose a board in the bottom of the boat, first having removed my
+boots, cloak, and doublet. When the board was loosened I pressed my heel
+against it with all the force I could muster, and through an opening six
+inches broad and four feet long came a flood of water that swamped the
+boat before one could utter twenty words. I heard a cry from one of the
+men: "The dog has scuttled the boat. Shoot him!" At the same instant the
+blaze and noise of two fusils broke the still blackness of the night, but
+I was overboard and the powder and lead were wasted. The next moment the
+boat sank in ten fathoms of water, and with it went the men in armor. I
+hope the fisherman saved himself. I have often wondered if even the law of
+self-preservation justified my act. It is an awful thing to inflict death,
+but it is worse to endure it, and I feel sure that I am foolish to allow
+my conscience to trouble me for the sake of those who would have led me
+back to the scaffold.
+
+I fear you will think that six dead men in less than as many pages make a
+record of bloodshed giving promise of terrible things to come, but I am
+glad I can reassure you on that point. Although there may be some good
+fighting ahead of us, I believe the last man has been killed of whom I
+shall chronicle--the last, that is, in fight or battle.
+
+In truth, the history which you are about to read is not my own. It is the
+story of a beautiful, wilful girl, who was madly in love with the one man
+in all the world whom she should have avoided--as girls are wont to be.
+This perverse tendency, philosophers tell us, is owing to the fact that
+the unattainable is strangely alluring to womankind. I, being a man, shall
+not, of course, dwell upon the foibles of my own sex. It were a foolish
+candor.
+
+As I said, there will be some good fighting ahead of us, for love and
+battle usually go together. One must have warm, rich blood to do either
+well; and, save religion, there is no source more fruitful of quarrels and
+death than that passion which is the source of life.
+
+You, of course, know without the telling, that I reached land safely after
+I scuttled the boat, else I should not be writing this forty years
+afterwards.
+
+The sun had risen when I waded ashore. I was swordless, coatless, hatless,
+and bootless; but I carried a well-filled purse in my belt. Up to that
+time I had given no thought to my ultimate destination; but being for the
+moment safe, I pondered the question and determined to make my way to
+Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, where I was sure a warm welcome would await me
+from my cousin, Sir George Vernon. How I found a peasant's cottage,
+purchased a poor horse and a few coarse garments, and how in the disguise
+of a peasant I rode southward to the English border, avoiding the cities
+and the main highways, might interest you; but I am eager to come to my
+story, and I will not tell you of my perilous journey.
+
+One frosty morning, after many hairbreadth escapes, I found myself well
+within the English border, and turned my horse's head toward the city of
+Carlisle. There I purchased a fine charger. I bought clothing fit for a
+gentleman, a new sword, a hand-fusil, a breastplate, and a steel-lined
+cap, and feeling once again like a man rather than like a half-drowned
+rat, I turned southward for Derbyshire and Haddon Hall.
+
+When I left Scotland I had no fear of meeting danger in England; but at
+Carlisle I learned that Elizabeth held no favor toward Scottish refugees.
+I also learned that the direct road from Carlisle to Haddon, by way of
+Buxton, was infested with English spies who were on the watch for friends
+of the deposed Scottish queen. Several Scotchmen had been arrested, and it
+was the general opinion that upon one pretext or another they would be
+hanged. I therefore chose a circuitous road leading to the town of Derby,
+which lay south of Haddon at a distance of six or seven leagues. It would
+be safer for me to arrive at Haddon travelling from the south than from
+the north. Thus, after many days, I rode into Derby-town and stabled my
+horse at the Royal Arms.
+
+I called for supper, and while I was waiting for my joint of beef a
+stranger entered the room and gave his orders in a free, offhand manner
+that stamped him a person of quality.
+
+The night outside was cold. While the stranger and I sat before the fire
+we caught its infectious warmth, and when he showed a disposition to talk,
+I gladly fell in with his humor. Soon we were filling our glasses from the
+same bowl of punch, and we seemed to be on good terms with each other. But
+when God breathed into the human body a part of himself, by some
+mischance He permitted the devil to slip into the tongue and loosen it. My
+tongue, which ordinarily was fairly well behaved, upon this occasion
+quickly brought me into trouble.
+
+I told you that the stranger and I seemed to be upon good terms. And so we
+were until I, forgetting for the moment Elizabeth's hatred of Mary's
+friends, and hoping to learn the stranger's name and quality, said:--
+
+"My name is Vernon--Sir Malcolm Vernon, knight by the hand of Queen Mary
+of Scotland and of France." This remark, of course, required that my
+companion should in return make known his name and degree; but in place of
+so doing he at once drew away from me and sat in silence. I was older than
+he, and it had seemed to me quite proper and right that I should make the
+first advance. But instantly after I had spoken I regretted my words. I
+remembered not only my danger, being a Scottish refugee, but I also
+bethought me that I had betrayed myself. Aside from those causes of
+uneasiness, the stranger's conduct was an insult which I was in duty bound
+not to overlook. Neither was I inclined to do so, for I loved to fight. In
+truth, I loved all things evil.
+
+"I regret, sir," said I, after a moment or two of embarrassing silence,
+"having imparted information that seems to annoy you. The Vernons, whom
+you may not know, are your equals in blood, it matters not who you are."
+
+"I know of the Vernons," he replied coldly, "and I well know that they are
+of good blood and lineage. As for wealth, I am told Sir George could
+easily buy the estates of any six men in Derbyshire."
+
+"You know Sir George?" I asked despite myself.
+
+"I do not know him, I am glad to say," returned the stranger.
+
+"By God, sir, you shall answer-"
+
+"At your pleasure, Sir Malcolm."
+
+"My pleasure is now," I retorted eagerly.
+
+I threw off my doublet and pushed the table and chairs against the wall to
+make room for the fight; but the stranger, who had not drawn his sword,
+said:--
+
+"I have eaten nothing since morning, and I am as hungry as a wolf. I would
+prefer to fight after supper; but if you insist--"
+
+"I do insist," I replied. "Perhaps you will not care for supper when I
+have--"
+
+"That may be true," he interrupted; "but before we begin I think it right
+to tell you, without at all meaning to boast of my skill, that I can kill
+you if I wish to do so. Therefore you must see that the result of our
+fight will be disagreeable to you in any case. You will die, or you will
+owe me your life."
+
+His cool impertinence angered me beyond endurance. He to speak of killing
+me, one of the best swordsmen in France, where the art of sword-play is
+really an art! The English are but bunglers with a gentleman's blade, and
+should restrict themselves to pike and quarterstaff.
+
+"Results be damned!" I answered. "I can kill you if I wish." Then it
+occurred to me that I really did not wish to kill the handsome young
+fellow toward whom I felt an irresistible attraction.
+
+I continued: "But I prefer that you should owe me your life. I do not wish
+to kill you. Guard!"
+
+My opponent did not lift his sword, but smilingly said:--
+
+"Then why do you insist upon fighting? I certainly do not wish to kill
+you. In truth, I would be inclined to like you if you were not a Vernon."
+
+"Damn your insolence! Guard! or I will run you through where you stand," I
+answered angrily.
+
+"But why do we fight?" insisted the stubborn fellow, with a coolness that
+showed he was not one whit in fear of me.
+
+"You should know," I replied, dropping my sword-point to the floor, and
+forgetting for the moment the cause of our quarrel. "I--I do not."
+
+"Then let us not fight," he answered, "until we have discovered the matter
+of our disagreement."
+
+At this remark neither of us could resist smiling. I had not fought since
+months before, save for a moment at the gates of Dundee, and I was loath
+to miss the opportunity, so I remained in thought during the space of half
+a minute and remembered our cause of war.
+
+"Oh! I recall the reason for our fighting," I replied, "and a good one it
+was. You offered affront to the name of Sir George Vernon, and insultingly
+refused me the courtesy of your name after I had done you the honor to
+tell you mine."
+
+"I did not tell you my name," replied the stranger, "because I believed
+you would not care to hear it; and I said I was glad not to know Sir
+George Vernon because--because he is my father's enemy. I am Sir John
+Manners. My father is Lord Rutland."
+
+Then it was my turn to recede. "You certainly are right. I do not care to
+hear your name."
+
+I put my sword in its scabbard and drew the table back to its former
+place. Sir John stood in hesitation for a moment or two, and then said:--
+
+"Sir Malcolm, may we not declare a truce for to-night? There is nothing
+personal in the enmity between us."
+
+"Nothing," I answered, staring at the fire, half regretful that we bore
+each other enmity at all.
+
+"You hate me, or believe you do," said Manners, "because your father's
+cousin hates my father; and I try to make myself believe that I hate you
+because my father hates your father's cousin. Are we not both mistaken?"
+
+I was quick to anger and to fight, but no man's heart was more sensitive
+than mine to the fair touch of a kind word.
+
+"I am not mistaken, Sir John, when I say that I do not hate you," I
+answered.
+
+"Nor do I hate you, Sir Malcolm. Will you give me your hand?"
+
+"Gladly," I responded, and I offered my hand to the enemy of my house.
+
+"Landlord," I cried, "bring us two bottles of your best sack. The best in
+the house, mind you."
+
+After our amicable understanding, Sir John and myself were very
+comfortable together, and when the sack and roast beef, for which the
+Royal Arms was justly famous, were brought in, we sat down to an enjoyable
+meal.
+
+After supper Sir John lighted a small roll or stick made from the leaves
+of tobacco. The stick was called a cigarro, and I, proud not to be behind
+him in new-fashioned, gentlemanly accomplishments, called to the landlord
+for a pipe. Manners interrupted me when I gave the order and offered me a
+cigarro which I gladly accepted.
+
+Despite my effort to reassure myself, I could not quite throw off a
+feeling of uneasiness whenever I thought of the manner in which I had
+betrayed to Sir John the fact that I was a friend to Mary Stuart. I knew
+that treachery was not native to English blood, and my knowledge of
+mankind had told me that the vice could not live in Sir John Manners's
+heart. But he had told me of his residence at the court of Elizabeth, and
+I feared trouble might come to me from the possession of so dangerous a
+piece of knowledge by an enemy of my house.
+
+I did not speak my thoughts upon the matter, and we sat the evening
+through discussing many subjects. We warmed toward each other and became
+quite confidential. I feel ashamed when I admit that one of my many sins
+was an excessive indulgence in wine. While I was not a drunkard, I was
+given to my cups sometimes in a degree both dangerous and disgraceful; and
+during the evening of which I have just spoken I talked to Sir John with a
+freedom that afterward made me blush, although my indiscretion brought me
+no greater trouble.
+
+My outburst of confidence was prompted by Sir John's voluntary assurance
+that I need fear nothing from having told him that I was a friend of Queen
+Mary. The Scottish queen's name had been mentioned, and Sir John had
+said--
+
+"I take it, Sir Malcolm, that you are newly arrived in England, and I feel
+sure you will accept the advice I am about to offer in the kindly spirit
+in which it is meant. I deem it unsafe for you to speak of Queen Mary's
+friendship in the open manner you have used toward me. Her friends are not
+welcome visitors to England, and I fear evil will befall those who come to
+us as refugees. You need have no fear that I will betray you. Your secret
+is safe with me. I will give you hostage. I also am Queen Mary's friend. I
+would not, of course, favor her against the interest of our own queen. To
+Elizabeth I am and always shall be loyal; but the unfortunate Scottish
+queen has my sympathy in her troubles, and I should be glad to help her. I
+hear she is most beautiful and gentle in person."
+
+Thus you see the influence of Mary's beauty reached from Edinburgh to
+London. A few months only were to pass till this conversation was to be
+recalled by each of us, and the baneful influence of Mary's beauty upon
+all whom it touched was to be shown more fatally than had appeared even in
+my own case. In truth, my reason for speaking so fully concerning the,
+Scottish queen and myself will be apparent to you in good time.
+
+When we were about to part for the night, I asked Sir John, "What road do
+you travel to-morrow?"
+
+"I am going to Rutland Castle by way of Rowsley," he answered.
+
+"I, too, travel by Rowsley to Haddon Hall. Shall we not extend our truce
+over the morrow and ride together as far as Rowsley?" I asked.
+
+"I shall be glad to make the truce perpetual," he replied laughingly.
+
+"So shall I," was my response.
+
+Thus we sealed our compact and knitted out of the warp and woof of enmity
+a friendship which became a great joy and a sweet grief to each of us.
+
+That night I lay for hours thinking of the past and wondering about the
+future. I had tasted the sweets--all flavored with bitterness--of court
+life. Women, wine, gambling, and fighting had given me the best of all the
+evils they had to offer. Was I now to drop that valorous life, which men
+so ardently seek, and was I to take up a browsing, kinelike existence at
+Haddon Hall, there to drone away my remaining days in fat'ning, peace, and
+quietude? I could not answer my own question, but this I knew: that Sir
+George Vernon was held in high esteem by Elizabeth, and I felt that his
+house was, perhaps, the only spot in England where my head could safely
+lie. I also had other plans concerning Sir George and his household which
+I regret to say I imparted to Sir John in the sack-prompted outpouring of
+my confidence. The plans of which I shall now speak had been growing in
+favor with me for several months previous to my enforced departure from
+Scotland, and that event had almost determined me to adopt them. Almost, I
+say, for when I approached Haddon Hall I wavered in my resolution.
+
+At the time when I had last visited Sir George at Haddon, his daughter
+Dorothy--Sir George called her Doll--was a slipshod girl of twelve. She
+was exceedingly plain, and gave promise of always so remaining. Sir
+George, who had no son, was anxious that his vast estates should remain
+in the Vernon name. He had upon the occasion of my last visit intimated to
+me that when Doll should become old enough to marry, and I, perchance, had
+had my fill of knocking about the world, a marriage might be brought about
+between us which would enable him to leave his estates to his daughter and
+still to retain the much-loved Vernon name for his descendants.
+
+Owing to Doll's rusty red hair, slim shanks, and freckled face, the
+proposition had not struck me with favor, yet to please Sir George I had
+feigned acquiescence, and had said that when the time should come, we
+would talk it over. Before my flight from Scotland I had often thought of
+Sir George's proposition made six or seven years before. My love for Mary
+Stuart had dimmed the light of other beauties in my eyes, and I had never
+married. For many months before my flight, however, I had not been
+permitted to bask in the light of Mary's smiles to the extent of my
+wishes. Younger men, among them Darnley, who was but eighteen years of
+age, were preferred to me, and I had begun to consider the advisability of
+an orderly retreat from the Scottish court before my lustre should be
+entirely dimmed. It is said that a man is young so long as he is strong,
+and I was strong as in the days of my youth. My cheeks were fresh, my eyes
+were bright, and my hair was red as when I was twenty, and without a
+thread of gray. Still, my temperament was more exacting and serious, and
+the thought of becoming settled for life, or rather for old age and death,
+was growing in favor with me. With that thought came always a suggestion
+of slim, freckled Dorothy and Sir George's offer. She held out to me
+wealth and position, a peaceful home for my old age, and a grave with a
+pompous, pious epitaph at Bakewell church, in death.
+
+When I was compelled to leave Scotland, circumstances forced me to a
+decision, and my resolution was quickly taken. I would go to Derbyshire
+and would marry Dorothy. I did not expect ever again to feel great love
+for a woman. The fuse, I thought, had burned out when I loved Mary Stuart.
+One woman, I believed, was like another to me, and Dorothy would answer as
+well as any for my wife. I could and would be kind to her, and that alone
+in time would make me fond. It is true, my affection would be of a fashion
+more comfortable than exciting; but who, having passed his galloping
+youth, will contemn the joys that come from making others happy? I believe
+there is no person, past the age of forty, at all given to pondering the
+whys of life, who will gainsay that the joy we give to others is our chief
+source of happiness. Why, then, should not a wise man, through purely
+selfish motives, begin early to cultivate the gentle art of giving joy?
+
+But the fates were to work out the destinies of Dorothy and myself without
+our assistance. Self-willed, arrogant creatures are those same fates, but
+they save us a deal of trouble by assuming our responsibilities.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE IRON, THE SEED, THE CLOUD, AND THE RAIN
+
+
+The morning following my meeting with Manners, he and I made an early
+start. An hour before noon we rode into the town of Rowsley and halted at
+The Peacock for dinner.
+
+When we entered the courtyard of the inn we saw three ladies warmly
+wrapped in rich furs leave a ponderous coach and walk to the inn door,
+which they entered. One of them was an elderly lady whom I recognized as
+my cousin, Lady Dorothy Crawford, sister to Sir George Vernon. The second
+was a tall, beautiful girl, with an exquisite ivory-like complexion and a
+wonderful crown of fluffy red hair which encircled her head like a halo of
+sunlit glory. I could compare its wondrous lustre to no color save that of
+molten gold deeply alloyed with copper. But that comparison tells you
+nothing. I can find no simile with which to describe the beauties of its
+shades and tints. It was red, but it also was golden, as if the enamoured
+sun had gilded every hair with its radiance. In all my life I had never
+seen anything so beautiful as this tall girl's hair. Still, it was the
+Vernon red. My cousin, Sir George, and many Vernons had hair of the same
+color. Yet the girl's hair differed from all other I had ever seen. It had
+a light and a lustre of its own which was as distinct from the ordinary
+Vernon red, although that is very good and we are proud of it, as the
+sheen of gold is from the glitter of brass. I knew by the girl's hair
+that she was my cousin, Dorothy Vernon, whom I reluctantly had come to
+wed.
+
+I asked myself, "Can this be the plain, freckled girl I knew seven years
+ago?" Compared with her beauty even Mary Stuart's was pale as the vapid
+moon at dawn. The girl seemed to be the incarnated spirit of universal
+life and light, and I had condescendingly come to marry this goddess. I
+felt a dash of contemptuous pity for my complacent self.
+
+In my cogitations concerning marriage with Dorothy Vernon, I had not at
+all taken into consideration her personal inclination. A girl, after all,
+is but the chattel of her father, and must, perforce, if needs be, marry
+the man who is chosen for her. But leaving parental authority out of the
+question, a girl with brick-red hair and a multitude of freckles need not
+be considered when an agreeable, handsome man offers himself as a husband.
+She usually is willing to the point of eagerness. That is the manner in
+which I had thought about Dorothy Vernon, if I considered her at all. But
+when a man is about to offer himself to a goddess, he is apt to pause. In
+such a case there are always two sides to the question, and nine chances
+to one the goddess will coolly take possession of both. When I saw Dorothy
+in the courtyard of The Peacock, I instantly knew that she was a girl to
+be taken into account in all matters wherein she was personally concerned.
+Her every feature, every poise and gesture, unconsciously bore the stamp
+of "I will" or "I will not."
+
+Walking by Dorothy's side, holding her hand, was a fair young woman whose
+hair was black, and whose skin was of the white, clear complexion such as
+we see in the faces of nuns. She walked with a hesitating, cautious step,
+and clung to Dorothy, who was gentle and attentive to her. But of this
+fair, pale girl I have so much to say in the pages to come that I shall
+not further describe her here.
+
+When the ladies had entered the inn, my companion and I dismounted, and
+Manners exclaimed:--
+
+"Did you see the glorious girl who but now entered the inn door? Gods! I
+never before saw such beauty."
+
+"Yes," I replied, "I know her."
+
+"How fortunate I am," said Sir John. "Perhaps I may induce you to present
+me to her. At least you will tell me her name, that I may seek her
+acquaintance by the usual means. I am not susceptible, but by my faith,
+I--I--she looked at me from the door-steps, and when I caught her eyes it
+seemed--that is, I saw--or I felt a stream of burning life enter my soul,
+and--but you will think I am a fool. I know I am a fool. But I feel as if
+I were--as if I had been bewitched in one little second of time, and by a
+single glance from a pair of brown eyes. You certainly will think I am a
+fool, but you cannot understand--"
+
+"Why can't I understand?" I asked indignantly. "The thing you have seen
+and felt has been in this world long enough for every man to understand.
+Eve used it upon Adam. I can't understand? Damme, sir, do you think I am a
+clod? I have felt it fifty times."
+
+"Not--" began Sir John, hesitatingly.
+
+"Nonsense!" I replied. "You, too, will have the same experience fifty
+times again before you are my age."
+
+"But the lady," said Sir John, "tell me of her. Will you--can you present
+me to her? If not, will you tell me who she is?"
+
+I remained for a moment in thought, wondering if it were right for me to
+tell him that the girl whom he so much admired was the daughter of his
+father's enemy. I could see no way of keeping Dorothy's name from him, so
+I determined to tell him.
+
+"She is my cousin, Mistress Dorothy Vernon," I said. "The eldest is Lady
+Dorothy Crawford. The beautiful, pale girl I do not know."
+
+"I am sorry," returned Sir John; "she is the lady whom you have come to
+marry, is she not?"
+
+"Y-e-s," said I, hesitatingly.
+
+"You certainly are to be congratulated," returned Manners.
+
+"I doubt if I shall marry her," I replied.
+
+"Why?" asked Manners.
+
+"For many reasons, chief among which is her beauty."
+
+"That is an unusual reason for declining a woman," responded Sir John,
+with a low laugh.
+
+"I think it is quite usual," I replied, having in mind the difficulty with
+which great beauties are won. But I continued, "A woman of moderate beauty
+makes a safer wife, and in the long run is more comforting than one who is
+too attractive."
+
+"You are a philosopher, Sir Malcolm," said Manners, laughingly.
+
+"And a liar," I muttered to myself. I felt sure, however, that I should
+never marry Dorothy Vernon, and I do not mind telling you, even at this
+early stage in my history, that I was right in my premonition. I did not
+marry her.
+
+"I suppose I shall now be compelled to give you up to your relatives,"
+said Manners.
+
+"Yes," I returned, "we must say good-by for the present; but if we do not
+meet again, it shall not be for the lack of my wishing. Your father and
+Sir George would feel deeply injured, should they learn of our friendship,
+therefore--"
+
+"You are quite right," he interrupted. "It is better that no one should
+know of it. Nevertheless, between you and me let there be no feud."
+
+"The secrecy of our friendship will give it zest," said I. "That is true,
+but 'good wine needs no bush.' You will not mention my name to the
+ladies?"
+
+"No, if you wish that I shall not."
+
+"I do so wish."
+
+When the stable boys had taken our horses, I gave my hand to Sir John,
+after which we entered the inn and treated each other as strangers.
+
+Soon after I had washed the stains of travel from my hands and face, I
+sent the maid to my cousins, asking that I might be permitted to pay my
+devotions, and Dorothy came to the tap-room in response to my message.
+
+When she entered she ran to me with outstretched hands and a gleam of
+welcome in her eyes. We had been rare friends when she was a child.
+
+"Ah, Cousin Malcolm, what a fine surprise you have given us!" she
+exclaimed, clasping both my hands and offering me her cheek to kiss.
+"Father's delight will be beyond measure when he sees you."
+
+"As mine now is," I responded, gazing at her from head to foot and
+drinking in her beauty with my eyes. "Doll! Doll! What a splendid girl you
+have become. Who would have thought that--that--" I hesitated, realizing
+that I was rapidly getting myself into trouble.
+
+"Say it. Say it, cousin! I know what is in your mind. Rusty red hair,
+angular shoulders, sharp elbows, freckles thickly set as stars upon a
+clear night, and so large and brown that they fairly twinkled. Great
+staring green eyes. Awkward!--" And she threw up her hands in mimic horror
+at the remembrance. "No one could have supposed that such a girl would
+have become--that is, you know," she continued confusedly, "could have
+changed. I haven't a freckle now," and she lifted her face that I might
+prove the truth of her words by examination, and perhaps that I might also
+observe her beauty.
+
+Neither did I waste the opportunity. I dwelt longingly upon the wondrous
+red golden hair which fringed her low broad forehead, and upon the heavy
+black eyebrows, the pencilled points of whose curves almost touched
+across the nose. I saw the rose-tinted ivory of her skin and the long jet
+lashes curving in a great sweep from her full white lids, and I thought
+full sure that Venus herself was before me. My gaze halted for a moment at
+the long eyes which changed chameleon-like with the shifting light, and
+varied with her moods from deep fathomless green to violet, and from
+violet to soft voluptuous brown, but in all their tints beaming forth a
+lustre that would have stirred the soul of an anchorite. Then I noted the
+beauty of her clean-cut saucy nose and the red arch of her lips, slightly
+parted for the purpose of showing her teeth. But I could not stop long to
+dwell upon any one especial feature, for there were still to be seen her
+divine round chin, her large white throat, and the infinite grace in poise
+and curve of her strong young form. I dared not pause nor waste my time if
+I were to see it all, for such a girl as Dorothy waits no man's
+leisure--that is, unless she wishes to wait. In such case there is no
+moving her, and patience becomes to her a delightful virtue.
+
+After my prolonged scrutiny Dorothy lowered her face and said
+laughingly:--
+
+"Now come, cousin, tell me the truth. Who would have thought it possible?"
+
+"Not I, Doll, not I, if you will pardon me the frankness."
+
+"Oh, that is easily done." Then with a merry ripple of laughter, "It is
+much easier, I fancy, for a woman to speak of the time when she was plain
+than to refer to the time when--when she was beautiful. What an absurd
+speech that is for me to make," she said confusedly.
+
+"I certainly did not expect to find so great a change," said I. "Why,
+Doll, you are wondrous, glorious, beautiful. I can't find words--"
+
+"Then don't try, Cousin Malcolm," she said with a smile that fringed her
+mouth in dimples. "Don't try. You will make me vain."
+
+"You are that already, Doll," I answered, to tease her.
+
+"I fear I am, cousin--vain as a man. But don't call me Doll. I am tall
+enough to be called Dorothy."
+
+She straightened herself up to her full height, and stepping close to my
+side, said: "I am as tall as you. I will now try to make you vain. You
+look just as young and as handsome as when I last saw you and so ardently
+admired your waving black mustachio and your curling chin beard."
+
+"Did you admire them, Doll--Dorothy?" I asked, hoping, though with little
+faith, that the admiration might still continue.
+
+"Oh, prodigiously," she answered with unassuring candor. "Prodigiously.
+Now who is vain, Cousin Malcolm François de Lorraine Vernon?"
+
+"I," I responded, shrugging my shoulders and confessing by compulsion.
+
+"But you must remember," she continued provokingly, "that a girl of twelve
+is very immature in her judgment and will fall in love with any man who
+allows her to look upon him twice."
+
+"Then I am to believe that the fire begins very early to burn in the
+feminine heart," I responded.
+
+"With birth, my cousin, with birth," she replied; "but in my heart it
+burned itself out upon your curling beard at the mature age of twelve."
+
+"And you have never been in love since that time, Doll--Dorothy?" I asked
+with more earnestness in my heart than in my voice.
+
+"No, no; by the Virgin, no! Not even in the shadow of a thought. And by
+the help of the Virgin I hope I never shall be; for when it comes to me,
+mark my word, cousin, there will be trouble in Derbyshire."
+
+"By my soul, I believe you speak the truth," I answered, little dreaming
+how quickly our joint prophecy would come true.
+
+I then asked Dorothy to tell me about her father.
+
+"Father is well in health," she said. "In mind he has been much troubled
+and disturbed. Last month he lost the lawsuit against detestable old Lord
+Rutland. He was much angered by the loss, and has been moody and morose in
+brooding over it ever since. He tries, poor father, to find relief from
+his troubles, and--and I fear takes too much liquor. Rutland and his
+friends swore to one lie upon another, and father believes that the judge
+who tried the case was bribed. Father intends to appeal to Parliament, but
+even in Parliament he fears he cannot obtain justice. Lord Rutland's
+son--a disreputable fellow, who for many years has lived at court--is a
+favorite with the queen, and his acquaintance with her Majesty and with
+the lords will be to father's prejudice."
+
+"I have always believed that your father stood in the queen's good
+graces?" I said interrogatively.
+
+"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.
+
+After a little time she said: "Is it not cool here? Let us go over to the
+fireplace where it is warmer."
+
+I turned to go with her, and at once saw that it was not the fire in the
+fireplace which had attracted Dorothy, but quite a different sort of
+flame. In short, much to my consternation, I discovered that it was
+nothing less than my handsome new-found friend, Sir John Manners, toward
+whom Dorothy had been glancing.
+
+We walked over to the fireplace, and one of the fires, Sir John, moved
+away. But the girl turned her face that she might see him in his new
+position. The movement, I confess, looked bold to the point of brazenness;
+but if the movement was bold, what shall I say of her glances and the
+expression of her face? She seemed unable to take her eager eyes from the
+stranger, or to think of anything but him, and after a few moments she did
+not try. Soon she stopped talking entirely and did not even hear what I
+was saying. I, too, became silent, and after a long pause the girl
+asked:--
+
+"Cousin, who is the gentleman with whom you were travelling?"
+
+I was piqued by Dorothy's conduct, and answered rather curtly: "He is a
+stranger. I picked him up at Derby, and we rode here together."
+
+A pause followed, awkward in its duration.
+
+"Did you--not--learn--his--name?" asked Dorothy, hesitatingly.
+
+"Yes," I replied.
+
+Then came another pause, broken by the girl, who spoke in a quick,
+imperious tone touched with irritation:--
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"It is better that I do not tell you," I answered. "It was quite by
+accident that we met. Neither of us knew the other. Please do not ask me
+to tell you his name."
+
+"Oh, but you make me all the more eager to learn. Mystery, you know, is
+intolerable to a woman, except in the unravelling. Come, tell me! Tell me!
+Not, of course, that I really care a farthing to know--but the mystery! A
+mystery drives me wild. Tell me, please do, Cousin Malcolm."
+
+She certainly was posing for the stranger's benefit, and was doing all in
+her power, while coaxing me, to display her charms, graces, and pretty
+little ways. Her attitude and conduct spoke as plainly as the spring
+bird's song speaks to its mate. Yet Dorothy's manner did not seem bold.
+Even to me it appeared modest, beautiful, and necessary. She seemed to act
+under compulsion. She would laugh, for the purpose, no doubt, of showing
+her dimples and her teeth, and would lean her head to one side pigeon-wise
+to display her eyes to the best advantage, and then would she shyly glance
+toward Sir John to see if he was watching her. It was shameless, but it
+could not be helped by Dorothy nor any one else. After a few moments of
+mute pleading by the girl, broken now and then by, "Please, please," I
+said:--
+
+"If you give to me your promise that you will never speak of this matter
+to any person, I will tell you the gentleman's name. I would not for a
+great deal have your father know that I have held conversation with him
+even for a moment, though at the time I did not know who he was."
+
+"Oh, this is delightful! He must be some famous, dashing highwayman. I
+promise, of course I promise--faithfully." She was glancing constantly
+toward Manners, and her face was bright with smiles and eager with
+anticipation.
+
+"He is worse than a highwayman, I regret to say. The gentleman toward whom
+you are so ardently glancing is--Sir John Manners."
+
+A shock of pain passed over Dorothy's face, followed by a hard, repellent
+expression that was almost ugly.
+
+"Let us go to Aunt Dorothy," she said, as she turned and walked across the
+room toward the door.
+
+When we had closed the door of the tap-room behind us Dorothy said
+angrily:--
+
+"Tell me, cousin, how you, a Vernon, came to be in his company?"
+
+"I told you that I met him quite by accident at the Royal Arms in
+Derby-town. We became friends before either knew the other's name. After
+chance had disclosed our identities, he asked for a truce to our feud
+until the morrow; and he was so gentle and open in his conduct that I
+could not and would not refuse his proffered olive branch. In truth,
+whatever faults may be attributable to Lord Rutland,--and I am sure he
+deserves all the evil you have spoken of him,--his son, Sir John, is a
+noble gentleman, else I have been reading the book of human nature all my
+life in vain. Perhaps he is in no way to blame for his father's conduct
+He may have had no part in it"
+
+"Perhaps he has not," said Dorothy, musingly.
+
+It was not a pleasant task for me to praise Sir John, but my sense of
+justice impelled me to do so. I tried to make myself feel injured and
+chagrined because of Dorothy's manner toward him; for you must remember I
+had arranged with myself to marry this girl, but I could not work my
+feelings into a state of indignation against the heir to Rutland. The
+truth is, my hope of winning Dorothy had evaporated upon the first sight
+of her, like the volatile essence it really was. I cannot tell you why,
+but I at once seemed to realize that all the thought and labor which I had
+devoted to the arduous task of arranging with myself this marriage was
+labor lost. So I frankly told her my kindly feelings for Sir John, and
+gave her my high estimate of his character.
+
+I continued: "You see, Dorothy, I could not so easily explain to your
+father my association with Sir John, and I hope you will not speak of it
+to any one, lest the news should reach Sir George's ears."
+
+"I will not speak of it," she returned, sighing faintly. "After all, it is
+not his fault that his father is such a villain. He doesn't look like his
+father, does he?"
+
+"I cannot say. I never saw Lord Rutland," I replied.
+
+"He is the most villanous-looking--" but she broke off the sentence and
+stood for a moment in revery. We were in the darkened passage, and Dorothy
+had taken my hand. That little act in another woman of course would have
+led to a demonstration on my part, but in this girl it seemed so entirely
+natural and candid that it was a complete bar to undue familiarity. In
+truth, I had no such tendency, for the childish act spoke of an innocence
+and faith that were very sweet to me who all my life had lived among men
+and women who laughed at those simple virtues. The simple conditions of
+life are all that are worth striving for. They come to us fresh from
+Nature and from Nature's God. The complex are but concoctions of man after
+recipes in the devil's alchemy. So much gold, so much ambition, so much
+lust. Mix well. Product: so much vexation.
+
+"He must resemble his mother," said Dorothy, after a long pause. "Poor
+fellow! His mother is dead. He is like me in that respect. I wonder if his
+father's villanies trouble him?"
+
+"I think they must trouble him. He seems to be sad," said I, intending to
+be ironical.
+
+My reply was taken seriously.
+
+"I am sorry for him," she said, "it is not right to hate even our enemies.
+The Book tells us that."
+
+"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," said I, amused and provoked.
+
+Unexpected and dangerous symptoms were rapidly developing in the perverse
+girl, and trouble was brewing "in Derbyshire."
+
+The adjective perverse, by the way, usually is superfluous when used to
+modify the noun girl.
+
+"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," I repeated.
+
+"Why, y-e-s," she responded. "I cannot help that, but you know it would be
+very wrong to--to hate all his family. To hate him is bad enough."
+
+I soon began to fear that I had praised Sir John overmuch.
+
+"I think Sir John is all there is of Lord Rutland's family," I said,
+alarmed yet amused at Dorothy's search for an excuse not to hate my
+new-found friend.
+
+"Well," she continued after a pause, throwing her head to one side, "I am
+sorry there are no more of that family not to hate."
+
+"Dorothy! Dorothy!" I exclaimed. "What has come over you? You surprise
+me."
+
+"Yes," she answered, with a little sigh, "I certainly have surprised
+myself by--by my willingness to forgive those who have injured my house. I
+did not know there was so much--so much good in me."
+
+"Mistress Pharisee," thought I, "you are a hypocrite."
+
+Again intending to be ironical, I said, "Shall I fetch him from the
+tap-room and present him to you?"
+
+Once more my irony was lost upon the girl. Evidently that sort of humor
+was not my strong point.
+
+"No, no," she responded indignantly, "I would not speak to him for--"
+Again she broke her sentence abruptly, and after a little pause, short in
+itself but amply long for a girl like Dorothy to change her mind two score
+times, she continued: "It would not be for the best. What think you,
+Cousin Malcolm?"
+
+"Surely the girl has gone mad," thought I. Her voice was soft and
+conciliating as if to say, "I trust entirely to your mature, superior
+judgment."
+
+My judgment coincided emphatically with her words, and I said: "I spoke
+only in jest. It certainly would not be right. It would be all wrong if
+you were to meet him."
+
+"That is true," the girl responded with firmness, "but--but no real harm
+could come of it," she continued, laughing nervously. "He could not strike
+me nor bite me. Of course it would be unpleasant for me to meet him, and
+as there is no need--I am curious to know what one of his race is like.
+It's the only reason that would induce me to consent. Of course you know
+there could be no other reason for me to wish--that is, you know--to be
+willing to meet him. Of course you know."
+
+"Certainly," I replied, still clinging to my unsuccessful irony. "I will
+tell you all I know about him, so that you may understand what he is
+like. As for his personal appearance, you saw him, did you not?"
+
+I thought surely that piece of irony would not fail, but it did, and I
+have seldom since attempted to use that form of humor.
+
+"Yes--oh, yes, I saw him for a moment."
+
+"But I will not present him to you, Dorothy, however much you may wish to
+meet him," I said positively.
+
+"It is almost an insult, Cousin Malcolm, for you to say that I wish to
+meet him," she answered in well-feigned indignation.
+
+The French blood in my veins moved me to shrug my shoulders. I could do
+nothing else. With all my knowledge of womankind this girl had sent me to
+sea.
+
+But what shall we say of Dorothy's conduct? I fancy I can hear you mutter,
+"This Dorothy Vernon must have been a bold, immodest, brazen girl."
+Nothing of the sort. Dare you of the cold blood--if perchance there be any
+with that curse in their veins who read these lines--dare you, I say, lift
+your voice against the blessed heat in others which is but a greater,
+stronger, warmer spark of God's own soul than you possess or than you can
+comprehend? "Evil often comes of it," I hear you say. That I freely admit;
+and evil comes from eating too much bread, and from hearing too much
+preaching. But the universe, from the humblest blade of grass to the
+infinite essence of God, exists because of that warmth which the mawkish
+world contemns. Is the iron immodest when it creeps to the lodestone and
+clings to its side? Is the hen bird brazen when she flutters to her mate
+responsive to his compelling woo-song? Is the seed immodest when it sinks
+into the ground and swells with budding life? Is the cloud bold when it
+softens into rain and falls to earth because it has no other choice? or is
+it brazen when it nestles for a time on the bosom of heaven's arched dome
+and sinking into the fathomless depths of a blue black infinity ceases to
+be itself? Is the human soul immodest when, drawn by a force it cannot
+resist, it seeks a stronger soul which absorbs its ego as the blue sky
+absorbs the floating cloud, as the warm earth swells the seed, as the
+magnet draws the iron? All these are of one quality. The iron, the seed,
+the cloud, and the soul of man are _what_ they are, do _what_ they do,
+love as they love, live as they live, and die as they die because they
+must--because they have no other choice. We think we are free because at
+times we act as we please, forgetting that God gives us the "please," and
+that every act of our being is but the result of a dictated motive.
+Dorothy was not immodest. This was her case. She was the iron, the seed,
+the cloud, and the rain. You, too, are the iron, the seed, the cloud, and
+the rain. It is only human vanity which prompts you to believe that you
+are yourself and that you are free. Do you find any freedom in this world
+save that which you fondly believe to exist within yourself? Self! There
+is but one self, God. I have been told that the people of the East call
+Him Brahma. The word, it is said, means "Breath," "Inspiration," "All." I
+have felt that the beautiful pagan thought has truth in it; but my
+conscience and my priest tell me rather to cling to truths I have than to
+fly to others that I know not of. As a result, I shall probably die
+orthodox and mistaken.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE PITCHER GOES TO THE WELL.
+
+
+Dorothy and I went to the inn parlors, where I received a cordial welcome
+from my cousin, Lady Crawford. After our greeting, Dorothy came toward me
+leading the fair, pale girl whom I had seen in the courtyard.
+
+"Madge, this is my cousin, Malcolm Vernon," said Dorothy. "He was a dear
+friend of my childhood and is much beloved by my father. Lady Magdalene
+Stanley, cousin," and she placed the girl's soft white hand in mine. There
+was a peculiar hesitancy in the girl's manner which puzzled me. She did
+not look at me when Dorothy placed her hand in mine, but kept her eyes
+cast down, the long, black lashes resting upon the fair curves of her
+cheek like a shadow on the snow. She murmured a salutation, and when I
+made a remark that called for a response, she lifted her eyes but seemed
+not to look at me. Unconsciously I turned my face toward Dorothy, who
+closed her eyes and formed with her lips the word "blind."
+
+I retained the girl's hand, and she did not withdraw it. When I caught
+Dorothy's unspoken word I led Lady Madge to a chair and asked if I might
+sit beside her.
+
+"Certainly," she answered smilingly; "you know I am blind, but I can hear
+and speak, and I enjoy having persons I like sit near me that I may touch
+them now and then while we talk. If I could only see!" she exclaimed.
+Still, there was no tone of complaint in her voice and very little even of
+regret. The girl's eyes were of a deep blue and were entirely without scar
+or other evidence of blindness, except that they did not seem to see. I
+afterward learned that her affliction had come upon her as the result of
+illness when she was a child. She was niece to the Earl of Derby, and
+Dorothy's mother had been her aunt. She owned a small estate and had lived
+at Haddon Hall five or six years because of the love that existed between
+her and Dorothy. A strong man instinctively longs to cherish that which
+needs his strength, and perhaps it was the girl's helplessness that first
+appealed to me. Perhaps it was her rare, peculiar beauty, speaking
+eloquently of virtue such as I had never known, that touched me. I cannot
+say what the impelling cause was, but this I know: my heart went out in
+pity to her, and all that was good within me--good, which I had never
+before suspected--stirred in my soul, and my past life seemed black and
+barren beyond endurance. Even Dorothy's marvellous beauty lacked the
+subtle quality which this simple blind girl possessed. The first step in
+regeneration is to see one's faults; the second is to regret them; the
+third is to quit them. The first and second steps constitute repentance;
+the second and third regeneration. One hour within the radius of Madge
+Stanley's influence brought me to repentance. But repentance is an
+everyday virtue. Should I ever achieve regeneration? That is one of the
+questions this history will answer. To me, Madge Stanley's passive force
+was the strongest influence for good that had ever impinged on my life.
+With respect to her, morally, I was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the
+rain, for she, acting unconsciously, moved me with neither knowledge nor
+volition on my part.
+
+Soon after my arrival at the ladies' parlor dinner was served, and after
+dinner a Persian merchant was ushered in, closely followed by his
+servants bearing bales of rare Eastern fabrics. A visit and a dinner at
+the inn were little events that made a break in the monotony of life at
+the Hall, and the ladies preferred to visit the merchant, who was stopping
+at The Peacock for a time, rather than to have him take his wares to
+Haddon.
+
+While Lady Crawford and Dorothy were revelling in Persian silks, satins,
+and gold cloths, I sat by Lady Madge and was more than content that we
+were left to ourselves. My mind, however, was as far from thoughts of
+gallantry as if she had been a black-veiled nun. I believe I have not told
+you that I was of the Holy Catholic Faith. My religion, I may say, has
+always been more nominal and political than spiritual, although there ran
+through it a strong vein of inherited tendencies and superstitions which
+were highly colored by contempt for heresy and heretics. I was Catholic by
+habit. But if I analyzed my supposed religious belief, I found that I had
+none save a hatred for heresy. Heretics, as a rule, were low-born persons,
+vulgarly moral, and as I had always thought, despisedly hypocritical.
+Madge Stanley, however, was a Protestant, and that fact shook the
+structure of my old mistakes to its foundation, and left me religionless.
+
+After the Persian merchant had packed his bales and departed, Dorothy and
+Lady Crawford joined Madge and me near the fireplace. Soon Dorothy went
+over to the window and stood there gazing into the courtyard. After a few
+minutes Lady Crawford said, "Dorothy, had we not better order Dawson to
+bring out the horses and coach?" Will Dawson was Sir George's forester.
+
+Lady Crawford repeated her question, but Dorothy was too intently watching
+the scene in the courtyard to hear. I went over to her, and looking out at
+the window discovered the object of Dorothy's rapt attention. There is no
+need for me to tell you who it was. Irony, as you know, and as I had
+learned, was harmless against this thick-skinned nymph. Of course I had no
+authority to scold her, so I laughed. The object of Dorothy's attention
+was about to mount his horse. He was drawing on his gauntleted gloves and
+held between his teeth a cigarro. He certainly presented a handsome figure
+for the eyes of an ardent girl to rest upon while he stood beneath the
+window, clothed in a fashionable Paris-made suit of brown, doublet,
+trunks, and hose. His high-topped boots were polished till they shone, and
+his broad-rimmed hat, of soft beaver, was surmounted by a flowing plume.
+Even I, who had no especial taste nor love for masculine beauty, felt my
+sense of the beautiful strongly moved by the attractive picture my
+new-found friend presented. His dress, manner, and bearing, polished by
+the friction of life at a luxurious court, must have appeared god-like to
+Dorothy. She had never travelled farther from home than Buxton and
+Derby-town, and had met only the half-rustic men belonging to the
+surrounding gentry and nobility of Derbyshire, Nottingham, and Stafford.
+She had met but few even of them, and their lives had been spent chiefly
+in drinking, hunting, and gambling--accomplishments that do not fine down
+the texture of a man's nature or fit him for a lady's bower. Sir John
+Manners was a revelation to Dorothy; and she, poor girl, was bewildered
+and bewitched by him.
+
+When John had mounted and was moving away, he looked up to the window
+where Dorothy stood, and a light came to her eyes and a smile to her face
+which no man who knows the sum of two and two can ever mistake if he but
+once sees it.
+
+When I saw the light in Dorothy's eyes, I knew that all the hatred that
+was ever born from all the feuds that had ever lived since the quarrelling
+race of man began its feuds in Eden could not make Dorothy Vernon hate the
+son of her father's enemy.
+
+"I was--was--watching him draw smoke through the--the little stick which
+he holds in his mouth, and--and blow it out again," said Dorothy, in
+explanation of her attitude. She blushed painfully and continued, "I hope
+you do not think--"
+
+"I do not think," I answered. "I would not think of thinking."
+
+"Of course not," she responded, with a forced smile, as she watched Sir
+John pass out of sight under the arch of the innyard gate. I did not
+think. I knew. And the sequel, so full of trouble, soon proved that I was
+right. After John had passed through the gate, Dorothy was willing to go
+home; and when Will Dawson brought the great coach to the inn door, I
+mounted my horse and rode beside the ladies to Haddon Hall, two miles
+north from Rowsley.
+
+I shall not stop to tell you of the warm welcome given me by Sir George
+Vernon, nor of his delight when I briefly told him my misfortunes in
+Scotland--misfortunes that had brought me to Haddon Hall. Nor shall I
+describe the great boar's head supper given in my honor, at which there
+were twenty men who could have put me under the table. I thought I knew
+something of the art of drinking, but at that supper I soon found I was a
+mere tippler compared with these country guzzlers. At that feast I learned
+also that Dorothy, when she had hinted concerning Sir George's excessive
+drinking, had told the truth. He, being the host, drank with all his
+guests. Near midnight he grew distressingly drunk, talkative, and violent,
+and when toward morning he was carried from the room by his servants, the
+company broke up. Those who could do so reeled home; those who could not
+walk at all were put to bed by the retainers at Haddon Hall. I had chosen
+my bedroom high up in Eagle Tower. At table I had tried to remain sober.
+That, however, was an impossible task, for at the upper end of the hall
+there was a wrist-ring placed in the wainscoting at a height of ten or
+twelve inches above the head of an ordinary man, and if he refused to
+drink as much as the other guests thought he should, his wrist was
+fastened above his head in the ring, and the liquor which he should have
+poured down his throat was poured down his sleeve. Therefore to avoid this
+species of rustic sport I drank much more than was good for me. When the
+feast closed I thought I was sober enough to go to my room unassisted; so
+I took a candle, and with a great show of self-confidence climbed the
+spiral stone stairway to the door of my room. The threshold of my door was
+two or three feet above the steps of the stairway, and after I had
+contemplated the distance for a few minutes, I concluded that it would not
+be safe for me to attempt to climb into my sleeping apartments without
+help. Accordingly I sat down upon the step on which I had been standing,
+placed my candle beside me, called loudly for a servant, received no
+response, and fell asleep only to be awakened by one of Sir George's
+retainers coming downstairs next morning.
+
+After that supper, in rapid succession, followed hunting and drinking,
+feasting and dancing in my honor. At the dances the pipers furnished the
+music, or, I should rather say, the noise. Their miserable wailings
+reminded me of Scotland. After all, thought I, is the insidious, polished
+vice of France worse than the hoggish, uncouth practices of Scotland and
+of English country life? I could not endure the latter, so I asked Sir
+George, on the pretext of ill health, to allow me to refuse invitations to
+other houses, and I insisted that he should give no more entertainments at
+Haddon Hall on my account. Sir George eagerly acquiesced in all my wishes.
+In truth, I was treated like an honored guest and a member of the family,
+and I congratulated myself that my life had fallen in such pleasant lines.
+Dorothy and Madge became my constant companions, for Sir George's time
+was occupied chiefly with his estates and with his duties as magistrate. A
+feeling of rest and contentment came over me, and my past life drifted
+back of me like an ever receding cloud.
+
+Thus passed the months of October and November.
+
+In the meantime events in Scotland and in England proved my wisdom in
+seeking a home at Haddon Hall, and showed me how great was my good fortune
+in finding it.
+
+Queen Mary was a prisoner at Lochleven Castle, and her brother Murray had
+beheaded many of her friends. Elizabeth, hating Mary as only a plain,
+envious woman can hate one who is transcendently beautiful, had, upon
+different pretexts, seized many of Mary's friends who had fled to England
+for sanctuary, and some of them had suffered imprisonment or death.
+
+Elizabeth, in many instances, had good cause for her attitude toward
+Mary's friends, since plots were hatching thick and fast to liberate Mary
+from Lochleven; and many such plots, undoubtedly, had for their chief end
+the deposition of Elizabeth, and the enthronement of Mary as Queen of
+England.
+
+As a strict matter of law, Mary was rightful heir to the English throne,
+and Elizabeth was an usurper. Parliament, at Henry's request, had declared
+that Elizabeth, his issue by Anne Boleyn, was illegitimate, and that being
+true, Mary was next in line of descent. The Catholics of England took that
+stand, and Mary's beauty and powers of fascination had won for her friends
+even in the personal household of the Virgin Queen. Small cause for wonder
+was it that Elizabeth, knowing all these facts, looked with suspicion and
+fear upon Mary's refugee friends.
+
+The English queen well knew that Sir George Vernon was her friend,
+therefore his house and his friendship were my sanctuary, without which
+my days certainly would have been numbered in the land of Elizabeth, and
+their number would have been small. I was dependent on Sir George not only
+for a roof to shelter me, but for my very life. I speak of these things
+that you may know some of the many imperative reasons why I desired to
+please and conciliate my cousin. In addition to those reasons, I soon grew
+to love Sir George, not only because of his kindness to me, but because he
+was a lovable man. He was generous, just, and frank, and although at times
+he was violent almost to the point of temporary madness, his heart was
+usually gentle, and was as easily touched by kindness as it was quickly
+moved to cruelty by injury, fancied or actual. I have never known a more
+cruel, tender man than he. You will see him in each of his natures before
+you have finished this history. But you must judge him only after you have
+considered his times, which were forty years ago, his surroundings, and
+his blood.
+
+During those two months remarkable changes occurred within the walls of
+Haddon, chief of which were in myself, and, alas! in Dorothy.
+
+My pilgrimage to Haddon, as you already know, had been made for the
+purpose of marrying my fair cousin; for I did not, at the time I left
+Scotland, suppose I should need Sir George's protection against Elizabeth.
+When I met Dorothy at Rowsley, my desire to marry her became personal, in
+addition to the mercenary motives with which I had originally started. But
+I quickly recognized the fact that the girl was beyond my reach. I knew I
+could not win her love, even though I had a thousand years to try for it;
+and I would not accept her hand in marriage solely at her father's
+command. I also soon learned that Dorothy was the child of her father,
+gentle, loving, and tender beyond the naming, but also wilful, violent,
+and fierce to the extent that no command could influence her.
+
+First I shall speak of the change within myself. I will soon be done with
+so much "I" and "me," and you shall have Dorothy to your heart's content,
+or trouble, I know not which.
+
+Soon after my arrival at Haddon Hall the sun ushered in one of those
+wonderful days known only to the English autumn, when the hush of Nature's
+drowsiness, just before her long winter's sleep, imparts its soft
+restfulness to man, as if it were a lotus feast. Dorothy was
+ostentatiously busy with her household matters, and was consulting with
+butler, cook, and steward. Sir George had ridden out to superintend his
+men at work, and I, wandering aimlessly about the hail, came upon Madge
+Stanley sitting in the chaplain's room with folded hands.
+
+"Lady Madge, will you go with me for a walk this beautiful morning?" I
+asked.
+
+"Gladly would I go, Sir Malcolm," she responded, a smile brightening her
+face and quickly fading away, "but I--I cannot walk in unfamiliar places.
+I should fail. You would have to lead me by the hand, and that, I fear,
+would mar the pleasure of your walk."
+
+"Indeed, it would not, Lady Madge. I should enjoy my walk all the more."
+
+"If you really wish me to go, I shall be delighted," she responded, as the
+brightness came again to her face. "I sometimes grow weary, and, I
+confess, a little sad sitting alone when Dorothy cannot be with me. Aunt
+Dorothy, now that she has her magnifying glasses,--spectacles, I think
+they are called,--devotes all her time to reading, and dislikes to be
+interrupted."
+
+"I wish it very much," I said, surprised by the real eagerness of my
+desire, and unconsciously endeavoring to keep out of the tones of my voice
+a part of that eagerness.
+
+"I shall take you at your word," she said. "I will go to my room to get my
+hat and cloak."
+
+She rose and began to grope her way toward the door, holding out her
+white, expressive hands in front of her. It was pitiful and beautiful to
+see her, and my emotions welled up in my throat till I could hardly speak.
+
+"Permit me to give you my hand," I said huskily. How I longed to carry
+her! Every man with the right sort of a heart in his breast has a touch of
+the mother instinct in him; but, alas I only a touch. Ah, wondrous and
+glorious womanhood! If you had naught but the mother instinct to lift you
+above your masters by the hand of man-made laws, those masters were still
+unworthy to tie the strings of your shoes.
+
+"Thank you," said the girl, as she clasped my hand, and moved with
+confidence by my side. "This is so much better than the dreadful fear of
+falling. Even through these rooms where I have lived for many years I feel
+safe only in a few places,--on the stairs, and in my rooms, which are also
+Dorothy's. When Dorothy changes the position of a piece of furniture in
+the Hall, she leads me to it several times that I may learn just where it
+is. A long time ago she changed the position of a chair and did not tell
+me. I fell against it and was hurt. Dorothy wept bitterly over the mishap,
+and she has never since failed to tell me of such changes. I cannot make
+you know how kind and tender Dorothy is to me. I feel that I should die
+without her, and I know she would grieve terribly were we to part."
+
+I could not answer. What a very woman you will think I was! I, who could
+laugh while I ran my sword through a man's heart, could hardly restrain my
+tears for pity of this beautiful blind girl.
+
+"Thank you; that will do," she said, when we came to the foot of the great
+staircase. "I can now go to my rooms alone."
+
+When she reached the top she hesitated and groped for a moment; then she
+turned and called laughingly to me while I stood at the bottom of the
+steps, "I know the way perfectly well, but to go alone in any place is not
+like being led."
+
+"There are many ways in which one may be led, Lady Madge," I answered
+aloud. Then I said to myself, "That girl will lead you to Heaven, Malcolm,
+if you will permit her to do so."
+
+But thirty-five years of evil life are hard to neutralize. There is but
+one subtle elixir that can do it--love; and I had not thought of that
+magic remedy with respect to Madge.
+
+I hurriedly fetched my hat and returned to the foot of the staircase.
+Within a minute or two Madge came down stairs holding up the skirt of her
+gown with one hand, while she grasped the banister with the other. As I
+watched her descending I was enraptured with her beauty. Even the
+marvellous vital beauty of Dorothy could not compare with this girl's
+fair, pale loveliness. It seemed to be almost a profanation for me to
+admire the sweet oval of her face. Upon her alabaster skin, the black
+eyebrows, the long lashes, the faint blue veins and the curving red lips
+stood in exquisite relief. While she was descending the stairs, I caught a
+gleam of her round, snowy forearm and wrist; and when my eyes sought the
+perfect curves of her form disclosed by the clinging silk gown she wore, I
+felt that I had sinned in looking upon her, and I was almost glad she
+could not see the shame which was in my face.
+
+"Cousin Malcolm, are you waiting?" she asked from midway in the staircase.
+
+"Yes, I am at the foot of the steps," I answered.
+
+"I called you 'Cousin Malcolm,'" she said, holding out her hand when she
+came near me. "Pardon me; it was a slip of the tongue. I hear 'Cousin
+Malcolm' so frequently from Dorothy that the name is familiar to me."
+
+"I shall be proud if you will call me 'Cousin Malcolm' always. I like the
+name better than any that you can use."
+
+"If you wish it," she said, in sweet, simple candor, "I will call you
+'Cousin Malcolm,' and you may call me 'Cousin Madge' or 'Madge,' just as
+you please."
+
+"'Cousin Madge' it shall be; that is a compact," I answered, as I opened
+the door and we walked out into the fresh air of the bright October
+morning.
+
+"That will stand for our first compact; we are progressing famously," she
+said, with a low laugh of delight.
+
+Ah, to think that the blind can laugh. God is good.
+
+We walked out past the stables and the cottage, and crossed the river on
+the great stone bridge. Then we took our way down the babbling Wye,
+keeping close to its banks, while the dancing waters and even the gleaming
+pebbles seemed to dimple and smile as they softly sang their song of
+welcome to the fair kindred spirit who had come to visit them. If we
+wandered from the banks for but a moment, the waters seemed to struggle
+and turn in their course until they were again by her side, and then would
+they gently flow and murmur their contentment as they travelled forward to
+the sea, full of the memory of her sweet presence. And during all that
+time I led her by the hand. I tell you, friends, 'tis sweet to write of
+it.
+
+When we returned we crossed the Wye by the stone footbridge and entered
+the garden below the terrace at the corner postern. We remained for an
+hour resting upon the terrace balustrade, and before we went indoors Madge
+again spoke of Dorothy.
+
+"I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed this walk, nor how thankful I
+am to you for taking me," she said.
+
+I did not interrupt her by replying, for I loved to hear her talk.
+
+"Dorothy sometimes takes me with her for a short walk, but I seldom have
+that pleasure. Walking is too slow for Dorothy. She is so strong and full
+of life. She delights to ride her mare Dolcy. Have you seen Dolcy?"
+
+"No," I responded.
+
+"You must see her at once. She is the most beautiful animal in the world.
+Though small of limb, she is swift as the wind, and as easy as a cradle in
+her gaits. She is mettlesome and fiery, but full of affection. She often
+kisses Dorothy. Mare and rider are finely mated. Dorothy is the most
+perfect woman, and Dolcy is the most perfect mare. 'The two D's,' we call
+them. But Dorothy says we must be careful not to put a--a dash between
+them," she said with a laugh and a blush.
+
+Then I led Madge into the hall, and she was blithe and happy as if the
+blessed light of day were in her eyes. It was in her soul, and that, after
+all, is where it brings the greatest good.
+
+After that morning, Madge and I frequently walked out when the days were
+pleasant. The autumn was mild, well into winter time, and by the end of
+November the transparent cheeks of the blind girl held an exquisite tinge
+of color, and her form had a new grace from the strength she had acquired
+in exercise. We had grown to be dear friends, and the touch of her hand
+was a pleasure for which I waited eagerly from day to day. Again I say
+thoughts of love for her had never entered my mind. Perhaps their absence
+was because of my feeling that they could not possibly exist in her heart
+for me.
+
+One evening in November, after the servants had all gone to bed, Sir
+George and I went to the kitchen to drink a hot punch before retiring for
+the night. I drank a moderate bowl and sat in a large chair before the
+fire, smoking a pipe of tobacco, while Sir George drank brandy toddy at
+the massive oak table in the middle of the room.
+
+Sir George was rapidly growing drunk. He said: "Dawson tells me that the
+queen's officers arrested another of Mary Stuart's damned French friends
+at Derby-town yesterday,--Count somebody; I can't pronounce their
+miserable names."
+
+"Can you not remember his name?" I asked. "He may be a friend of mine." My
+remark was intended to remind Sir George that his language was offensive
+to me.
+
+"That is true, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "I beg your pardon. I meant
+to speak ill only of Mary's meddlesome friends, who are doing more injury
+than good to their queen's cause by their plotting."
+
+I replied: "No one can regret these plots more than I do. They certainly
+will work great injury to the cause they are intended to help. But I fear
+many innocent men are made to suffer for the few guilty ones. Without your
+protection, for which I cannot sufficiently thank you, my life here would
+probably be of short duration. After my misfortunes in Scotland, I know
+not what I should have done had it not been for your generous welcome. I
+lost all in Scotland, and it would now be impossible for me to go to
+France. An attempt on my part to escape would result in my arrest. Fortune
+certainly has turned her capricious back upon me, with the one exception
+that she has left me your friendship."
+
+"Malcolm, my boy," said Sir George, drawing his chair toward me, "that
+which you consider your loss is my great gain. I am growing old, and if
+you, who have seen so much of the gay world, will be content to live with
+us and share our dulness and our cares, I shall be the happiest man in
+England."
+
+"I thank you more than I can tell," I said, careful not to commit myself
+to any course.
+
+"Barring my quarrel with the cursed race of Manners," continued Sir
+George, "I have little to trouble me; and if you will remain with us, I
+thank God I may leave the feud in good hands. Would that I were young
+again only for a day that I might call that scoundrel Rutland and his imp
+of a son to account in the only manner whereby an honest man may have
+justice of a thief. There are but two of them, Malcolm,--father and
+son,--and if they were dead, the damned race would be extinct."
+
+I believe that Sir George Vernon when sober could not have spoken in that
+fashion even of his enemies.
+
+I found difficulty in replying to my cousin's remarks, so I said
+evasively:--
+
+"I certainly am the most fortunate of men to find so warm a welcome from
+you, and so good a home as that which I have at Haddon Hall. When I met
+Dorothy at the inn, I knew at once by her kindness that my friends of old
+were still true to me. I was almost stunned by Dorothy's beauty."
+
+My mention of Dorothy was unintentional and unfortunate. I had shied from
+the subject upon several previous occasions, but Sir George was
+continually trying to lead up to it. This time my lack of forethought
+saved him the trouble.
+
+"Do you really think that Doll is very beautiful--so very beautiful? Do
+you really think so, Malcolm?" said the old gentleman, rubbing his hands
+in pride and pleasure.
+
+"Surprisingly beautiful," I answered, seeking hurriedly through my mind
+for an excuse to turn the conversation. I had within two months learned
+one vital fact: beautiful as Dorothy was, I did not want her for my wife,
+and I could not have had her even were I dying for love. The more I
+learned of Dorothy and myself during the autumn through which I had just
+passed--and I had learned more of myself than I had been able to discover
+in the thirty-five previous years of my life--the more clearly I saw the
+utter unfitness of marriage between us.
+
+"In all your travels," asked Sir George, leaning his elbows upon his
+knees and looking at his feet between his hands, "in all your travels and
+court life have you ever seen a woman who was so beautiful as my girl
+Doll?"
+
+His pride in Dorothy at times had a tinge of egotism and selfishness. It
+seemed to be almost the pride of possession and ownership. "My girl!" The
+expression and the tone in which the words were spoken sounded as if he
+had said: "My fine horse," "My beautiful Hall," or "My grand estates."
+Dorothy was his property. Still, he loved the girl passionately. She was
+dearer to him than all his horses, cattle, halls, and estates put
+together, and he loved even them to excess. He loved all that he
+possessed; whatever was his was the best of the sort. Such a love is apt
+to grow up in the breasts of men who have descended from a long line of
+proprietary ancestors, and with all its materialism it has in it
+possibilities of great good. The sturdy, unflinching patriotism of the
+English people springs from this source. The thought, "That which I
+possess is the best," has beauty and use in it, though it leads men to
+treat other men, and, alas! women, as mere chattels. All this was passing
+through my mind, and I forgot to answer Sir George's question.
+
+"Have you ever seen a woman more beautiful than Doll?" he again asked.
+
+"I certainly have never seen one whose beauty may even be compared with
+Dorothy's," I answered.
+
+"And she is young, too," continued Sir George; "she is not yet nineteen."
+
+"That is very young," I answered, not knowing what else to say.
+
+"And she will be rich some day. Very rich. I am called 'King of the Peak,'
+you know, and there are not three estates in Derbyshire which, if
+combined, would equal mine."
+
+"That is true, cousin," I answered, "and I rejoice in your good fortune."
+
+"Dorothy will have it all one of these days--all, all," continued my
+cousin, still looking at his feet.
+
+After a long pause, during which Sir George took several libations from
+his bowl of toddy, he cleared his throat and said, "So Dorothy is the most
+beautiful girl and the richest heiress you know?"
+
+"Indeed she is," I responded, knowing full well what he was leading up to.
+Realizing that in spite of me he would now speak his mind, I made no
+attempt to turn the current of the conversation.
+
+After another long pause, and after several more draughts from the bowl,
+my old friend and would-be benefactor said: "You may remember a little
+conversation between us when you were last at Haddon six or seven years
+ago, about--about Dorothy? You remember?"
+
+I, of course, dared not pretend that I had forgotten.
+
+"Yes, I remember," I responded.
+
+"What do you think of the proposition by this time?" asked Sir George.
+"Dorothy and all she will inherit shall be yours--"
+
+"Stop, stop, Sir George!" I exclaimed. "You do not know what you say. No
+one but a prince or a great peer of the realm is worthy of aspiring to
+Dorothy's hand. When she is ready to marry you should take her to London
+court, where she can make her choice from among the nobles of our land.
+There is not a marriageable duke or earl in England who would not eagerly
+seek the girl for a wife. My dear cousin, your generosity overwhelms me,
+but it must not be thought of. I am utterly unworthy of her in person,
+age, and position. No! no!"
+
+"But listen to me, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "Your modesty, which,
+in truth, I did not know you possessed, is pleasing to me; but I have
+reasons of my own for wishing that you should marry Dorothy. I want my
+estates to remain in the Vernon name, and one day you or your children
+will make my house and my name noble. You and Dorothy shall go to court,
+and between you--damme! if you can't win a dukedom, I am no prophet. You
+would not object to change your faith, would you?"
+
+"Oh, no," I responded, "of course I should not object to that."
+
+"Of course not. I knew you were no fool," said Sir George. "Age! why, you
+are only thirty-five years old--little more than a matured boy. I prefer
+you to any man in England for Dorothy's husband."
+
+"You overwhelm me with your kindness," I returned, feeling that I was
+being stranded on a very dangerous shore, amidst wealth and beauty.
+
+"Tut, tut, there's no kindness in it," returned my cousin. "I do not offer
+you Dorothy's hand from an unselfish motive. I have told you one motive,
+but there is another, and a little condition besides, Malcolm." The brandy
+Sir George had been drinking had sent the devil to his brain.
+
+"What is the condition?" I asked, overjoyed to hear that there was one.
+
+The old man leaned toward me and a fierce blackness overclouded his face.
+"I am told, Malcolm, that you have few equals in swordsmanship, and that
+the duello is not new to you. Is it true?"
+
+"I believe I may say it is true," I answered. "I have fought successfully
+with some of the most noted duellists of--"
+
+"Enough, enough! Now, this is the condition, Malcolm,--a welcome one to
+you, I am sure; a welcome one to any brave man." His eyes gleamed with
+fire and hatred. "Quarrel with Rutland and his son and kill both of them."
+
+I felt like recoiling from the old fiend. I had often quarrelled and
+fought, but, thank God, never in cold blood and with deliberate intent to
+do murder.
+
+"Then Dorothy and all I possess shall be yours," said Sir George. "The old
+one will be an easy victim. The young one, they say, prides himself on his
+prowess. I do not know with what cause, I have never seen him fight. In
+fact, I have never seen the fellow at all. He has lived at London court
+since he was a child, and has seldom, if ever, visited this part of the
+country. He was a page both to Edward VI. and to Queen Mary. Why Elizabeth
+keeps the damned traitor at court to plot against her is more than I can
+understand. Do the conditions suit you, Malcolm?" asked Sir George,
+piercing me with his eyes.
+
+I did not respond, and he continued: "All I ask is your promise to kill
+Rutland and his son at the first opportunity. I care not how. The marriage
+may come off at once. It can't take place too soon to please me."
+
+I could not answer for a time. The power to speak and to think had left
+me. To accept Sir George's offer was out of the question. To refuse it
+would be to give offence beyond reparation to my only friend, and you know
+what that would have meant to me. My refuge was Dorothy. I knew, however
+willing I might be or might appear to be, Dorothy would save me the
+trouble and danger of refusing her hand. So I said:--
+
+"We have not consulted Dorothy. Perhaps her inclinations--"
+
+"Doll's inclinations be damned. I have always been kind and indulgent to
+her, and she is a dutiful, obedient daughter. My wish and command in this
+affair will furnish inclinations enough for Doll."
+
+"But, Sir George," I remonstrated, "I would not accept the hand of Dorothy
+nor of any woman unless she desired it. I could not. I could not."
+
+"If Doll consents, I am to understand that you accept?" asked Sir George.
+
+I saw no way out of the dilemma, and to gain time I said, "Few men in
+their right mind would refuse so flattering an offer unless there were a
+most potent reason, and I--I--"
+
+"Good! good! I shall go to bed happy to-night for the first time in years.
+The Rutlands will soon be out of my path."
+
+There is a self-acting retribution in our evil passions which never fails
+to operate. One who hates must suffer, and Sir George for years had paid
+the penalty night and day, unconscious that his pain was of his own
+making.
+
+Before we parted I said, "This is a delicate matter, with reference to
+Dorothy, and I insist that you give me time to win, if possible, her
+kindly regard before you express to her your wish."
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense, Malcolm! I'll tell the girl about it in the morning,
+and save you the trouble. The women will want to make some new gowns
+and--"
+
+"But," I interrupted emphatically, "I will not have it so. It is every
+man's sweet privilege to woo the woman of his choice in his own way. It is
+not a trouble to me; it is a pleasure, and it is every woman's right to be
+wooed by the man who seeks her. I again insist that I only shall speak to
+Dorothy on this subject. At least, I demand that I be allowed to speak
+first."
+
+"That's all damned nonsense," responded Sir George; "but if you will have
+it so, well and good. Take your own course. I suppose it's the fashion at
+court. The good old country way suits me. A girl's father tells her whom
+she is to marry, and, by gad, she does it without a word and is glad to
+get a man. English girls obey their parents. They know what to expect if
+they don't--the lash, by God and the dungeon under the keep. Your
+roundabout method is all right for tenants and peasants; but among people
+who possess estates and who control vast interests, girls are--girls
+are--Well, they are born and brought up to obey and to help forward the
+interests of their houses." The old man was growing very drunk, and after
+a long pause he continued: "Have your own way, Malcolm, but don't waste
+time. Now that the matter is settled, I want to get it off my hands
+quickly."
+
+"I shall speak to Dorothy on the subject at the first favorable
+opportunity," I responded; "but I warn you, Sir George, that if Dorothy
+proves disinclined to marry me, I will not accept her hand."
+
+"Never fear for Doll; she will be all right," and we parted.
+
+Doll all right! Had he only known how very far from "all right" Dorothy
+was, he would have slept little that night.
+
+This brings me to the other change of which I spoke--the change in
+Dorothy. Change? It was a metamorphosis.
+
+A fortnight after the scene at The Peacock I accidentally discovered a
+drawing made by Dorothy of a man with a cigarro in his mouth. The girl
+snatched the paper from my hands and blushed convincingly.
+
+"It is a caricature of--of him," she said. She smiled, and evidently was
+willing to talk upon the subject of "him." I declined the topic.
+
+This happened a month or more previous to my conversation with Sir George
+concerning Dorothy. A few days after my discovery of the cigarro picture,
+Dorothy and I were out on the terrace together. Frequently when she was
+with me she would try to lead the conversation to the topic which I well
+knew was in her mind, if not in her heart, at all times. She would speak
+of our first meeting at The Peacock, and would use every artifice to
+induce me to bring up the subject which she was eager to discuss, but I
+always failed her. On the day mentioned when we were together on the
+terrace, after repeated failures to induce me to speak upon the desired
+topic, she said, "I suppose you never meet--meet--him when you ride out?"
+
+"Whom, Dorothy?" I asked.
+
+"The gentleman with the cigarro," she responded, laughing nervously.
+
+"No," I answered, "I know nothing of him."
+
+The subject was dropped.
+
+At another time she said, "He was in the village--Overhaddon--yesterday."
+
+Then I knew who "him" was.
+
+"How do you know?" I asked.
+
+"Jennie Faxton, the farrier's daughter, told me. She often comes to the
+Hall to serve me. She likes to act as my maid, and is devoted to me."
+
+"Did he send any word to you?" I asked at a venture. The girl blushed and
+hung her head. "N-o," she responded.
+
+"What was it, Dorothy?" I asked gently. "You may trust me."
+
+"He sent no word to me," the girl responded. "Jennie said she heard two
+gentlemen talking about me in front of the farrier's shop, and one of them
+said something about--oh, I don't know what it was. I can't tell you. It
+was all nonsense, and of course he did not mean it."
+
+"Tell me all, Dorothy," I said, seeing that she really wanted to speak.
+
+"Oh, he said something about having seen Sir George Vernon's daughter at
+Rowsley, and--and--I can't tell you what he said, I am too full of shame."
+If her cheeks told the truth, she certainly was "full of shame."
+
+"Tell me all, sweet cousin; I am sorry for you," I said. She raised her
+eyes to mine in quick surprise with a look of suspicion.
+
+"You may trust me, Dorothy. I say it again, you may trust me."
+
+"He spoke of my beauty and called it marvellous," said the girl. "He said
+that in all the world there was not another woman--oh, I can't tell you."
+
+"Yes, yes, go on, Dorothy," I insisted.
+
+"He said," she continued, "that he could think of nothing else but me day
+or night since he had first seen me at Rowsley--that I had bewitched him
+and--and--Then the other gentleman said, 'John, don't play with fire; it
+will burn you. Nothing good can come of it for you.'"
+
+"Did Jennie know who the gentleman was?" I asked.
+
+"No," returned Dorothy.
+
+"How do you know who he was?"
+
+"Jennie described him," she said.
+
+"How did she describe him?" I asked.
+
+"She said he was--he was the handsomest man in the world and--and that he
+affected her so powerfully she fell in love with him in spite of herself.
+The little devil, to dare! You see that describes him perfectly."
+
+I laughed outright, and the girl blushed painfully.
+
+"It does describe him," she said petulantly. "You know it does. No one can
+gainsay that he is wonderfully, dangerously handsome. I believe the woman
+does not live who could refrain from feasting her eyes on his noble
+beauty. I wonder if I shall ever again--again." Tears were in her voice
+and almost in her eyes.
+
+"Dorothy! My God, Dorothy!" I exclaimed in terror.
+
+"Yes! yes! My God, Dorothy!" she responded, covering her face with her
+hands and sighing deeply, as she dropped her head and left me.
+
+Yes, yes, my God, Dorothy! The helpless iron and the terrible loadstone!
+The passive seed! The dissolving cloud and the falling rain!
+
+Less than a week after the above conversation, Dorothy, Madge, and I were
+riding from Yulegrave Church up to the village of Overhaddon, which lies
+one mile across the hills from Haddon Hall. My horse had cast a shoe, and
+we stopped at Faxton's shop to have him shod. The town well is in the
+middle of an open space called by the villagers "The Open," around which
+are clustered the half-dozen houses and shops that constitute the village.
+The girls were mounted, and I was standing beside them in front of the
+farrier's, waiting for my horse. Jennie Faxton, a wild, unkempt girl of
+sixteen, was standing in silent admiration near Dorothy. Our backs were
+turned toward the well. Suddenly a light came into Jennie's face, and she
+plucked Dorothy by the skirt of her habit.
+
+"Look, mistress, look! Look there by the well!" said Jennie in a whisper.
+Dorothy looked toward the well. I also turned my head and beheld my
+friend, Sir John, holding a bucket of water for his horse to drink. I had
+not seen him since we parted at The Peacock, and I did not show that I
+recognized him. I feared to betray our friendship to the villagers. They,
+however, did not know Sir John, and I need not have been so cautious. But
+Dorothy and Madge were with me, and of course I dared not make any
+demonstration of acquaintanceship with the enemy of our house.
+
+Dorothy watched John closely, and when he was ready to mount she struck
+her horse with the whip, and boldly rode to the well.
+
+"May I ask you to give my mare water?" she said.
+
+"Certainly. Ah, I beg pardon. I did not understand," answered Sir John,
+confusedly. John, the polished, self-poised courtier, felt the confusion
+of a country rustic in the presence of this wonderful girl, whose
+knowledge of life had been acquired within the precincts of Haddon Hall.
+Yet the inexperienced girl was self-poised and unconfused, while the wits
+of the courtier, who had often calmly flattered the queen, had all gone
+wool-gathering.
+
+She repeated her request.
+
+"Certainly," returned John, "I--I knew what you said--but--but you
+surprise me."
+
+"Yes," said brazen Dorothy, "I have surprised myself."
+
+John, in his haste to satisfy Dolcy's thirst, dashed the water against the
+skirt of Dorothy's habit, and was profuse in his apologies.
+
+"Do not mention it," said Dorothy. "I like a damp habit. The wind cannot
+so easily blow it about," and she laughed as she shook the garment to free
+it of the water. Dolcy refused to drink, and Dorothy having no excuse to
+linger at the well, drew up her reins and prepared to leave. While doing
+so, she said:--
+
+"Do you often come to Overhaddon?" Her eager eyes shone like red coals,
+and looking at John, she awaited smilingly his response.
+
+"Seldom," answered John; "not often. I mean every day--that is, if I may
+come."
+
+"Any one may come to the village whenever he wishes to do so," responded
+Dorothy, laughing too plainly at Sir John's confusion. "Is it seldom, or
+not often, or every day that you come?" In her overconfidence she was
+chaffing him. He caught the tone, and looked quickly into the girl's eyes.
+Her gaze could not stand against John's for a moment, and the long lashes
+drooped to shade her eyes from the fierce light of his.
+
+"I said I would come to Overhaddon every day," he returned; "and although
+I must have appeared very foolish in my confusion, you cannot
+misunderstand the full meaning of my words."
+
+In John's boldness and in the ring of his voice Dorothy felt the touch of
+her master, against whom she well knew all the poor force she could muster
+would be utterly helpless. She was frightened, and said:--
+
+"I--I must go. Good-by."
+
+When she rode away from him she thought: "I believed because of his
+confusion that I was the stronger. I could not stand against him for a
+moment. Holy Virgin! what have I done, and to what am I coming?"
+
+You may now understand the magnitude of the task which Sir George had set
+for me when he bade me marry his daughter and kill the Rutlands. I might
+perform the last-named feat, but dragon fighting would be mere child's
+play compared with the first, while the girl's heart was filled with the
+image of another man.
+
+I walked forward to meet Dorothy, leaving Madge near the farrier's shop.
+
+"Dorothy, are you mad? What have you been doing?" I asked.
+
+"Could you not see?" she answered, under her breath, casting a look of
+warning toward Madge and a glance of defiance at me. "Are you, too, blind?
+Could you not see what I was doing?"
+
+"Yes," I responded.
+
+"Then why do you ask?"
+
+As I went back to Madge I saw John ride out of the village by the south
+road. I afterward learned that he rode gloomily back to Rutland Castle
+cursing himself for a fool. His duty to his father, which with him was a
+strong motive, his family pride, his self love, his sense of caution, all
+told him that he was walking open-eyed into trouble. He had tried to
+remain away from the vicinity of Haddon Hall, but, despite his
+self-respect and self-restraint, he had made several visits to Rowsley and
+to Overhaddon, and at one time had ridden to Bakewell, passing Haddon
+Hall on his way thither. He had as much business in the moon as at
+Overhaddon, yet he told Dorothy he would be at the village every day, and
+she, it seemed, was only too willing to give him opportunities to transact
+his momentous affairs.
+
+As the floating cloud to the fathomless blue, as the seed to the earth, as
+the iron to the lodestone, so was Dorothy unto John.
+
+Thus you see our beautiful pitcher went to the well and was broken.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE GOLDEN HEART
+
+
+The day after Dorothy's first meeting with Manners at Overhaddon she was
+restless and nervous, and about the hour of three in the afternoon she
+mounted Dolcy and rode toward Bakewell. That direction, I was sure, she
+took for the purpose of misleading us at the Hall, and I felt confident
+she would, when once out of sight, head her mare straight for Overhaddon.
+Within an hour Dorothy was home again, and very ill-tempered.
+
+The next day she rode out in the morning. I asked her if I should ride
+with her, and the emphatic "No" with which she answered me left no room
+for doubt in my mind concerning her desire for my company or her
+destination. Again she returned within an hour and hurried to her
+apartments. Shortly afterward Madge asked me what Dorothy was weeping
+about; and although in my own mind I was confident of the cause of
+Dorothy's tears, I, of course, did not give Madge a hint of my suspicion.
+Yet I then knew, quite as well as I now know, that John, notwithstanding
+the important business which he said would bring him to Overhaddon every
+day, had forced himself to remain at home, and Dorothy, in consequence,
+suffered from anger and wounded pride. She had twice ridden to Overhaddon
+to meet him. She had done for his sake that which she knew she should have
+left undone, and he had refused the offering. A smarting conscience, an
+aching heart, and a breast full of anger were Dorothy's rewards for her
+evil doing. The day after her second futile trip to Overhaddon, I, to test
+her, spoke of John. She turned upon me with the black look of a fury, and
+hurled her words at me.
+
+"Never again speak his despised name in my hearing. Curse him and his
+whole race."
+
+"Now what has he been doing?" I asked.
+
+"I tell you, I will not speak of him, nor will I listen to you," and she
+dashed away from me like a fiery whirlwind.
+
+Four or five days later the girl rode out again upon Dolcy. She was away
+from home for four long hours, and when she returned she was so gentle,
+sweet, and happy that she was willing to kiss every one in the household
+from Welch, the butcher, to Sir George. She was radiant. She clung to
+Madge and to me, and sang and romped through the house like Dorothy of
+old.
+
+Madge said, "I am so glad you are feeling better, Dorothy." Then, speaking
+to me: "She has been ill for several days. She could not sleep."
+
+Dorothy looked quickly over to me, gave a little shrug to her shoulders,
+bent forward her face, which was red with blushing, and kissed Madge
+lingeringly upon the lips.
+
+The events of Dorothy's trip I soon learned from her.
+
+The little scene between Dorothy, Madge, and myself, after Dorothy's
+joyful return, occurred a week before the momentous conversation between
+Sir George and me concerning my union with his house. Ten days after Sir
+George had offered me his daughter and his lands, he brought up the
+subject again. He and I were walking on the ridge of Bowling Green Hill.
+
+"I am glad you are making such fair progress with Doll," said Sir George.
+"Have you yet spoken to her upon the subject?"
+
+I was surprised to hear that I had made any progress. In fact, I did not
+know that I had taken a single step. I was curious to learn in what the
+progress consisted, so I said:--
+
+"I have not spoken to Dorothy yet concerning the marriage, and I fear that
+I have made no progress at all. She certainly is friendly enough to me,
+but--"
+
+"I should say that the gift from you she exhibited would indicate
+considerable progress," said Sir George, casting an expressive glance
+toward me.
+
+"What gift?" I stupidly inquired.
+
+"The golden heart, you rascal. She said you told her it had belonged to
+your mother."
+
+"Holy Mother of Truth!" thought I, "pray give your especial care to my
+cousin Dorothy. She needs it."
+
+Sir George thrust at my side with his thumb and continued:--
+
+"Don't deny it, Malcolm. Damme, you are as shy as a boy in this matter.
+But perhaps you know better than I how to go at her. I was thinking only
+the other day that your course was probably the right one. Doll, I
+suspect, has a dash of her old father's temper, and she may prove a little
+troublesome unless we let her think she is having her own way. Oh, there
+is nothing like knowing how to handle them, Malcolm. Just let them think
+they are having their own way and--and save trouble. Doll may have more of
+her father in her than I suspect, and perhaps it is well for us to move
+slowly. You will be able to judge, but you must not move too slowly. If in
+the end she should prove stubborn, we will break her will or break her
+neck. I would rather have a daughter in Bakewell churchyard than a wilful,
+stubborn, disobedient huzzy in Haddon Hall."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Sir George had been drinking, and my slip concerning the gift passed
+unnoticed by him.
+
+"I am sure you well know how to proceed in this matter, but don't be too
+cautious, Malcolm; the best woman living loves to be stormed."
+
+"Trust me," I answered, "I shall speak--" and my words unconsciously sank
+away to thought, as thought often, and inconveniently at times, grows into
+words.
+
+"Dorothy, Dorothy," said the thoughts again and again, "where came you by
+the golden heart?" and "where learned you so villanously to lie?"
+
+"From love," was the response, whispered by the sighing winds. "From love,
+that makes men and women like unto gods and teaches them the tricks of
+devils." "From love," murmured the dry rustling leaves and the rugged
+trees. "From love," sighed the fleecy clouds as they floated in the sweet
+restful azure of the vaulted sky. "From love," cried the mighty sun as he
+poured his light and heat upon the eager world to give it life. I would
+not give a fig for a woman, however, who would not lie herself black in
+the face for the sake of her lover, and I am glad that it is a virtue few
+women lack. One who would scorn to lie under all other circumstances
+would--but you understand. I suppose that Dorothy had never before uttered
+a real lie. She hated all that was evil and loved all that was good till
+love came a-teaching.
+
+I quickly invented an excuse to leave Sir George, and returned to the Hall
+to seek Dorothy. I found her and asked her to accompany me for a few
+minutes that I might speak with her privately. We went out upon the
+terrace and I at once began:--
+
+"You should tell me when I present you gifts that I may not cause trouble
+by my ignorance nor show surprise when I suddenly learn what I have done.
+You see when a man gives a lady a gift and he does not know it, he is apt
+to--"
+
+"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Dorothy, pale with fear and consternation. "Did
+you--"
+
+"No, I did not betray you, but I came perilously near it."
+
+"I--I wanted to tell you about it. I tried several times to do so--I did
+so long to tell somebody, but I could not bring myself to speak. I was
+full of shame, yet I was proud and happy, for all that happened was good
+and pure and sacred. You are not a woman; you cannot know--"
+
+"But I do know. I know that you saw Manners the other day, and that he
+gave you a golden heart."
+
+"How did you know? Did any one--"
+
+"Tell me? No. I knew it when you returned after five hours' absence,
+looking radiant as the sun."
+
+"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, with a startled movement.
+
+"I also knew," I continued, "that at other times when you rode out upon
+Dolcy you had not seen him."
+
+"How did you know?" she asked, with quick-coming breath.
+
+"By your ill-humor," I answered.
+
+"I knew it was so. I felt that everybody knew all that I had been doing. I
+could almost see father and Madge and you--even the servants--reading the
+wickedness written upon my heart. I knew that I could hide it from
+nobody." Tears were very near the girl's eyes.
+
+"We cannot help thinking that our guilty consciences, through which we see
+so plainly our own evil, are transparent to all the world. In that fact
+lies an evil-doer's greatest danger," said I, preacher fashion; "but you
+need have no fear. What you have done I believe is suspected by no one
+save me."
+
+A deep sigh of relief rose from the girl's heaving breast.
+
+"Well," she began, "I will tell you all about it, and I am only too glad
+to do so. It is heavy, Malcolm, heavy on my conscience. But I would not
+be rid of it for all the kingdoms of the earth."
+
+"A moment since you told me that your conduct was good and pure and
+sacred, and now you tell me that it is heavy on your conscience. Does one
+grieve, Dorothy, for the sake of that which is good and pure and sacred?"
+
+"I cannot answer your question," she replied. "I am no priest. But this I
+know: I have done no evil, and my conscience nevertheless is sore. Solve
+me the riddle, Malcolm, if you can."
+
+"I cannot solve your riddle, Dorothy," I replied; "but I feel sure it will
+be far safer for each of us if you will tell me all that happens
+hereafter."
+
+"I am sure you are right," she responded; "but some secrets are so
+delicious that we love to suck their sweets alone. I believe, however,
+your advice is good, and I will tell you all that has happened, though I
+cannot look you in the face while doing it." She hesitated a moment, and
+her face was red with tell-tale blushes. She continued, "I have acted most
+unmaidenly."
+
+"Unmaidenly perhaps, but not unwomanly," said I.
+
+"I thank you," she said, interrupting my sentence. It probably was well
+that she did so, for I was about to add, "To act womanly often means to
+get yourself into mischief and your friends into as much trouble as
+possible." Had I finished my remark, she would not have thanked me.
+
+"Well," said the girl, beginning her laggard narrative, "after we saw--saw
+him at Overhaddon, you know, I went to the village on each of three
+days--"
+
+"Yes, I know that also," I said.
+
+"How did you--but never mind. I did not see him, and when I returned home
+I felt angry and hurt and--and--but never mind that either. One day I
+found him, and I at once rode to the well where he was standing by his
+horse. He drew water for Dolcy, but the perverse mare would not drink."
+
+"A characteristic of her sex," I muttered.
+
+"What did you say?" asked the girl.
+
+"Nothing."
+
+She continued: "He seemed constrained and distant in his manner, but I
+knew, that is, I thought--I mean I felt--oh, you know--he looked as if he
+were glad to see me and I--I, oh, God! I was so glad and happy to see him
+that I could hardly restrain myself to act at all maidenly. He must have
+heard my heart beat. I thought he was in trouble. He seemed to have
+something he wished to say to me."
+
+"He doubtless had a great deal he wished to say to you," said I, again
+tempted to futile irony.
+
+"I was sure he had something to say," the girl returned seriously. "He was
+in trouble. I knew that he was, and I longed to help him."
+
+"What trouble?" I inquired.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. I forgot to ask, but he looked troubled."
+
+"Doubtless he was troubled," I responded. "He had sufficient cause for
+trouble," I finished the sentence to myself with the words, "in you."
+
+"What was the cause of his trouble?" she hastily asked, turning her face
+toward me.
+
+"I do not know certainly," I answered in a tone of irony which should have
+pierced an oak board, while the girl listened and looked at me eagerly;
+"but I might guess."
+
+"What was it? What was it? Let me hear you guess," she asked.
+
+"You," I responded laconically.
+
+"I!" she exclaimed in surprise.
+
+"Yes, you," I responded with emphasis. "You would bring trouble to any
+man, but to Sir John Manners--well, if he intends to keep up these
+meetings with you it would be better for his peace and happiness that he
+should get him a house in hell, for he would live there more happily than
+on this earth."
+
+"That is a foolish, senseless remark, Malcolm," the girl replied, tossing
+her head with a show of anger in her eyes. "This is no time to jest." I
+suppose I could not have convinced her that I was not jesting.
+
+"At first we did not speak to each other even to say good day, but stood
+by the well in silence for a very long time. The village people were
+staring at us, and I felt that every window had a hundred faces in it, and
+every face a hundred eyes."
+
+"You imagined that," said I, "because of your guilty conscience."
+
+"Perhaps so. But it seemed to me that we stood by the well in silence a
+very long time. You see, Cousin Malcolm, I was not the one who should
+speak first. I had done more than my part in going to meet him."
+
+"Decidedly so," said I, interrupting the interesting narrative.
+
+"When I could bear the gaze of the villagers no longer, I drew up my reins
+and started to leave The Open by the north road. After Dolcy had climbed
+halfway up North Hill, which as you know overlooks the village, I turned
+my head and saw Sir John still standing by the well, resting his hand upon
+his horse's mane. He was watching me. I grew angry, and determined that he
+should follow me, even if I had to call him. So I drew Dolcy to a stand.
+Was not that bold in me? But wait, there is worse to come, Malcolm. He did
+not move, but stood like a statue looking toward me. I knew that he wanted
+to come, so after a little time I--I beckoned to him and--and then he came
+like a thunderbolt. Oh! it was delicious. I put Dolcy to a gallop, for
+when he started toward me I was frightened. Besides I did not want him to
+overtake me till we were out of the village. But when once he had started,
+he did not wait. He was as swift now as he had been slow, and my heart
+throbbed and triumphed because of his eagerness, though in truth I was
+afraid of him. Dolcy, you know, is very fleet, and when I touched her with
+the whip she soon put half a mile between me and the village. Then I
+brought her to a walk and--and he quickly overtook me.
+
+"When he came up to me he said: 'I feared to follow you, though I ardently
+wished to do so. I dreaded to tell you my name lest you should hate me.
+Sir Malcolm at The Peacock said he would not disclose to you my identity.
+I am John Manners. Our fathers are enemies.'
+
+"Then I said to him, 'That is the reason I wish to talk to you. I wished
+you to come to meet me because I wanted to tell you that I regret and
+deplore the feud between our fathers.'--'Ah, you wished me to come?' he
+asked.--'Of course I did,' I answered, 'else why should I be here?'--'No
+one regrets the feud between our houses so deeply as I,' replied Sir John.
+'I can think of nothing else by day, nor can I dream of anything else by
+night. It is the greatest cause for grief and sorrow that has ever come
+into my life.' You see, Cousin Malcolm," the girl continued, "I was right.
+His father's conduct does trouble him. Isn't he noble and broad-minded to
+see the evil of his father's ways?"
+
+I did not tell the girl that Sir John's regret for the feud between the
+houses of Manners and Vernon grew out of the fact that it separated him
+from her; nor did I tell her that he did not grieve over his "father's
+ways."
+
+I asked, "Did Sir John tell you that he grieved because of his father's
+ill-doing?"
+
+"N-o, not in set terms, but--that, of course, would have been very hard
+for him to say. I told you what he said, and there could be no other
+meaning to his words."
+
+"Of course not," I responded.
+
+"No, and I fairly longed to reach out my hand and clutch him,
+because--because I was so sorry for him."
+
+"Was sorrow your only feeling?" I asked.
+
+The girl looked at me for a moment, and her eyes filled with tears. Then
+she sobbed gently and said, "Oh, Cousin Malcolm, you are so old and so
+wise." ("Thank you," thought I, "a second Daniel come to judgment at
+thirty-five; or Solomon and Methuselah in one.") She continued: "Tell me,
+tell me, what is this terrible thing that has come upon me. I seem to be
+living in a dream. I am burning with a fever, and a heavy weight is here
+upon my breast. I cannot sleep at night. I can do nothing but long and
+yearn for--for I know not what--till at times it seems that some
+frightful, unseen monster is slowly drawing the heart out of my bosom. I
+think of--of him at all times, and I try to recall his face, and the tones
+of his voice until, Cousin Malcolm, I tell you I am almost mad. I call
+upon the Holy Virgin hour by hour to pity me; but she is pure, and cannot
+know what I feel. I hate and loathe myself. To what am I coming? Where
+will it all end? Yet I can do nothing to save myself. I am powerless
+against this terrible feeling. I cannot even resolve to resist it. It came
+upon me mildly that day at The Peacock Inn, when I first saw him, and it
+grows deeper and stronger day by day, and, alas! night by night. I seem to
+have lost myself. In some strange way I feel as if I had sunk into
+him--that he had absorbed me."
+
+"The iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain," thought I.
+
+"I believed," continued the girl, "that if he would exert his will I might
+have relief; but there again I find trouble, for I cannot bring myself to
+ask him to will it. The feeling within me is like a sore heart: painful as
+it is, I must keep it. Without it I fear I could not live."
+
+After this outburst there was a long pause during which she walked by my
+side, seemingly unconscious that I was near her. I had known for some time
+that Dorothy was interested in Manners; but I was not prepared to see such
+a volcano of passion. I need not descant upon the evils and dangers of the
+situation. The thought that first came to me was that Sir George would
+surely kill his daughter before he would allow her to marry a son of
+Rutland. I was revolving in my mind how I should set about to mend the
+matter when Dorothy again spoke.
+
+"Tell me, Cousin Malcolm, can a man throw a spell over a woman and bewitch
+her?"
+
+"I do not know. I have never heard of a man witch," I responded.
+
+"No?" asked the girl.
+
+"But," I continued, "I do know that a woman may bewitch a man. John
+Manners, I doubt not, could also testify knowingly on the subject by this
+time."
+
+"Oh, do you think he is bewitched?" cried Dorothy, grasping my arm and
+looking eagerly into my face. "If I could bewitch him, I would do it. I
+would deal with the devil gladly to learn the art. I would not care for my
+soul. I do not fear the future. The present is a thousand-fold dearer to
+me than either the past or the future. I care not what comes hereafter. I
+want him now. Ah, Malcolm, pity my shame."
+
+She covered her face with her hands, and after a moment continued: "I am
+not myself. I belong not to myself. But if I knew that he also suffers, I
+do believe my pain would be less."
+
+"I think you may set your heart at rest upon that point," I answered. "He,
+doubtless, also suffers."
+
+"I hope so," she responded, unconscious of the selfish wish she had
+expressed. "If he does not, I know not what will be my fate."
+
+I saw that I had made a mistake in assuring her that John also suffered,
+and I determined to correct it later on, if possible.
+
+Dorothy was silent, and I said, "You have not told me about the golden
+heart."
+
+"I will tell you," she answered. "We rode for two hours or more, and
+talked of the weather and the scenery, until there was nothing more to be
+said concerning either. Then Sir John told me of the court in London,
+where he has always lived, and of the queen whose hair, he says, is red,
+but not at all like mine. I wondered if he would speak of the beauty of my
+hair, but he did not. He only looked at it. Then he told me about the
+Scottish queen whom he once met when he was on an embassy to Edinburgh. He
+described her marvellous beauty, and I believe he sympathizes with her
+cause--that is, with her cause in Scotland. He says she has no good cause
+in England. He is true to our queen. Well--well he talked so interestingly
+that I could have listened a whole month--yes, all my life."
+
+"I suppose you could," I said.
+
+"Yes," she continued, "but I could not remain longer from home, and when I
+left him he asked me to accept a keepsake which had belonged to his
+mother, as a token that there should be no feud between him and me." And
+she drew from her bosom a golden heart studded with diamonds and pierced
+by a white silver arrow.
+
+"I, of course, accepted it, then we said 'good-by,' and I put Dolcy to a
+gallop that she might speedily take me out of temptation."
+
+"Have you ridden to Overhaddon for the purpose of seeing Manners many
+times since he gave you the heart?" I queried.
+
+"What would you call 'many times'?" she asked, drooping her head.
+
+"Every day?" I said interrogatively. She nodded. "Yes. But I have seen
+him only once since the day when he gave me the heart."
+
+Nothing I could say would do justice to the subject, so I remained silent.
+
+"But you have not yet told me how your father came to know of the golden
+heart," I said.
+
+"It was this way: One morning while I was looking at the heart, father
+came upon me suddenly before I could conceal it. He asked me to tell him
+how I came by the jewel, and in my fright and confusion I could think of
+nothing else to say, so I told him you had given it to me. He promised not
+to speak to you about the heart, but he did not keep his word. He seemed
+pleased."
+
+"Doubtless he was pleased," said I, hoping to lead up to the subject so
+near to Sir George's heart, but now farther than ever from mine.
+
+The girl unsuspectingly helped me.
+
+"Father asked if you had spoken upon a subject of great interest to him
+and to yourself, and I told him you had not. 'When he does speak,' said
+father most kindly, 'I want you to grant his request'--and I will grant
+it, Cousin Malcolm." She looked in my face and continued: "I will grant
+your request, whatever it may be. You are the dearest friend I have in the
+world, and mine is the most loving and lovable father that girl ever had.
+It almost breaks my heart when I think of his suffering should he learn of
+what I have done--that which I just told to you." She walked beside me
+meditatively for a moment and said, "To-morrow I will return Sir John's
+gift and I will never see him again."
+
+I felt sure that by to-morrow she would have repented of her repentance;
+but I soon discovered that I had given her much more time than she needed
+to perform that trifling feminine gymnastic, for with the next breath she
+said:--
+
+"I have no means of returning the heart. I must see him once more and I
+will give--give it--it--back to--to him, and will tell him that I can see
+him never again." She scarcely had sufficient resolution to finish telling
+her intention. Whence, then, would come the will to put it in action?
+Forty thieves could not have stolen the heart from her, though she thought
+she was honest when she said she would take it to him.
+
+"Dorothy," said I, seriously but kindly, "have you and Sir John spoken
+of--"
+
+She evidently knew that I meant to say "of love," for she interrupted me.
+
+"N-o, but surely he knows. And I--I think--at least I hope with all my
+heart that--"
+
+"I will take the heart to Sir John," said I, interrupting her angrily,
+"and you need not see him again. He has acted like a fool and a knave. He
+is a villain, Dorothy, and I will tell him as much in the most emphatic
+terms I have at my command."
+
+"Dare you speak against him or to him upon the subject!" she exclaimed,
+her eyes blazing with anger; "you--you asked for my confidence and I gave
+it. You said I might trust you and I did so, and now you show me that I am
+a fool indeed. Traitor!"
+
+"My dear cousin," said I, seeing that she spoke the truth in charging me
+with bad faith, "your secret is safe with me. I swear it by my knighthood.
+You may trust me. I spoke in anger. But Sir John has acted badly. That you
+cannot gainsay. You, too, have done great evil. That also you cannot
+gainsay."
+
+"No," said the girl, dejectedly, "I cannot deny it; but the greatest evil
+is yet to come."
+
+"You must do something," I continued. "You must take some decisive step
+that will break this connection, and you must take the step at once if you
+would save yourself from the frightful evil that is in store for you.
+Forgive me for what I said, sweet cousin. My angry words sprang from my
+love for you and my fear for your future."
+
+No girl's heart was more tender to the influence of kindness than
+Dorothy's. No heart was more obdurate to unkindness or peremptory command.
+
+My words softened her at once, and she tried to smother the anger I had
+aroused. But she did not entirely succeed, and a spark remained which in a
+moment or two created a disastrous conflagration. You shall hear.
+
+She walked by my side in silence for a little time, and then spoke in a
+low, slightly sullen tone which told of her effort to smother her
+resentment.
+
+"I do trust you, Cousin Malcolm. What is it that you wish to ask of me?
+Your request is granted before it is made."
+
+"Do not be too sure of that, Dorothy," I replied. "It is a request your
+father ardently desires me to make, and I do not know how to speak to you
+concerning the subject in the way I wish."
+
+I could not ask her to marry me, and tell her with the same breath that I
+did not want her for my wife. I felt I must wait for a further opportunity
+to say that I spoke only because her father had required me to do so, and
+that circumstances forced me to put the burden of refusal upon her. I well
+knew that she would refuse me, and then I intended to explain.
+
+"Why, what is it all about?" asked the girl in surprise, suspecting, I
+believe, what was to follow.
+
+"It is this: your father is anxious that his vast estates shall not pass
+out of the family name, and he wishes you to be my wife, so that your
+children may bear the loved name of Vernon."
+
+I could not have chosen a more inauspicious time to speak. She looked at
+me for an instant in surprise, turning to scorn. Then she spoke in tones
+of withering contempt.
+
+"Tell my father that I shall never bear a child by the name of Vernon. I
+would rather go barren to my grave. Ah! that is why Sir John Manners is a
+villain? That is why a decisive step should be taken? That is why you come
+to my father's house a-fortune-hunting? After you have squandered your
+patrimony and have spent a dissolute youth in profligacy, after the women
+of the class you have known will have no more of you but choose younger
+men, you who are old enough to be my father come here and seek your
+fortune, as your father sought his, by marriage. I do not believe that my
+father wishes me to--to marry you. You have wheedled him into giving his
+consent when he was in his cups. But even if he wished it with all his
+heart, I would not marry you." Then she turned and walked rapidly toward
+the Hall.
+
+Her fierce words angered me; for in the light of my real intentions her
+scorn was uncalled for, and her language was insulting beyond endurance.
+For a moment or two the hot blood rushed to my brain and rendered me
+incapable of intelligent thought. But as Dorothy walked from me I realized
+that something must be done at once to put myself right with her. When my
+fit of temper had cooled, and when I considered that the girl did not know
+my real intentions, I could not help acknowledging that in view of all
+that had just passed between us concerning Sir John Manners, and, in fact,
+in view of all that she had seen and could see, her anger was justifiable.
+
+I called to her: "Dorothy, wait a moment. You have not heard all I have to
+say."
+
+She hastened her pace. A few rapid strides brought me to her side. I was
+provoked, not at her words, for they were almost justifiable, but because
+she would not stop to hear me. I grasped her rudely by the arm and
+said:--
+
+"Listen till I have finished."
+
+"I will not," she answered viciously. "Do not touch me."
+
+I still held her by the arm and said: "I do not wish to marry you. I spoke
+only because your father desired me to do so, and because my refusal to
+speak would have offended him beyond any power of mine to make amends. I
+could not tell you that I did not wish you for my wife until you had given
+me an opportunity. I was forced to throw the burden of refusal upon you."
+
+"That is but a ruse--a transparent, flimsy ruse," responded the stubborn,
+angry girl, endeavoring to draw her arm from my grasp.
+
+"It is not a ruse," I answered. "If you will listen to me and will help me
+by acting as I suggest, we may between us bring your father to our way of
+thinking, and I may still be able to retain his friendship."
+
+"What is your great plan?" asked Dorothy, in a voice such as one might
+expect to hear from a piece of ice.
+
+"I have formed no plan as yet," I replied, "although I have thought of
+several. Until we can determine upon one, I suggest that you permit me to
+say to your father that I have asked you to be my wife, and that the
+subject has come upon you so suddenly that you wish a short time,--a
+fortnight or a month--in which to consider your answer."
+
+"That is but a ruse, I say, to gain time," she answered contemptuously. "I
+do not wish one moment in which to consider. You already have my answer. I
+should think you had had enough. Do you desire more of the same sort? A
+little of such treatment should go a long way with a man possessed of one
+spark of honor or self-respect."
+
+Her language would have angered a sheep.
+
+"If you will not listen to me," I answered, thoroughly aroused and
+careless of consequences, "go to your father. Tell him I asked you to be
+my wife, and that you scorned my suit. Then take the consequences. He has
+always been gentle and tender to you because there has been no conflict.
+Cross his desires, and you will learn a fact of which you have never
+dreamed. You have seen the manner in which he treats others who oppose
+him. You will learn that with you, too, he can be one of the cruelest and
+most violent of men."
+
+"You slander my father. I will go to him as you advise and will tell him
+that I would not marry you if you wore the English crown. I, myself, will
+tell him of my meeting with Sir John Manners rather than allow you the
+pleasure of doing so. He will be angry, but he will pity me."
+
+"For God's sake, Dorothy, do not tell your father of your meetings at
+Overhaddon. He would kill you. Have you lived in the same house with him
+all these years and do you not better know his character than to think
+that you may go to him with the tale you have just told me, and that he
+will forgive you? Feel as you will toward me, but believe me when I swear
+to you by my knighthood that I will betray to no person what you have this
+day divulged to me."
+
+Dorothy made no reply, but turned from me and rapidly walked toward the
+Hall. I followed at a short distance, and all my anger was displaced by
+fear for her. When we reached the Hall she quickly sought her father and
+approached him in her old free manner, full of confidence in her influence
+over him.
+
+"Father, this man"--waving her hand toward me--"has come to Haddon Hall
+a-fortune-hunting. He has asked me to be his wife, and says you wish me to
+accept him."
+
+"Yes, Doll, I certainly wish it with all my heart," returned Sir George,
+affectionately, taking his daughter's hand.
+
+"Then you need wish it no longer, for I will not marry him."
+
+"What?" demanded her father, springing to his feet.
+
+"I will not. I will not. I will not."
+
+"You will if I command you to do so, you damned insolent wench," answered
+Sir George, hoarsely. Dorothy's eyes opened in wonder.
+
+"Do not deceive yourself, father, for one moment," she retorted
+contemptuously. "He has come here in sheep's clothing and has adroitly
+laid his plans to convince you that I should marry him, but--"
+
+"He has done nothing of the sort," answered Sir George, growing more angry
+every moment, but endeavoring to be calm. "Nothing of the sort. Many years
+ago I spoke to him on this subject, which is very dear to my heart. The
+project has been dear to me ever since you were a child. When I again
+broached it to Malcolm a fortnight or more since I feared from his manner
+that he was averse to the scheme. I had tried several times to speak to
+him about it, but he warded me off, and when I did speak, I feared that he
+was not inclined to it."
+
+"Yes," interrupted the headstrong girl, apparently bent upon destroying
+both of us. "He pretended that he did not wish to marry me. He said he
+wished me to give a sham consent for the purpose of gaining time till we
+might hit upon some plan by which we could change your mind. He said he
+had no desire nor intention to marry me. It was but a poor, lame ruse on
+his part."
+
+During Dorothy's recital Sir George turned his face from her to me. When
+she had finished speaking, he looked at me for a moment and said:--
+
+"Does my daughter speak the truth? Did you say--"
+
+"Yes," I promptly replied, "I have no intention of marrying your
+daughter." Then hoping to place myself before Sir George in a better
+light, I continued: "I could not accept the hand of a lady against her
+will. I told you as much when we conversed on the subject."
+
+"What?" exclaimed Sir George, furious with anger. "You too? You whom I
+have befriended?"
+
+"I told you, Sir George, I would not marry Dorothy without her free
+consent. No gentleman of honor would accept the enforced compliance of a
+woman."
+
+"But Doll says that you told her you had no intention of marrying her even
+should she consent," replied Sir George.
+
+"I don't know that I spoke those exact words," I replied, "but you may
+consider them said."
+
+"You damned, ungrateful, treacherous hound!" stormed Sir George. "You
+listened to me when I offered you my daughter's hand, and you pretended to
+consent without at the time having any intention of doing so."
+
+"That, I suppose, is true, Sir George," said I, making a masterful effort
+against anger. "That is true, for I knew that Dorothy would not consent;
+and had I been inclined to the marriage, I repeat, I would marry no woman
+against her will. No gentleman would do it."
+
+My remark threw Sir George into a paroxysm of rage.
+
+"I did it, you cur, you dog, you--you traitorous, ungrateful--I did it."
+
+"Then, Sir George," said I, interrupting him, for I was no longer able to
+restrain my anger, "you were a cowardly poltroon."
+
+"This to me in my house!" he cried, grasping a chair with which to strike
+me. Dorothy came between us.
+
+"Yes," said I, "and as much more as you wish to hear." I stood my ground,
+and Sir George put down the chair.
+
+"Leave my house at once," he said in a whisper of rage.
+
+"If you are on my premises in one hour from now I will have you flogged
+from my door by the butcher."
+
+"What have I done?" cried Dorothy. "What have I done?"
+
+"Your regrets come late, Mistress Vernon," said I.
+
+"She shall have more to regret," said Sir George, sullenly. "Go to your
+room, you brazen, disobedient huzzy, and if you leave it without my
+permission, by God, I will have you whipped till you bleed. I will teach
+you to say 'I won't' when I say 'you shall.' God curse my soul, if I don't
+make you repent this day!"
+
+As I left the room Dorothy was in tears, and Sir George was walking the
+floor in a towering rage. The girl had learned that I was right in what I
+had told her concerning her father's violent temper.
+
+I went at once to my room in Eagle Tower and collected my few belongings
+in a bundle. Pitifully small it was, I tell you.
+
+Where I should go I knew not, and where I should remain I knew even less,
+for my purse held only a few shillings--the remnant of the money Queen
+Mary had sent to me by the hand of Sir Thomas Douglas. England was as
+unsafe for me as Scotland; but how I might travel to France without money,
+and how I might without a pass evade Elizabeth's officers who guarded
+every English port, even were I supplied with gold, were problems for
+which I had no solution.
+
+There were but two persons in Haddon Hall to whom I cared to say farewell.
+They were Lady Madge and Will Dawson. The latter was a Scot, and was
+attached to the cause of Queen Mary. He and I had become friends, and on
+several occasions we had talked confidentially over Mary's sad plight.
+
+When my bundle was packed, I sought Madge and found her in the gallery
+near the foot of the great staircase. She knew my step and rose to greet
+me with a bright smile.
+
+"I have come to say good-by to you, Cousin Madge," said I. The smile
+vanished from her face.
+
+"You are not going to leave Haddon Hall?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, and forever," I responded. "Sir George has ordered me to go."
+
+"No, no," she exclaimed. "I cannot believe it. I supposed that you and my
+uncle were friends. What has happened? Tell me if you can--if you wish.
+Let me touch your hand," and as she held out her hands, I gladly grasped
+them.
+
+I have never seen anything more beautiful than Madge Stanley's hands. They
+were not small, but their shape, from the fair, round forearm and wrist to
+the ends of the fingers was worthy of a sculptor's dream. Beyond their
+physical beauty there was an expression in them which would have belonged
+to her eyes had she possessed the sense of sight. The flood of her vital
+energy had for so many years been directed toward her hands as a
+substitute for her lost eyesight that their sensitiveness showed itself
+not only in an infinite variety of delicate gestures and movements,
+changing with her changing moods, but they had an expression of their own,
+such as we look for in the eyes. I had gazed upon her hands so often, and
+had studied so carefully their varying expression, discernible both to my
+sight and to my touch, that I could read her mind through them as we read
+the emotions of others through the countenance. The "feel" of her hands,
+if I may use the word, I can in no way describe. Its effect on me was
+magical. The happiest moments I have ever known were those when I held the
+fair blind girl by the hand and strolled upon the great terrace or
+followed the babbling winding course of dear old Wye, and drank in the
+elixir of all that is good and pure from the cup of her sweet, unconscious
+influence.
+
+Madge, too, had found happiness in our strolling. She had also found
+health and strength, and, marvellous to say, there had come to her a
+slight improvement in vision. She had always been able to distinguish
+sunlight from darkness, but with renewed strength had come the power dimly
+to discern dark objects in a strong light, and even that small change for
+the better had brought unspeakable gladness to her heart. She said she
+owed it all to me. A faint pink had spread itself in her cheeks and a
+plumpness had been imparted to her form which gave to her ethereal beauty
+a touch of the material. Nor was this to be regretted, for no man can
+adequately make love to a woman who has too much of the angel in her. You
+must not think, however, that I had been making love to Madge. On the
+contrary, I again say, the thought had never entered my mind. Neither at
+that time had I even suspected that she would listen to me upon the great
+theme. I had in my self-analysis assigned many reasons other than love for
+my tenderness toward her; but when I was about to depart, and she
+impulsively gave me her hands, I, believing that I was grasping them for
+the last time, felt the conviction come upon me that she was dearer to me
+than all else in life.
+
+"Do you want to tell me why my uncle has driven you from Haddon?" she
+asked.
+
+"He wished me to ask Dorothy to be my wife," I returned.
+
+"And you?" she queried.
+
+"I did so."
+
+Instantly the girl withdrew her hands from mine and stepped back from me.
+Then I had another revelation. I knew what she meant and felt. Her hands
+told me all, even had there been no expression in her movement and in her
+face.
+
+"Dorothy refused," I continued, "and her father desired to force her into
+compliance. I would not be a party to the transaction, and Sir George
+ordered me to leave his house."
+
+After a moment of painful silence Madge said:--"I do not wonder that you
+should wish to marry Dorothy. She--she must be very beautiful."
+
+"I do not wish to marry Dorothy," said I. I heard a slight noise back of
+me, but gave it no heed. "And I should not have married her had she
+consented. I knew that Dorothy would refuse me, therefore I promised Sir
+George that I would ask her to be my wife. Sir George had always been my
+friend, and should I refuse to comply with his wishes, I well knew he
+would be my enemy. He is bitterly angry against me now; but when he
+becomes calm, he will see wherein he has wronged me. I asked Dorothy to
+help me, but she would not listen to my plan."
+
+"--and now she begs your forgiveness," cried Dorothy, as she ran weeping
+to me, and took my hand most humbly.
+
+"Dorothy! Dorothy!" I exclaimed.
+
+"What frightful evil have I brought upon you?" said she. "Where can you
+go? What will you do?"
+
+"I know not," I answered. "I shall probably go to the Tower of London when
+Queen Elizabeth's officers learn of my quarrel with Sir George. But I will
+try to escape to France."
+
+"Have you money?" asked Madge, tightly holding one of my hands.
+
+"A small sum," I answered.
+
+"How much have you? Tell me. Tell me how much have you," insisted Madge,
+clinging to my hand and speaking with a force that would brook no refusal.
+
+"A very little sum, I am sorry to say; only a few shillings," I
+responded.
+
+She quickly withdrew her hand from mine and began to remove the baubles
+from her ears and the brooch from her throat. Then she nervously stripped
+the rings from her fingers and held out the little handful of jewels
+toward me, groping for my hands.
+
+"Take these, Malcolm. Take these, and wait here till I return." She turned
+toward the staircase, but in her confusion she missed it, and before I
+could reach her, she struck against the great newel post.
+
+"God pity me," she said, as I took her hand. "I wish I were dead. Please
+lead me to the staircase, Cousin Malcolm. Thank you."
+
+She was weeping gently when she started up the steps, and I knew that she
+was going to fetch me her little treasure of gold.
+
+Madge held up the skirt of her gown with one hand while she grasped the
+banister with the other. She was halfway up when Dorothy, whose generous
+impulses needed only to be prompted, ran nimbly and was about to pass her
+on the staircase when Madge grasped her gown.
+
+"Please don't, Dorothy. Please do not. I beg you, do not forestall me. Let
+me do this. Let me. You have all else to make you happy. Don't take this
+from me only because you can see and can walk faster than I."
+
+Dorothy did not stop, but hurried past her. Madge sank upon the steps and
+covered her face with her hands. Then she came gropingly back to me just
+as Dorothy returned.
+
+"Take these, Cousin Malcolm," cried Dorothy. "Here are a few stones of
+great value. They belonged to my mother."
+
+Madge was sitting dejectedly upon the lowest step of the staircase.
+Dorothy held her jewel-box toward me, and in the midst of the diamonds and
+gold I saw the heart John Manners had given her. I did not take the box.
+
+"Do you offer me this, too--even this?" I said, lifting the heart from the
+box by its chain.--"Yes, yes," cried Dorothy, "even that, gladly, gladly."
+I replaced it in the box.
+
+Then spoke Madge, while she tried to check the falling tears:--"Dorothy,
+you are a cruel, selfish girl."
+
+"Oh, Madge," cried Dorothy, stepping to her side and taking her hand. "How
+can you speak so unkindly to me?"
+
+"You have everything good," interrupted Madge. "You have beauty, wealth,
+eyesight, and yet you would not leave to me the joy of helping him. I
+could not see, and you hurried past me that you might be first to give him
+the help of which I was the first to think."
+
+Dorothy was surprised at the outburst from Madge, and kneeled by her side.
+
+"We may both help Cousin Malcolm," she said.
+
+"No, no," responded Madge, angrily. "Your jewels are more than enough. He
+would have no need of my poor offering."
+
+I took Madge's hand and said, "I shall accept help from no one but you,
+Madge; from no one but you."
+
+"I will go to our rooms for your box," said Dorothy, who had begun to see
+the trouble. "I will fetch it for you."
+
+"No, I will fetch it," answered Madge. She arose, and I led her to the
+foot of the staircase. When she returned she held in her hands a purse and
+a little box of jewels. These she offered to me, but I took only the
+purse, saying: "I accept the purse. It contains more money than I shall
+need. From its weight I should say there are twenty gold pounds sterling."
+
+"Twenty-five," answered Madge. "I have saved them, believing that the
+time might come when they would be of great use to me. I did not know the
+joy I was saving for myself."
+
+Tears came to my eyes, and Dorothy wept silently.
+
+"Will you not take the jewels also?" asked Madge.
+
+"No," I responded; "the purse will more than pay my expenses to France,
+where I have wealthy relatives. There I may have my mother's estate for
+the asking, and I can repay you the gold. I can never repay your
+kindness."
+
+"I hope you will never offer to repay the gold," said Madge.
+
+"I will not," I gladly answered.
+
+"As to the kindness," she said, "you have paid me in advance for that
+many, many times over."
+
+I then said farewell, promising to send letters telling of my fortune. As
+I was leaving I bent forward and kissed Madge upon the forehead, while she
+gently pressed my hand, but did not speak a word.
+
+"Cousin Malcolm," said Dorothy, who held my other hand, "you are a strong,
+gentle, noble man, and I want you to say that you forgive me."
+
+"I do forgive you, Dorothy, from my heart. I could not blame you if I
+wished to do so, for you did not know what you were doing."
+
+"Not to know is sometimes the greatest of sins," answered Dorothy. I bent
+forward to kiss her cheek in token of my full forgiveness, but she gave me
+her lips and said: "I shall never again be guilty of not knowing that you
+are good and true and noble, Cousin Malcolm, and I shall never again doubt
+your wisdom or your good faith when you speak to me." She did doubt me
+afterward, but I fear her doubt was with good cause. I shall tell you of
+it in the proper place.
+
+Then I forced myself to leave my fair friends and went to the gateway
+under Eagle Tower, where I found Will Dawson waiting for me with my horse.
+
+"Sir George ordered me to bring your horse," said Will. "He seemed much
+excited. Has anything disagreeable happened? Are you leaving us? I see you
+wear your steel cap and breastplate and are carrying your bundle."
+
+"Yes, Will, your master has quarrelled with me and I must leave his
+house."
+
+"But where do you go, Sir Malcolm? You remember that of which we talked?
+In England no place but Haddon Hall will be safe for you, and the ports
+are so closely guarded that you will certainly be arrested if you try to
+sail for France."
+
+"I know all that only too well, Will. But I must go, and I will try to
+escape to France. If you wish to communicate with me, I may be found by
+addressing a letter in care of the Duc de Guise."
+
+"If I can ever be of help to you," said Will, "personally, or in that
+other matter, Queen Mary, you understand,--you have only to call on me."
+
+"I thank you, Will," I returned, "I shall probably accept your kind offer
+sooner than you anticipate. Do you know Jennie Faxton, the ferrier's
+daughter?"
+
+"I do," he responded.
+
+"I believe she may be trusted," I said.
+
+"Indeed, I believe she is true as any steel in her father's shop," Will
+responded.
+
+"Good-by, Will, you may hear from me soon."
+
+I mounted and rode back of the terrace, taking my way along the Wye toward
+Rowsley. When I turned and looked back, I saw Dorothy standing upon the
+terrace. By her side, dressed in white, stood Madge. Her hand was covering
+her eyes. A step or two below them on the terrace staircase stood Will
+Dawson. They were three stanch friends, although one of them had brought
+my troubles upon me. After all, I was leaving Haddon Hall well garrisoned.
+My heart also was well garrisoned with a faithful troop of pain. But I
+shall write no more of that time. It was too full of bitterness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE
+
+
+I rode down the Wye to Rowsley, and by the will of my horse rather than by
+any intention of my own took the road up through Lathkil Dale. I had
+determined if possible to reach the city of Chester, and thence to ride
+down into Wales, hoping to find on the rough Welsh coast a fishing boat or
+a smuggler's craft that would carry me to France. In truth, I cared little
+whether I went to the Tower or to France, since in either case I felt that
+I had looked my last upon Haddon Hall, and had spoken farewell to the only
+person in all the world for whom I really cared. My ride from Haddon gave
+me time for deliberate thought, and I fully agreed with myself upon two
+propositions. First, I became thoroughly conscious of my real feeling
+toward Madge, and secondly, I was convinced that her kindness and her
+peculiar attitude toward me when I parted from her were but the promptings
+of a tender heart stirred by pity for my unfortunate situation, rather
+than what I thought when I said farewell to her. The sweet Wye and the
+beautiful Lathkil whispered to me as I rode beside their banks, but in
+their murmurings I heard only the music of her voice. The sun shone
+brightly, but its blessed light only served to remind me of the beautiful
+girl whom I had left in darkness. The light were worthless to me if I
+could not share it with her. What a mooning lout was I!
+
+All my life I had been a philosopher, and as I rode from Haddon, beneath
+all my gloominess there ran a current of amusement which brought to my
+lips an ill-formed, half-born laugh when I thought of the plight and
+condition in which I, by candid self-communion, found myself. Five years
+before that time I had left France, and had cast behind me all the fair
+possibilities for noble achievement which were offered to me in that land,
+that I might follow the fortunes of a woman whom I thought I loved. Before
+my exile from her side I had begun to fear that my idol was but a thing of
+stone; and now that I had learned to know myself, and to see her as she
+really was, I realized that I had been worshipping naught but clay for lo,
+these many years. There was only this consolation in the thought for me:
+every man at some time in his life is a fool--made such by a woman. It is
+given to but few men to have for their fool-maker the rightful queen of
+three kingdoms. All that was left to me of my life of devotion was a
+shame-faced pride in the quality of my fool-maker. "Then," thought I, "I
+have at last turned to be my own fool-maker." But I suppose it had been
+written in the book of fate that I should ride from Haddon a lovelorn
+youth of thirty-five, and I certainly was fulfilling my destiny to the
+letter.
+
+I continued to ride up the Lathkil until I came to a fork in the road. One
+branch led to the northwest, the other toward the southwest. I was at a
+loss which direction to take, and I left the choice to my horse, in whose
+wisdom and judgement I had more confidence than in my own. My horse,
+refusing the responsibility, stopped. So there we stood like an equestrian
+statue arguing with itself until I saw a horseman riding toward me from
+the direction of Overhaddon. When he approached I recognized Sir John
+Manners. He looked as woebegone as I felt, and I could not help laughing
+at the pair of us, for I knew that his trouble was akin to mine. The pain
+of love is ludicrous to all save those who feel it. Even to them it is
+laughable in others. A love-full heart has no room for that sort of
+charity which pities for kinship's sake.
+
+"What is the trouble with you, Sir John, that you look so downcast?" said
+I, offering my hand.
+
+"Ah," he answered, forcing a poor look of cheerfulness into his face, "Sir
+Malcolm, I am glad to see you. Do I look downcast?"
+
+"As forlorn as a lover who has missed seeing his sweetheart," I responded,
+guessing the cause of Sir John's despondency.
+
+"I have no sweetheart, therefore missing her could not have made me
+downcast," he replied.
+
+"So you really did miss her?" I queried. "She was detained at Haddon Hall,
+Sir John, to bid me farewell."
+
+"I do not understand--" began Sir John, growing cold in his bearing.
+
+"I understand quite well," I answered. "Dorothy told me all to-day. You
+need keep nothing from me. The golden heart brought her into trouble, and
+made mischief for me of which I cannot see the end. I will tell you the
+story while we ride. I am seeking my way to Chester, that I may, if
+possible, sail for France. This fork in the road has brought me to a
+standstill, and my horse refuses to decide which route we shall take.
+Perhaps you will direct us."
+
+"Gladly. The road to the southwest--the one I shall take--is the most
+direct route to Chester. But tell me, how comes it that you are leaving
+Haddon Hall? I thought you had gone there to marry-" He stopped speaking,
+and a smile stole into his eyes.
+
+"Let us ride forward together, and I will tell you about it," said I.
+
+While we travelled I told Sir John the circumstances of my departure from
+Haddon Hall, concealing nothing save that which touched Madge Stanley. I
+then spoke of my dangerous position in England, and told him of my great
+desire to reach my mother's people in France.
+
+"You will find difficulty and danger in escaping to France at this time,"
+said Sir John, "the guard at the ports is very strong and strict, and your
+greatest risk will be at the moment when you try to embark without a
+passport."
+
+"That is true," I responded; "but I know of nothing else that I can do."
+
+"Come with me to Rutland Castle," said Sir John. "You may there find
+refuge until such time as you can go to France. I will gladly furnish you
+money which you may repay at your pleasure, and I may soon be able to
+procure a passport for you."
+
+I thanked him, but said I did not see my way clear to accept his kind
+offer.
+
+"You are unknown in the neighborhood of Rutland," he continued, "and you
+may easily remain incognito." Although his offer was greatly to my liking,
+I suggested several objections, chief among which was the distaste Lord
+Rutland might feel toward one of my name. I would not, of course, consent
+that my identity should be concealed from him. But to be brief--an almost
+impossible achievement for me, it seems--Sir John assured me of his
+father's welcome, and it was arranged between us that I should take my
+baptismal name, François de Lorraine, and passing for a French gentleman
+on a visit to England, should go to Rutland with my friend. So it happened
+through the strange workings of fate that I found help and refuge under my
+enemy's roof-tree.
+
+Kind old Lord Rutland welcomed me, as his son had foretold, and I was
+convinced ere I had passed an hour under his roof that the feud between
+him and Sir George was of the latter's brewing.
+
+The happenings in Haddon Hall while I lived at Rutland I knew, of course,
+only by the mouth of others; but for convenience in telling I shall speak
+of them as if I had seen and heard all that took place. I may now say once
+for all that I shall take that liberty throughout this entire history.
+
+On the morning of the day after my departure from Haddon, Jennie Faxton
+went to visit Dorothy and gave her a piece of information, small in
+itself, but large in its effect upon that ardent young lady. Will
+Fletcher, the arrow-maker at Overhaddon, had observed Dorothy's movements
+in connection with Manners; and although Fletcher did not know who Sir
+John was, that fact added to his curiosity and righteous indignation.
+
+"It do be right that some one should tell the King of the Peak as how his
+daughter is carrying on with a young man who does come here every day or
+two to meet her, and I do intend to tell Sir George if she put not a stop
+to it," said Fletcher to some of his gossips in Yulegrave churchyard one
+Sunday afternoon.
+
+Dorothy notified John, Jennie being the messenger, of Will's observations,
+visual and verbal, and designated another place for meeting,--the gate
+east of Bowling Green Hill. This gate was part of a wall on the east side
+of the Haddon estates adjoining the lands of the house of Devonshire which
+lay to the eastward. It was a secluded spot in the heart of the forest
+half a mile distant from Haddon Hall.
+
+Sir George, for a fortnight or more after my disappearance, enforced his
+decree of imprisonment against Dorothy, and she, being unable to leave the
+Hall, could not go to Bowling Green Gate to meet Sir John. Before I had
+learned of the new trysting-place John had ridden thither several evenings
+to meet Dorothy, but had found only Jennie bearing her mistress's excuses.
+I supposed his journeyings had been to Overhaddon; but I did not press his
+confidence, nor did he give it.
+
+Sir George's treatment of Dorothy had taught her that the citadel of her
+father's wrath could be stormed only by gentleness, and an opportunity was
+soon presented in which she used that effective engine of feminine warfare
+to her great advantage.
+
+As I have told you, Sir George was very rich. No man, either noble or
+gentle, in Derbyshire or in any of the adjoining counties, possessed so
+great an estate or so beautiful a hall as did he. In France we would have
+called Haddon Hall a grand château.
+
+Sir George's deceased wife had been a sister to the Earl of Derby, who
+lived at the time of which I am now writing. The earl had a son, James,
+who was heir to the title and to the estates of his father. The son was a
+dissipated, rustic clown--almost a simpleton. He had the vulgarity of a
+stable boy and the vices of a courtier. His associates were chosen from
+the ranks of gamesters, ruffians, and tavern maids. Still, he was a scion
+of one of the greatest families of England's nobility.
+
+After Sir George's trouble with Dorothy, growing out of his desire that I
+should wed her, the King of the Peak had begun to feel that in his
+beautiful daughter he had upon his hands a commodity that might at any
+time cause him trouble. He therefore determined to marry her to some
+eligible gentleman as quickly as possible, and to place the heavy
+responsibility of managing her in the hands of a husband. The stubborn
+violence of Sir George's nature, the rough side of which had never before
+been shown to Dorothy, in her became adroit wilfulness of a quality that
+no masculine mind may compass. But her life had been so entirely
+undisturbed by opposing influences that her father, firm in the belief
+that no one in his household would dare to thwart his will, had remained
+in dangerous ignorance of the latent trouble which pervaded his daughter
+from the soles of her shapely feet to the top of her glory-crowned head.
+
+Sir George, in casting about for a son-in-law, had hit upon the heir to
+the house of Derby as a suitable match for his child, and had entered into
+an alliance offensive and defensive with the earl against the common
+enemy, Dorothy. The two fathers had partly agreed that the heir to Derby
+should wed the heiress of Haddon. The heir, although he had never seen his
+cousin except when she was a plain, unattractive girl, was entirely
+willing for the match, but the heiress--well, she had not been consulted,
+and everybody connected with the affair instinctively knew there would be
+trouble in that quarter. Sir George, however, had determined that Dorothy
+should do her part in case the contract of marriage should be agreed upon
+between the heads of the houses. He had fully resolved to assert the
+majesty of the law vested in him as a father and to compel Dorothy to do
+his bidding, if there were efficacy in force and chastisement. At the time
+when Sir George spoke to Dorothy about the Derby marriage, she had been a
+prisoner for a fortnight or more, and had learned that her only hope
+against her father lay in cunning. So she wept, and begged for time in
+which to consider the answer she would give to Lord Derby's request. She
+begged for two months, or even one month, in which to bring herself to
+accede to her father's commands.
+
+"You have always been so kind and good to me, father, that I shall try to
+obey if you and the earl eventually agree upon terms," she said tearfully,
+having no intention whatever of trying to do anything but disobey.
+
+"Try!" stormed Sir George. "Try to obey me! By God, girl, I say you shall
+obey!"
+
+"Oh, father, I am so young. I have not seen my cousin for years. I do not
+want to leave you, and I have never thought twice of any man. Do not drive
+me from you."
+
+Sir George, eager to crush in the outset any disposition to oppose his
+will, grew violent and threatened his daughter with dire punishment if she
+were not docile and obedient.
+
+Then said rare Dorothy:--
+
+"It would indeed be a great match." Greater than ever will happen, she
+thought. "I should be a countess." She strutted across the room with head
+up and with dilating nostrils. The truth was, she desired to gain her
+liberty once more that she might go to John, and was ready to promise
+anything to achieve that end. "What sort of a countess would I make,
+father?"
+
+"A glorious countess, Doll, a glorious countess," said her father,
+laughing. "You are a good girl to obey me so readily."
+
+"Oh, but I have not obeyed you yet," returned Dorothy, fearing that her
+father might be suspicious of a too ready acquiescence.
+
+"But you will obey me," answered Sir George, half in command and half in
+entreaty.
+
+"There are not many girls who would refuse the coronet of a countess." She
+then seated herself upon her father's knee and kissed him, while Sir
+George laughed softly over his easy victory.
+
+Blessed is the man who does not know when he is beaten.
+
+Seeing her father's kindly humor, Dorothy said:--
+
+"Father, do you still wish me to remain a prisoner in my rooms?"
+
+"If you promise to be a good, obedient daughter," returned Sir George,
+"you shall have your liberty."
+
+"I have always been that, father, and I am too old to learn otherwise,"
+answered this girl, whose father had taught her deception by his violence.
+You may drive men, but you cannot drive any woman who is worth possessing.
+You may for a time think you drive her, but in the end she will have her
+way.
+
+Dorothy's first act of obedience after regaining liberty was to send a
+letter to Manners by the hand of Jennie Faxton.
+
+John received the letter in the evening, and all next day he passed the
+time whistling, singing, and looking now and again at his horologue. He
+walked about the castle like a happy wolf in a pen. He did not tell me
+there was a project on foot, with Dorothy as the objective, but I knew it,
+and waited with some impatience for the outcome.
+
+Long before the appointed time, which was sunset, John galloped forth for
+Bowling Green Gate with joy and anticipation in his heart and pain in his
+conscience. As he rode, he resolved again and again that the interview
+toward which he was hastening should be the last he would have with
+Dorothy. But when he pictured the girl to himself, and thought upon her
+marvellous beauty and infinite winsomeness, his conscience was drowned in
+his longing, and he resolved that he would postpone resolving until the
+morrow.
+
+John hitched his horse near the gate and stood looking between the massive
+iron bars toward Haddon Hall, whose turrets could be seen through the
+leafless boughs of the trees. The sun was sinking perilously low, thought
+John, and with each moment his heart also sank, while his good resolutions
+showed the flimsy fibre of their fabric and were rent asunder by the fear
+that she might not come. As the moments dragged on and she did not come, a
+hundred alarms tormented him. First among these was a dread that she might
+have made resolves such as had sprung up so plenteously in him, and that
+she might have been strong enough to act upon them and to remain at home.
+But he was mistaken in the girl. Such resolutions as he had been making
+and breaking had never come to her at all. The difference between the man
+and the woman was this: he resolved in his mind not to see her and failed
+in keeping to his resolution; while she resolved in her heart to see
+him--resolved that nothing in heaven or earth or the other place could
+keep her from seeing him, and succeeded in carrying out her resolution.
+The intuitive resolve, the one that does not know it is a resolution, is
+the sort before which obstacles fall like corn before the sickle.
+
+After John had waited a weary time, the form of the girl appeared above
+the crest of the hill. She was holding up the skirt of her gown, and
+glided over the earth so rapidly that she appeared to be running. Beat!
+beat! oh, heart of John, if there is aught in womanhood to make you throb;
+if there is aught in infinite grace and winsomeness; if there is aught in
+perfect harmony of color and form and movement; if there is aught of
+beauty, in God's power to create that can set you pulsing, beat! for the
+fairest creature of His hand is hastening to greet you. The wind had
+dishevelled her hair and it was blowing in fluffy curls of golden red
+about her face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed with joy and exercise,
+her red lips were parted, and her eyes--but I am wasting words. As for
+John's heart it almost smothered him with its beating. He had never before
+supposed that he could experience such violent throbbing within his breast
+and live. But at last she was at the gate, in all her exquisite beauty and
+winsomeness, and something must be done to make the heart conform to the
+usages of good society. She, too, was in trouble with her breathing, but
+John thought that her trouble was owing to exertion. However that may have
+been, nothing in heaven or earth was ever so beautiful, so radiant, so
+graceful, or so fair as this girl who had come to give herself to John. It
+seems that I cannot take myself away from the attractive theme.
+
+"Ah, Sir John, you did come," said the girl, joyously.
+
+"Yes," John succeeded in replying, after an effort, "and you--I thank you,
+gracious lady, for coming. I do not deserve--" the heart again asserted
+itself, and Dorothy stood by the gate with downcast eyes, waiting to learn
+what it was that John did not deserve. She thought he deserved everything
+good.
+
+"I fear I have caused you fatigue," said John, again thinking, and with
+good reason, that he was a fool.
+
+The English language, which he had always supposed to be his mother
+tongue, had deserted him as if it were his step-mother. After all, the
+difficulty, as John subsequently said, was that Dorothy's beauty had
+deprived him of the power to think. He could only see. He was entirely
+disorganized by a girl whom he could have carried away in his arms.
+
+"I feel no fatigue," replied Dorothy.
+
+"I feared that in climbing the hill you had lost your breath," answered
+disorganized John.
+
+"So I did," she returned. Then she gave a great sigh and said, "Now I am
+all right again."
+
+All right? So is the morning sun, so is the arching rainbow, and so are
+the flitting lights of the north in midwinter. All are "all right" because
+God made them, as He made Dorothy, perfect, each after its kind.
+
+A long, uneasy pause ensued. Dorothy felt the embarrassing silence less
+than John, and could have helped him greatly had she wished to do so. But
+she had made the advances at their former meetings, and as she had told
+me, she "had done a great deal more than her part in going to meet him."
+Therefore she determined that he should do his own wooing thenceforward.
+She had graciously given him all the opportunity he had any right to ask.
+
+While journeying to Bowling Green Gate, John had formulated many true and
+beautiful sentiments of a personal nature which he intended expressing to
+Dorothy; but when the opportunity came for him to speak, the weather, his
+horse, Dorothy's mare Dolcy, the queens of England and Scotland were the
+only subjects on which he could induce his tongue to perform, even
+moderately well.
+
+Dorothy listened attentively while John on the opposite side of the gate
+discoursed limpingly on the above-named themes; and although in former
+interviews she had found those topics quite interesting, upon that
+occasion she had come to Bowling Green Gate to listen to something else
+and was piqued not to hear it. After ten or fifteen minutes she said
+demurely:--
+
+"I may not remain here longer. I shall be missed at the Hall. I regained
+my liberty but yesterday, and father will be suspicious of me during the
+next few days. I must be watchful and must have a care of my behavior."
+
+John summoned his wits and might have spoken his mind freely had he not
+feared to say too much. Despite Dorothy's witchery, honor, conscience, and
+prudence still bore weight with him, and they all dictated that he should
+cling to the shreds of his resolution and not allow matters to go too far
+between him and this fascinating girl. He was much in love with her; but
+Dorothy had reached at a bound a height to which he was still climbing.
+Soon John, also, was to reach the pinnacle whence honor, conscience, and
+prudence were to be banished.
+
+"I fear I must now leave you," said Dorothy, as darkness began to gather.
+
+"I hope I may soon see you again," said John.
+
+"Sometime I will see you if--if I can," she answered with downcast eyes.
+"It is seldom I can leave the Hall alone, but I shall try to come here at
+sunset some future day." John's silence upon a certain theme had given
+offence.
+
+"I cannot tell you how greatly I thank you," cried John.
+
+"I will say adieu," said Dorothy, as she offered him her hand through the
+bars of the gate. John raised the hand gallantly to his lips, and when she
+had withdrawn it there seemed no reason for her to remain. But she stood
+for a moment hesitatingly. Then she stooped to reach into her pocket while
+she daintily lifted the skirt of her gown with the other hand and from the
+pocket drew forth a great iron key.
+
+"I brought this key, thinking that you might wish to unlock the gate--and
+come to--to this side. I had great difficulty in taking it from the
+forester's closet, where it has been hanging for a hundred years or more."
+
+She showed John the key, returned it to her pocket, made a courtesy, and
+moved slowly away, walking backward.
+
+"Mistress Vernon," cried John, "I beg you to let me have the key."
+
+"It is too late, now," said the girl, with downcast eyes. "Darkness is
+rapidly falling, and I must return to the Hall."
+
+John began to climb the gate, but she stopped him. He had thrown away his
+opportunity.
+
+"Please do not follow me, Sir John," said she, still moving backward. "I
+must not remain longer."
+
+"Only for one moment," pleaded John.
+
+"No," the girl responded, "I--I may, perhaps, bring the key when I come
+again. I am glad, Sir John, that you came to meet me this evening." She
+courtesied, and then hurried away toward Haddon Hall. Twice she looked
+backward and waved her hand, and John stood watching her through the bars
+till her form was lost to view beneath the crest of Bowling Green Hill.
+
+"'I brought this key, thinking that you might wish to unlock the gate and
+come to this side,'" muttered John, quoting the girl's words. "Compared
+with you, John Manners, there is no other fool in this world." Then
+meditatively: "I wonder if she feels toward me as I feel toward her?
+Surely she does. What other reason could bring her here to meet me unless
+she is a brazen, wanton creature who is for every man." Then came a
+jealous thought that hurt him like the piercing of a knife. It lasted but
+a moment, however, and he continued muttering to himself: "If she loves me
+and will be my wife, I will--I will ... In God's name what will I do? If I
+were to marry her, old Vernon would kill her, and I--I should kill my
+father."
+
+Then John mounted his horse and rode homeward the unhappiest happy man in
+England. He had made perilous strides toward that pinnacle sans honor,
+sans caution, sans conscience, sans everything but love.
+
+That evening while we were walking on the battlements, smoking, John told
+me of his interview with Dorothy and extolled her beauty, grace, and
+winsomeness which, in truth, as you know, were matchless. But when he
+spoke of "her sweet, shy modesty," I came near to laughing in his face.
+
+"Did she not write a letter asking you to meet her?" I asked.
+
+"Why--y-e-s," returned John.
+
+"And," I continued, "has she not from the first sought you?"
+
+"It almost seems to be so," answered John, "but notwithstanding the fact
+that one might say--might call--that one might feel that her conduct
+is--that it might be--you know, well--it might be called by some persons
+not knowing all the facts in the case, immodest--I hate to use the word
+with reference to her--yet it does not appear to me to have been at all
+immodest in Mistress Vernon, and, Sir Malcolm, I should be deeply offended
+were any of my friends to intimate--"
+
+"Now, John," I returned, laughing at him, "you could not, if you wished,
+make me quarrel with you; and if you desire it, I will freely avow my firm
+belief in the fact that my cousin Dorothy is the flower of modesty. Does
+that better suit you?"
+
+I could easily see that my bantering words did not suit him at all; but I
+laughed at him, and he could not find it in his heart to show his
+ill-feeling.
+
+"I will not quarrel with you," he returned; "but in plain words, I do not
+like the tone in which you speak of her. It hurts me, and I do not believe
+you would wilfully give me pain."
+
+"Indeed, I would not," I answered seriously.
+
+"Mistress Vernon's conduct toward me," John continued, "has been gracious.
+There has been no immodesty nor boldness in it."
+
+I laughed again and said: "I make my humble apologies to her Majesty,
+Queen Dorothy. But in all earnestness, Sir John, you are right: Dorothy is
+modest and pure. As for her conduct toward you, there is a royal quality
+about beauty such as my cousin possesses which gives an air of
+graciousness to acts that in a plainer girl would seem bold. Beauty, like
+royalty, has its own prerogatives."
+
+For a fortnight after the adventures just related, John, in pursuance of
+his oft-repeated resolution not to see Dorothy, rode every evening to
+Bowling Green Gate; but during that time he failed to see her, and the
+resolutions, with each failure, became weaker and fewer.
+
+One evening, after many disappointments, John came to my room bearing in
+his hands a letter which he said Jennie Faxton had delivered to him at
+Bowling Green Gate.
+
+"Mistress Vernon," said John, "and Lady Madge Stanley will ride to
+Derby-town to-morrow. They will go in the Haddon Hall coach, and Dawson
+will drive. Mistress Vernon writes to me thus:--
+
+    "'To SIR JOHN MANNERS:--
+
+    "'My good wishes and my kind greeting. Lady Madge Stanley, my good
+    aunt, Lady Crawford, and myself do intend journeying to Derby-town
+    to-morrow. My aunt, Lady Crawford, is slightly ill, and although I
+    should much regret to see her sickness grow greater, yet if ill she
+    must be, I do hope that her worst day will be upon the morrow, in
+    which case she could not accompany Lady Madge and me. I shall nurse my
+    good aunt carefully this day, and shall importune her to take
+    plentifully of physic that she may quickly recover her health--after
+    to-morrow. Should a gentleman ask of Will Dawson, who will be in the
+    tap-room of the Royal Arms at eleven o'clock of the morning, Dawson
+    will be glad to inform the gentleman concerning Lady Crawford's
+    health. Let us hope that the physic will cure Lady Crawford--by the
+    day after to-morrow at furthest. The said Will Dawson may be trusted.
+    With great respect,
+
+    DOROTHY VERNON.'"
+
+"I suppose the gentleman will be solicitous concerning Lady Crawford's
+health to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock," said I.
+
+"The gentleman is now solicitous concerning Lady Crawford's health,"
+answered John, laughingly. "Was there ever a lady more fair and gracious
+than Mistress Vernon?"
+
+I smiled with a superior air at John's weakness, being, as you know,
+entirely free from his complaint myself, and John continued:--
+
+"Perhaps you would call Mistress Dorothy bold for sending me this letter?"
+
+"It is redolent with shyness," I answered. "But would you really wish poor
+Lady Crawford to be ill that you might witness Mistress Dorothy's
+modesty?"
+
+"Please don't jest on that subject," said John, seriously. "I would wish
+anything, I fear, that would bring me an opportunity to see her, to look
+upon her face, and to hear her voice. For her I believe I would sacrifice
+every one who is dear to me. One day she shall be mine--mine at whatever
+cost--if she will be. If she will be. Ah, there is the rub! If she will
+be. I dare not hope for that."
+
+"I think," said I, "that you really have some little cause to hope."
+
+"You speak in the same tone again. Malcolm, you do not understand her. She
+might love me to the extent that I sometimes hope; but her father and mine
+would never consent to our union, and she, I fear, could not be induced to
+marry me under those conditions. Do not put the hope into my heart."
+
+"You only now said she should be yours some day," I answered.
+
+"So she shall," returned John, "so she shall."
+
+"But Lady Madge is to be with her to-morrow," said I, my own heart beating
+with an ardent wish and a new-born hope, "and you may be unable, after
+all, to see Mistress Dorothy."
+
+"That is true," replied John. "I do not know how she will arrange matters,
+but I have faith in her ingenuity."
+
+Well might he have faith, for Dorothy was possessed of that sort of a will
+which usually finds a way.
+
+"If you wish me to go with you to Derby-town, I will do so. Perhaps I may
+be able to entertain Lady Madge while you have a word with Dorothy. What
+think you of the plan?" I asked.
+
+"If you will go with me, Malcolm, I shall thank you with all my heart."
+
+And so it was agreed between us that we should both go to Derby-town for
+the purpose of inquiring about Lady Crawford's health, though for me the
+expedition was full of hazard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN
+
+
+The next morning broke brightly, but soon clouds began to gather and a
+storm seemed imminent. We feared that the gloomy prospect of the sky might
+keep Dorothy and Madge at home, but long before the appointed hour John
+and I were at the Royal Arms watching eagerly for the Haddon coach. At the
+inn we occupied a room from which we could look into the courtyard, and at
+the window we stood alternating between exaltation and despair.
+
+When my cogitations turned upon myself--a palpitating youth of
+thirty-five, waiting with beating heart for a simple blind girl little
+more than half my age; and when I remembered how for years I had laughed
+at the tenderness of the fairest women of the French and Scottish
+courts--I could not help saying to myself, "Poor fool! you have achieved
+an early second childhood." But when I recalled Madge in all her beauty,
+purity, and helplessness, my cynicism left me, and I, who had enjoyed all
+of life's ambitious possibilities, calmly reached the conclusion that it
+is sometimes a blessed privilege to be a fool. While I dwelt on thoughts
+of Madge, all the latent good within me came uppermost. There is latent
+good in every man, though it may remain latent all his life. Good
+resolves, pure thoughts, and noble aspirations--new sensations to me, I
+blush to confess--bubbled in my heart, and I made a mental prayer, "If
+this is folly, may God banish wisdom." What is there, after all is said,
+in wisdom, that men should seek it? Has it ever brought happiness to its
+possessor? I am an old man at this writing. I have tasted all the cups of
+life, and from the fulness of my experience I tell you that the simple
+life is the only one wherein happiness is found. When you permit your
+heart and your mind to grow complex and wise, you make nooks and crannies
+for wretchedness to lodge in. Innocence is Nature's wisdom; knowledge is
+man's folly.
+
+An hour before noon our patience was rewarded when we saw the Haddon Hall
+coach drive into the courtyard with Dawson on the box. I tried to make
+myself believe that I did not wish Lady Crawford were ill. But there is
+little profit in too close scrutiny of our deep-seated motives, and in
+this case I found no comfort in self-examination. I really did wish that
+Aunt Dorothy were ill.
+
+My motive studying, however, was brought to a joyous end when I saw Will
+Dawson close the coach door after Madge and Dorothy had alighted.
+
+How wondrously beautiful they were! Had we lived in the days when Olympus
+ruled the world, John surely would have had a god for his rival. Dorothy
+seemed luminous, so radiant was she with the fire of life. As for Madge,
+had I beheld a corona hovering over her head I should have thought it in
+all respects a natural and appropriate phenomenon--so fair and saintlike
+did she appear to me. Her warm white furs and her clinging gown of soft
+light-colored woollen stuff seemed to be a saint's robe, and her dainty
+little hat, fashioned with ermine about the edge of the rim--well, that
+was the corona, and I was ready to worship.
+
+Dorothy, as befitted her, wore a blaze of harmonious colors and looked
+like the spirit of life and youth. I wish I could cease rhapsodizing over
+those two girls, but I cannot. You may pass over it as you read, if you do
+not like it.
+
+"Ye gods! did ever a creature so perfect as she tread the earth?" asked
+John, meaning, of course, Dorothy.
+
+"No," answered I, meaning, of course, Madge.
+
+The girls entered the inn, and John and I descended to the tap-room for
+the purpose of consulting Will Dawson concerning the state of Aunt
+Dorothy's health.
+
+When we entered the tap-room Will was standing near the fireplace with a
+mug of hot punch in his hand. When I touched him, he almost dropped the
+mug so great was his surprise at seeing me.
+
+"Sir Mal--" he began to say, but I stopped him by a gesture. He instantly
+recovered his composure and appeared not to recognize me.
+
+I spoke in broken English, for, as you know, I belong more to France than
+to any other country. "I am Sir François de Lorraine," said I. "I wish to
+inquire if Lady Crawford is in good health?"
+
+"Her ladyship is ill, sir, I am sorry to say," responded Will, taking off
+his hat. "Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge Stanley are at the inn. If you
+wish to inquire more particularly concerning Lady Crawford's health, I
+will ask them if they wish to receive you. They are in the parlor."
+
+Will was the king of trumps!
+
+"Say to them," said I, "that Sir François de Lorraine--mark the name
+carefully, please--and his friend desire to make inquiry concerning Lady
+Crawford's health, and would deem it a great honor should the ladies grant
+them an interview."
+
+Will's countenance was as expressionless as the face upon the mug from
+which he had been drinking. "I shall inform the ladies of your honor's
+request." He thereupon placed the half-emptied mug upon the fire-shelf
+and left the room.
+
+When Will announced his errand to the girls, Dorothy said in surprise:--
+
+"Sir François de Lorraine? That is the name of the Grand Duc de Guise, but
+surely--Describe him to me, Will."
+
+"He is about your height, Mistress Dorothy, and is very handsome,"
+responded Will.
+
+The latter part of Will's description placed me under obligation to him to
+the extent of a gold pound sterling.
+
+"Ah, it is John!" thought Dorothy, forgetting the fact that John was a
+great deal taller than she, but feeling that Will's description of "very
+handsome" could apply to only one man in the world. "He has taken
+Malcolm's name." Then she said, "Bring him to us, Will. But who is the
+friend? Do you know him? Tell me his appearance."
+
+"I did not notice the other gentleman," replied Will, "and I can tell you
+nothing of him."
+
+"Will, you are a very stupid man. But bring the gentlemen here." Dorothy
+had taken Will into her confidence to the extent of telling him that a
+gentleman would arrive at the Royal Arms who would inquire for Lady
+Crawford's health, and that she, Dorothy, would fully inform the gentleman
+upon that interesting topic. Will may have had suspicions of his own, but
+if so, he kept them to himself, and at least did not know that the
+gentleman whom his mistress expected to see was Sir John Manners. Neither
+did he suspect that fact. Dawson had never seen Manners, and did not know
+he was in the neighborhood of Derby. The fact was concealed from Dawson by
+Dorothy not so much because she doubted him, but for the reason that she
+wished him to be able truthfully to plead innocence in case trouble should
+grow out of the Derby-town escapade.
+
+"I wonder why John did not come alone?" thought Dorothy. "This friend of
+his will be a great hindrance."
+
+Dorothy ran to the mirror and hurriedly gave a few touches to her hair,
+pressing it lightly with her soft flexible fingers here, and tucking in a
+stray curl there, which for beauty's sake should have been allowed to hang
+loose. She was standing at the pier-glass trying to see the back of her
+head when Will knocked to announce our arrival.
+
+"Come," said Dorothy.
+
+Will opened the door and held it for us to pass in. Madge was seated near
+the fire. When we entered Dorothy was standing with great dignity in the
+centre of the floor, not of course intending to make an exhibition of
+delight over John in the presence of a stranger. But when she saw that I
+was the stranger, she ran to me with outstretched hands.
+
+"Good morning, Mistress Vernon," said I, in mock ceremoniousness.
+
+"Oh, Malcolm! Malcolm!" cried Madge, quickly rising from her chair. "You
+are cruel, Dorothy, to surprise me in this fashion."
+
+"I, too, am surprised. I did not know that Malcolm was coming," replied
+Dorothy, turning to give welcome to John. Then I stepped to Madge's side
+and took her hands, but all I could say was "Madge! Madge!" and all she
+said was "Malcolm! Malcolm!" yet we seemed to understand each other.
+
+John and Dorothy were likewise stricken with a paucity of words, but they
+also doubtless understood each other. After a moment or two there fell
+upon me a shower of questions from Dorothy.
+
+"Did you not go to France? How happens it that you are in Derby-town?
+Where did you meet Sir John? What a delightful surprise you have given us!
+Nothing was wanting to make us happy but your presence."
+
+"I am so happy that it frightens me," said Dorothy in ecstasy. "Trouble
+will come, I am sure. One extreme always follows another. The pendulum
+always swings as far back as it goes forward. But we are happy now, aren't
+we, Madge? I intend to remain so while I can. The pendulum may swing as
+far backward as it chooses hereafter. Sufficient to the day is the evil
+thereof. Sometimes the joy is almost sufficient, isn't it, Madge?"
+
+"The evil is more than sufficient some days," answered Madge.
+
+"Come, Madge, don't be foreboding."
+
+"Dorothy, I have not met the other gentleman," said Madge.
+
+"Ah, pardon me. In my surprise I forgot to present you. Lady Madge
+Stanley, let me present Sir John Manners."
+
+"Sir John Manners!" cried Madge, taking a step backward. Her surprise was
+so great that she forgot to acknowledge the introduction. "Dorothy, what
+means this?" she continued.
+
+"It means," replied Dorothy, nervously, "that Sir John is my very dear
+friend. I will explain it to you at another time."
+
+We stood silently for a few moments, and John said:--
+
+"I hope I may find favor in your heart, Lady Madge. I wish to greet you
+with my sincere homage."
+
+"Sir John, I am glad to greet you, but I fear the pendulum of which
+Dorothy spoke will swing very far backward erelong."
+
+"Let it swing as far back as it chooses," answered Dorothy, with a toss of
+her head, "I am ready to buy and to pay for happiness. That seems to be
+the only means whereby we may have it. I am ready to buy it with pain any
+day, and am willing to pay upon demand. Pain passes away; joy lasts
+forever."
+
+"I know," said Sir John, addressing Madge, "I know it is not prudent for
+Malcolm and me to be here to-day; but imprudent things seem to be the most
+delightful."
+
+"For men, Sir John," returned Madge. "Upon women they leave their mark."
+
+"I fear you are right," he answered. "I had not thought of my visit in
+that light. For Mistress Vernon's sake it is better that I do not remain
+in Derby."
+
+"For Mistress Vernon's sake you shall remain," cried that impetuous young
+woman, clutching John's arm.
+
+After a time, Dorothy wishing to visit one of the shops to make purchases,
+it was agreed between us that we should all walk out. Neither Dorothy nor
+Madge had ever before visited Derby-town. John and I had visited the place
+but once; that was upon the occasion of our first meeting. No one in the
+town knew us, and we felt safe in venturing forth into the streets. So we
+helped Dorothy and Madge to don their furs, and out we went happier and
+more reckless than four people have any good right to be. But before
+setting out I went to the tap-room and ordered dinner.
+
+I found the host and directed him to prepare a dozen partridges in a pie,
+a haunch of venison, a few links of German sausage, and a capon. The host
+informed me that he had in his pantry a barrel of roots called potatoes
+which had been sent to him by a sea-captain who had recently returned from
+the new world. He hurried away and brought a potato for inspection. It was
+of a gray brown color and near the size of an egg. The landlord assured me
+that it was delicious when baked, and I ordered four, at the cost of a
+crown each. I understand that my Lord Raleigh claims to have brought the
+first potatoes and tobacco into England in '85; but I know that I smoked
+tobacco in '66, and I saw potatoes at the Royal Arms in Derby-town in '67.
+I also ordered another new dish for our famous dinner. It was a brown
+beverage called coffee. The berries from which the beverage is made mine
+host showed to me, and said they had been brought to him by a sea-faring
+man from Arabia. I ordered a pot of the drink at a cost of three crowns. I
+have heard it said that coffee was not known in Europe or in England till
+it was introduced by Rawolf in '73, but I saw it at the Royal Arms in '67.
+In addition to this list, I ordered for our drinking sweet wine from
+Madeira and red wine from Burgundy. The latter-named wine had begun to
+grow in favor at the French court when I left France five years before. It
+was little liked in England. All these dainties were rare at the time of
+which I write; but they have since grown into considerable use, and I
+doubt not, as we progress in luxury, they will become common articles of
+food upon the tables of the rich. Prongs, or forks, as they are called,
+which by some are used in cutting and eating one's food at table, I also
+predict will become implements of daily use. It is really a filthy
+fashion, which we have, of handling food with our fingers. The Italians
+have used forks for some time, but our preachers speak against them,
+saying God has given us our fingers with which to eat, and that it is
+impious to thwart his purposes by the use of forks. The preachers will
+probably retard the general use of forks among the common people.
+
+After I had given my order for dinner we started out on our ramble through
+Derby-town.
+
+Shortly after we left the inn we divided into couples for the ostensible
+reason that we did not wish to attract too much attention--Dorothy and
+John, Madge and I! Our real reason for separating was--but you understand.
+
+Madge's hand lay like a span of snow upon my arm, and--but this time I
+will restrain my tendency to rhapsodize.
+
+We walked out through those parts of the town which were little used, and
+Madge talked freely and happily.
+
+She fairly babbled, and to me her voice was like the murmurings of the
+rivers that flowed out of paradise.
+
+We had agreed with John and Dorothy to meet them at the Royal Arms in one
+hour, and that time had almost passed when Madge and I turned our faces
+toward the inn.
+
+When we were within a short distance of our hostelry we saw a crowd
+gathered around a young man who was standing on a box. He was speaking in
+a mournful, lugubrious voice and accompanied his words with violent
+gesticulations. Out of curiosity we stopped to listen, and learned that
+religion was our orator's theme.
+
+I turned to a man standing near me and asked:--
+
+"Who is the fellow speaking?"
+
+"The pious man is Robert Brown. He is exhorting in the name of the Lord of
+Hosts."
+
+"The pious Robert Brown?" I queried, "exhorting in the name of--of the
+Lord of where, did you say?"
+
+"Hosts," laconically responded my friend, while listening intently to the
+words of Brown.
+
+"Hosts, say you? Who is he?" I asked of my interesting neighbor. "I know
+him not."
+
+"Doubtless you know Him not," responded the man, evidently annoyed at my
+interruption and my flippancy.
+
+After a moment or two I, desiring to know more concerning the orator,
+asked:--
+
+"Robert Brown, say you?"
+
+"Even he," came the response. "It will be good for your soul if you but
+listen to him in a prayerful mood. He is a young man upon whom the Spirit
+hath descended plenteously."
+
+"The Spirit?" I asked.
+
+"Ay," returned my neighbor.
+
+I could not extract another word from him, so I had the worst of the
+encounter.
+
+We had been standing there but a short time when the young exhorter
+descended from his improvised pulpit and passed among the crowd for the
+purpose of collecting money. His harangue had appeared ridiculous to me,
+but Madge seemed interested in his discourse. She said:--
+
+"He is very earnest, Malcolm," and at once my heart went out to the young
+enthusiast upon the box. One kind word from Madge, and I was the fellow's
+friend for life. I would have remained his friend had he permitted me that
+high privilege. But that he would not do. When he came to me, I dropped
+into his hat a small silver piece which shone brightly among a few black
+copper coins. My liberal contribution did not induce him to kindness, but,
+on the contrary, it attracted his attention to the giver. He looked at the
+silver coin, and then turning his solemn gaze upon me, eyed me insolently
+from head to foot. While doing so a look of profound disgust spread over
+his mournful countenance. After a calm survey of my person, which to me
+was uncomfortably long, he turned to the bystanders, and in the same
+high-pitched, lugubrious voice which he had used when exhorting, said:--
+
+"Brethren, here behold ye the type of anti-Christ," and he waved his thin
+hand toward me much to my amusement and annoyance. "Here," said he, "we
+find the leading strings to all that is iniquitous--vanity. It is
+betokened in his velvets, satins, and laces. Think ye, young man," he
+said, turning to me, "that such vanities are not an abomination in the
+eyes of the God of Israel?"
+
+"I believe that the God of Israel cares nothing about my apparel," I
+replied, more amused than angered. He paid no attention to my remark.
+
+"And this young woman," he continued, pointing to Madge, "this young
+woman, daughter of the Roman harlot, no doubt, she also is arrayed in
+silks, taffetas, and fine cloth. Look ye, friends, upon this abominable
+collar of Satan; this ruff of fine linen, all smeared in the devil's own
+liquor, starch. Her vanity is an offence in the nostrils of God's people."
+
+As he spoke he stretched forth his hand and caught in his clawlike grasp
+the dainty white ruff that encircled Madge's neck. When I saw his act, my
+first impulse was to run him through, and I drew my sword half from its
+scabbard with that purpose. But he was not the sort of a man upon whom I
+could use my blade. He was hardly more than a boy--a wild, half-crazed
+fanatic, whose reason, if he had ever possessed any, had been lost in the
+Charybdis of his zeal. He honestly thought it was his duty to insult
+persons who apparently disagreed with him. Such a method of proselyting is
+really a powerful means of persuasion among certain classes, and it has
+always been used by men who have successfully founded permanent religious
+sects. To plant successfully a religious thought or system requires more
+violent aggression than to conquer a nation.
+
+Since I could not run the fellow through, I drew back my arm, and striking
+as lightly as possible, I laid our zealous friend sprawling on his back.
+Thus had I the honor of knocking down the founder of the Brownists.
+
+If I mistake not, the time will come, if these men are allowed to harangue
+the populace, when the kings of England will be unable to accomplish the
+feat of knocking down Brown's followers. Heresies, like noxious weeds,
+grow without cultivation, and thrive best on barren soil. Or shall I say
+that, like the goodly vine, they bear better fruit when pruned? I cannot
+fully decide this question for myself; but I admire these sturdy fanatics
+who so passionately love their own faith, and so bitterly hate all others,
+and I am almost prepared to say that each new heresy brings to the world a
+better orthodoxy.
+
+For a little time after my encounter with Brown, all my skill was needed
+to ward off the frantic hero. He quickly rose to his feet, and, with the
+help of his friends, seemed determined to spread the gospel by tearing me
+to pieces. My sword point kept the rabble at a respectful distance for a
+while, but they crowded closely upon me, and I should have been compelled
+to kill some of them had I not been reënforced by two men who came to my
+help and laid about them most joyfully with their quarterstaffs. A few
+broken heads stemmed for a moment the torrent of religious enthusiasm, and
+during a pause in the hostilities I hurriedly retreated with Madge,
+ungratefully leaving my valiant allies to reap the full reward of victory
+should the fortunes of war favor them.
+
+Madge was terribly frightened, and with her by my side I, of course, would
+not have remained to fight the redoubtable Bayard himself.
+
+We hurried forward, but before we reached the inn we were overtaken by our
+allies whom we had abandoned. Our friends were young men. One wore a rich,
+half-rustic habit, and the other was dressed as a horse boy. Both were
+intoxicated. I had been thankful for their help; but I did not want their
+company.
+
+"How now, Cousin Madge?" said our richly dressed ally. "What in the
+devil's name has brought you into this street broil?"
+
+"Ah, Cousin James, is it you?" replied the trembling girl.
+
+"Yes, but who is your friend that so cleverly unloaded his quarrel upon
+us? Hell's fires! but they were like a swarm of wasps. Who is your friend,
+Madge?"
+
+"Sir Malcolm Vernon," replied Madge. "Let me present you, Sir Malcolm, to
+my cousin, Lord James Stanley."
+
+I offered my hand to his Lordship, and said:--
+
+"I thank you much for your timely help. I should not have deserted you had
+I not felt that my first duty was to extricate Lady Madge from the
+disagreeable situation. We must hasten away from here, or the mad rabble
+will follow us."
+
+"Right you are, my hearty," returned Stanley, slapping me on the shoulder.
+"Of course you had to get the wench away. Where do you go? We will bear
+you company."
+
+I longed to pay the fellow for his help by knocking him down; but the
+possibilities of trouble ahead of us were already too great, and I forced
+myself to be content with the prowess already achieved.
+
+"But you have not told me what brought you into the broil," asked his
+Lordship, as we walked toward the inn.
+
+"Sir Malcolm and I were walking out to see the town and--"
+
+"To see the town? By gad, that's good, Cousin Madge. How much of it did
+you see? You are as blind as an owl at noon," answered his Lordship.
+
+"Alas! I am blind," returned Madge, clinging closely to me, and shrinking
+from her cousin's terrible jest. I could not think of anything
+sufficiently holy and sacred upon which to vow my vengeance against this
+fellow, if the time should ever come when I dared take it.
+
+"Are you alone with this--this gentleman?" asked his Lordship, grasping
+Madge by the arm.
+
+"No," returned Madge, "Dorothy is with us."
+
+"She is among the shops," I volunteered reluctantly.
+
+"Dorothy? Dorothy Vernon? By gad, Tod, we are in luck. I must see the
+wench I am to marry," said his Lordship, speaking to his companion, the
+stable boy. "So Dorothy is with you, is she, cousin? I haven't seen her
+for years. They say she is a handsome filly now. By gad, she had room to
+improve, for she was plain enough, to frighten rats away from a barn when
+I last saw her. We will go to the inn and see for ourselves, won't we,
+Tod? Dad's word won't satisfy us when it comes to the matter of marrying,
+will it, Tod?"
+
+Tod was the drunken stable boy who had assisted his Lordship and me in
+our battle with the Brownists.
+
+I was at a loss what course to pursue. I was forced to submit to this
+fellow's company, and to endure patiently his insolence. But John and
+Dorothy would soon return, and there is no need that I should explain the
+dangers of the predicament which would then ensue.
+
+When we were within a few yards of the inn door I looked backward and saw
+Dorothy and John approaching us. I held up my hand warningly. John caught
+my meaning, and instantly leaving Dorothy's side, entered an adjacent
+shop. My movement had attracted Stanley's attention, and he turned in the
+direction I had been looking. When he saw Dorothy, he turned again to me
+and asked:--
+
+"Is that Dorothy Vernon?"
+
+"Yes," I replied.
+
+"Look at her, Tod!" exclaimed my lord, "look at her, Tod! The dad was
+right about her, after all. I thought the old man was hoaxing me when he
+told me that she was beautiful. Holy Virgin, Tod, did you ever see
+anything so handsome? I will take her quick enough; I will take her. Dad
+won't need to tease me. I'm willing."
+
+Dorothy approached to within a few yards of us, and my Lord Stanley
+stepped forward to meet her.
+
+"Ye don't know me, do ye?" said Stanley.
+
+Dorothy was frightened and quickly stepped to my side.
+
+"I--I believe not," responded Dorothy.
+
+"Lord James Stanley," murmured Madge, who knew of the approaching Stanley
+marriage.
+
+"Madge is right," returned. Stanley, grinning foolishly. "I am your cousin
+James, but not so much of a cousin that I cannot be more than cousin,
+heh?" He laughed boisterously, and winking at Tod, thrust his thumb into
+that worthy's ribs. "Say, Tod, something more than cousin; that's the
+thing, isn't it, Tod?"
+
+John was standing half-concealed at the door of the shop in which he had
+sought refuge. Dorothy well knew the peril of the situation, and when I
+frowned at her warningly, she caught the hint that she should not resent
+Stanley's words, however insulting and irritating they might become.
+
+"Let us go to the inn," said Dorothy.
+
+"That's the thing to do. Let us go to the inn and have dinner," said
+Stanley. "It's two hours past dinner time now, and I'm almost famished.
+We'll have a famous dinner. Come, cousin," said he, addressing Dorothy.
+"We'll have kidneys and tripe and--"
+
+"We do not want dinner," said Dorothy. "We must return home at once. Sir
+Malcolm, will you order Dawson to bring out the coach?"
+
+We went to the inn parlor, and I, loath to do so, left the ladies with
+Stanley and his horse-boy friend while I sought Dawson for the purpose of
+telling him to fetch the coach with all haste.
+
+"We have not dined," said the forester.
+
+"We shall not dine," I answered. "Fetch the coach with all the haste you
+can make." The bystanders in the tap-room were listening, and I continued,
+"A storm is brewing, and we must hasten home."
+
+True enough, a storm was brewing.
+
+When I left Dawson, I hurriedly found John and told him we were preparing
+to leave the inn, and that we would expect him to overtake us on the road
+to Rowsley.
+
+I returned to the ladies in the parlor and found them standing near the
+window. Stanley had tried to kiss Dorothy, and she had slapped his face.
+Fortunately he had taken the blow good-humoredly, and was pouring into her
+unwilling ear a fusillade of boorish compliments when. I entered the
+parlor.
+
+I said, "The coach is ready."
+
+The ladies moved toward the door. "I am going to ride with you, my
+beauty," said his Lordship.
+
+"That you shall not do," retorted Dorothy, with blazing eyes.
+
+"That I will do," he answered. "The roads are free to all, and you cannot
+keep me from following you."
+
+Dorothy was aware of her predicament, and I too saw it, but could find no
+way out of it. I was troubled a moment; but my fear was needless, for
+Dorothy was equal to the occasion.
+
+"We should like your company, Cousin Stanley," replied Dorothy, without a
+trace of anger in her manner, "but we cannot let you ride with us in the
+face of the storm that is brewing."
+
+"We won't mind the storm, will we, Tod? We are going with our cousin."
+
+"If you insist upon being so kind to us," said Dorothy, "you may come. But
+I have changed my mind about dinner. I am very hungry, and we accept your
+invitation."
+
+"Now you are coming around nicely," said Lord James, joyfully. "We like
+that, don't we, Tod?"
+
+Tod had been silent under all circumstances.
+
+Dorothy continued: "Madge and I will drive in the coach to one or two of
+the shops, and we shall return in one hour. Meantime, Cousin Stanley, we
+wish you to have a fine dinner prepared for us, and we promise to do ample
+justice to the fare."
+
+"She'll never come back," said silent Tod, without moving a muscle.
+
+"How about it, cousin?" asked Stanley. "Tod says you'll never come back;
+he means that you are trying to give us the slip."
+
+"Never fear, Cousin Stanley," she returned, "I am too eager for dinner
+not to come back. If you fail to have a well-loaded table for me, I shall
+never speak to you again."
+
+We then went to the coach, and as the ladies entered it Dorothy said aloud
+to Dawson:--
+
+"Drive to Conn's shop."
+
+I heard Tod say to his worthy master:--
+
+"She's a slippin' ye."
+
+"You're a fool, Tod. Don't you see she wants me more than she wants the
+dinner, and she's hungry, too."
+
+"Don't see," retorted his laconic friend.
+
+Of course when the coach was well away from the inn, Dawson received new
+instructions, and took the road to Rowsley. When the ladies had departed,
+I went to the tap-room with Stanley, and after paying the host for the
+coffee, the potatoes, and the dinner which alas! we had not tasted, I
+ordered a great bowl of sack and proceeded to drink with my allies in the
+hope that I might make them too drunk to follow us. Within half an hour I
+discovered that I was laboring at a hopeless task. There was great danger
+that I would be the first to succumb; so I, expressing a wish to sleep off
+the liquor before the ladies should return, made my escape from the
+tap-room, mounted my horse, and galloped furiously after Dorothy and
+Madge. John was riding by the coach when I overtook it.
+
+It was two hours past noon when I came up with John and the girls. Snow
+had been falling softly earlier in the afternoon, but as the day advanced
+the storm grew in violence. A cold, bleak wind was blowing from the north,
+and by reason of the weather and because of the ill condition of the
+roads, the progress of the coach was so slow that darkness overtook us
+before we had finished half of our journey to Rowsley. Upon the fall of
+night the storm increased in violence, and the snow came in piercing,
+horizontal shafts which stung like the prick of a needle.
+
+At the hour of six--I but guessed the time--John and I, who were riding
+at the rear of the coach, heard close on our heels the trampling of
+horses. I rode forward to Dawson, who was in the coach box, and told him
+to drive with all the speed he could make. I informed him that some one
+was following us, and that I feared highwaymen were on our track.
+
+Hardly had I finished speaking to Dawson when I heard the report of a
+hand-fusil, back of the coach, near the spot where I had left John. I
+quickly drew my sword, though it was a task of no small labor, owing to
+the numbness of my fingers. I breathed along the blade to warm it, and
+then I hastened to John, whom I found in a desperate conflict with three
+ruffians. No better swordsman than John ever drew blade, and he was
+holding his ground in the darkness right gallantly. When I rode to his
+rescue, another hand-fusil was discharged, and then another, and I knew
+that we need have no more fear from bullets, for the three men had
+discharged their weapons, and they could not reload while John and I were
+engaging them. I heard the bullets tell upon the coach, and I heard the
+girls screaming lustily. I feared they had been wounded, but you may be
+sure I had no leisure to learn the truth. Three against two was terrible
+odds in the dark, where brute force and luck go for more than skill. We
+fought desperately for a while, but in the end we succeeded in beating off
+the highwaymen. When we had finished with the knaves who had attacked us,
+we quickly overtook our party. We were calling Dawson to stop when we saw
+the coach, careening with the slant of the hill, topple over, and fall to
+the bottom of a little precipice five or six feet in height. We at once
+dismounted and jumped down the declivity to the coach, which lay on its
+side, almost covered by drifted snow. The pole had broken in the fall, and
+the horses were standing on the road. We first saw Dawson. He was
+swearing like a Dutchman, and when we had dragged him from his snowy
+grave, we opened the coach door, lifted out the ladies, and seated them
+upon the uppermost side of the coach. They were only slightly bruised, but
+what they lacked in bruises they made up in fright. In respect to the
+latter it were needless for me to attempt a description.
+
+We can laugh about it now and speak lightly concerning the adventure, and,
+as a matter of truth, the humor of the situation appealed to me even then.
+But imagine yourself in the predicament, and you will save me the trouble
+of setting forth its real terrors.
+
+The snow was up to our belts, and we did not at first know how we were to
+extricate the ladies. John and Dawson, however, climbed to the road, and I
+carried Dorothy and Madge to the little precipice where the two men at the
+top lifted them from my arms. The coach was broken, and when I climbed to
+the road, John, Dawson, and myself held a council of war against the
+storm. Dawson said we were three good miles from Rowsley, and that he knew
+of no house nearer than the village at which we could find shelter. We
+could not stand in the road and freeze, so I got the blankets and robes
+from the coach and made riding pads for Dorothy and Madge. These we
+strapped upon the broad backs of the coach horses, and then assisted the
+ladies to mount. I walked by the side of Madge, and John performed the
+same agreeable duty for Dorothy. Dawson went ahead of us, riding my horse
+and leading John's; and thus we travelled to Rowsley, half dead and nearly
+frozen, over the longest three miles in the kingdom.
+
+John left us before entering the village, and took the road to Rutland,
+intending to stop for the night at a cottage two miles distant, upon his
+father's estates. I was to follow Sir John when the ladies were safely
+lodged at The Peacock.
+
+It was agreed between us that nothing should be said concerning the
+presence of any man save Dawson and myself in our party.
+
+When John left us, I rode to The Peacock with Dorothy and Madge, and while
+I was bidding them good-by my violent cousin, Sir George, entered the inn.
+Dorothy ran to her father and briefly related the adventures of the night,
+dwelling with undeserved emphasis upon the help I had rendered. She told
+her father--the statement was literally true--that she had met me at the
+Royal Arms, where I was stopping, and that she had, through fear of the
+storm and in dread of highwaymen, asked me to ride beside their coach to
+Rowsley.
+
+When I saw Sir George enter the room, I expected to have trouble with him;
+but after he had spoken with Dorothy, much to my surprise, he offered me
+his hand and said:--
+
+"I thank you, Malcolm, for the help you have rendered my girls, and I am
+glad you have come back to us."
+
+"I have not come back to you, Sir George," said I, withholding my hand. "I
+met Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge at the Royal Arms, and escorted them to
+Rowsley for reasons which she has just given to you. I was about to depart
+when you entered."
+
+"Tut, tut! Malcolm, you will come with us to Haddon Hall."
+
+"To be ordered away again, Sir George?" I asked.
+
+"I did not order you to go. You left in a childish fit of anger. Why in
+the devil's name did you run away so quickly? Could you not have given a
+man time to cool off? You treated me very badly, Malcolm."
+
+"Sir George, you certainly know--"
+
+"I know nothing of the sort. Now I want not another word from you. Damme!
+I say, not another word. If I ever ordered you to leave Haddon Hall, I
+didn't know what I was doing," cried Sir George, heartily.
+
+"But you may again not know," said I.
+
+"Now, Malcolm, don't be a greater fool than I was. If I say I did not
+order you to leave Haddon Hall, can't you take me at my word? My age and
+my love for you should induce you to let me ease my conscience, if I can.
+If the same illusion should ever come over you again--that is, if you
+should ever again imagine that I am ordering you to leave Haddon
+Hall--well, just tell me to go to the devil. I have been punished enough
+already, man. Come home with us. Here is Dorothy, whom I love better than
+I love myself. In anger I might say the same thing to her that I said to
+you, but--Nonsense, Malcolm, don't be a fool. Come home with us. Haddon is
+your home as freely as it is the home of Dorothy, Madge, and myself."
+
+The old gentleman's voice trembled, and I could not withstand the double
+force of his kindness and my desire. So it came about that when Madge held
+out her fair hand appealingly to me, and when Dorothy said, "Please come
+home with us, Cousin Malcolm," I offered my hand to Sir George, and with
+feeling said, "Let us make this promise to each other: that nothing
+hereafter shall come between us."
+
+"I gladly promise," responded the generous, impulsive old man. "Dorothy,
+Madge, and you are all in this world whom I love. Nothing shall make
+trouble between us. Whatever happens, we will each forgive."
+
+The old gentleman was in his kindest, softest mood.
+
+"Let us remember the words," said I.
+
+"I give my hand and my word upon it," cried Sir George.
+
+How easy it is to stake the future upon a present impulse. But when the
+time for reckoning comes,--when the future becomes the present,--it is
+sometimes hard to pay the priceless present for the squandered past. Next
+morning we all rode home to Haddon,--how sweet the words sound even at
+this distance of time!--and there was rejoicing in the Hall as if the
+prodigal had returned.
+
+In the evening I came upon Madge unawares. She was softly singing a
+plaintive little love song. I did not disturb her, and as I stole away
+again I said to myself, "God is good." A realization of that great truth
+had of late been growing upon me. When once we thoroughly learn it, life
+takes on a different color.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+TRIBULATION IN HADDON
+
+
+After I had left Haddon at Sir George's tempestuous order, he had remained
+in a state of furious anger against Dorothy and myself for a fortnight or
+more. But after her adroit conversation with him concerning the Stanley
+marriage, wherein she neither promised nor refused, and after she learned
+that she could more easily cajole her father than command him, Dorothy
+easily ensconced herself again in his warm heart, and took me into that
+capacious abode along with her.
+
+Then came the trip to Derby, whereby his serene Lordship, James Stanley,
+had been enabled to see Dorothy and to fall in love with her winsome
+beauty, and whereby I was brought back to Haddon. Thereafter came events
+crowding so rapidly one upon the heels of another that I scarce know where
+to begin the telling of them. I shall not stop to say, "Sir George told me
+this," or "Madge, Dorothy, or John told me that," but I shall write as if
+I had personal knowledge of all that happened. After all, the important
+fact is that I know the truth concerning matters whereof I write, and of
+that you may rest with surety.
+
+The snow lay upon the ground for a fortnight after the storm in which we
+rode from Derby, but at the end of that time it melted, and the sun shone
+with the brilliancy and warmth of springtide. So warm and genial was the
+weather that the trees, flowers, and shrubs were cozened into budding
+forth. The buds were withered by a killing frost which came upon us later
+in the season at a time when the spring should have been abroad in all her
+graciousness, and that year was called the year of the leafless summer.
+
+One afternoon Sir George received a distinguished guest in the person of
+the Earl of Derby, and the two old gentlemen remained closeted together
+for several hours. That night at supper, after the ladies had risen from
+table, Sir George dismissed the servants saying that he wished to speak to
+me in private. I feared that he intended again bringing forward the
+subject of marriage with Dorothy, but he soon relieved my mind.
+
+"The Earl of Derby was here to-day. He has asked for Doll's hand in
+marriage with his eldest son and heir, Lord James Stanley, and I have
+granted the request."
+
+"Indeed," I responded, with marvellous intelligence. I could say nothing
+more, but I thought--in truth I knew--that it did not lie within the power
+of any man in or out of England to dispose of Dorothy Vernon's hand in
+marriage to Lord James Stanley. Her father might make a murderess out of
+her, but Countess of Derby, never.
+
+Sir George continued, "The general terms of the marriage contract have
+been agreed upon by the earl and me, and the lawyers will do the rest."
+
+"What is your feeling in the matter?" I asked aimlessly.
+
+"My feeling?" cried Sir George. "Why, sir, my feeling is that the girl
+shall marry Stanley just as soon as arrangements can be made for the
+wedding ceremony. The young fellow, it seems, saw Doll at Derby-town the
+day you came home, and since then he is eager, his father tells me, for
+the union. He is coming to see her when I give my permission, and I will
+send him word at as early a date as propriety will admit. I must not let
+them be seen together too soon, you know. There might be a hitch in the
+marriage negotiations. The earl is a tight one in business matters, and
+might drive a hard bargain with me should I allow his son to place Doll in
+a false position before the marriage contract is signed." He little knew
+how certainly Dorothy herself would avoid that disaster.
+
+He took a long draught from his mug of toddy and winked knowingly at me,
+saying, "I am too wise for that."
+
+"Have you told Dorothy?" I asked.
+
+"No," he replied, "I have not exactly told her. I had a talk with her a
+few days ago on the subject, though the earl and I had not, at that time,
+entirely agreed upon the terms, and I did not know that we should agree.
+But I told her of the pending negotiations, because I wished to prepare
+her for the signing of the contract; and also, by gad, Malcolm, I wanted
+to make the girl understand at the outset that I will have no trifling
+with my commands in this matter. I made that feature of the case very
+plain, you may rest assured. She understands me fully, and although at
+first she was a little inclined to fight, she soon--she soon--well, she
+knuckled under gracefully when she found she must."
+
+"Did she consent to the marriage?" I asked, well knowing that even if she
+had consented in words, she had no thought of doing so in deed.
+
+"Y-e-s," returned Sir George, hesitatingly.
+
+"I congratulate you," I replied.
+
+"I shall grieve to lose Doll," the old man slowly continued with
+perceptible signs of emotion. "I shall grieve to lose my girl, but I am
+anxious to have the wedding over. You see, Malcolm, of late I have noticed
+signs of wilfulness in Doll that can be more easily handled by a husband
+than by a father. Marriage and children anchor a woman, you know. In
+truth, I have opened my eyes to the fact that Doll is growing dangerous.
+I'gad, the other day I thought she was a child, but suddenly I learn she
+is a woman. I had not before noticed the change. Beauty and wilfulness,
+such as the girl has of late developed, are powers not to be
+underestimated by wise men. There is hell in them, Malcolm, I tell you
+there is hell in them." Sir George meditatively snuffed the candle with
+his fingers and continued: "If a horse once learns that he can kick--sell
+him. Only yesterday, as I said, Doll was a child, and now, by Jove, she is
+a full-blown woman, and I catch myself standing in awe of her and calling
+her Dorothy. Yes, damme, standing in awe of my own child! That will never
+do, you know. What has wrought the change? And, after all, what is the
+change? I can't define it, but there has been a great one."
+
+He was in a revery and spoke more to himself than to me. "Yesterday she
+was my child--she was a child, and now--and now--she is--she is--Why the
+devil didn't you take her, Malcolm?" cried the old man, awakening. "But
+there, never mind; that is all past and gone, and the future Earl of Derby
+will be a great match for her."
+
+"Do you know the future Earl of Derby?" I asked. "Have you ever seen him?"
+
+"No," Sir George replied. "I hear he is rather wild and uncouth, but--"
+
+"My dear cousin," said I, interrupting him, "he is a vulgar, drunken
+clown, whose associates have always been stable boys, tavern maids, and
+those who are worse than either."
+
+"What?" cried Sir George, hotly, the liquor having reached his brain. "You
+won't have Doll yourself, and you won't consent to another--damme, would
+you have the girl wither into spinsterhood? How, sir, dare you interfere?"
+
+"I withdraw all I said, Sir George," I replied hastily. "I have not a word
+to say against the match. I thought--"
+
+"Well, damn you, sir, don't think."
+
+"You said you wished to consult me about the affair, and I supposed--"
+
+"Don't suppose either," replied Sir George, sullenly. "Supposing and
+thinking have hanged many a man. I didn't wish to consult you. I simply
+wanted to tell you of the projected marriage." Then after a moment of
+half-maudlin, sullen silence he continued, "Go to bed, Malcolm, go to bed,
+or we'll be quarrelling again."
+
+I was glad enough to go to bed, for my cousin was growing drunk, and drink
+made a demon of this man, whose violence when sober was tempered by a
+heart full of tenderness and love.
+
+Next morning Sir George was feeling irritable from the effects of the
+brandy he had drunk over night. At breakfast, in the presence of Lady
+Crawford, Madge, and myself, he abruptly informed Dorothy that he was
+about to give that young goddess to Lord James Stanley for his wife. He
+told her of the arrangement he had made the day before with the Earl of
+Derby. Lady Crawford looked toward her brother in surprise, and Madge
+pushed her chair a little way back from the table with a startled
+movement. Dorothy sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing fire and her
+breast rising and falling like the storm-wrought pulsing of the sea. I
+coughed warningly and placed my finger on my lips, making the sign of
+silence to Dorothy. The girl made a wondrous and beautiful struggle
+against her wrath, and in a moment all signs of ill-temper disappeared,
+and her face took on an expression of sweet meekness which did not belong
+there of right. She quietly sat down again, and when I looked at her, I
+would have sworn that Griselda in the flesh was sitting opposite me. Sir
+George was right. "Ways such as the girl had of late developed were
+dangerous." Hell was in them to an extent little dreamed of by her father.
+Breakfast was finished in silence. Dorothy did not come down to dinner at
+noon, but Sir George did not mark her absence. At supper her place was
+still vacant.
+
+"Where is Doll?" cried Sir George, angrily. He had been drinking heavily
+during the afternoon. "Where is Doll?" he demanded.
+
+"She is on the terrace," answered Madge. "She said she did not want
+supper."
+
+"Tell your mistress to come to supper," said Sir George, speaking to one
+of the servants. "You will find her on the terrace."
+
+The servant left the room, but soon returned, saying that Mistress Dorothy
+wanted no supper.
+
+"Tell her to come to the table whether she wants supper or not. Tell her I
+will put a stop to her moping about the place like a surly vixen," growled
+Sir George.
+
+"Don't send such a message by a servant," pleaded Lady Crawford.
+
+"Then take it to her yourself, Dorothy," exclaimed her brother.
+
+Dorothy returned with her aunt and meekly took her place at the table.
+
+"I will have none of your moping and pouting," said Sir George, as Dorothy
+was taking her chair.
+
+The girl made no reply, but she did not eat.
+
+"Eat your supper," her father commanded. "I tell you I will have no--"
+
+"You would not have me eat if I am not hungry, would you, father?" she
+asked softly.
+
+"I'd have you hungry, you perverse wench."
+
+"Then make me an appetite," returned the girl. I never heard more ominous
+tones fall from human lips. They betokened a mood in which one could
+easily do murder in cold blood, and I was surprised that Sir George did
+not take warning and remain silent.
+
+"I cannot make an appetite for you, fool," he replied testily.
+
+"Then you cannot make me eat," retorted Dorothy.
+
+"Ah, you would answer me, would you, you brazen, insolent huzzy," cried
+her father, angrily.
+
+Dorothy held up her hand warningly to Sir George, and uttered the one
+word, "Father." Her voice sounded like the clear, low ring of steel as I
+have heard it in the stillness of sunrise during a duel to the death.
+Madge gently placed her hand in Dorothy's, but the caress met no response.
+
+"Go to your room," answered Sir George.
+
+Dorothy rose to her feet and spoke calmly: "I have not said that I would
+disobey you in regard to this marriage which you have sought for me; and
+your harshness, father, grows out of your effort to reconcile your
+conscience with the outrage you would put upon your own flesh and
+blood--your only child."
+
+"Suffering God!" cried Sir George, frenzied with anger and drink. "Am I to
+endure such insolence from my own child? The lawyers will be here
+to-morrow. The contract will be signed, and, thank God, I shall soon be
+rid of you. I'll place you in the hands of one who will break your
+damnable will and curb your vixenish temper." Then he turned to Lady
+Crawford. "Dorothy, if there is anything to do in the way of gowns and
+women's trumpery in preparation for the wedding, begin at once, for the
+ceremony shall come off within a fortnight."
+
+This was beyond Dorothy's power to endure. Madge felt the storm coming and
+clutched her by the arm in an effort to stop her, but nothing could have
+done that.
+
+"I marry Lord Stanley?" she asked in low, bell-like tones, full of
+contempt and disdain. "Marry that creature? Father, you don't know me."
+
+"By God, I know myself," retorted Sir George, "and I say--"
+
+"Now hear me, father," she interrupted in a manner that silenced even
+him. She bent forward, resting one fair hand upon the table, while she
+held out her other arm bared to the elbow. "Hear what I say and take it
+for the truth as if it had come from Holy Writ. I will open the veins in
+this arm and will strew my blood in a gapless circle around Haddon Hall so
+that you shall tread upon it whenever you go forth into the day or into
+the night before I will marry the drunken idiot with whom you would curse
+me. Ay, I will do more. I will kill you, if need be, should you try to
+force him on me. Now, father, we understand each other. At least you
+cannot fail to understand me. For the last time I warn you. Beware of me."
+
+She gently pushed the chair back from the table, quietly adjusted the
+sleeve which she had drawn upward from her wrist, and slowly walked out of
+the room, softly humming the refrain of a roundelay. There was no trace of
+excitement about the girl. Her brain was acting with the ease and
+precision of a perfectly constructed machine. Sir George, by his violence
+and cruelty, had made a fiend of this strong, passionate, tender heart.
+That was all.
+
+The supper, of course, was quickly finished, and the ladies left the room.
+
+Sir George took to his bottle and remained with it till his servants put
+him to bed. I slipped away from him and smoked a pipe in front of the
+kitchen fire. Then I went early to my bed in Eagle Tower.
+
+Dorothy went to her apartments. There she lay upon her bed, and for a time
+her heart was like flint. Soon she thought of her precious golden heart
+pierced with a silver arrow, and tears came to her eyes as she drew the
+priceless treasure from her breast and breathed upon it a prayer to the
+God of love for help. Her heart was soft again, soft only as hers could
+be, and peace came to her as she pressed John's golden heart to her lips
+and murmured over and over the words, "My love, my love, my love," and
+murmuring fell asleep.
+
+I wonder how many of the countless women of this world found peace,
+comfort, and ecstasy in breathing those magic words yesterday? How many
+have found them to-day? How many will find them to-morrow? No one can
+tell; but this I know, they come to every woman at some time in her life,
+righteously or unrighteously, as surely as her heart pulses.
+
+That evening Jennie Faxton bore a letter to John, informing him of the
+projected Stanley marriage. It asked him to meet the writer at Bowling
+Green Gate, and begged him to help her if he could.
+
+The small and intermittent remnants of conscience, sense of duty, and
+caution which still remained in John's head--I will not say in John's
+heart, for that was full to overflowing with something else--were quickly
+banished by the unwelcome news in Dorothy's letter. His first impulse was
+to kill Stanley; but John Manners was not an assassin, and a duel would
+make public all he wished to conceal. He wished to conceal, among other
+things, his presence at Rutland. He had two reasons for so desiring. First
+in point of time was the urgent purpose with which he had come to
+Derbyshire. That purpose was to further a plan for the rescue of Mary
+Stuart and to bring her incognito to Rutland Castle as a refuge until
+Elizabeth could be persuaded to receive her. Of this plan I knew nothing
+till after the disastrous attempt to carry it out, of which I shall
+hereafter tell you. The other reason why John wished his presence at
+Rutland unknown was that if he were supposed to be in London, no one would
+suspect him of knowing Dorothy Vernon.
+
+You must remember there had been no overt love-making between John and
+Dorothy up to that time. The scene at the gate approached perilously near
+it, but the line between concealment and confession had not been crossed.
+Mind you, I say there had been no love-making _between_ them. While
+Dorothy had gone as far in that direction as a maiden should dare go--and
+to tell the exact truth, a great deal farther--John had remained almost
+silent for reasons already given you. He also felt a fear of the girl, and
+failed to see in her conduct those signs of intense love which would have
+been plainly discernible had not his perceptions been blinded by the fury
+of his own infatuation. He had placed a curb on his passion and did not
+really know its strength and power until he learned that another man was
+soon to possess the girl he loved. Then life held but one purpose for him.
+Thus, you see that when Dorothy was moaning, "My love, my love," and was
+kissing the golden heart, she was taking a great deal for granted.
+Perhaps, however, she better understood John's feeling for her than did he
+himself. A woman's sixth sense, intuition, is a great help to her in such
+cases. Perhaps the girl knew with intuitive confidence that her passion
+was returned; and perhaps at first she found John's receptive mode of
+wooing sweeter far than an aggressive attack would have been. It may be
+also there was more of the serpent's cunning than of reticence in John's
+conduct. He knew well the ways of women, and perhaps he realized that if
+he would allow Dorothy to manage the entire affair she would do his wooing
+for him much better than he could do it for himself. If you are a man, try
+the plan upon the next woman whom you seek to win. If she happens to be
+one who has full confidence in her charms, you will be surprised at the
+result. Women lacking that confidence are restrained by fear and doubt.
+But in no case have I much faith in the hammer-and-tongs process at the
+opening of a campaign. Later on, of course--but you doubtless are quite as
+well informed concerning this important subject as I. There is, however,
+so much blundering in that branch of science that I have a mind to endow a
+college at Oxford or at Paris in which shall be taught the gentle,
+universally needed art of making love. What a noble attendance such a
+college would draw. But I have wandered wofully from my story.
+
+I must go back a short time in my narrative. A few days before my return
+to Haddon Hall the great iron key to the gate in the wall east of Bowling
+Green Hill was missed from the forester's closet where it had hung for a
+century or more. Bowling Green Hill, as you know, is eastward from Haddon
+Hall a distance of the fourth part of a mile, and the gate is east of the
+hill about the same distance or less. A wall is built upon the east line
+of the Haddon estate, and east of the wall lies a great trackless forest
+belonging to the house of Devonshire. In olden times there had been a road
+from Bakewell to Rowsley along the east side of the wall; but before Sir
+George's seizin the road had been abandoned and the gate was not used. It
+stood in a secluded, unfrequented spot, and Dorothy thought herself very
+shrewd in choosing it for a trysting-place.
+
+But as I told you, one day the key was missed. It was of no value or use,
+and at first nothing was thought of its loss; but from time to time the
+fact that it could not be found was spoken of as curious. All the servants
+had been questioned in vain, and the loss of the key to Bowling Green Gate
+soon took on the dignity of a mystery--a mystery soon to be solved, alas!
+to Dorothy's undoing.
+
+The afternoon of the day following the terrible scene between Sir George
+and his daughter at the supper table, Dorothy rode forth alone upon her
+mare Dolcy. From the window of my room in Eagle Tower I saw her go down
+the west side of the Wye toward Rowsley. I ascended to the roof of the
+tower, and from that elevation I saw her cross the river, and soon she was
+lost to sight in the forest. At that time I knew nothing of the new
+trysting-place, but I felt sure that Dorothy had gone out to seek John.
+The sun shone brightly, and its gentle warmth enticed me to remain upon
+the tower battlements, to muse, and to dream. I fetched my pipe and
+tobacco from my room. I had been smoking at intervals for several months,
+but had not entirely learned to like the weed, because of a slight nausea
+which it invariably caused me to feel. But I thought by practice now and
+again to inure myself to the habit, which was then so new and fashionable
+among modish gentlemen. While I smoked I mused upon the past and present,
+and tried to peer into the future--a fruitless task wherein we waste much
+valuable time; a vain striving, like Eve's, after forbidden knowledge,
+which, should we possess it, would destroy the little remnant of Eden
+still existing on earth. Could we look forward only to our joys, a
+knowledge of the future might be good to have; but imagine, if you can,
+the horror of anticipating evils to come.
+
+After a short time, a lotuslike dreaminess stole over me, and past and
+future seemed to blend in a supreme present of contentment and rest. Then
+I knew I had wooed and won Tobacco and that thenceforth I had at hand an
+ever ready solace in time of trouble. At the end of an hour my dreaming
+was disturbed by voices, which came distinctly up to me from the base of
+the tower. I leaned over the battlements to listen, and what I heard gave
+me alarm and concern such as all the tobacco in the world could not
+assuage. I looked down the dizzy heights of Eagle Tower and saw Sir George
+in conversation with Ben Shaw, a woodman. I had not heard the words first
+spoken between them.
+
+"Ay, ay, Sir George," said Ben, "they be there, by Bowling Green Gate,
+now. I saw them twenty minutes since,--Mistress Vernon and a gentleman."
+
+"Perhaps the gentleman is Sir Malcolm," answered my cousin. I drew back
+from the battlements, and the woodman replied, "Perhaps he be, but I doubt
+it."
+
+There had been a partial reconciliation--sincere on Sir George's part, but
+false and hollow on Dorothy's--which Madge had brought about between
+father and daughter that morning. Sir George, who was sober and repentant
+of his harshness, was inclined to be tender to Dorothy, though he still
+insisted in the matter of the Stanley marriage. Dorothy's anger had
+cooled, and cunning had taken its place. Sir George had asked her to
+forgive him for the hard words he had spoken, and she had again led him to
+believe that she would be dutiful and obedient. It is hard to determine,
+as a question of right and wrong, whether Dorothy is to be condemned or
+justified in the woful deception she practised upon her father. To use a
+plain, ugly word, she lied to him without hesitation or pain of
+conscience. Still, we must remember that, forty years ago, girls were
+frequently forced, regardless of cries and piteous agony, into marriages
+to which death would have been preferable. They were flogged into
+obedience, imprisoned and starved into obedience, and alas! they were
+sometimes killed in the course of punishment for disobedience by men of
+Sir George's school and temper. I could give you at least one instance in
+which a fair girl met her death from punishment inflicted by her father
+because she would not consent to wed the man of his choice. Can we blame
+Dorothy if she would lie or rob or do murder to avoid a fate which to her
+would have been worse than death? When you find yourself condemning her,
+now or hereafter in this history, if you are a man ask yourself this
+question: "If I had a sweetheart in Dorothy's sad case, should I not wish
+her to do as she did? Should I not wish, if it were possible by any
+means, that she should save herself from the worst of fates, and should
+save me from the agony of losing her to such a man as Sir George had
+selected for Dorothy's husband? Is it not a sin to disobey the law of
+self-preservation actively or passively?" Answer these questions as you
+choose. As for myself, I say God bless Dorothy for lying. Perhaps I am in
+error. Perhaps I am not. I but tell you the story of Dorothy as it
+happened, and I am a poor hand at solving questions of right and wrong
+where a beautiful woman is concerned. To my thinking, she usually is in
+the right. In any case, she is sure to have the benefit of the doubt.
+
+When Sir George heard the woodman's story, he started hurriedly toward
+Bowling Green Gate.
+
+Now I shall tell you of Dorothy's adventures after I saw her cross the
+Wye.
+
+When she reached the gate, John was waiting for her.
+
+"Ah, Sir John, I am so glad you are here. That is, I am glad you are here
+before I arrived--good even," said the girl, confusedly. Her heart again
+was beating in a provoking manner, and her breath would not come with ease
+and regularity. The rapid progress of the malady with which she was
+afflicted or blessed was plainly discernible since the last meeting with
+my friend, Sir John. That is, it would have been plain to any one but
+John, whose ailment had taken a fatal turn and had progressed to the
+ante-mortem state of blindness. By the help of the stimulating hope and
+fear which Dorothy's letter had brought to him, he had planned an
+elaborate conversation, and had determined to speak decisive words. He
+hoped to receive from her the answer for which he longed; but his heart
+and breath seemed to have conspired with Dorothy to make
+intercommunication troublesome.
+
+"I received your gracious letter, Mistress Vernon, and I thank you. I
+was--I am--that is, my thanks are more than I--I can express."
+
+"So I see," said the girl, half amused at John's condition, although it
+was but little worse than her own. This universal malady, love, never
+takes its blind form in women. It opens their eyes. Under its influence
+they can see the truth through a millstone. The girl's heart jumped with
+joy when she saw John's truth-telling manner, and composure quickly came
+to her relief, though she still feigned confusion because she wished him
+to see the truth in her as she had seen it in him. She well knew of his
+blindness, and had almost begun to fear lest she would eventually be
+compelled to tell him in words that which she so ardently wished him to
+see for himself. She thought John was the blindest of his sex; but she
+was, to a certain extent, mistaken. John was blind, as you already know,
+but his reticence was not all due to a lack of sight. He at least had
+reached the condition of a well-developed hope. He hoped the girl cared
+for him. He would have fully believed it had it not been for the
+difficulty he found in convincing himself that a goddess like Dorothy
+could care for a man so unworthy as himself. Most modest persons are
+self-respecting. That was John's condition; he was not vain.
+
+"Jennie brought me your letter also," said the girl, laughing because she
+was happy, though her merriment somewhat disconcerted John.
+
+"It told me," she continued, "that you would come. I have it here in my
+pocket--and--and the gate key." She determined this time to introduce the
+key early in the engagement. "But I feared you might not want to come."
+The cunning, the boldness, and the humility of the serpent was in the
+girl. "That is, you know, I thought--perhaps--that is, I feared that you
+might not come. Your father might have been ill, or you might have changed
+your mind after you wrote the letter."
+
+"No," answered John, whose face was beaming with joy. Here, truly, was a
+goddess who could make the blind to see if she were but given a little
+time.
+
+"Do you mean that your father is not ill, or that you did not change your
+mind?" asked Dorothy, whose face, as it should have been after such a
+speech, was bent low while she struggled with the great iron key,
+entangled in the pocket of her gown.
+
+"I mean that I have not changed my mind," said John, who felt that the
+time to speak had come. "There has been no change in me other than a new
+access of eagerness with every hour, and a new longing to see you and to
+hear your voice."
+
+Dorothy felt a great thrill pass through her breast, and she knew that the
+reward of her labors was at hand.
+
+"Certainly," said the self-complacent girl, hardly conscious of her words,
+so great was the joyous tumult in her heart, "I should have known."
+
+There was another pause devoted to the key, with bended head. "But--but
+you might have changed your mind," she continued, "and I might not have
+known it, for, you see, I did not know your former state of mind; you have
+never told me." Her tongue had led her further than she had intended to
+go, and she blushed painfully, and I think, considering her words,
+appropriately.
+
+"My letter told you my state of mind. At least it told you of my intention
+to come. I--I fear that I do not understand you," said John.
+
+"I mean," she replied, with a saucy, fluttering little laugh as she looked
+up from her conflict with the entangled key, "I mean that--that you don't
+know what I mean. But here is the key at last, and--and--you may, if you
+wish, come to this side of the gate."
+
+She stepped forward to unlock the gate with an air that seemed to say,
+"Now, John, you shall have a clear field."
+
+But to her surprise she found that the lock had been removed. That
+discovery brought back to John his wandering wits.
+
+"Mistress Dorothy," he cried in tones of alarm, "I must not remain here.
+We are suspected and are sure to be discovered. Your father has set a trap
+for us. I care not for myself, but I would not bring upon you the trouble
+and distress which would surely follow discovery. Let us quickly choose
+another place and time of meeting. I pray you, sweet lady, meet me
+to-morrow at this time near the white cliff back of Lathkil mill. I have
+that to say to you which is the very blood of my heart. I must now leave
+you at once."
+
+He took her hand, and kissing it, started to leave through the open gate.
+
+The girl caught his arm to detain him. "Say it now, John, say it now. I
+have dreamed of it by night and by day. You know all, and I know all, and
+I long to hear from your lips the words that will break down all barriers
+between us." She had been carried away by the mad onrush of her passion.
+She was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain, and she spoke because
+she could not help it.
+
+"I will speak, Dorothy, God help me! God help me, I will speak!" said
+John, as he caught the girl to his breast in a fierce embrace. "I love
+you, I love you! God Himself only knows how deeply, how passionately! I do
+not know. I cannot fathom its depths. With all my heart and soul, with
+every drop of blood that pulses through my veins, I love you--I adore you.
+Give me your lips, my beauty, my Aphrodite, my queen!"
+
+"There--they--are, John,--there they are. They are--all yours--all
+yours--now! Oh, God! my blood is on fire." She buried her face on his
+breast for shame, that he might not see her burning eyes and her scarlet
+cheeks. Then after a time she cared not what he saw, and she lifted her
+lips to his, a voluntary offering. The supreme emotions of the moment
+drove all other consciousness from their souls.
+
+"Tell me, Dorothy, that you will be my wife. Tell me, tell me!" cried
+John.
+
+"I will, I will, oh, how gladly, how gladly!"
+
+"Tell me that no power on earth can force you to marry Lord Stanley. Tell
+me that you will marry no man but me; that you will wait--wait for me
+till--"
+
+"I will marry no man but you, John, no man but you," said the girl,
+whisperingly. Her head was thrown back from his breast that she might look
+into his eyes, and that he might see the truth in hers. "I am all yours.
+But oh, John, I cannot wait--I cannot! Do not ask me to wait. It would
+kill me. I wear the golden heart you gave me, John," she continued, as she
+nestled closer in his embrace. "I wear the golden heart always. It is
+never from me, even for one little moment. I bear it always upon my heart,
+John. Here it is." She drew from her breast the golden heart and kissed
+it. Then she pressed it to his lips, and said: "I kiss it twenty times in
+the day and in the night; ay, a hundred times. I do not know how often;
+but now I kiss your real heart, John," and she kissed his breast, and then
+stood tiptoe to lift her lips to his.
+
+There was no room left now in John's heart for doubt that Dorothy Vernon
+was his own forever and forever. She had convinced him beyond the reach of
+fear or doubt. John forgot the lockless gate. He forgot everything but
+Dorothy, and cruel time passed with a rapidity of which they were
+unconscious. They were, however, brought back to consciousness by hearing
+a long blast from the forester's bugle, and John immediately retreated
+through the gate.
+
+Dorothy then closed the gate and hastily seated herself upon a stone
+bench against the Haddon side of the wall. She quickly assumed an attitude
+of listless repose, and Dolcy, who was nibbling at the grass near by,
+doubtless supposed that her mistress had come to Bowling Green Gate to
+rest because it was a secluded place, and because she desired to be alone.
+
+Dorothy's attitude was not assumed one moment too soon, for hardly was her
+gown arranged with due regard to carelessness when Sir George's form rose
+above the crest of Bowling Green Hill. In a few minutes he was standing in
+front of his daughter, red with anger. Dorothy's face wore a look of calm
+innocence, which I believe would have deceived Solomon himself,
+notwithstanding that great man's experience with the sex. It did more to
+throw Sir George off the scent than any words the girl could have spoken.
+
+"Who has been with you?" demanded Sir George, angrily.
+
+"When, father?" queried the girl, listlessly resting her head against the
+wall.
+
+"Now, this afternoon. Who has been with you? Ben Shaw said that a man was
+here. He said that he saw a man with you less than half an hour since."
+
+That piece of information was startling to Dorothy, but no trace of
+surprise was visible in her manner or in her voice. She turned listlessly
+and brushed a dry leaf from her gown. Then she looked calmly up into her
+father's face and said laconically, but to the point:--
+
+"Ben lied." To herself she said, "Ben shall also suffer."
+
+"I do not believe that Ben lied," said Sir George. "I, myself, saw a man
+go away from here."
+
+That was crowding the girl into close quarters, but she did not flinch.
+
+"Which way did he go, father?" she asked, with a fine show of carelessness
+in her manner, but with a feeling of excruciating fear in her breast. She
+well knew the wisdom of the maxim, "Never confess."
+
+"He went northward," answered Sir George.
+
+"Inside the wall?" asked Dorothy, beginning again to breathe freely, for
+she knew that John had ridden southward.
+
+"Inside the wall, of course," her father replied. "Do you suppose I could
+see him through the stone wall? One should be able to see through a stone
+wall to keep good watch on you."
+
+"You might have thought you saw him through the wall," answered the girl.
+"I sometimes think of late, father, that you are losing your mind. You
+drink too much brandy, my dear father. Oh, wouldn't it be dreadful if you
+were to lose your mind?" She rose as she spoke, and going to her father
+began to stroke him gently with her hand. She looked into his face with
+real affection; for when she deceived him, she loved him best as a partial
+atonement for her ill-doing.
+
+"Wouldn't that be dreadful?" she continued, while Sir George stood lost in
+bewilderment. "Wouldn't that be dreadful for my dear old father to lose
+his mind? But I really think it must be coming to pass. A great change has
+of late come over you, father. You have for the first time in your life
+been unkind to me and suspicious. Father, do you realize that you insult
+your daughter when you accuse her of having been in this secluded place
+with a man? You would punish another for speaking so against my fair
+name."
+
+"But, Dorothy," Sir George replied, feeling as if he were in the wrong,
+"Ben Shaw said that he saw you here with a man, and I saw a man pass
+toward Bakewell. Who was he? I command you to tell me his name."
+
+Dorothy knew that her father must have seen a man near the gate, but who
+he was she could not imagine. John surely was beyond the wall and well out
+of sight on his way to Rowsley before her father reached the crest of
+Bowling Green Hill. But it was evident that Shaw had seen John. Evidence
+that a man had been at the gate was too strong to be successfully
+contradicted. Facts that cannot be successfully contradicted had better be
+frankly admitted. Dorothy sought through her mind for an admission that
+would not admit, and soon hit upon a plan which, shrewd as it seemed to
+be, soon brought her to grief.
+
+"Perhaps you saw Cousin Malcolm," said Dorothy, as the result of her
+mental search. "He passed here a little time since and stopped for a
+moment to talk. Perhaps you saw Malcolm, father. You would not find fault
+with me because he was here, would you?"
+
+"Dorothy, my daughter," said Sir George, hesitatingly, "are you telling me
+the truth?"
+
+Then the fair girl lifted up her beautiful head, and standing erect at her
+full height (it pains me to tell you this) said: "Father, I am a Vernon. I
+would not lie."
+
+Her manner was so truthlike that Sir George was almost convinced.
+
+He said, "I believe you."
+
+Her father's confidence touched her keenly; but not to the point of
+repentance, I hardly need say.
+
+Dorothy then grew anxious to return to the Hall that she might prepare me
+to answer whatever idle questions her father should put to me. She took
+Dolcy's rein, and leading the mare with one hand while she rested the
+other upon her father's arm, walked gayly across Bowling Green down to the
+Hall, very happy because of her lucky escape.
+
+But a lie is always full of latent retribution.
+
+I was sitting in the kitchen, dreamily watching the huge fire when Dorothy
+and her father entered.
+
+"Ah, Malcolm, are you here?" asked Sir George in a peculiar tone of
+surprise for which I could see no reason.
+
+"I thought you were walking."
+
+I was smoking. I took my pipe from my lips and said, "No, I am helping old
+Bess and Jennie with supper."
+
+"Have you not been walking?" asked Sir George.
+
+There was an odd expression on his face when I looked up to him, and I was
+surprised at his persistent inquiry concerning so trivial a matter. But
+Sir George's expression, agitated as it was, still was calm when compared
+with that of Dorothy, who stood a step or two behind her father. Not only
+was her face expressive, but her hands, her feet, her whole body were
+convulsed in an effort to express something which, for the life of me, I
+could not understand. Her wonderful eyes wore an expression, only too
+readable, of terror and pleading. She moved her hands rapidly and stamped
+her foot. During this pantomime she was forming words with her lips and
+nodding her head affirmatively. Her efforts at expression were lost upon
+me, and I could only respond with a blank stare of astonishment. The
+expression on my face caused Sir George to turn in the direction of my
+gaze, and he did so just in time to catch Dorothy in the midst of a mighty
+pantomimic effort at mute communication.
+
+"Why in the devil's name are you making those grimaces?" demanded Sir
+George.
+
+"I wasn't making grimaces--I--I think I was about to sneeze," replied
+Dorothy.
+
+"Do you think I am blind?" stormed Sir George. "Perhaps I am losing my
+mind? You are trying to tell Malcolm to say that he was with you at
+Bowling Green Gate. Losing my mind, am I? Damme, I'll show you that if I
+am losing my mind I have not lost my authority in my own house."
+
+"Now, father, what is all this storming about?" asked the girl, coaxingly,
+as she boldly put her hands upon her father's shoulders and turned her
+face in all its wondrous beauty and childish innocence of expression up to
+his. "Ask Malcolm to tell you whatever you wish to know." She was sure
+that her father had told me what she had been so anxious to communicate,
+and she felt certain that I would not betray her. She knew that I, whose
+only virtues were that I loved my friend and despised a lie, would
+willingly bear false witness for her sake. She was right. I had caught the
+truth of the situation from Sir George, and I quickly determined to
+perjure my soul, if need be, to help Dorothy. I cannot describe the
+influence this girl at times exerted over me. When under its spell I
+seemed to be a creature of her will, and my power to act voluntarily was
+paralyzed by a strange force emanating from her marvellous vitality. I
+cannot describe it. I tell you only the incontestable fact, and you may
+make out of it whatever you can. I shall again in the course of this
+history have occasion to speak of Dorothy's strange power, and how it was
+exerted over no less a person than Queen Elizabeth.
+
+"Ask Malcolm," repeated the girl, leaning coaxingly upon her father's
+breast. But I was saved from uttering the lie I was willing to tell; for,
+in place of asking me, as his daughter had desired, Sir George demanded
+excitedly of Dorothy, "What have you in your pocket that strikes against
+my knee?"
+
+"Mother of Heaven!" exclaimed Dorothy in a whisper, quickly stepping back
+from her father and slowly lifting her skirt while she reached toward her
+pocket. Her manner was that of one almost bereft of consciousness by
+sudden fright, and an expression of helplessness came over her face which
+filled my heart with pity. She stood during a long tedious moment holding
+with one hand the uplifted skirt, while with the other she clutched the
+key in her pocket.
+
+"What have you in your pocket?" demanded Sir George with a terrible oath.
+"Bring it out, girl. Bring it out, I tell you." Dorothy started to run
+from the room, but her father caught her by the wrist and violently drew
+her to him. "Bring it out, huzzy; it's the key to Bowling Green Gate. Ah,
+I've lost my mind, have I? Blood of Christ! I have not lost my mind yet,
+but I soon shall lose it at this rate," and he certainly looked as if he
+would.
+
+Poor frightened Dorothy was trying to take the key from her pocket, but
+she was too slow to please her angry father, so he grasped the gown and
+tore a great rent whereby the pocket was opened from top to bottom.
+Dorothy still held the key in her hand, but upon the floor lay a piece of
+white paper which had fallen out through the rent Sir George had made in
+the gown. He divined the truth as if by inspiration. The note, he felt
+sure, was from Dorothy's unknown lover. He did not move nor speak for a
+time, and she stood as if paralyzed by fear. She slowly turned her face
+from her father to me, and in a low tone spoke my name, "Malcolm." Her
+voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but so piteous a cry for help I
+have never heard from human lips. Then she stooped, intending to take the
+letter from the floor, and Sir George drew back his arm as if he would
+strike her with his clenched hand. She recoiled from him in terror, and he
+took up the letter, unfolded it, and began to read:--
+
+"Most gracious lady, I thank you for your letter, and with God's help I
+will meet you at Bowling Green Gate--." The girl could endure no more. She
+sprang with a scream toward her father and tried to snatch the letter. Sir
+George drew back, holding firmly to the paper. She followed him
+frantically, not to be thrown off, and succeeded in clutching the letter.
+Sir George violently thrust her from him. In the scuffle that ensued the
+letter was torn, and the lower portion of the sheet remained in Dorothy's
+hand. She ran to the fireplace, intending to thrust the fragment into the
+fire, but she feared that her father might rescue it from the ashes. She
+glanced at the piece of paper, and saw that the part she had succeeded in
+snatching from her father bore John's name. Sir George strode hurriedly
+across the room toward her and she ran to me.
+
+"Malcolm! Malcolm!" she cried in terror. The cry was like a shriek. Then I
+saw her put the paper in her mouth. When she reached me she threw herself
+upon my breast and clung to me with her arms about my neck. She trembled
+as a single leaf among the thousands that deck a full-leaved tree may
+tremble upon a still day, moved by a convulsive force within itself. While
+she clung to me her glorious bust rose and fell piteously, and her
+wondrous eyes dilated and shone with a marvellous light. The expression
+was the output of her godlike vitality, strung to its greatest tension.
+Her face was pale, but terror dominated all the emotions it expressed. Her
+fear, however, was not for herself. The girl, who would have snapped her
+fingers at death, saw in the discovery which her father was trying to
+make, loss to her of more than life. That which she had possessed for less
+than one brief hour was about to be taken from her. She had not enjoyed
+even one little moment alone in which to brood her new-found love, and to
+caress the sweet thought of it. The girl had but a brief instant of rest
+in my arms till Sir George dragged her from me by his terrible strength.
+
+"Where is the paper?" he cried in rage. "It contained the fellow's
+signature."
+
+"I have swallowed it, father, and you must cut me open to find it.
+Doubtless that would be a pleasant task for you," answered Dorothy, who
+was comparatively calm now that she knew her father could not discover
+John's name. I believe Sir George in his frenzy would have killed the girl
+had he then learned that the letter was from John Manners.
+
+"I command you to tell me this fellow's name," said Sir George, with a
+calmness born of tempest. Dorothy did not answer, and Sir George continued
+"I now understand how you came by the golden heart. You lied to me and
+told me that Malcolm had given it to you. Lie upon lie. In God's name I
+swear that I would rather father a thief than a liar."
+
+"I did give her the heart, Sir George," I said, interrupting him. "It was
+my mother's." I had caught the lying infection. But Sir George, in his
+violence, was a person to incite lies. He of course had good cause for his
+anger. Dorothy had lied to him. Of that there could be no doubt; but her
+deception was provoked by his own conduct and by the masterful love that
+had come upon her. I truly believe that prior to the time of her meeting
+with Manners she had never spoken an untruth, nor since that time I also
+believe, except when driven to do so by the same motive. Dorothy was not a
+thief, but I am sure she would have stolen for the sake of her lover. She
+was gentle and tender to a degree that only a woman can attain; but I
+believe she would have done murder in cold blood for the sake of her love.
+Some few women there are in whose hearts God has placed so great an ocean
+of love that when it reaches its flood all other attributes of heart and
+soul and mind are ingulfed in its mighty flow. Of this rare class was
+Dorothy.
+
+"God is love," says the Book.
+
+"The universe is God," says the philosopher. "Therefore," as the
+mathematician would say, "love is the universe." To that proposition
+Dorothy was a corollary.
+
+The servants were standing open-eyed about us in the kitchen.
+
+"Let us go to the dining hall," I suggested. Sir George led the way by the
+stone steps to the screens, and from the screens to the small banquet
+hail, and I followed, leading Dorothy by the hand.
+
+The moment of respite from her father's furious attack gave her time in
+which to collect her scattered senses.
+
+When we reached the banquet hall, and after I had closed the door, Sir
+George turned upon his daughter, and with oath upon oath demanded to know
+the name of her lover. Dorothy stood looking to the floor and said
+nothing. Sir George strode furiously to and fro across the room.
+
+"Curse the day you were born, you wanton huzzy. Curse you! curse you! Tell
+me the name of the man who wrote this letter," he cried, holding toward
+her the fragment of paper. "Tell me his name or, I swear it before God, I
+swear it upon my knighthood, I will have you flogged in the upper court
+till you bleed. I would do it if you were fifty times my child."
+
+Then Dorothy awakened. The girl was herself again. Now it was only for
+herself she had to fear.
+
+Her heart kept saying, "This for his sake, this for his sake." Out of her
+love came fortitude, and out of her fortitude came action.
+
+Her father's oath had hardly been spoken till the girl tore her bodice
+from her shoulders. She threw the garment to the floor and said:--
+
+"I am ready for the whip, I am ready. Who is to do the deed, father, you
+or the butcher? It must be done. You have sworn it, and I swear before God
+and by my maidenhood that I will not tell you the name of the man who
+wrote the letter. I love him, and before I will tell you his name or
+forego his love for me, or before I will abate one jot or tittle of my
+love for him, I will gladly die by the whip in your hand. I am ready for
+the whip, father. I am ready. Let us have it over quickly."
+
+The girl, whose shoulders were bare, took a few steps toward the door
+leading to the upper court, but Sir George did not move. I was deeply
+affected by the terrible scene, and I determined to prevent the flogging
+if to do so should cost Sir George's life at my hands. I would have
+killed him ere he should have laid a single lash of the whip upon
+Dorothy's back.
+
+"Father," continued the terrible girl, "are you not going to flog me?
+Remember your oaths. Surely you would not be forsworn before God and upon
+your knighthood. A forsworn Christian? A forsworn knight? A forsworn
+Vernon? The lash, father, the lash--I am eager for it."
+
+Sir George stood in silence, and Dorothy continued to move toward the
+door. Her face was turned backward over her shoulder to her father, and
+she whispered the words, "Forsworn, forsworn, forsworn!"
+
+As she put her hand on the latch the piteous old man held forth his arms
+toward her and in a wail of agony cried: "Doll! Doll! My daughter! My
+child! God help me!"
+
+He covered his face with his hands, his great form shook for a moment as
+the tree trembles before the fall, and he fell prone to the floor sobbing
+forth the anguish of which his soul was full.
+
+In an instant Dorothy was by her father's side holding his head upon her
+lap. She covered his face with her kisses, and while the tears streamed
+from her eyes she spoke incoherent words of love and repentance.
+
+"I will tell you all, father; I will tell you all. I will give him up; I
+will see him never again. I will try not to love him. Oh, father, forgive
+me, forgive me. I will never again deceive you so long as I live."
+
+Truly the fate of an overoath is that it shall be broken. When one swears
+to do too much, one performs too little.
+
+I helped Sir George rise to his feet.
+
+Dorothy, full of tenderness and in tears, tried to take his hand, but he
+repulsed her rudely, and uttering terrible oaths coupled with her name
+quitted the room with tottering steps.
+
+When her father had gone Dorothy stood in revery for a little time, and
+then looking toward the door through which her father had just passed, she
+spoke as if to herself: "He does not know. How fortunate!"
+
+"But you said you would tell him," I suggested. "You said you would give
+him up."
+
+Dorothy was in a deep revery. She took her bodice from the floor and
+mechanically put it on.
+
+"I know I said I would tell my father, and I offered to give--give him
+up," she replied; "but I will do neither. Father would not meet my love
+with love. He would not forgive me, nor would he accept my repentance when
+it was he who should have repented. I was alarmed and grieved for father's
+sake when I said that I would tell him about--about John, and would give
+him up." She was silent and thoughtful for a little time. "Give him up?"
+she cried defiantly. "No, not for my soul; not for ten thousand thousand
+souls. When my father refused my love, he threw away the only opportunity
+he shall ever have to learn from me John's name. That I swear, and I shall
+never be forsworn. I asked father's forgiveness when he should have begged
+for mine. Whip me in the courtyard, would he, till I should bleed! Yet I
+was willing to forgive him, and he would not accept my forgiveness. I was
+willing to forego John, who is more than life to me; but my father would
+not accept my sacrifice. Truly will I never be so great a fool the second
+time. Malcolm, I will not remain here to be the victim of another insult
+such as my father put upon me to-day. There is no law, human or divine,
+that gives to a parent the right to treat his daughter as my father has
+used me. Before this day my conscience smote me when I deceived him, and I
+suffered pain if I but thought of my father. But now, thanks to his
+cruelty, I may be happy without remorse. Malcolm, if you betray me, I
+will--I will kill you if I must follow you over the world to do it."
+
+"Do you think that I deserve that threat from you, Dorothy?" I asked.
+
+"No, no, my dear friend, forgive me. I trust you," and she caught up my
+hand and kissed it gently.
+
+Dorothy and I remained in the banquet hail, seated upon the stone bench
+under the blazoned window.
+
+Soon Sir George returned, closely followed by two men, one of whom bore
+manacles such as were used to secure prisoners in the dungeon. Sir George
+did not speak. He turned to the men and motioned with his hand toward
+Dorothy. I sprang to my feet, intending to interfere by force, if need be,
+to prevent the outrage; but before I could speak Lady Crawford hurriedly
+entered the hall and ran to Sir George's side.
+
+"Brother," she said, "old Bess has just told me that you have given orders
+for Dorothy's confinement in the dungeon. I could not believe Bess; but
+these men with irons lead me to suspect that you really intend.--"
+
+"Do not interfere in affairs that do not concern you," replied Sir George,
+sullenly.
+
+"But this does concern me greatly," said Aunt Dorothy, "and if you send
+Doll to the dungeon, Madge and I will leave your house and will proclaim
+your act to all England."
+
+"The girl has disobeyed me and has lied to me, and--"
+
+"I care not what she has done, I shall leave your house and disown you for
+my brother if you perpetrate this outrage upon my niece. She is dear to me
+as if she were my own child. Have I not brought her up since babyhood? If
+you carry out this order, brother, I will leave Haddon Hall forever."
+
+"And I'll go with her," cried old Bess, who stood at the door of the
+screens.
+
+"And I, too," said Dawson, who was one of the men who had entered with Sir
+George.
+
+"And I," cried the other man, throwing the manacles to the floor, "I will
+leave your service."
+
+Sir George took up the manacles and moved toward Dorothy.
+
+"You may all go, every cursed one of you. I rule my own house, and I will
+have no rebels in it. When I have finished with this perverse wench, I'll
+not wait for you to go. I'll drive you all out and you may go to--"
+
+He was approaching Dorothy, but I stepped in front of him.
+
+"This must not be, Sir George," said I, sternly. "I shall not leave Haddon
+Hall, and I fear you not. I shall remain here to protect your daughter and
+you from your own violence. You cannot put me out of Haddon Hall; I will
+not go."
+
+"Why cannot I put you out of Haddon Hail?" retorted Sir George, whose rage
+by that time was frightful to behold.
+
+"Because, sir, I am a better man and a better swordsman than you are, and
+because you have not on all your estates a servant nor a retainer who will
+not join me against you when I tell them the cause I champion."
+
+Dawson and his fellow stepped to my side significantly, and Sir George
+raised the iron manacles as if intending to strike me. I did not move. At
+the same moment Madge entered the room.
+
+"Where is my uncle?" she asked.
+
+Old Bess led her to Sir George. She spoke not a word, but placed her arms
+gently about his neck and drew his face down to hers. Then she kissed him
+softly upon the lips and said:--
+
+"My uncle has never in all his life spoken in aught but kindness to me,
+and now I beg him to be kind to Dorothy."
+
+The heavy manacles fell clanking to the floor. Sir George placed his hand
+caressingly upon Madge's head and turned from Dorothy.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Lady Crawford then approached her brother and put her hand upon his arm,
+saying:--
+
+"Come with me, George, that I may speak to you in private."
+
+She moved toward the door by which she had entered, and Madge quietly took
+her uncle's hand and led him after Lady Crawford. Within five minutes Sir
+George, Aunt Dorothy, and Madge returned to the room.
+
+"Dorothy?" said Madge in a low voice.
+
+"Here I am, Madge," murmured Dorothy, who was sitting on the bench by the
+blazoned window. Madge walked gropingly over to her cousin and sat by her
+side, taking her hand. Then Lady Crawford spoke to Dorothy:--
+
+"Your father wishes me to say that you must go to your apartments in
+Entrance Tower, and that you shall not leave them without his consent. He
+also insists that I say to you if you make resistance or objection to this
+decree, or if you attempt to escape, he will cause you to be manacled and
+confined in the dungeon, and that no persuasion upon our part will lead
+him from his purpose."
+
+"Which shall it be?" asked Sir George, directing his question to Lady
+Crawford.
+
+Dorothy lifted her eyebrows, bit the corner of her lip, shrugged her
+shoulders, and said:--
+
+"Indeed, it makes no difference to me where you send me, father; I am
+willing to do whatever will give you the greatest happiness. If you
+consult my wishes, you will have me whipped in the courtyard till I bleed.
+I should enjoy that more than anything else you can do. Ah, how tender is
+the love of a father! It passeth understanding."
+
+"Come to your apartments, Dorothy," said Lady Crawford, anxious to
+separate the belligerents. "I have given your father my word of honor that
+I will guard you and will keep you prisoner in your rooms. Do you not pity
+me? I gave my promise only to save you from the dungeon, and painful as
+the task will be, I will keep my word to your father."
+
+"Which shall it be, father?" asked Dorothy. "You shall finish the task you
+began. I shall not help you in your good work by making choice. You shall
+choose my place of imprisonment. Where shall it be? Shall I go to my rooms
+or to the dungeon?"
+
+"Go to your rooms," answered Sir George, "and let me never see--" but Sir
+George did not finish the sentence. He hurriedly left the hall, and
+Dorothy cheerfully went to imprisonment in Entrance Tower.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+MALCOLM No. 2
+
+
+Sir George had done a bad day's work. He had hardened Dorothy's heart
+against himself and had made it more tender toward John. Since her father
+had treated her so cruelly, she felt she was at liberty to give her heart
+to John without stint. So when once she was alone in her room the
+flood-gates of her heart were opened, and she poured forth the ineffable
+tenderness and the passionate longings with which she was filled. With
+solitude came the memory of John's words and John's kisses. She recalled
+every movement, every word, every tone, every sensation. She gave her soul
+unbridled license to feast with joyous ecstasy upon the thrilling
+memories. All thoughts of her father's cruelty were drowned in a sea of
+bliss. She forgot him. In truth, she forgot everything but her love and
+her lover. That evening, after she had assisted Madge to prepare for bed,
+as was her custom, Dorothy stood before her mirror making her toilet for
+the night. In the flood of her newly found ecstasy she soon forgot that
+Madge was in the room.
+
+Dorothy stood before her mirror with her face near to its polished
+surface, that she might scrutinize every feature, and, if possible, verify
+John's words.
+
+"He called me 'my beauty' twice," she thought, "and 'my Aphrodite' once."
+Then her thoughts grew into unconscious words, and she spoke aloud:--
+
+"I wish he could see me now." And she blushed at the thought, as she
+should have done. "He acted as if he meant all he said," she thought. "I
+know he meant it. I trust him entirely. But if he should change? Holy
+Mother, I believe I should die. But I do believe him. He would not lie,
+even though he is not a Vernon."
+
+With thoughts of the scene between herself and her father at the gate,
+there came a low laugh, half of amusement, half of contentment, and the
+laugh meant a great deal that was to be regretted; it showed a sad change
+in Dorothy's heart. But yesterday the memory of her deceit would have
+filled her with grief. To-night she laughed at it. Ah, Sir George!
+Pitiable old man! While your daughter laughs, you sigh and groan and moan,
+and your heart aches with pain and impotent rage. Even drink fails to
+bring comfort to you. I say impotent rage, because Dorothy is out of your
+reach, and as surely as the sun rises in the east she is lost to you
+forever. The years of protection and tender love which you have given to
+her go for nothing. Now comes the son of your mortal enemy, and you are
+but an obstruction in her path. Your existence is forgotten while she
+revels in the memory of his words, his embraces, and his lips. She laughs
+while you suffer, in obedience to the fate that Heaven has decreed for
+those who bring children into this world.
+
+Who is to blame for the pitiable mite which children give in return for a
+parent's flood of love? I do not know, but of this I am sure: if parents
+would cease to feel that they own their children in common with their
+horses, their estates, and their cattle; if they would not, as many do in
+varying degrees, treat their children as their property, the return of
+love would be far more adequate than it is.
+
+Dorothy stood before her mirror plaiting her hair. Her head was turned
+backward a little to one side that she might more easily reach the great
+red golden skein. In that entrancing attitude the reflection of the nether
+lip of which John had spoken so fondly came distinctly to Dorothy's
+notice. She paused in the braiding of her hair and held her face close to
+the mirror that she might inspect the lip, whose beauty John had so
+ardently admired. She turned her face from one side to the other that she
+might view it from all points, and then she thrust it forward with a
+pouting movement that would have set the soul of a mummy pulsing if he had
+ever been a man. She stood for a moment in contemplation of the full red
+lip, and then resting her hands upon the top of the mirror table leaned
+forward and kissed its reflected image.
+
+Again forgetfulness fell upon her and her thoughts grew into words.
+
+"He was surely right concerning my lower lip," she said, speaking to
+herself. Then without the least apparent relevance, "He had been smoking."
+Again her words broke her revery, and she took up the unfinished braid of
+hair. When she did so, she caught a glimpse of her arm which was as
+perfectly rounded as the fairest marble of Phidias. She stretched the arm
+to its full length that the mirror might reflect its entire beauty. Again
+she thought aloud: "I wish he could see my arm. Perhaps some day--" But
+the words ceased, and in their place came a flush that spread from her
+hair to her full white throat, and she quickly turned the mirror away so
+that even it should not behold her beauty.
+
+You see after all is told Dorothy was modest.
+
+She finished her toilet without the aid of her mirror; but before she
+extinguished the candle she stole one more fleeting glance at its polished
+surface, and again came the thought, "Perhaps some day--" Then she covered
+the candle, and amid enfolding darkness lay down beside Madge, full of
+thoughts and sensations that made her tremble; for they were strange to
+her, and she knew not what they meant.
+
+Dorothy thought that Madge was asleep, but after a few minutes the latter
+said:--
+
+"Tell me, Dorothy, who was on fire?"
+
+"Who was on fire?" asked Dorothy in surprise. "What do you mean, Madge?"
+
+"I hope they have not been trying to burn any one," said Madge.
+
+"What do you mean?" again asked Dorothy.
+
+"You said 'He had been smoking,'" responded Madge.
+
+"Oh," laughed Dorothy, "that is too comical. Of course not, dear one. I
+was speaking of--of a man who had been smoking tobacco, as Malcolm does."
+Then she explained the process of tobacco smoking.
+
+"Yes, I know," answered Madge. "I saw Malcolm's pipe. That is, I held it
+in my hands for a moment while he explained to me its use."
+
+Silence ensued for a moment, and Madge again spoke:--
+
+"What was it he said about your lower lip, and who was he? I did not learn
+why Uncle George wished to confine you in the dungeon. I am so sorry that
+this trouble has come upon you."
+
+"Trouble, Madge?" returned Dorothy. "Truly, you do not understand. No
+trouble has come upon me. The greatest happiness of my life has come to
+pass. Don't pity me. Envy me. My happiness is so sweet and so great that
+it frightens me."
+
+"How can you be happy while your father treats you so cruelly?" asked
+Madge.
+
+"His conduct makes it possible for my happiness to be complete," returned
+Dorothy. "If he were kind to me, I should be unhappy, but his cruelty
+leaves me free to be as happy as I may. For my imprisonment in this room I
+care not a farthing. It does not trouble me, for when I wish to see--see
+him again, I shall do so. I don't know at this time just how I shall
+effect it; but be sure, sweet one, I shall find a way." There was no doubt
+in Madge's mind that Dorothy would find a way.
+
+"Who is he, Dorothy? You may trust me. Is he the gentleman whom we met at
+Derby-town?"
+
+"Yes," answered Dorothy, "he is Sir John Manners."
+
+"Dorothy!" exclaimed Madge in tones of fear.
+
+"It could not be worse, could it, Madge?" said Dorothy.
+
+"Oh, Dorothy!" was the only response.
+
+"You will not betray me?" asked Dorothy, whose alarm made her suspicious.
+
+"You know whether or not I will betray you," answered Madge.
+
+"Indeed, I know, else I should not have told you my secret. Oh, you should
+see him, Madge; he is the most beautiful person living. The poor soft
+beauty of the fairest woman grows pale beside him. You cannot know how
+wonderfully beautiful a man may be. You have never seen one."
+
+"Yes, I have seen many men, and I well remember their appearance. I was
+twelve years old, you know, when I lost my sight."
+
+"But, Madge," said Dorothy, out of the fulness of her newly acquired
+knowledge, "a girl of twelve cannot see a man."
+
+"No woman sees with her eyes the man whom she loves," answered Madge,
+quietly.
+
+"How does she see him?" queried Dorothy.
+
+"With her heart."
+
+"Have you, too, learned that fact?" asked Dorothy.
+
+Madge hesitated for a moment and murmured "Yes."
+
+"Who is he, dear one?" whispered Dorothy.
+
+"I may not tell even you, Dorothy," replied Madge, "because it can come
+to nothing. The love is all on my part."
+
+Dorothy insisted, but Madge begged her not to ask for her secret.
+
+"Please don't even make a guess concerning him," said Madge. "It is my
+shame and my joy."
+
+It looked as if this malady which had fallen upon Dorothy were like the
+plague that infects a whole family if one but catch it.
+
+Dorothy, though curious, was generous, and remained content with Madge's
+promise that she should be the first one to hear the sweet story if ever
+the time should come to tell it.
+
+"When did you see him?" asked Madge, who was more willing to receive than
+to impart intelligence concerning affairs of the heart.
+
+"To-day," answered Dorothy. Then she told Madge about the scenes at the
+gate and described what had happened between her and Sir George in the
+kitchen and banquet hall.
+
+"How could you tell your father such a falsehood?" asked Madge in
+consternation.
+
+"It was very easy. You see I had to do it. I never lied until recently.
+But oh, Madge, this is a terrible thing to come upon a girl!" "This" was
+somewhat indefinite, but Madge understood, and perhaps it will be clear to
+you what Dorothy meant. The girl continued: "She forgets all else. It will
+drive her to do anything, however wicked. For some strange cause, under
+its influence she does not feel the wrong she does. It acts upon a girl's
+sense of right and wrong as poppy juice acts on pain. Before it came upon
+me in--in such terrible force, I believe I should have become ill had I
+told my father a falsehood. I might have equivocated, or I might have
+evaded the truth in some slight degree, but I could not have told a lie.
+But now it is as easy as winking."
+
+"And I fear, Dorothy," responded Madge, "that winking is very easy for
+you."
+
+"Yes," answered candid Dorothy with a sigh.
+
+"It must be a very great evil," said Madge, deploringly.
+
+"One might well believe so," answered Dorothy, "but it is not. One
+instinctively knows it to be the essence of all that is good."
+
+Madge asked, "Did Sir John tell you that--that he--"
+
+"Yes," said Dorothy, covering her face even from the flickering rays of
+the rushlight.
+
+"Did you tell him?"
+
+"Yes," came in reply from under the coverlet.
+
+After a short silence Dorothy uncovered her face.
+
+"Yes," she said boldly, "I told him plainly; nor did I feel shame in so
+doing. It must be that this strange love makes one brazen. You, Madge,
+would die with shame had you sought any man as I have sought John. I would
+not for worlds tell you how bold and over-eager I have been."
+
+"Oh, Dorothy!" was all the answer Madge gave.
+
+"You would say 'Oh, Dorothy,' many times if you knew all." Another pause
+ensued, after which Madge asked:--
+
+"How did you know he had been smoking?"
+
+"I--I tasted it," responded Dorothy.
+
+"How could you taste it? I hope you did not smoke?" returned Madge in
+wonderment.
+
+Dorothy smothered a little laugh, made two or three vain attempts to
+explain, tenderly put her arms about Madge's neck and kissed her.
+
+"Oh, Dorothy, that certainly was wrong," returned Madge, although she had
+some doubts in her own mind upon the point.
+
+"Well, if it is wrong," answered Dorothy, sighing, "I don't care to live."
+
+"Dorothy, I fear you are an immodest girl," said Madge.
+
+"I fear I am, but I don't care--John, John, John!"
+
+"How came he to speak of your lower lip?" asked Madge. "It certainly is
+very beautiful; but how came he to speak of it?"
+
+"It was after--after--once," responded Dorothy.
+
+"And your arm," continued remorseless Madge, "how came he to speak of it?
+You surely did not--"
+
+"No, no, Madge; I hope you do not think I would show him my arm. I have
+not come to that. I have a poor remnant of modesty left; but the Holy
+Mother only knows how long it will last. No, he did not speak of my arm."
+
+"You spoke of your arm when you were before the mirror," responded Madge,
+"and you said, 'Perhaps some day--'"
+
+"Oh, don't, Madge. Please spare me. I indeed fear I am very wicked. I will
+say a little prayer to the Virgin to-night. She will hear me, even If I am
+wicked; and she will help me to become good and modest again."
+
+The girls went to sleep, and Dorothy dreamed "John, John, John," and
+slumbered happily.
+
+That part of the building of Haddon Hall which lies to the northward, west
+of the kitchen, consists of rooms according to the following plan:--
+
+The two rooms in Entrance Tower over the great doors at the northwest
+corner of Haddon Hall were occupied by Dorothy and Madge. The west room
+overlooking the Wye was their parlor. The next room to the east was their
+bedroom. The room next their bedroom was occupied by Lady Crawford. Beyond
+that was Sir George's bedroom, and east of his room was one occupied by
+the pages and two retainers. To enter Dorothy's apartments one must pass
+through all the other rooms I have mentioned. Her windows were twenty-five
+feet from the ground and were barred with iron. After Dorothy's sentence
+of imprisonment, Lady Crawford, or some trusted person in her place, was
+always on guard in Aunt Dorothy's room to prevent Dorothy's escape, and
+guards were also stationed in the retainer's room for the same purpose. I
+tell you this that you may understand the difficulties Dorothy would have
+to overcome before she could see John, as she declared to Madge she would.
+But my opinion is that there are no limits to the resources of a wilful
+girl. Dorothy saw Manners. The plan she conceived to bring about the
+desired end was so seemingly impossible, and her execution of it was so
+adroit and daring, that I believe it will of itself interest you in the
+telling, aside from the bearing it has upon this history. No sane man
+would have deemed it possible, but this wilful girl carried it to
+fruition. She saw no chance of failure. To her it seemed a simple, easy
+matter. Therefore she said with confidence and truth, "I will see him when
+I wish to."
+
+Let me tell you of it.
+
+During Dorothy's imprisonment I spent an hour or two each evening with her
+and Madge at their parlor in the tower. The windows of the room, as I have
+told you, faced westward, overlooking the Wye, and disclosed the
+beautiful, undulating scenery of Overhaddon Hill in the distance.
+
+One afternoon when Madge was not present Dorothy asked me to bring her a
+complete suit of my garments,--boots, hose, trunks, waistcoat, and
+doublet. I laughed, and asked her what she wanted with them, but she
+refused to tell me. She insisted, however, and I promised to fetch the
+garments to her. Accordingly the next evening I delivered the bundle to
+her hands. Within a week she returned them all, saving the boots. Those
+she kept--for what reason I could not guess.
+
+Lady Crawford, by command of Sir George, carried in her reticule the key
+of the door which opened from her own room into Sir George's apartments,
+and the door was always kept locked.
+
+Dorothy had made several attempts to obtain possession of the key, with
+intent, I believe, of making a bold dash for liberty. But Aunt Dorothy,
+mindful of Sir George's wrath and fearing him above all men, acted
+faithfully her part of gaoler. She smiled, half in sadness, when she told
+me of the girl's simplicity in thinking she could hoodwink a person of
+Lady Crawford's age, experience, and wisdom. The old lady took great pride
+in her own acuteness. The distasteful task of gaoler, however, pained good
+Aunt Dorothy, whose simplicity was, in truth, no match for Dorothy's
+love-quickened cunning. But Aunt Dorothy's sense of duty and her fear of
+Sir George impelled her to keep good and conscientious guard.
+
+One afternoon near the hour of sunset I knocked for admission at Lady
+Crawford's door. When I had entered she locked the door carefully after
+me, and replaced the key in the reticule which hung at her girdle.
+
+I exchanged a few words with her Ladyship, and entered Dorothy's bedroom,
+where I left my cloak, hat, and sword. The girls were in the parlor. When
+I left Lady Crawford she again took her chair near the candle, put on her
+great bone-rimmed spectacles, and was soon lost to the world in the pages
+of "Sir Philip de Comynges." The dear old lady was near-sighted and was
+slightly deaf. Dorothy's bedroom, like Lady Crawford's apartments, was in
+deep shadow. In it there was no candle.
+
+My two fair friends were seated in one of the west windows watching the
+sunset. They rose, and each gave me her hand and welcomed me with the rare
+smiles I had learned to expect from them. I drew a chair near to the
+window and we talked and laughed together merrily for a few minutes. After
+a little time Dorothy excused herself, saying that she would leave Madge
+and me while she went into the bedroom to make a change in her apparel.
+
+Madge and I sat for a few minutes at the window, and I said, "You have not
+been out to-day for exercise."
+
+I had ridden to Derby with Sir George and had gone directly on my return
+to see my two young friends. Sir George had not returned.
+
+"Will you walk with me about the room?" I asked. My real reason for making
+the suggestion was that I longed to clasp her hand, and to feel its
+velvety touch, since I should lead her if we walked.
+
+She quickly rose in answer to my invitation and offered me her hand. As we
+walked to and fro a deep, sweet contentment filled my heart, and I felt
+that any words my lips could coin would but mar the ineffable silence.
+
+Never shall I forget the soft light of that gloaming as the darkening red
+rays of the sinking sun shot through the panelled window across the floor
+and illumined the tapestry upon the opposite wall.
+
+The tapestries of Haddon Hall are among the most beautiful in England, and
+the picture upon which the sun's rays fell was that of a lover kneeling at
+the feet of his mistress. Madge and I passed and repassed the illumined
+scene, and while it was softly fading into shadow a great flood of tender
+love for the girl whose soft hand I held swept over my heart. It was the
+noblest motive I had ever felt.
+
+Moved by an impulse I could not resist, I stopped in our walk, and falling
+to my knee pressed her hand ardently to my lips. Madge did not withdraw
+her hand, nor did she attempt to raise me. She stood in passive silence.
+The sun's rays had risen as the sun had sunk, and the light was falling
+like a holy radiance from the gates of paradise upon the girl's head. I
+looked upward, and never in my eyes had woman's face appeared so fair and
+saintlike. She seemed to see me and to feel the silent outpouring of my
+affection. I rose to my feet, and clasping both her hands spoke only her
+name "Madge."
+
+She answered simply, "Malcolm, is it possible?" And her face, illumined by
+the sunlight and by the love-god, told me all else. Then I gently took her
+to my arms and kissed her lips again and again and again, and Madge by no
+sign nor gesture said me nay. She breathed a happy sigh, her head fell
+upon my breast, and all else of good that the world could offer compared
+with her was dross to me.
+
+We again took our places by the window, since now I might hold her hand
+without an excuse. By the window we sat, speaking little, through the
+happiest hour of my I life. How dearly do I love to write about it, and to
+lave my soul in the sweet aromatic essence of its memory. But my
+rhapsodies must have an end.
+
+When Dorothy left me with Madge at the window she entered her bedroom and
+quickly arrayed herself in garments which were facsimiles of those I had
+lent her. Then she put her feet into my boots and donned my hat and cloak.
+She drew my gauntleted gloves over her hands, buckled my sword to her slim
+waist, pulled down the broad rim of my soft beaver hat over her face, and
+turned up the collar of my cloak. Then she adjusted about her chin and
+upper lip a black chin beard and moustachio, which she had in some manner
+contrived to make, and, in short, prepared to enact the role of Malcolm
+Vernon before her watchful gaoler, Aunt Dorothy.
+
+While sitting silently with Madge I heard the clanking of my sword against
+the oak floor in Dorothy's bedroom. I supposed she had been toying with it
+and had let it fall. She was much of a child, and nothing could escape her
+curiosity. Then I heard the door open into Aunt Dorothy's apartments. I
+whispered to Madge requesting her to remain silently by the window, and
+then I stepped softly over to the door leading into the bedroom. I
+noiselessly opened the door and entered. From my dark hiding-place in
+Dorothy's bedroom I witnessed a scene in Aunt Dorothy's room which filled
+me with wonder and suppressed laughter. Striding about in the
+shadow-darkened portions of Lady Crawford's apartment was my other self,
+Malcolm No. 2, created from the flesh and substance of Dorothy Vernon.
+
+The sunlight was yet abroad, though into Lady Crawford's room its slanting
+rays but dimly entered at that hour, and the apartment was in deep shadow,
+save for the light of one flickering candle, close to the flame of which
+the old lady was holding the pages of the book she was laboriously
+perusing.
+
+The girl held her hand over her mouth trumpet-wise that her voice might be
+deepened, and the swagger with which she strode about the room was the
+most graceful and ludicrous movement I ever beheld. I wondered if she
+thought she was imitating my walk, and I vowed that if her step were a
+copy of mine, I would straightway amend my pace.
+
+"What do you read, Lady Crawford?" said my cloak and hat, in tones that
+certainly were marvellously good imitations of my voice.
+
+"What do you say, Malcolm?" asked the deaf old lady, too gentle to show
+the ill-humor she felt because of the interruption to her reading.
+
+"I asked what do you read?" repeated Dorothy.
+
+"The 'Chronicle of Sir Philip de Comynges,'" responded Lady Crawford.
+"Have you read it? It is a rare and interesting history."
+
+"Ah, indeed, it is a rare book, a rare book. I have read it many times."
+There was no need for that little fabrication, and it nearly brought
+Dorothy into trouble.
+
+"What part of the 'Chronicle' do you best like?" asked Aunt Dorothy,
+perhaps for lack of anything else to say. Here was trouble already for
+Malcolm No. 2.
+
+"That is hard for me to say. I so well like it all. Perhaps--ah--perhaps I
+prefer the--the ah--the middle portion."
+
+"Ah, you like that part which tells the story of Mary of Burgundy,"
+returned Aunt Dorothy. "Oh, Malcolm, I know upon what theme you are always
+thinking--the ladies, the ladies."
+
+"Can the fair Lady Crawford chide me for that?" my second self responded
+in a gallant style of which I was really proud. "She who has caused so
+much of that sort of thought surely must know that a gentleman's mind
+cannot be better employed than--"
+
+"Malcolm, you are incorrigible. But it is well for a gentleman to keep in
+practice in such matters, even though he have but an old lady to practise
+on."
+
+"They like it, even if it be only practice, don't they?" said Dorothy,
+full of the spirit of mischief.
+
+"I thank you for nothing, Sir Malcolm Vernon," retorted Aunt Dorothy with
+a toss of her head. "I surely don't value your practice, as you call it,
+one little farthing's worth."
+
+But Malcolm No. 2, though mischievously inclined, was much quicker of wit
+than Malcolm No. 1, and she easily extricated herself.
+
+"I meant that gentlemen like it, Lady Crawford."
+
+"Oh!" replied Lady Crawford, again taking up her book. "I have been
+reading Sir Philip's account of the death of your fair Mary of Burgundy.
+Do you remember the cause of her death?"
+
+Malcolm No. 2, who had read Sir Philip so many times, was compelled to
+admit that he did not remember the cause of Mary's death.
+
+"You did not read the book with attention," replied Lady Crawford. "Sir
+Philip says that Mary of Burgundy died from an excess of modesty."
+
+"That disease will never depopulate England," was the answer that came
+from my garments, much to my chagrin.
+
+"Sir Malcolm," exclaimed the old lady, "I never before heard so ungallant
+a speech from your lips."--"And," thought I, "she never will hear its like
+from me."
+
+"Modesty," continued Lady Crawford, "may not be valued so highly by young
+women nowadays as it was in the time of my youth, but--"
+
+"I am sure it is not," interrupted Dorothy.
+
+"But," continued Lady Crawford, "the young women of England are modest and
+seemly in their conduct, and they do not deserve to be spoken of in
+ungallant jest."
+
+I trembled lest Dorothy should ruin my reputation for gallantry.
+
+"Do you not," said Lady Crawford, "consider Dorothy and Madge to be
+modest, well-behaved maidens?"
+
+"Madge! Ah, surely she is all that a maiden should be. She is a saint, but
+as to Dorothy--well, my dear Lady Crawford, I predict another end for her
+than death from modesty. I thank Heaven the disease in its mild form does
+not kill. Dorothy has it mildly," then under her breath, "if at all."
+
+The girl's sense of humor had vanquished her caution, and for the moment
+it caused her to forget even the reason for her disguise.
+
+"You do not speak fairly of your cousin Dorothy," retorted Lady Crawford.
+"She is a modest girl, and I love her deeply."
+
+"Her father would not agree with you," replied Dorothy.
+
+"Perhaps not," responded the aunt. "Her father's conduct causes me great
+pain and grief."
+
+"It also causes me pain," said Dorothy, sighing.
+
+"But, Malcolm," continued the old lady, putting down her book and turning
+with quickened interest toward my other self, "who, suppose you, is the
+man with whom Dorothy has become so strangely entangled?"
+
+"I cannot tell for the life of me," answered Malcolm No. 2. "Surely a
+modest girl would not act as she does."
+
+"Surely a modest girl would," replied Aunt Dorothy, testily. "Malcolm, you
+know nothing of women."
+
+"Spoken with truth," thought I.
+
+The old lady continued: "Modesty and love have nothing whatever to do with
+each other. When love comes in at the door, modesty flies out at the
+window. I do pity my niece with all my heart, and in good truth I wish I
+could help her, though of course I would not have her know my feeling. I
+feign severity toward her, but I do not hesitate to tell you that I am
+greatly interested in her romance. She surely is deeply in love."
+
+"That is a true word, Aunt Dorothy," said the lovelorn young woman. "I am
+sure she is fathoms deep in love."
+
+"Nothing," said Lady Crawford, "but a great passion would have impelled
+her to act as she did. Why, even Mary of Burgundy, with all her modesty,
+won the husband she wanted, ay, and had him at the cost of half her rich
+domain."
+
+"I wonder if Dorothy will ever have the man she wants?" said Malcolm,
+sighing in a manner entirely new to him.
+
+"No," answered the old lady, "I fear there is no hope for Dorothy. I
+wonder who he is? Her father intends that she shall soon marry Lord
+Stanley. Sir George told me as much this morning when he started for
+Derby-town to arrange for the signing of the marriage contract within a
+day or two. He had a talk yesterday with Dorothy. She, I believe, has
+surrendered to the inevitable, and again there is good feeling between her
+and my brother."
+
+Dorothy tossed her head expressively.
+
+"It is a good match," continued Lady Crawford, "a good match, Malcolm. I
+pity Dorothy; but it is my duty to guard her, and I shall do it
+faithfully."
+
+"My dear Lady Crawford," said my hat and cloak, "your words and feelings
+do great credit to your heart. But have you ever thought that your niece
+is a very wilful girl, and that she is full of disturbing expedients? Now
+I am willing to wager my beard that she will, sooner than you suspect, see
+her lover. And I am also willing to lay a wager that she will marry the
+man of her choice despite all the watchfulness of her father and yourself.
+Keep close guard over her, my lady, or she will escape."
+
+Lady Crawford laughed. "She shall not escape. Have no fear of that,
+Malcolm. The key to the door is always safely locked in my reticule. No
+girl can outwit me. I am too old to be caught unawares by a mere child
+like Dorothy. It makes me laugh, Malcolm--although I am sore at heart for
+Dorothy's sake--it makes me laugh, with a touch of tears, when I think of
+poor simple Dorothy's many little artifices to gain possession of this
+key. They are amusing and pathetic. Poor child! But I am too old to be
+duped by a girl, Malcolm, I am too old. She has no chance to escape."
+
+I said to myself: "No one has ever become too old to be duped by a girl
+who is in love. Her wits grow keen as the otter's fur grows thick for the
+winter's need. I do not know your niece's plan; but if I mistake not, Aunt
+Dorothy, you will in one respect, at least, soon be rejuvenated."
+
+"I am sure Lady Crawford is right in what she says," spoke my other self,
+"and Sir George is fortunate in having for his daughter a guardian who
+cannot be hoodwinked and who is true to a distasteful trust. I would the
+trouble were over and that Dorothy were well married."
+
+"So wish I, Malcolm, with all my heart," replied Aunt Dorothy.
+
+After a brief pause in the conversation Malcolm No. 2 said:--
+
+"I must now take my leave. Will you kindly unlock the door and permit me
+to say good night?"
+
+"If you must go," answered my lady, glad enough to be left alone with her
+beloved Sir Philip. Then she unlocked the door.
+
+"Keep good watch, my dear aunt," said Malcolm. "I greatly fear that
+Dorothy--" but the door closed on the remainder of the sentence and on
+Dorothy Vernon.
+
+"Nonsense!" ejaculated the old lady somewhat impatiently. "Why should he
+fear for Dorothy? I hope I shall not again be disturbed." And soon she was
+deep in the pages of her book.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A TRYST AT BOWLING GREEN GATE
+
+
+I was at a loss what course to pursue, and I remained for a moment in
+puzzling thought. I went back to Madge, and after closing the door, told
+her of all I had seen. She could not advise me, and of course she was
+deeply troubled and concerned. After deliberating, I determined to speak
+to Aunt Dorothy that she might know what had happened. So I opened the
+door and walked into Lady Crawford's presence. After viewing my lady's
+back for a short time, I said:--
+
+"I cannot find my hat, cloak, and sword. I left them in Dorothy's bedroom.
+Has any one been here since I entered?"
+
+The old lady turned quickly upon me, "Since you entered?" she cried in
+wonderment and consternation. "Since you left, you mean. Did you not leave
+this room a few minutes ago? What means this? How found you entrance
+without the key?"
+
+"I did not leave this room, Aunt Dorothy; you see I am here," I responded.
+
+"Who did leave? Your wraith? Some one--Dorothy!" screamed the old lady in
+terror. "That girl!!--Holy Virgin! where is she?"
+
+Lady Crawford hastened to Dorothy's room and returned to me in great
+agitation.
+
+"Were you in the plot?" she demanded angrily.
+
+"No more than were you, Lady Crawford," I replied, telling the exact
+truth. If I were accessory to Dorothy's crime, it was only as a witness
+and Aunt Dorothy had seen as much as I.
+
+I continued: "Dorothy left Lady Madge and me at the window, saying she
+wished to make a change in her garments. I was watching the sunset and
+talking with Lady Madge."
+
+Lady Crawford, being full of concern about the main event,--Dorothy's
+escape,--was easily satisfied that I was not accessory before the fact.
+
+"What shall I do, Malcolm? What shall I do? Help me, quickly. My brother
+will return in the morning--perhaps he will return to-night--and he will
+not believe that I have not intentionally permitted Dorothy to leave the
+Hall. I have of late said so much to him on behalf of the girl that he
+suspects me already of being in sympathy with her. He will not believe me
+when I tell him that I have been duped. The ungrateful, selfish girl! How
+could she so unkindly return my affection!"
+
+The old lady began to weep.
+
+I did not believe that Dorothy intended to leave Haddon Hall permanently.
+I felt confident she had gone out only to meet John, and was sure she
+would soon return. On the strength of that opinion I said: "If you fear
+that Sir George will not believe you--he certainly will blame you--would
+it not be better to admit Dorothy quietly when she returns and say nothing
+to any one concerning the escapade? I will remain here in these rooms, and
+when she returns I will depart, and the guards will never suspect that
+Dorothy has left the Hall."
+
+"If she will but return," wailed Aunt Dorothy, "I shall be only too glad
+to admit her and to keep silent."
+
+"I am sure she will," I answered. "Leave orders with the guard at Sir
+George's door to admit me at any time during the night, and Dorothy will
+come in without being recognized. Her disguise must be very complete if
+she could deceive you."
+
+"Indeed, her disguise is complete," replied the tearful old lady.
+
+Dorothy's disguise was so complete and her resemblance to me had been so
+well contrived that she met with no opposition from the guards in the
+retainer's room nor from the porter. She walked out upon the terrace where
+she strolled for a short time. Then she climbed over the wall at the stile
+back of the terrace and took her way up Bowling Green Hill toward the
+gate. She sauntered leisurely until she was out of sight of the Hall. Then
+gathering up her cloak and sword she sped along the steep path to the hill
+crest and thence to the gate.
+
+Soon after the first day of her imprisonment she had sent a letter to John
+by the hand of Jennie Faxton, acquainting him with the details of all that
+had happened. In her letter, among much else, she said:--
+
+"My true love, I beg you to haunt with your presence Bowling Green Gate
+each day at the hour of sunset. I cannot tell you when I shall be there to
+meet you, or surely I would do so now. But be there I will. Let no doubt
+of that disturb your mind. It does not lie in the power of man to keep me
+from you. That is, it lies in the power of but one man, you, my love and
+my lord, and I fear not that you will use your power to that end. So it is
+that I beg you to wait for me at sunset hour each day near by Bowling
+Green Gate. You may be caused to wait for me a long weary time; but one
+day, sooner or later, I shall go to you, and then--ah, then, if it be in
+my power to reward your patience, you shall have no cause for complaint."
+
+When Dorothy reached the gate she found it securely locked. She peered
+eagerly through the bars, hoping to see John. She tried to shake the
+heavy iron structure to assure herself that it could not be opened.
+
+"Ah, well," she sighed, "I suppose the reason love laughs at locksmiths is
+because he--or she--can climb."
+
+Then she climbed the gate and sprang to the ground on the Devonshire side
+of the wall.
+
+"What will John think when he sees me in this attire?" she said half
+aloud. "Malcolm's cloak serves but poorly to cover me, and I shall instead
+be covered with shame and confusion when John comes. I fear he will think
+I have disgraced myself." Then, with a sigh, "But necessity knows no
+raiment."
+
+She strode about near the gate for a few minutes, wishing that she were
+indeed a man, save for one fact: if she were not a woman, John would not
+love her, and, above all, she could not love John. The fact that she could
+and did love John appealed to Dorothy as the highest, sweetest privilege
+that Heaven or earth could offer to a human being.
+
+The sun had sunk in the west, and his faint parting glory was but dimly to
+be seen upon a few small clouds that floated above Overhaddon Hill. The
+moon was past its half; and the stars, still yellow and pale from the
+lingering glare of day, waited eagerly to give their twinkling help in
+lighting the night. The forest near the gate was dense, and withal the
+fading light of the sun and the dawning beams of the moon and stars, deep
+shadow enveloped Dorothy and all the scene about her. The girl was
+disappointed when she did not see Manners, but she was not vexed. There
+was but one person in all the world toward whom she held a patient, humble
+attitude--John. If he, in his greatness, goodness, and condescension,
+deigned to come and meet so poor a person as Dorothy Vernon, she would be
+thankful and happy; if he did not come, she would be sorrowful. His will
+was her will, and she would come again and again until she should find
+him waiting for her, and he should stoop to lift her into heaven.
+
+If there is a place in all the earth where red warm blood counts for its
+full value, it is in a pure woman's veins. Through self-fear it brings to
+her a proud reserve toward all mankind till the right one comes. Toward
+him it brings an eager humbleness that is the essence and the life of
+Heaven and of love. Poets may praise snowy women as they will, but the
+compelling woman is she of the warm blood. The snowy woman is the lifeless
+seed, the rainless cloud, the unmagnetic lodestone, the drossful iron. The
+great laws of nature affect her but passively. If there is aught in the
+saying of the ancients, "The best only in nature can survive," the day of
+her extermination will come. Fire is as chaste as snow, and infinitely
+more comforting.
+
+Dorothy's patience was not to be tried for long. Five minutes after she
+had climbed the gate she beheld John riding toward her from the direction
+of Rowsley, and her heart beat with thrill upon thrill of joy. She felt
+that the crowning moment of her life was at hand. By the help of a subtle
+sense--familiar spirit to her love perhaps--she knew that John would ask
+her to go with him and to be his wife, despite all the Rutlands and
+Vernons dead, living, or to be born. The thought of refusing him never
+entered her mind. Queen Nature was on the throne in the fulness of power,
+and Dorothy, in perfect attune with her great sovereign, was fulfilling
+her destiny in accordance with the laws to which her drossless being was
+entirely amenable.
+
+Many times had the fear come to her that Sir John Manners, who was heir to
+the great earldom of Rutland,--he who was so great, so good, and so
+beautiful,--might feel that his duty to his house past, present, and
+future, and the obligations of his position among the grand nobles of the
+realm, should deter him from a marriage against which so many good reasons
+could be urged. But this evening her familiar spirit whispered to her that
+she need not fear, and her heart was filled with joy and certainty. John
+dismounted and tethered his horse at a short distance from the gate. He
+approached Dorothy, but halted when he beheld a man instead of the girl
+whom he longed to meet. His hesitancy surprised Dorothy, who, in her
+eagerness, had forgotten her male attire. She soon saw, however, that he
+did not recognize her, and she determined, in a spirit of mischief, to
+maintain her incognito till he should penetrate her disguise.
+
+She turned her back on John and sauntered leisurely about, whistling
+softly. She pretended to be unconscious of his presence, and John, who
+felt that the field was his by the divine right of love, walked to the
+gate and looked through the bars toward Bowling Green. He stood at the
+gate for a short time with indifference in his manner and irritation in
+his heart. He, too, tried to hum a tune, but failed. Then he tried to
+whistle, but his musical efforts were abortive. There was no music in him.
+A moment before his heart had been full of harmony; but when he found a
+man instead of his sweetheart, the harmony quickly turned to rasping
+discord.
+
+John was not a patient man, and his impatience was apt to take the form of
+words and actions. A little aimless stalking about at the gate was more
+than enough for him, so he stepped toward the intruder and lifted his hat.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, "I thought when first I saw you that you
+were Sir Malcolm Vernon. I fancied you bore resemblance to him. I see that
+I was in error."
+
+"Yes, in error," answered my beard.
+
+Again the two gentlemen walked around each other with great amusement on
+the part of one, and with ever increasing vexation on the part of the
+other.
+
+Soon John said, "May I ask whom have I the honor to address?"
+
+"Certainly, you may ask," was the response.
+
+A silence ensued during which Dorothy again turned her back on John and
+walked a few paces away from him. John's patience was rapidly oozing, and
+when the unknown intruder again turned in his direction, John said with
+all the gentleness then at his command:--
+
+"Well, sir, I do ask."
+
+"Your curiosity is flattering," said the girl.
+
+"Pardon me, sir," returned John. "My curiosity is not intended to be
+flattering. I--"
+
+"I hope it is not intended to be insulting, sir?" asked my hat and cloak.
+
+"That, sir, all depends upon yourself," retorted John, warmly. Then after
+an instant of thought, he continued in tones of conciliation:--
+
+"I have an engagement of a private nature at this place. In short, I hope
+to meet a--a friend here within a few minutes and I feel sure that under
+the circumstances so gallant a gentleman as yourself will act with due
+consideration for the feelings of another. I hope and believe that you
+will do as you would be done by."
+
+"Certainly, certainly," responded the gallant. "I find no fault at all
+with your presence. Please take no account whatever of me. I assure you I
+shall not be in the least disturbed."
+
+John was somewhat disconcerted.
+
+"Perhaps you will not be disturbed," replied John, struggling to keep down
+his temper, "but I fear you do not understand me. I hope to meet a--a lady
+and--"
+
+"I hope also to meet a--a friend," the fellow said; "but I assure you we
+shall in no way conflict."
+
+"May I ask," queried John, "if you expect to meet a gentleman or a lady?"
+
+"Certainly you may ask," was the girl's irritating reply.
+
+"Well, well, sir, I do ask," said John. "Furthermore, I demand to know
+whom you expect to meet at this place."
+
+"That, of course, sir, is no business of yours."
+
+"But I shall make it my affair. I expect to meet a lady here, my
+sweetheart." The girl's heart jumped with joy. "And if you have any of the
+feelings of a gentleman, you must know that your presence will be
+intolerable to me."
+
+"Perhaps it will be, my dear sir, but I have as good a right here as you
+or any other. If you must know all about my affairs, I tell you I, too,
+hope to meet my sweetheart at this place. In fact, I know I shall meet my
+sweetheart, and, my good fellow, I beg to inform you that a stranger's
+presence would be very annoying to me."
+
+John was at his wit's end. He must quickly do or say something to persuade
+this stubborn fellow to leave. If Dorothy should come and see two persons
+at the gate she, of course, would return to the Hall. Jennie Faxton, who
+knew that the garments were finished, had told Sir John that he might
+reasonably expect to see Dorothy at the gate on that evening, for Sir
+George had gone to Derby-town, presumably to remain over night.
+
+In sheer desperation John said, "I was here first, and I claim the
+ground."
+
+"That is not true," replied the other. "I have been waiting here for
+you--I mean for the person I am to meet--" Dorothy thought she had
+betrayed herself, and that John would surely recognize her. "I had been
+waiting full five minutes before you arrived."
+
+John's blindness in failing to recognize Dorothy is past my understanding.
+He explained it to me afterward by saying that his eagerness to see
+Dorothy, and his fear, nay almost certainty, that she could not come,
+coupled with the hope which Jennie Faxton had given him, had so completely
+occupied his mind that other subjects received but slight consideration.
+
+"But I--I have been here before this night to meet--"
+
+"And I have been here to meet--quite as often as you, I hope," retorted
+Dorothy.
+
+They say that love blinds a man. It must also have deafened John, since he
+did not recognize his sweetheart's voice.
+
+"It may be true that you have been here before this evening," retorted
+John, angrily; "but you shall not remain here now. If you wish to save
+yourself trouble, leave at once. If you stalk about in the forest, I will
+run you through and leave you for the crows to pick."
+
+"I have no intention of leaving, and if I were to do so you would regret
+it; by my beard, you would regret it," answered the girl, pleased to see
+John in his overbearing, commanding mood. His stupidity was past
+comprehension.
+
+"Defend yourself," said John, drawing his sword.
+
+"Now he will surely know the truth," thought Dorothy, but she said: "I am
+much younger than you, and am not so large and strong. I am unskilled in
+the use of a sword, and therefore am I no match for Sir John Manners than
+whom, I have heard, there is no better swordsman, stronger arm, nor braver
+heart in England."
+
+"You flatter me, my friend," returned John, forced into a good humor
+against his will; "but you must leave. He who cannot defend himself must
+yield; it is the law of nature and of men."
+
+John advanced toward Dorothy, who retreated stepping backward, holding her
+arm over her face.
+
+"I am ready to yield if you wish. In fact, I am eager to yield--more eager
+than you can know," she cried.
+
+"It is well," answered John, putting his sword in sheath.
+
+"But," continued Dorothy, "I will not go away."
+
+"Then you must fight," said John.
+
+"I tell you again I am willing, nay, eager to yield to you, but I also
+tell you I cannot fight in the way you would have me. In other ways
+perhaps I can fight quite as well as anybody. But really, I am ashamed to
+draw my sword, since to do so would show you how poorly I am equipped to
+defend myself under your great laws of nature and of man. Again, I wish to
+assure you that I am more than eager to yield; but I cannot fight you, and
+I will not go away."
+
+The wonder never ceases that John did not recognize her. She took no pains
+to hide her identity, and after a few moments of concealment she was
+anxious that John should discover her under my garments.
+
+"I would know his voice," she thought, "did he wear all the petticoats in
+Derbyshire."
+
+"What shall I do with you?" cried John, amused and irritated. "I cannot
+strike you."
+
+"No, of course you would not murder me in cold blood," answered Dorothy,
+laughing heartily. She was sure her laughter would open John's eyes.
+
+"I cannot carry you away," said John.
+
+"I would come back again, if you did," answered the irrepressible fellow.
+
+"I suppose you would," returned John, sullenly. "In the devil's name, tell
+me what you will do. Can I not beg you to go?"
+
+"Now, Sir John, you have touched me. I make you this offer: you expect
+Mistress Vernon to come from the Hall--"
+
+"What do you know about Mistress Vernon?" cried John. "By God, I will--"
+
+"Now don't grow angry, Sir John, and please don't swear in my presence.
+You expect her, I say, to come from the Hall. What I propose is this: you
+shall stand by the gate and watch for Doll--oh, I mean Mistress
+Vernon--and I will stand here behind the wall where she cannot see me.
+When she comes in sight--though in truth I don't think she will come, and
+I believe were she under your very nose you would not see her--you shall
+tell me and I will leave at once; that is, if you wish me to leave. After
+you see Dorothy Vernon if you still wish me to go, I pledge my faith no
+power can keep me. Now is not that fair? I like you very much, and I want
+to remain here, if you will permit me, and talk to you for a little
+time--till you see Doll Vernon."
+
+"Doll Vernon, fellow? How dare you so speak of her?" demanded John, hotly.
+
+"Your pardon and her pardon, I beg; Mistress Vernon, soon to be Countess
+of Derbyshire. By the way, I wager you a gold pound sterling that by the
+time you see Doll Vernon--Mistress Vernon, I pray your pardon--you will
+have grown so fond of me that you will not permit me to leave you." She
+thought after that speech he could not help but know her; but John's skull
+was like an oaken board that night. Nothing could penetrate it. He began
+to fancy that his companion was a simple witless person who had escaped
+from his keepers.
+
+"Will you take the wager?" asked Dorothy.
+
+"Nonsense!" was the only reply John deigned to give to so foolish a
+proposition.
+
+"Then will you agree that I shall remain at the gate till Doll--Mistress
+Vernon comes?"
+
+"I suppose I shall have to make the best terms possible with you," he
+returned. "You are an amusing fellow and as perverse as a woman."
+
+"I knew you would soon learn to like me," she responded. "The first step
+toward a man's affection is to amuse him. That old saw which says the road
+to a man's heart is through his stomach, is a sad mistake. Amusement is
+the highway to a man's affections."
+
+"It is better that one laugh with us than at us. There is a vast
+difference in the two methods," answered John, contemptuously.
+
+"You dare to laugh at me," cried Dorothy, grasping the hilt of her sword,
+and pretending to be angry. John waved her off with his hand, and
+laughingly said, "Little you know concerning the way to a man's heart, and
+no doubt less of the way to a woman's."
+
+"I, perhaps, know more about it than you would believe," returned Malcolm
+No. 2.
+
+"If you know aught of the latter subject, it is more than I would
+suppose," said John. "It is absurd to say that a woman can love a man who
+is unable to defend himself."
+
+"A vain man thinks that women care only for men of his own pattern,"
+retorted Dorothy. "Women love a strong arm, it is true, but they also love
+a strong heart, and you see I am not at all afraid of you, even though you
+have twice my strength. There are as many sorts of bravery, Sir John,
+as--as there are hairs in my beard."
+
+"That is not many," interrupted John.
+
+"And," continued the girl, "I believe, John,--Sir John,--you possess all
+the kinds of bravery that are good."
+
+"You flatter me," said John.
+
+"Yes," returned Dorothy, "that was my intent."
+
+After that unflattering remark there came a pause. Then the girl continued
+somewhat hesitatingly: "Doubtless many women, Sir John, have seen your
+virtues more clearly than even I see them. Women have a keener perception
+of masculine virtues than--than we have."
+
+Dorothy paused, and her heart beat with a quickened throb while she
+awaited his reply. A new field of discovery was opening up to her and a
+new use for her disguise.
+
+John made no reply, but the persistent girl pursued her new line of
+attack.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Surely Sir John Manners has had many sweethearts," said Dorothy, in
+flattering tones. There were rocks and shoals ahead for John's love barge.
+"Many, many, I am sure," the girl persisted.
+
+"Ah, a few, a few, I admit," John like a fool replied. Dorothy was
+accumulating disagreeable information rapidly.
+
+"While you were at London court," said she, "the fine ladies must have
+sought you in great numbers--I am sure they did."
+
+"Perhaps, oh, perhaps," returned John. "One cannot always remember such
+affairs." His craft was headed for the rocks. Had he observed Dorothy's
+face, he would have seen the storm a-brewing.
+
+"To how many women, Sir John, have you lost your heart, and at various
+times how many have lost their hearts to you?" asked the persistent
+girl.--"What a senseless question," returned John. "A dozen times or more;
+perhaps a score or two score times. I cannot tell the exact number. I did
+not keep an account."
+
+Dorothy did not know whether she wanted to weep or be angry. Pique and a
+flash of temper, however, saved her from tears, and she said, "You are so
+brave and handsome that you must have found it a very easy task--much
+easier than it would be for me--to convince those confiding ones of your
+affection?"
+
+"Yes," replied John, plunging full sail upon the breakers, "I admit that
+usually they have been quite easy to convince. I am naturally bold, and I
+suppose that perhaps--that is, I may possibly have a persuasive trick
+about me."
+
+Shades of good men who have blundered into ruin over the path of petty
+vanity, save this man! But no, Dorothy must drink the bitter cup of
+knowledge to the dregs.
+
+"And you have been false to all of these women? she said.
+
+"Ah, well, you know--the devil take it! A man can't be true to a score of
+women," replied John.
+
+"I am sure none of them wished you to be true," the girl answered,
+restraining her tears with great difficulty.
+
+At that point in the conversation John began to suspect from the manner
+and shapeliness of his companion that a woman had disguised herself in
+man's attire. Yet it did not once occur to him that Dorothy's fair form
+was concealed within the disguise. He attempted to lift my soft beaver
+hat, the broad rim of which hid Dorothy's face, but to that she made a
+decided objection, and John continued: "By my soul I believe you are a
+woman. Your walk"--Dorothy thought she had been swaggering like a
+veritable swash-buckler--"your voice, the curves of your form, all betray
+you." Dorothy gathered the cloak closely about her.
+
+"I would know more of you," said John, and he stepped toward the now
+interesting stranger. But she drew away from him, and told him to keep
+hands off.
+
+"Oh, I am right. You are a woman," said John.
+
+Dorothy had maintained the disguise longer than she wished, and was
+willing that John should discover her identity. At first it had been rare
+sport to dupe him; but the latter part of her conversation had given her
+no pleasure. She was angry, jealous, and hurt by what she had learned.
+
+"Yes," she answered, "I admit that I am a--a woman. Now I must go."
+
+"Stay but one moment," pleaded John, whose curiosity and gallantry were
+aroused. "I will watch for Mistress Vernon, and when she appears, then you
+may go."
+
+"I told you that you would want me to remain," said the girl with a sigh.
+She was almost ready to weep. Then she thought: "I little dreamed I was
+coming here for this. I will carry the disguise a little farther, and
+will, perhaps, learn enough to--to break my heart."
+
+She was soon to learn all she wanted to know and a great deal more.
+
+"Come sit by me on this stone," said John, coaxingly. The girl complied,
+and drew the cloak over her knees.
+
+"Tell me why you are here," he asked.
+
+"To meet a gentleman," she replied, with low-bent face.
+
+"Tell me your name," John asked, as he drew my glove from her passive
+hand. John held the hand in his, and after examining it in the dim light
+saw that it was a great deal more than good to look upon. Then he lifted
+it to his lips and said:
+
+"Since our sweethearts have disappointed us, may we not console ourselves
+with each other?" He placed his arm around the girl's waist and drew her
+yielding form toward him. Dorothy, unobserved by John, removed the false
+beard and moustachio, and when John put his arm about her waist and leaned
+forward to kiss the fair accommodating neighbor she could restrain her
+tears no longer and said:--
+
+"That would be no consolation for me, John; that would be no consolation
+for me. How can you? How can you?"
+
+She rose to her feet and covered her face with her hands in a paroxysm of
+weeping. John, too, sprang to his feet, you may be sure. "Dorothy! God
+help me! I am the king of fools. Curse this hour in which I have thrown
+away my heaven. You must hate and despise me, fool, fool that I am."
+
+John knew that it were worse than useless for him to attempt an
+explanation. The first thought that flashed through his mind was, to tell
+the girl that he had only pretended not to know her. He thought he would
+try to make her believe that he had been turning her trick upon herself;
+but he was wise in his day and generation, and did not seek refuge in that
+falsehood.
+
+The girl would never have forgiven him for that.
+
+"The only amends I can make," he said, in very dolefulness, "is that I may
+never let you see my face again."
+
+"That will not help matters," sobbed Dorothy.
+
+"I know it will not," returned John. "Nothing can help me. I can remain
+here no longer. I must leave you. I cannot even ask you to say farewell.
+Mistress Vernon, you do not despise me half so bitterly as I despise
+myself."
+
+Dorothy was one of those rare natures to whom love comes but once. It had
+come to her and had engulfed her whole being. To part with it would be
+like parting with life itself. It was her tyrant, her master. It was her
+ego. She could no more throw it off than she could expel herself from her
+own existence. All this she knew full well, for she had analyzed her
+conditions, and her reason had joined with all her other faculties in
+giving her a clear concept of the truth. She knew she belonged to John
+Manners for life and for eternity. She also knew that the chance of seeing
+him soon again was very slight, and to part from him now in aught but
+kindness would almost kill her.
+
+Before John had recognized Dorothy he certainly had acted like a fool, but
+with the shock of recognition came wisdom. All the learning of the
+ancients and all the cunning of the prince of darkness could not have
+taught him a wiser word with which to make his peace, "I may never let you
+see my face again." That was more to be feared by Dorothy than even John's
+inconstancy.
+
+Her heart was full of trouble. "I do not know what I wish," she said
+simply. "Give me a little time to think."
+
+John's heart leaped with joy, but he remained silent.
+
+Dorothy continued: "Oh, that I had remained at home. I would to God I had
+never seen Derby-town nor you."
+
+John in the fulness of his wisdom did not interrupt her.
+
+"To think that I have thus made a fool of myself about a man who has
+given his heart to a score of women."
+
+"This is torture," moaned John, in real pain.
+
+"But," continued Dorothy, "I could not remain away from this place when I
+had the opportunity to come to you. I felt that I must come. I felt that I
+should die if I did not. And you are so false. I wish I were dead. A
+moment ago, had I been another woman, you would have kissed her. You
+thought I was another woman."
+
+John's wisdom stood by him nobly. He knew he could neither explain
+successfully nor beg forgiveness. He simply said: "I cannot remain and
+look you in the face. If I dare make any request, it is that despite all
+you have heard from my lips you will still believe that I love you, and
+that in all my life I have never loved any one so dearly. There is no
+other woman for me."
+
+"You doubtless spoke the same false words to the other two score women,"
+said Dorothy. Tears and sobs were playing sad havoc with her powers of
+speech.
+
+"Farewell, Mistress Vernon," replied John. "I should be shameless if I
+dared ask you to believe any word I can utter. Forget, if possible, that I
+ever existed; forget me that you may not despise me. I am unworthy to
+dwell even in the smallest of your thoughts. I am altogether base and
+contemptible."
+
+"N-o-o," sighed Dorothy, poutingly, while she bent low her head and toyed
+with the gold lace of my cloak.
+
+"Farewell," said John. He took a step or two backward from her.
+
+"You are over-eager to leave, it seems to me," said the girl in an injured
+tone. "I wonder that you came at all." John's heart was singing hosanna.
+He, however, maintained his voice at a mournful pitch and said: "I must
+go. I can no longer endure to remain." While he spoke he moved toward his
+horse, and his head was bowed with real shame as he thought of the
+pitiable fool he had made of himself. Dorothy saw him going from her, and
+she called to him softly and reluctantly, "John."
+
+He did not hear her, or perhaps he thought best to pretend that he did not
+hear, and as he moved from her the girl became desperate. Modesty,
+resentment, insulted womanhood and injured pride were all swept away by
+the stream of her mighty love, and she cried again, this time without
+hesitancy or reluctance, "John, John." She started to run toward him, but
+my cloak was in her way, and the sword tripped her feet. In her fear lest
+John might leave her, she unclasped the sword-belt from her waist and
+snatched the cloak from her shoulders. Freed from these hindrances, she
+ran toward John.
+
+"John, do not leave me. Do not leave me." As she spoke, she reached an
+open space among the trees and John turned toward her. Her hat had fallen
+off, and the red golden threads of her hair, freed from their fastenings,
+streamed behind her. Never before had a vision of such exquisite
+loveliness sped through the moonbeams. So entrancing was her beauty to
+John that he stood motionless in admiration. He did not go to meet her as
+he should have done, and perhaps as he would have done had his senses not
+been wrapped in benumbing wonderment. His eyes were unable to interpret to
+his brain all her marvellous beauty, and his other senses abandoning their
+proper functions had hastened to the assistance of his sight He saw, he
+heard, he felt her loveliness. Thus occupied he did not move, so Dorothy
+ran to him and fell upon his breast.
+
+"You did not come to meet me," she sobbed. "You made me come all the way,
+to forgive you. Cruel, cruel!"
+
+John held the girl in his arms, but he did not dare to kiss her, and his
+self-denial soon brought its reward. He had not expected that she would
+come a beggar to him. The most he had dared to hope was that she would
+listen to his prayer for forgiveness. With all his worldly wisdom John had
+not learned the fact that inconstancy does not destroy love in the one who
+suffers by reason of it; nor did he know of the exquisite pain-touched
+happiness which comes to a gentle, passionate heart such as Dorothy's from
+the mere act of forgiving.
+
+"Is it possible you can forgive me for the miserable lies I have uttered?"
+asked John, almost unconscious of the words he was speaking. "Is it
+possible you can forgive me for uttering those lies, Dorothy?" he
+repeated.
+
+She laid her head upon his breast, and softly passing her hand over the
+lace of his doublet, whispered:--
+
+"If I could believe they were lies, I could easily forgive you," she
+answered between low sobs and soft sighs. Though she was a woman, the
+sweet essence of childhood was in her heart.
+
+"But you cannot believe me, even when I tell you that I spoke not the
+truth," answered John, with growing faith in his system of passive
+repentance. Again came the sighs, and a few struggling, childish sobs.
+
+"It is easy for us to believe that which we long to believe," she said.
+Then she turned her face upward to him, and John's reward was altogether
+disproportioned to the self-denial he had exercised a few minutes before.
+She rewarded him far beyond his deserts; and after a pause she said
+mischievously:--
+
+"You told me that you were a bold man with women, and I know that at least
+that part of what you said was untrue, for you are a bashful man, John,
+you are downright bashful. It is I who have been bold. You were too timid
+to woo me, and I so longed for you that I--I--was not timid."
+
+"For God's sake, Dorothy, I beg you to have pity and to make no jest of
+me. Your kindness almost kills me, and your ridicule--"
+
+"There, there, John," whispered the girl, "I will never again make a jest
+of you if it gives you pain. Tell me, John, tell me truly, was it all
+false--that which you told me about the other women?"
+
+There had been more truth in John's bragging than he cared to confess. He
+feared and loathed a lie; so he said evasively, but with perfect truth:--
+
+"You must know, my goddess. If you do not know without the telling that I
+love you with all my being; if you do not know that there is for me and
+ever will be no woman but you in all the world; if you do not know that
+you have stolen my soul and that I live only in your presence, all that I
+can say will avail nothing toward convincing you. I am almost crazed with
+love for you, and with pain and torture. For the love of God let me leave
+you that I may hide my face."
+
+"Never," cried the girl, clasping her hands about his neck and pressing
+her lips gently upon his. "Never. There, that will soothe you, won't it,
+John?"
+
+It did soothe him, and in the next moment, John, almost frenzied with joy,
+hurt the girl by the violence of his embraces; but she, woman-like, found
+her heaven in the pain.
+
+They went back to the stone bench beside the gate, and after a little time
+Dorothy said:--
+
+"But tell me, John, would you have kissed the other woman? Would you
+really have done it?"
+
+John's honesty certainly was good policy in that instance. The adroit girl
+had set a trap for him.
+
+"I suppose I would," answered John, with a groan.
+
+"It hurts me to hear the fact," said Dorothy, sighing; "but it pleases me
+to hear the truth. I know all else you tell me is true. I was trying you
+when I asked the question, for I certainly knew what you intended to do. A
+woman instinctively knows when a man is going to--to--when anything of
+that sort is about to happen."
+
+"How does she know?" asked John.
+
+Rocks and breakers ahead for Dorothy.
+
+"I cannot tell you," replied the girl, naïvely, "but she knows."
+
+"Perhaps it is the awakened desire in her own heart which forewarns her,"
+said John, stealthily seeking from Dorothy a truth that would pain him
+should he learn it.
+
+"I suppose that is partly the source of her knowledge," replied the
+knowing one, with a great show of innocence in her manner. John was in no
+position to ask impertinent questions, nor had he any right to grow angry
+at unpleasant discoveries; but he did both, although for a time he
+suppressed the latter.
+
+"You believe she is sure to know, do you?" he asked.
+
+"Usually," she replied. "Of course there are times when--when it happens
+so suddenly that--"
+
+John angrily sprang to his feet, took a few hurried steps in front of
+Dorothy, who remained demurely seated with her eyes cast down, and then
+again he took his place beside her on the stone bench. He was trembling
+with anger and jealousy. The devil was in the girl that night for
+mischief.
+
+"I suppose you speak from the fulness of your experience," demanded John,
+in tones that would have been insulting had they not been pleasing to the
+girl. She had seen the drift of John's questions at an early stage of the
+conversation, and his easily aroused jealousy was good proof to her of his
+affection. After all, she was in no danger from rocks and breakers. She
+well knew the currents, eddies, rocks, and shoals of the sea she was
+navigating, although she had never before sailed it. Her fore-mothers, all
+the way back to Eve, had been making charts of those particular waters for
+her especial benefit. Why do we, a slow-moving, cumbersome army of men,
+continue to do battle with the foe at whose hands defeat is always our
+portion?
+
+"Experience?" queried Dorothy, her head turned to one side in a
+half-contemplative attitude. "Experience? Of course that is the only way
+we learn anything."
+
+John again sprang to his feet, and again he sat down beside the girl. He
+had so recently received forgiveness for his own sins that he dared not be
+unforgiving toward Dorothy. He did not speak, and she remained silent,
+willing to allow time for the situation to take its full effect. The
+wisdom of the serpent is black ignorance compared with the cunning of a
+girl in Dorothy's situation. God gives her wit for the occasion as He
+gives the cat soft paws, sharp claws, and nimbleness. She was teaching
+John a lesson he would never forget. She was binding him to her with hoops
+of steel.
+
+"I know that I have not the right to ask," said John, suppressing his
+emotions, "but may I know merely as a matter of trivial information--may I
+know the name of--of the person--this fellow with whom you have had so
+full an experience? God curse him! Tell me his name." He caught the girl
+violently by both arms as if he would shake the truth out of her. He was
+unconsciously making full amends for the faults he had committed earlier
+in the evening. The girl made no answer. John's powers of self-restraint,
+which were not of the strongest order, were exhausted, and he again sprang
+to his feet and stood towering before her in a passion. "Tell me his
+name," he said hoarsely. "I demand it. I will not rest till I kill him."
+
+"If you would kill him, I surely will not tell you his name. In truth, I
+admit I am very fond of him."
+
+"Speak not another word to me till you tell me his name," stormed John. I
+feel sorry for John when I think of the part he played in this interview;
+but every man knows well his condition.
+
+"I care not," continued John, "in what manner I have offended you, nor
+does my debt of gratitude to you for your generosity in forgiving my sins
+weigh one scruple against this you have told me. No man, unless he were a
+poor clown, would endure it; and I tell you now, with all my love for you,
+I will not--I will not!"
+
+Dorothy was beginning to fear him. She of course did not fear personal
+violence; but after all, while he was slower than she, he was much
+stronger every way, and when aroused, his strength imposed itself upon her
+and she feared to play him any farther.
+
+"Sit beside me, John, and I will tell you his name," said the girl,
+looking up to him, and then casting down her eyes. A dimpling smile was
+playing about her lips.
+
+"No, I will not sit by you," replied John, angrily. She partly rose, and
+taking him by the arm drew him to her side.
+
+"Tell me his name," again demanded John, sitting rigidly by Dorothy. "Tell
+me his name."
+
+"Will you kill him?" she asked.
+
+"That I will," he answered. "Of that you may rest assured."
+
+"If you kill him, John, it will break my heart; for to do so, you must
+commit suicide. There is no other man but you, John. With you I had my
+first, last, and only experience."
+
+John, of course, was speechless. He had received only what he deserved. I
+freely admit he played the part of a fool during this entire interview
+with Dorothy, and he was more fully convinced of the fact than either you
+or I can be. I do not like to have a fool for the hero of my history; but
+this being a history and not a romance, I must tell you of events just as
+they happened, and of persons exactly as they were, else my conscience
+will smite me for untruthfulness. Dorothy's last assault was too much for
+John. He could neither parry nor thrust.
+
+Her heart was full of mirth and gladness.
+
+"None other but you, John," she repeated, leaning forward in front of him,
+and looking up into his eyes. A ray of moonlight stealing its way between
+the forest boughs fell upon her upturned face and caused it to glow with a
+goddess-like radiance.
+
+"None but you, John. There never has been and there never shall be
+another."
+
+When John's consciousness returned he said, "Dorothy, can you love such a
+fool as I?"
+
+"That I can and that I do with all my heart," she returned.
+
+"And can you forgive me for this last fault--for doubting you?"
+
+"That is easily done," she answered softly, "because doubt is the child of
+love."
+
+"But you do not doubt me?" he replied.
+
+"N-o-o," she answered somewhat haltingly; "but I--I am a woman."
+
+"And a woman's heart is the home of faith," said John, reverentially.
+
+"Y-e-s," she responded, still not quite sure of her ground. "Sometimes it
+is the home of too much faith, but faith, like virtue, is its own reward.
+Few persons are false to one who gives a blind, unquestioning faith. Even
+a poor degree of honor responds to it in kind."
+
+"Dorothy, I am so unworthy of you that I stand abashed in your presence,"
+replied John.
+
+"No, you are not unworthy of me. We don't look for unmixed good in men,"
+said the girl with a mischievous little laugh. Then seriously: "Those
+virtues you have are so great and so strong, John, that my poor little
+virtues, while they perhaps are more numerous than yours, are but weak
+things by comparison. In truth, there are some faults in men which we
+women do not--do not altogether dislike. They cause us--they make us--oh,
+I cannot express exactly what I mean. They make us more eager perhaps. A
+too constant man is like an overstrong sweet: he cloys us. The faults I
+speak of hurt us; but we thrive on them. Women enjoy pain now and then.
+Malcolm was telling me the other day that the wise people of the East have
+a saying: 'Without shadow there can be no light; without death there can
+be no life; without suffering there can be no joy.' Surely is that saying
+true of women. She who suffers naught enjoys naught. When a woman becomes
+passive, John, she is but a clod. Pain gives us a vent--a vent for
+something, I know not what it is; but this I know, we are happier for it."
+
+"I fear, Dorothy, that I have given you too much 'vent,' as you call it,"
+said John.
+
+"No, no," she replied. "That was nothing. My great vent is that I can pour
+out my love upon you, John, without stint. Now that I know you are mine, I
+have some one whom I can deluge with it. Do you know, John, I believe that
+when God made me He collected together the requisite portions of reason,
+imagination, and will,--there was a great plenty of will, John,--and all
+the other ingredients that go to make a human being. But after He had
+gotten them all together there was still a great space left to be filled,
+and He just threw in an immensity of love with which to complete me.
+Therefore, John, am I not in true proportion. There is too much love in
+me, and it wells up at times and overflows my heart. How thankful I should
+be that I may pour it upon you and that it will not be wasted. How good
+you are to give me the sweet privilege."
+
+"How thankful should I be, Dorothy. I have never known you till this
+night. I am unworthy--"
+
+"Not another word of that sort, John," she interrupted, covering his mouth
+with her hand.
+
+They stood for a long time talking a deal of celestial nonsense which I
+shall not give you. I fear I have already given you too much of what John
+and Dorothy did and said in this very sentimental interview. But in no
+other way can I so well make you to know the persons of whom I write. I
+might have said Dorothy was so and so, and John was such and such. I might
+have analyzed them in long, dull pages of minute description; but it is
+that which persons do and say that gives us true concept of their
+characters; what others say about them is little else than a mere
+statement that black is black and white is white. But to my story again.
+
+Dorothy by her beauty had won John's admiration when first he beheld her.
+When he met her afterward, her charms of mind and her thousand winsome
+ways moved him deeply. But upon the evening of which I am now telling you
+he beheld for the first time her grand burning soul, and he saw her pure
+heart filled to overflowing with its dangerous burden of love, right from
+the hands of God Himself, as the girl had said. John was of a coarser
+fibre than she who had put him up for her idol; but his sensibilities were
+keen, and at their awakening he saw clearly the worth of the priceless
+treasure which propitious fate had given him in the love of Dorothy, and
+he sat humbly at her feet. Yet she knew it not, but sat humbly at John's
+feet the happiest woman in all the world because of her great good fortune
+in having a demi-god upon whom she could lavish the untold wealth of her
+heart. If you are a woman, pray God that He may touch your eyes with
+Dorothy's blessed blindness. There is a heaven in the dark for you, if you
+can find it.
+
+I must leave the scene, though I am loath to do so. Seldom do we catch a
+glimpse of a human soul, and more seldom still does it show itself like a
+gust of God's breath upon the deep of eternity as it did that night in
+Dorothy.
+
+After a time John said: "I have your promise to be my wife. Do you still
+wish to keep it?"
+
+"What an absurd question, John," replied the girl, laughing softly and
+contentedly. "Why else am I here? Tell me, think you, John, should I be
+here if I were not willing and eager to--to keep that promise?"
+
+"Will you go with me notwithstanding your father's hatred of my house?" he
+asked.
+
+"Ah, truly that I will, John," she answered; "surely you know I will go
+with you."
+
+"Let us go at once. Let us lose not a moment. We have already delayed too
+long," cried John in eager ecstasy.
+
+"Not to-night, John; I cannot go to-night," she pleaded. "Think of my
+attire," and she drew my cloak more closely about her. "I cannot go with
+you this time. My father is angry with me because of you, although he does
+not know who you are. Is it not famous to have a lover in secret of whom
+nobody knows? Father is angry with me, and as I told you in my letter, he
+keeps me a prisoner in my rooms. Aunt Dorothy stands guard over me. The
+dear, simple old soul! She told me, thinking I was Malcolm, that she was
+too old to be duped by a girl! Oh, it was too comical!" And she threw back
+her head and gave forth a peal of laughter that John was reluctantly
+compelled to silence. "I would so delight to tell you of the scene when I
+was in Aunt Dorothy's room impersonating Malcolm; but I have so much else
+to say of more importance that I know I shall not tell the half. When you
+have left me, I shall remember what I most wished to say but forgot."
+
+"No, John," she continued seriously, "my father has been cruel to me, and
+I try to make myself think I do not love him; but I fail, for I do love
+him." Tears were welling up in her eyes and stifling her voice. In a
+moment she continued: "It would kill him, John, were I to go with you
+now. I _will_ go with you soon,--I give you my solemn promise to that--but
+I cannot go now,--not now. I cannot leave him and the others. With all his
+cruelty to me, I love him, John, next to you. He will not come to see me
+nor will he speak to me. Think of that." The tears that had welled up to
+her eyes fell in a piteous stream over her cheeks. "Aunt Dorothy and
+Madge," she continued, "are so dear to me that the thought of leaving them
+is torture. But I will go with you some day, John, some day soon, I
+promise you. They have always been kind and gentle to me, and I love them
+and my father and my dear home where I was born and where my sweet mother
+died--and Dolcy--I love them all so dearly that I must prepare myself to
+leave them, John, even to go with you. The heart strings of my whole life
+bind me to them. Forgive me, John, forgive me. You must think of the grief
+and pain I shall yet pass through to go to you. It is as I told you: we
+women reach heaven only through purgatory. I must forsake all else I love
+when I go to you. All, all! All that has been dear to me in life I must
+forsake for--for that which is dearer to me than life itself. I promise,
+John, to go with you, but--but forgive me. I cannot go to-night."
+
+"Nor can I ask it of you, Dorothy," said John. "The sacrifice would be all
+on one side. I should forego nothing, and I should receive all. You would
+forego everything, and God help me, you would receive nothing worth
+having. I am unworthy--"
+
+"Not that word, John," cried Dorothy, again covering his mouth with--well,
+not with her hand. "I shall give up a great deal," she continued, "and I
+know I shall suffer. I suffer even now when I think of it, for you must
+remember that I am rooted to my home and to the dear ones it shelters; but
+I will soon make the exchange, John; I shall make it gladly when the time
+comes, because--because I feel that I could not live if I did not make
+it."
+
+"My father has already consented to our marriage," said John. "I told him
+to-day all that had passed between you and me. He, of course, was greatly
+pained at first; but when I told him of your perfections, he said that if
+you and I were dear to each other, he would offer no opposition, but would
+welcome you to his heart."
+
+"Is your father that--that sort of a man?" asked Dorothy, half in revery.
+"I have always heard--" and she hesitated.
+
+"I know," replied John, "that you have heard much evil of my father,
+but--let us not talk on that theme. You will know him some day, and you
+may judge him for yourself. When will you go with me, Dorothy?"
+
+"Soon, very soon, John," she answered. "You know father intends that I
+shall marry Lord Stanley. _I_ intend otherwise. The more father hurries
+this marriage with my beautiful cousin the sooner I shall be--be
+your--that is, you know, the sooner I shall go with you."
+
+"You will not allow your father to force you to marry Lord Stanley?" asked
+John, frightened by the thought.
+
+"Ah," cried the girl, softly, "you know I told you that God had put into
+me a great plenty of will. Father calls it wilfulness; but whichever it
+is, it stands me in good hand now. You don't know how much I have of it!
+You never will know until I am your--your--wife." The last word was spoken
+in a soft, hesitating whisper, and her head sought shamefaced refuge on
+John's breast. Of course the magic word "wife" on Dorothy's lips aroused
+John to action, and--but a cloud at that moment passed over the moon and
+kindly obscured the scene.
+
+"You do not blame me, John," said Dorothy, "because I cannot go with you
+to-night? You do not blame me?"
+
+"Indeed I do not, my goddess," answered John. "You will soon be mine. I
+shall await your pleasure and your own time, and when you choose to come
+to me--ah, then--" And the kindly cloud came back to the moon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THOMAS THE MAN SERVANT
+
+
+After a great effort of self-denial John told Dorothy it was time for her
+to return to the Hall, and he walked with her down Bowling Green Hill to
+the wall back of the terrace garden.
+
+Dorothy stood for a moment on the stile at the old stone wall, and John,
+clasping her hand, said:--
+
+"You will perhaps see me sooner than you expect," and then the cloud
+considerately floated over the moon again, and John hurried away up
+Bowling Green Hill.
+
+Dorothy crossed the terrace garden, going toward the door since known as
+"Dorothy's Postern." She had reached the top of the postern steps when she
+heard her father's voice, beyond the north wall of the terrace garden well
+up toward Bowling Green Hill. John, she knew, was at that moment climbing
+the hill. Immediately following the sound of her father's voice she heard
+another voice--that of her father's retainer, Sir John Guild. Then came
+the word "Halt!" quickly followed by the report of a fusil, and the sharp
+clinking of swords upon the hillside. She ran back to the wall, and saw
+the dimly outlined forms of four men. One of them was John, who was
+retreating up the hill. The others were following him. Sir George and Sir
+John Guild had unexpectedly returned from Derby. They had left their
+horses with the stable boys and were walking toward the kitchen door when
+Sir George noticed a man pass from behind the corner of the terrace
+garden wall and proceed up Bowling Green Hill. The man of course was John.
+Immediately Sir George and Guild, accompanied by a servant who was with
+them, started in pursuit of the intruder, and a moment afterward Dorothy
+heard her father's voice and the discharge of the fusil. She climbed to
+the top of the stile, filled with an agony of fear. Sir George was fifteen
+or twenty yards in advance of his companion, and when John saw that his
+pursuers were attacking him singly, he turned and quickly ran back to meet
+the warlike King of the Peak. By a few adroit turns with his sword John
+disarmed his antagonist, and rushing in upon him easily threw him to the
+ground by a wrestler's trick. Guild and the servant by that time were
+within six yards of Sir George and John.
+
+"Stop!" cried Manners, "your master is on the ground at my feet. My sword
+point is at his heart. Make but one step toward me and Sir George Vernon
+will be a dead man."
+
+Guild and the servant halted instantly.
+
+"What are your terms?" cried Guild, speaking with the haste which he well
+knew was necessary if he would save his master's life.
+
+"My terms are easy," answered John. "All I ask is that you allow me to
+depart in peace. I am here on no harmful errand, and I demand that I may
+depart and that I be not followed nor spied upon by any one."
+
+"You may depart in peace," said Guild. "No one will follow you; no one
+will spy upon you. To this I pledge my knightly word in the name of Christ
+my Saviour."
+
+John at once took his way unmolested up the hill and rode home with his
+heart full of fear lest his tryst with Dorothy had been discovered.
+
+Guild and the servant assisted Sir George to rise, and the three started
+down the hill toward the stile where Dorothy was standing. She was hidden
+from them, however, by the wall. Jennie Faxton, who had been on guard
+while John and Dorothy were at the gate, at Dorothy's suggestion stood on
+top of the stile where she could easily be seen by Sir George when he
+approached.
+
+"When my father comes here and questions you," said Dorothy to Jennie
+Faxton, "tell him that the man whom he attacked was your sweetheart."
+
+"Never fear, mistress," responded Jennie. "I will have a fine story for
+the master."
+
+Dorothy crouched inside the wall under the shadow of a bush, and Jennie
+waited on the top of the stile. Sir George, thinking the girl was Dorothy,
+lost no time in approaching her. He caught her roughly by the arm and
+turned her around that he might see her face.
+
+"By God, Guild," he muttered, "I have made a mistake. I thought the girl
+was Doll."
+
+He left instantly and followed Guild and the servant to the kitchen door.
+When Sir George left the stile, Dorothy hastened back to the postern of
+which she had the key, and hurried toward her room. She reached the door
+of her father's room just in time to see Sir George and Guild enter it.
+They saw her, and supposed her to be myself. If she hesitated, she was
+lost. But Dorothy never hesitated. To think, with her, was to act. She did
+not of course know that I was still in her apartments. She took the
+chance, however, and boldly followed Sir John Guild into her father's
+room. There she paused for a moment that she might not appear to be in too
+great haste, and then entered Aunt Dorothy's room where I was seated,
+waiting for her.
+
+"Dorothy, my dear child," exclaimed Lady Crawford, clasping her arms about
+Dorothy's neck.
+
+"There is no time to waste in sentiment, Aunt Dorothy," responded the
+girl. "Here are your sword and cloak, Malcolm. I thank you for their use.
+Don them quickly." I did so, and walked into Sir George's room, where that
+worthy old gentleman was dressing a slight wound in the hand. I stopped to
+speak with him; but he seemed disinclined to talk, and I left the room. He
+soon went to the upper court, and I presently followed him.
+
+Dorothy changed her garments, and she, Lady Crawford, and Madge also came
+to the upper court. The braziers in the courtyard had been lighted and
+cast a glare over two score half-clothed men and women who had been
+aroused from their beds by the commotion of the conflict on the hillside.
+Upon the upper steps of the courtyard stood Sir George and Jennie Faxton.
+
+"Who was the man you were with?" roughly demanded Sir George of the
+trembling Jennie. Jennie's trembling was assumed for the occasion.
+
+"I will not tell you his name," she replied with tears. "He is my
+sweetheart, and I will never come to the Hall again. Matters have come to
+a pretty pass when a maiden cannot speak with her sweetheart at the stile
+without he is set upon and beaten as if he were a hedgehog. My father is
+your leal henchman, and his daughter deserves better treatment at your
+hands than you have given me."
+
+"There, there!" said Sir George, placing his hand upon her head. "I was in
+the wrong. I did not know you had a sweetheart who wore a sword. When I
+saw you at the stile, I was sure you were another. I am glad I was wrong."
+So was Dorothy glad.
+
+"Everybody be off to bed," said Sir George. "Ben Shaw, see that the
+braziers are all blackened."
+
+Dorothy, Madge, and Lady Crawford returned to the latter's room, and Sir
+George and I entered after them. He was evidently softened in heart by the
+night's adventures and by the mistake he supposed he had made.
+
+A selfish man grows hard toward those whom he injures. A generous heart
+grows tender. Sir George was generous, and the injustice he thought he had
+done to Dorothy made him eager to offer amends. The active evil in all Sir
+George's wrong-doing was the fact that he conscientiously thought he was
+in the right. Many a man has gone to hell backward--with his face honestly
+toward heaven. Sir George had not spoken to Dorothy since the scene
+wherein the key to Bowling Green Gate played so important a part.
+
+"Doll," said Sir George, "I thought you were at the stile with a man. I
+was mistaken. It was the Faxton girl. I beg your pardon, my daughter. I
+did you wrong."
+
+"You do me wrong in many matters, father," replied Dorothy.
+
+"Perhaps I do," her father returned, "perhaps I do, but I mean for the
+best. I seek your happiness."
+
+"You take strange measures at times, father, to bring about my happiness,"
+she replied.
+
+"Whom God loveth He chasteneth," replied Sir George, dolefully.
+
+"That manner of loving may be well enough for God," retorted Dorothy with
+no thought of irreverence, "but for man it is dangerous. Whom man loves he
+should cherish. A man who has a good, obedient daughter--one who loves
+him--will not imprison her, and, above all, he will not refuse to speak to
+her, nor will he cause her to suffer and to weep for lack of that love
+which is her right. A man has no right to bring a girl into this world and
+then cause her to suffer as you--as you--"
+
+She ceased speaking and sought refuge in silent feminine eloquence--tears.
+One would have sworn she had been grievously injured that night.
+
+"But I am older than you, Doll, and I know what is best for your
+happiness," said Sir George.
+
+"There are some things, father, which a girl knows with better, surer
+knowledge than the oldest man living. Solomon was wise because he had so
+many wives from whom he could absorb wisdom."
+
+"Ah, well!" answered Sir George, smiling in spite of himself, "you will
+have the last word."
+
+"Confess, father," she retorted quickly, "that you want the last word
+yourself."
+
+"Perhaps I do want it, but I'll never have it," returned Sir George; "kiss
+me, Doll, and be my child again."
+
+"That I will right gladly," she answered, throwing her arms about her
+father's neck and kissing him with real affection. Then Sir George said
+good night and started to leave. At the door he stopped, and stood for a
+little time in thought.
+
+"Dorothy," said he, speaking to Lady Crawford, "I relieve you of your duty
+as a guard over Doll. She may go and come when she chooses."
+
+"I thank you, George," said Aunt Dorothy. "The task has been painful to
+me."
+
+Dorothy went to her father and kissed him again, and Sir George departed.
+
+When the door was closed, Lady Crawford breathed a great sigh and said: "I
+thank Heaven, Dorothy, he does not know that you have been out of your
+room. How could you treat me so cruelly? How could you deceive me?"
+
+"That, Aunt Dorothy," replied the niece, "is because you are not old
+enough yet to be a match for a girl who is--who is in love."
+
+"Shame upon you, Dorothy!" said Lady Crawford. "Shame upon you, to act as
+you did, and now to speak so plainly about being in love! Malcolm said you
+were not a modest girl, and I am beginning to believe him."
+
+"Did Malcolm speak so ill of me?" asked Dorothy, turning toward me with a
+smile in her eyes.
+
+"My lady aunt," said I, turning to Lady Crawford, "when did I say that
+Dorothy was an immodest girl?"
+
+"You did not say it," the old lady admitted. "Dorothy herself said it, and
+she proves her words to be true by speaking so boldly of her feelings
+toward this--this strange man. And she speaks before Madge, too."
+
+"Perhaps Madge is in the same sort of trouble. Who knows?" cried Dorothy,
+laughing heartily. Madge blushed painfully. "But," continued Dorothy,
+seriously, "I am not ashamed of it; I am proud of it. For what else, my
+dear aunt, was I created but to be in love? Tell me, dear aunt, for what
+else was I created?"
+
+"Perhaps you are right," returned the old lady, who in fact was
+sentimentally inclined.
+
+"The chief end of woman, after all, is to love," said Dorothy. "What would
+become of the human race if it were not?"
+
+"Child, child," cried the aunt, "where learned you such things?"
+
+"They were written upon my mother's breast," continued Dorothy, "and I
+learned them when I took in my life with her milk. I pray they may be
+written upon my breast some day, if God in His goodness shall ever bless
+me with a baby girl. A man child could not read the words."
+
+"Dorothy, Dorothy!" cried Lady Crawford, "you shock me. You pain me."
+
+"Again I ask," responded Dorothy, "for what else was I created? I tell
+you, Aunt Dorothy, the world decrees that women shall remain in ignorance,
+or in pretended ignorance--in silence at least--regarding the things
+concerning which they have the greatest need to be wise and talkative."
+
+"At your age, Dorothy, I did not have half your wisdom on the subject,"
+answered Lady Crawford.
+
+"Tell me, my sweet Aunt Dorothy, were you really in a state of ignorance
+such as you would have me believe?"
+
+"Well," responded the old lady, hesitatingly, "I did not speak of such
+matters."
+
+"Why, aunt, did you not?" asked Dorothy. "Were you ashamed of what God had
+done? Were you ashamed of His great purpose in creating you a woman, and
+in creating your mother and your mother's mother before you?"
+
+"No, no, child; no, no. But I cannot argue with you. Perhaps you are
+right," said Aunt Dorothy.
+
+"Then tell me, dear aunt, that I am not immodest and bold when I speak
+concerning that of which my heart is full to overflowing. God put it
+there, aunt, not I. Surely I am not immodest by reason of His act."
+
+"No, no, my sweet child," returned Aunt Dorothy, beginning to weep softly.
+"No, no, you are not immodest. You are worth a thousand weak fools such as
+I was at your age."
+
+Poor Aunt Dorothy had been forced into a marriage which had wrecked her
+life. Dorothy's words opened her aunt's eyes to the fact that the girl
+whom she so dearly loved was being thrust by Sir George into the same
+wretched fate through which she had dragged her own suffering heart for so
+many years. From that hour she was Dorothy's ally.
+
+"Good night, Malcolm," said Lady Crawford, offering me her hand. I kissed
+it tenderly; then I kissed the sweet old lady's cheek and said:--
+
+"I love you with all my heart, Aunt Dorothy."
+
+"I thank you, Malcolm," she returned.
+
+I took my leave, and soon Madge went to her room, leaving Dorothy and Lady
+Crawford together.
+
+When Madge had gone the two Dorothys, one at each end of life, spanned the
+long years that separated them, and became one in heart by reason of a
+heartache common to both.
+
+Lady Crawford seated herself and Dorothy knelt by her chair.
+
+"Tell me, Dorothy," said the old lady, "tell me, do you love this man so
+tenderly, so passionately that you cannot give him up?"
+
+"Ah, my dear aunt," the girl responded, "words cannot tell. You cannot
+know what I feel."
+
+"Alas! I know only too well, my child. I, too, loved a man when I was your
+age, and none but God knows what I suffered when I was forced by my
+parents and the priests to give him up, and to wed one whom--God help
+me--I loathed."
+
+"Oh, my sweet aunt!" cried Dorothy softly, throwing her arms about the old
+lady's neck and kissing her cheek. "How terribly you must have suffered!"
+
+"Yes," responded Lady Crawford, "and I am resolved you shall not endure
+the same fate. I hope the man who has won your love is worthy of you. Do
+not tell me his name, for I do not wish to practise greater deception
+toward your father than I must. But you may tell me of his station in
+life, and of his person, that I may know he is not unworthy of you."
+
+"His station in life," answered Dorothy, "is far better than mine. In
+person he is handsome beyond any woman's wildest dream of manly beauty. In
+character he is noble, generous, and good. He is far beyond my deserts,
+Aunt Dorothy."
+
+"Then why does he not seek your hand from your father?" asked the aunt.
+
+"That I may not tell you, Aunt Dorothy," returned the girl, "unless you
+would have me tell you his name, and that I dare not do. Although he is
+vastly my superior in station, in blood, and in character, still my father
+would kill me before he would permit me to marry this man of my choice;
+and I, dear aunt, fear I shall die if I have him not."
+
+Light slowly dawned upon Aunt Dorothy's mind, and she exclaimed in a
+terrified whisper:--
+
+"My God, child, is it he?"
+
+"Yes," responded the girl, "yes, it is he."
+
+"Do not speak his name, Dorothy," the old lady said. "Do not speak his
+name. So long as you do not tell me, I cannot know with certainty who he
+is." After a pause Aunt Dorothy continued, "Perhaps, child, it was his
+father whom I loved and was compelled to give up."
+
+"May the blessed Virgin pity us, sweet aunt," cried Dorothy, caressingly.
+
+"And help us," returned Lady Crawford. "I, too, shall help you," she
+continued. "It will be through no fault of mine if your life is wasted as
+mine has been."
+
+Dorothy kissed her aunt and retired.
+
+Next morning when Dorothy arose a song came from her heart as it comes
+from the skylark when it sees the sun at dawn--because it cannot help
+singing. It awakened Aunt Dorothy, and she began to live her life anew, in
+brightness, as she steeped her soul in the youth and joyousness of Dorothy
+Vernon's song.
+
+I have spoken before in this chronicle of Will Dawson. He was a Conformer.
+Possibly it was by reason of his religious faith that he did not share the
+general enmity that existed in Haddon Hall against the house of Rutland.
+He did not, at the time of which I speak, know Sir John Manners, and he
+did not suspect that the heir to Rutland was the man who had of late been
+causing so much trouble to the house of Vernon. At least, if he did
+suspect it, no one knew of his suspicions.
+
+Sir George made a great effort to learn who the mysterious interloper was,
+but he wholly failed to obtain any clew to his identity. He had jumped to
+the conclusion that Dorothy's mysterious lover was a man of low degree. He
+had taken for granted that he was an adventurer whose station and person
+precluded him from openly wooing his daughter. He did not know that the
+heir to Rutland was in the Derbyshire country; for John, after his first
+meeting with Dorothy, had carefully concealed his presence from everybody
+save the inmates of Rutland. In fact, his mission to Rutland required
+secrecy, and the Rutland servants and retainers were given to understand
+as much. Even had Sir George known of John's presence at Rutland, the old
+gentleman's mind could not have compassed the thought that Dorothy, who,
+he believed, hated the race of Manners with an intensity equalled only by
+his own feelings, could be induced to exchange a word with a member of the
+house. His uncertainty was not the least of his troubles; and although
+Dorothy had full liberty to come and go at will, her father kept constant
+watch over her. As a matter of fact, Sir George had given Dorothy liberty
+partly for the purpose of watching her, and he hoped to discover thereby
+and, if possible, to capture the man who had brought trouble to his
+household. Sir George had once hanged a man to a tree on Bowling Green
+Hill by no other authority than his own desire. That execution was the
+last in England under the old Saxon law of Infangthef and Outfangthef. Sir
+George had been summoned before Parliament for the deed; but the writ had
+issued against the King of the Peak, and that being only a sobriquet, was
+neither Sir George's name nor his title. So the writ was quashed, and the
+high-handed act of personal justice was not farther investigated by the
+authorities. Should my cousin capture his daughter's lover, there would
+certainly be another execution under the old Saxon law. So you see that my
+friend Manners was tickling death with a straw for Dorothy's sake.
+
+One day Dawson approached Sir George and told him that a man sought
+employment in the household of Haddon Hall. Sir George placed great
+confidence in his forester; so he told Dawson to employ the man if his
+services were needed. The new servant proved to be a fine, strong fellow,
+having a great shock of carrot-colored hair and a bushy beard of rusty
+red.
+
+Dawson engaged the newcomer, and assigned to him the duty of kindling the
+fires in the family apartments of the Hall. The name of the new servant
+was Thomas Thompson, a name that Dorothy soon abbreviated to Tom-Tom.
+
+One day she said to him, by way of opening the acquaintance, "Thomas, you
+and I should be good friends; we have so much in common."
+
+"Thank you, my lady," responded Thomas, greatly pleased. "I hope we shall
+be good friends; indeed, indeed I do, but I cannot tell wherein I am so
+fortunate as to have anything in common with your Ladyship. What is it,
+may I ask, of which we have so much in common?"
+
+"So much hair," responded Dorothy, laughing.
+
+"It were blasphemy, lady, to compare my hair with yours," returned Thomas.
+"Your hair, I make sure, is such as the blessed Virgin had. I ask your
+pardon for speaking so plainly; but your words put the thought into my
+mind, and perhaps they gave me license to speak."
+
+Thomas was on his knees, placing wood upon the fire.
+
+"Thomas," returned Dorothy, "you need never apologize to a lady for making
+so fine a speech. I declare a courtier could not have made a better one."
+
+"Perhaps I have lived among courtiers, lady," said Thomas.
+
+"I doubt not," replied Dorothy, derisively. "You would have me believe you
+are above your station. It is the way with all new servants. I suppose
+you have seen fine company and better days."
+
+"I have never seen finer company than now, and I have never known better
+days than this," responded courtier Thomas. Dorothy thought he was
+presuming on her condescension, and was about to tell him so when he
+continued: "The servants at Haddon Hall are gentlefolk compared with
+servants at other places where I have worked, and I desire nothing more
+than to find favor in Sir George's eyes. I would do anything to achieve
+that end."
+
+Dorothy was not entirely reassured by Thomas's closing words; but even if
+they were presumptuous, she admired his wit in giving them an inoffensive
+turn. From that day forth the acquaintance grew between the servant and
+mistress until it reached the point of familiarity at which Dorothy dubbed
+him Tom-Tom.
+
+Frequently Dorothy was startled by remarks made by Thomas, having in them
+a strong dash of familiarity; but he always gave to his words a harmless
+turn before she could resent them. At times, however, she was not quite
+sure of his intention.
+
+Within a week after Thomas's advent to the hall, Dorothy began to suspect
+that the new servant looked upon her with eyes of great favor. She
+frequently caught him watching her, and at such times his eyes, which
+Dorothy thought were really very fine, would glow with an ardor all too
+evident. His manner was cause for amusement rather than concern, and since
+she felt kindly toward the new servant, she thought to create a faithful
+ally by treating him graciously. She might, she thought, need Thomas's
+help when the time should come for her to leave Haddon Hall with John, if
+that happy time should ever come. She did not realize that the most
+dangerous, watchful enemy to her cherished scheme would be a man who was
+himself in love with her, even though he were a servant, and she looked on
+Thomas's evident infatuation with a smile. She did not once think that in
+the end it might cause her great trouble, so she accepted his mute
+admiration, and thought to make use of it later on. To Tom, therefore,
+Dorothy was gracious.
+
+John had sent word to Dorothy, by Jennie Faxton, that he had gone to
+London, and would be there for a fortnight or more.
+
+Sir George had given permission to his daughter to ride out whenever she
+wished to do so, but he had ordered that Dawson or I should follow in the
+capacity of spy, and Dorothy knew of the censorship, though she pretended
+ignorance of it. So long as John was in London she did not care who
+followed her; but I well knew that when Manners should return, Dorothy
+would again begin manoeuvring, and that by some cunning trick she would
+see him.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+One afternoon I was temporarily absent from the Hall and Dorothy wished to
+ride. Dawson was engaged, and when Dorothy had departed, he ordered Tom to
+ride after his mistress at a respectful distance. Nearly a fortnight had
+passed since John had gone to London, and when Dorothy rode forth that
+afternoon she was beginning to hope he might have returned, and that by
+some delightful possibility he might then be loitering about the old
+trysting-place at Bowling Green Gate. There was a half-unconscious
+conviction in her heart that he would be there. She determined therefore,
+to ride toward Rowsley, to cross the Wye at her former fording-place, and
+to go up to Bowling Green Gate on the Devonshire side of the Haddon wall.
+She had no reason, other than the feeling born of her wishes, to believe
+that John would be there; but she loved the spot for the sake of the
+memories which hovered about it. She well knew that some one would follow
+her from the Hall; but she felt sure that in case the spy proved to be
+Dawson or myself, she could easily arrange matters to her satisfaction, if
+by good fortune she should find her lover at the gate.
+
+Tom rode so far behind his mistress that she could not determine who was
+following her. Whenever she brought Dolcy to a walk, Tom-Tom also walked
+his horse. When Dorothy galloped, he galloped; but after Dorothy had
+crossed the Wye and had taken the wall over into the Devonshire lands, Tom
+also crossed the river and wall and quickly rode to her side. He uncovered
+and bowed low with a familiarity of manner that startled her. The act of
+riding up to her and the manner in which he took his place by her side
+were presumptuous to the point of insolence, and his attitude, although
+not openly offensive, was slightly alarming. She put Dolcy to a gallop;
+but the servant who, she thought, was presuming on her former
+graciousness, kept close at Dolcy's heels. The man was a stranger, and she
+knew nothing of his character. She was alone in the forest with him, and
+she did not know to what length his absurd passion for her might lead him.
+She was alarmed, but she despised cowardice, although she knew herself to
+be a coward, and she determined to ride to the gate, which was but a short
+distance ahead of her. She resolved that if the insolent fellow continued
+his familiarity, she would teach him a lesson he would never forget. When
+she was within a short distance of the gate she sprang from Dolcy and
+handed her rein to her servant. John was not there, but she went to the
+gate in the hope that a letter might be hidden beneath the stone bench
+where Jennie was wont to find them in times past. Dorothy found no letter,
+but she could not resist the temptation to sit down upon the bench where
+he and she had sat, and to dream over the happy moments she had spent
+there. Tom, instead of holding the horses, hitched them, and walked toward
+Dorothy. That act on the part of her servant was effrontery of the most
+insolent sort. Will Dawson himself would not have dared do such a thing.
+It filled her with alarm, and as Tom approached she was trying to
+determine in what manner she would crush him. But when the audacious
+Thomas, having reached the gate, seated himself beside his mistress on the
+stone bench, the girl sprang to her feet in fright and indignation. She
+began to realize the extent of her foolhardiness in going to that secluded
+spot with a stranger.
+
+"How dare you approach me in this insolent fashion?" cried Dorothy,
+breathless with fear.
+
+"Mistress Vernon," responded Thomas, looking boldly up into her pale face,
+"I wager you a gold pound sterling that if you permit me to remain here by
+your side ten minutes you will be unwilling--"
+
+"John, John!" cried the girl, exultantly. Tom snatched the red beard from
+his face, and Dorothy, after one fleeting, luminous look into his eyes,
+fell upon her knees and buried her face in her hands. She wept, and John,
+bending over the kneeling girl, kissed her sunlit hair.
+
+"Cruel, cruel," sobbed Dorothy. Then she lifted her head and clasped her
+hands about his neck. "Is it not strange," she continued, "that I should
+have felt so sure of seeing you? My reason kept telling me that my hopes
+were absurd, but a stronger feeling full of the breath of certainty seemed
+to assure me that you would be here. It impelled me to come, though I
+feared you after we crossed the wall. But reason, fear, and caution were
+powerless to keep me away."
+
+"You did not know my voice," said John, "nor did you penetrate my
+disguise. You once said that you would recognize me though I wore all the
+petticoats in Derbyshire."
+
+"Please don't jest with me now," pleaded Dorothy. "I cannot bear it. Great
+joy is harder to endure than great grief. Why did you not reveal yourself
+to me at the Hall?" she asked plaintively.
+
+"I found no opportunity," returned John, "others were always present."
+
+I shall tell you nothing that followed. It is no affair of yours nor of
+mine.
+
+They were overjoyed in being together once more. Neither of them seemed to
+realize that John, while living under Sir George's roof, was facing death
+every moment. To Dorothy, the fact that John, who was heir to one of
+England's noblest houses, was willing for her sake to become a servant, to
+do a servant's work, and to receive the indignities constantly put upon a
+servant, appealed most powerfully. It added to her feeling for him a
+tenderness which is not necessarily a part of passionate love.
+
+It is needless for me to tell you that while John performed faithfully the
+duty of keeping bright the fires in Haddon Hall, he did not neglect the
+other flame--the one in Dorothy's heart--for the sake of whose warmth he
+had assumed the leathern garb of servitude and had placed his head in the
+lion's mouth.
+
+At first he and Dorothy used great caution in exchanging words and
+glances, but familiarity with danger breeds contempt for it. So they
+utilized every opportunity that niggard chance offered, and blinded by
+their great longing soon began to make opportunities for speech with each
+other, thereby bringing trouble to Dorothy and deadly peril to John. Of
+that I shall soon tell you.
+
+During the period of John's service in Haddon Hall negotiations for
+Dorothy's marriage with Lord Stanley were progressing slowly but surely.
+Arrangements for the marriage settlement by the Stanleys, and for
+Dorothy's dower to be given by Sir George, were matters that the King of
+the Peak approached boldly as he would have met any other affair of
+business. But the Earl of Derby, whose mind moved slowly, desiring that a
+generous portion of the Vernon wealth should be transferred with Dorothy
+to the Stanley holdings without the delay incident to Sir George's death,
+put off signing the articles of marriage in his effort to augment the cash
+payment. In truth, the great wealth which Dorothy would bring to the house
+of Stanley was the earl's real reason for desiring her marriage with his
+son. The earl was heavily in debt, and his estate stood in dire need of
+help.
+
+Sir George, though attracted by the high nobility of the house of Stanley,
+did not relish the thought that the wealth he had accumulated by his own
+efforts, and the Vernon estates which had come down to him through
+centuries, should go to pay Lord Derby's debts. He therefore insisted that
+Dorothy's dower should be her separate estate, and demanded that it should
+remain untouched and untouchable by either of the Stanleys. That
+arrangement did not suit my lord earl, and although the son since he had
+seen Dorothy at Derby-town was eager to possess the beautiful girl, his
+father did not share his ardor. Lawyers were called in who looked
+expensively wise, but they accomplished the purpose for which they were
+employed. An agreement of marriage was made and was drawn up on an
+imposing piece of parchment, brave with ribbons, pompous with seals, and
+fair in clerkly penmanship.
+
+One day Sir George showed me the copy of the contract which had been
+prepared for him. That evening at the cost of much labor he and I went
+over the indenture word for word, and when we had finished Sir George
+thought it was very good indeed. He seemed to think that all difficulties
+in the way of the marriage were overcome when the agreement that lay
+before us on the table had been achieved between him and the earl. I knew
+Sir George's troubles had only begun; for I was aware of a fact which it
+seemed impossible for him to learn, though of late Dorothy had given him
+much teaching thereto. I knew that he had transmitted to his daughter a
+large portion of his own fierce, stubborn, unbreakable will, and that in
+her it existed in its most deadly form--the feminine. To me after supper
+that night was assigned the task of reading and rereading many times to
+Sir George the contents of the beautiful parchment. When I would read a
+clause that particularly pleased my cousin, he insisted on celebrating the
+event by drinking a mug of liquor drawn from a huge leather stoup which
+sat upon the table between us. By the time I had made several readings of
+the interesting document the characters began to mingle in a way that did
+not impart ease and clearness to my style. Some of the strange
+combinations which I and the liquor extracted from amid the seals and
+ribbons puzzled Sir George not a little. But with each new libation he
+found new clauses and fresh causes for self-congratulation, though to
+speak exact truth I more than once married Sir George to the Earl of
+Derby, and in my profanity gave Lord James Stanley to the devil to have
+and to hold.
+
+Sir George was rapidly falling before his mighty enemy, drink, and I was
+not far behind him, though I admit the fault with shame. My cousin for a
+while was mightily pleased with the contract; but when the liquor had
+brought him to a point where he was entirely candid with himself, he let
+slip the fact that after all there was regret at the bottom of the goblet,
+metaphorically and actually. Before his final surrender to drink he
+dropped the immediate consideration of the contract and said:--
+
+"Malcolm, I have in my time known many fools, but if you will permit an
+old man, who loves you dearly, to make a plain statement of his
+conviction--"
+
+"Certainly," I interrupted.
+
+"It would be a great relief to me," he continued, "to say that I believe
+you to be the greatest fool the good God ever permitted to live."
+
+"I am sure, Sir George, that your condescending flattery is very
+pleasing," I said.
+
+Sir George, unmindful of my remark, continued, "Your disease is not
+usually a deadly malady, as a look about you will easily show; but,
+Malcolm, if you were one whit more of a fool, you certainly would perish."
+
+I was not offended, for I knew that my cousin meant no offence.
+
+"Then, Sir George, if the time ever comes when I wish to commit suicide, I
+have always at hand an easy, painless mode of death. I shall become only a
+little more of a fool." I laughingly said, "I will do my utmost to absorb
+a little wisdom now and then as a preventive."
+
+"Never a bit of wisdom will you ever absorb. A man who would refuse a girl
+whose wealth and beauty are as great as Dorothy's, is past all hope. I
+often awaken in the dark corners of the night when a man's troubles stalk
+about his bed like livid demons; and when I think that all of this evil
+which has come up between Dorothy and me, and all of this cursed
+estrangement which is eating out my heart could have been averted if you
+had consented to marry her, I cannot but feel--"
+
+"But, Sir George," I interrupted, "it was Dorothy, not I, who refused. She
+could never have been brought to marry me."
+
+"Don't tell me, Malcolm; don't tell me," cried the old man, angrily. Drink
+had made Sir George sullen and violent. It made me happy at first; but
+with liquor in excess there always came to me a sort of frenzy.
+
+"Don't tell me," continued Sir George. "There never lived a Vernon who
+couldn't win a woman if he would try. But put all that aside. She would
+have obeyed me. I would have forced her to marry you, and she would have
+thanked me afterward."
+
+"You could never have forced her to marry me," I replied.
+
+"But that I could and that I would have done," said Sir George. "The like
+is done every day. Girls in these modern times are all perverse, but they
+are made to yield. Take the cases of Sir Thomas Mobley, Sir Grant Rhodas,
+and William Kimm. Their daughters all refused to marry the men chosen for
+them, but the wenches were made to yield. If I had a daughter who refused
+to obey me, I would break her; I would break her. Yes, by God, I would
+break her if I had to kill her," and the old man brought his clenched hand
+down upon the oak table with a crash. His eyes glared frightfully, and his
+face bore a forbidding expression which boded no good for Dorothy.
+
+"She will make trouble in this matter," Sir George continued, tapping the
+parchment with his middle finger.
+
+"She will make trouble about this; but, by God, Malcolm, she shall obey
+me."
+
+He struck the oaken table another great blow with his fist, and glared
+fiercely across at me.
+
+"Lord Wyatt had trouble with his daughter when he made the marriage with
+Devonshire," continued Sir George.
+
+"A damned good match it was, too, for the girl. But she had her heart set
+on young Gillman, and she refused to obey her father. She refused, by God,
+point blank, to obey her father. She refused to obey the man who had given
+her life. What did Wyatt do? He was a man who knew what a child owes to
+its father, and, by God, Malcolm, after trying every other means to bring
+the wench to her senses, after he had tried persuasion, after having in
+two priests and a bishop to show her how badly she was acting, and after
+he had tried to reason with her, he whipped her; yes, he whipped her till
+she bled--till she bled, Malcolm, I tell you. Ah, Wyatt knew what is due
+from a child to its parents. The whipping failed to bring the perverse
+huzzy to obedience, so Wyatt threw her into a dungeon and starved her
+till--till--"
+
+"Till she died," I interrupted.
+
+"Yes, till she died," mumbled Sir George, sullenly, "till she died, and it
+served her right, by God, served her right."
+
+The old man was growing very drunk, and everything was beginning to
+appear distorted to me. Sir George rose to his feet, leaned toward me with
+glaring eyes, struck the table a terrible blow with his fist, and said:--
+
+"By the blood of God I swear that if Doll refuses to marry Stanley, and
+persists in her refusal, I'll whip her. Wyatt is a man after my own heart.
+I'll starve her. I'll kill her. Ay, if I loved her ten thousand times more
+than I do, I would kill her or she should obey me."
+
+Then dawned upon me a vision of terrible possibilities. I was sure Sir
+George could not force Dorothy to marry against her will; but I feared
+lest he might kill her in his effort to "break her." I do not mean that I
+feared he would kill her by a direct act, unless he should do so in a
+moment of frenzy induced by drink and passion, but I did fear for the
+results of the breaking process. The like had often happened. It had
+happened in the case of Wyatt's daughter. Dorothy under the intoxicating
+influence of her passion might become so possessed by the spirit of a
+martyr that she could calmly take a flogging, but my belief was that
+should matters proceed to that extreme, should Sir George flog his
+daughter, the chords of her highly strung nature would snap under the
+tension, and she would die. I loved Dorothy for the sake of her fierce,
+passionate, tender heart, and because she loved me; and even in my sober,
+reflective moments I had resolved that my life, ay, and Sir George's life
+also, should stand between the girl and the lash. If in calmness I could
+deliberately form such a resolution, imagine the effect on my
+liquor-crazed brain of Sir George's words and the vista of horrors they
+disclosed. I was intoxicated. I was drunk. I say it with shame; and on
+hearing Sir George's threat my half-frenzied imagination ran riot into the
+foreboding future.
+
+All the candles, save one tottering wick, were dead in their sockets, and
+the room was filled with lowering phantom-like shadows from oaken floor
+to grimy vaulted roof beams. Sir George, hardly conscious of what he did
+and said, all his evil passions quickened with drink, leaned his hands
+upon the table and glared across at me. He seemed to be the incarnation of
+rage and ferocity, to so great a pitch had he wrought himself. The
+sputtering candle feebly flickered, and seemed to give its dim light only
+that the darksome shadows might flit and hover about us like vampires on
+the scent of blood. A cold perspiration induced by a nameless fear came
+upon me, and in that dark future to which my heated imagination travelled
+I saw, as if revealed by black magic, fair, sweet, generous Dorothy,
+standing piteously upon Bowling Green hillside. Over her drooping form
+there hung in air a monster cloudlike image of her father holding in its
+hand a deadly bludgeon. So black, so horrid was this shadow-demon that I
+sprang from my chair with a frightful oath, and shrieked:--
+
+"Hell is made for man because of his cruelty to woman."
+
+Sir George had sunk into his chair. Liquor had finished its work, and the
+old man, resting his head upon his folded arms, leaned forward on the
+table. He was drunk--dead to the world. How long I stood in frenzied
+stupor gazing at shadow-stricken Dorothy upon the hillside I do not know.
+It must have been several minutes. Blood of Christ, how vividly I remember
+the vision! The sunny radiance of the girl's hair was darkened and dead.
+Her bending attitude was one of abject grief. Her hands covered her face,
+and she was the image of woe. Suddenly she lifted her head with the quick
+impulsive movement so familiar in her, and with a cry eloquent as a
+child's wail for its mother called, "John," and held out her arms
+imploringly toward the dim shadowy form of her lover standing upon the
+hill crest. Then John's form began to fade, and as its shadowy essence
+grew dim, despair slowly stole like a mask of death over Dorothy's face.
+She stood for a moment gazing vacantly into space. Then she fell to the
+ground, the shadow of her father hovering over her prostrate form, and the
+words, "Dead, dead, dead," came to me in horrifying whispers from every
+dancing shadow-demon in the room.
+
+In trying to locate the whispers as they reverberated from floor to oaken
+rafters, I turned and saw Sir George. He looked as if he were dead.
+
+"Why should you not be dead in fact?" I cried. "You would kill your
+daughter. Why should I not kill you? That will solve the whole question."
+
+I revelled in the thought; I drank it in; I nursed it; I cuddled it; I
+kissed it. Nature's brutish love for murder had deluged my soul. I put my
+hand to my side for the purpose of drawing my sword or my knife. I had
+neither with me. Then I remember staggering toward the fireplace to get
+one of the fire-irons with which to kill my cousin. I remember that when I
+grasped the fire-iron, by the strange working of habit I employed it for
+the moment in its proper use; and as I began to stir the embers on the
+hearth, my original purpose was forgotten. That moment of habit-wrought
+forgetfulness saved me and saved Sir George's life. I remember that I sank
+into the chair in front of the fireplace, holding the iron, and I thank
+God that I remember nothing more.
+
+During the night the servants aroused me, and I staggered up the stone
+stairway of Eagle Tower and clambered into my room.
+
+The next morning I awakened feeling ill. There was a taste in my mouth as
+If I had been chewing a piece of the devil's boot over night. I wanted no
+breakfast, so I climbed to the top of the tower, hoping the fresh morning
+breeze might cool my head and cleanse my mouth. For a moment or two I
+stood on the tower roof bareheaded and open-mouthed while I drank in the
+fresh, purifying air. The sweet draught helped me physically; but all the
+winds of Boreas could not have blown out of my head the vision of the
+previous night. The question, "Was it prophetic?" kept ringing in my ears,
+answerless save by a superstitious feeling of fear. Then the horrid
+thought that I had only by a mere chance missed becoming a murderer came
+upon me, and again was crowded from my mind by the memory of Dorothy and
+the hovering spectre which had hung over her head on Bowling Green
+hillside.
+
+I walked to the north side of the tower and on looking down the first
+person I saw was our new servant, Thomas, holding two horses at the
+mounting stand. One of them was Dolcy, and I, feeling that a brisk ride
+with Dorothy would help me to throw off my wretchedness, quickly descended
+the tower stairs, stopped at my room for my hat and cloak, and walked
+around to the mounting block. Dorothy was going to ride, and I supposed
+she would prefer me to the new servant as a companion.
+
+I asked Thomas if his mistress were going out for a ride, and he replied
+affirmatively.
+
+"Who is to accompany her?" I asked.
+
+"She gave orders for me to go with her," he answered.
+
+"Very well," I responded, "take your horse back to the stable and fetch
+mine." The man hesitated, and twice he began to make reply, but finally he
+said:--
+
+"Very well, Sir Malcolm."
+
+He hitched Dolcy to the ring in the mounting block and started back toward
+the stable leading his own horse. At that moment Dorothy came out of the
+tower gate, dressed for the ride. Surely no woman was ever more beautiful
+than she that morning.
+
+"Tom-Tom, where are you taking the horse?" she cried.
+
+"To the stable, Mistress," answered the servant. "Sir Malcolm says he will
+go with you."
+
+Dorothy's joyousness vanished. From radiant brightness her expression
+changed in the twinkling of an eye to a look of disappointment so
+sorrowful that I at once knew there was some great reason why she did not
+wish me to ride with her. I could not divine the reason, neither did I
+try. I quickly said to Thomas:--
+
+"Do not bring my horse. If Mistress Vernon will excuse me, I shall not
+ride with her this morning. I forgot for the moment that I had not
+breakfasted."
+
+Again came to Dorothy's face the radiant look of joy as if to affirm what
+it had already told me. I looked toward Thomas, and his eyes, too, were
+alight. I could make nothing of it. Thomas was a fine-looking fellow,
+notwithstanding his preposterous hair and beard; but I felt sure there
+could be no understanding between the man and his mistress.
+
+When Thomas and Dorothy had mounted, she timidly ventured to say:--
+
+"We are sorry, Cousin Malcolm, that you cannot ride with us."
+
+She did not give me an opportunity to change my mind, but struck Dolcy a
+sharp blow with her whip that sent the spirited mare galloping toward the
+dove-cote, and Thomas quickly followed at a respectful distance. From the
+dove-cote Dorothy took the path down the Wye toward Rowsley. I, of course,
+connected her strange conduct with John. When a young woman who is well
+balanced physically, mentally, and morally acts in a strange, unusual
+manner, you may depend on it there is a man somewhere behind her motive.
+
+I knew that John was in London. Only the night before I had received word
+from Rutland Castle that he had not returned, and that he was not expected
+home for many days.
+
+So I concluded that John could not be behind my fair cousin's motive. I
+tried to stop guessing at the riddle Dorothy had set me, but my effort was
+useless. I wondered and thought and guessed, but I brought to myself only
+the answer, "Great is the mystery of womanhood."
+
+After Dorothy had ridden away I again climbed to the top of Eagle Tower
+and saw the riders cross the Wye at Dorothy's former fording-place, and
+take the wall. I then did a thing that fills me with shame when I think of
+it. For the only time in my whole life I acted the part of a spy. I
+hurried to Bowling Green Gate, and horror upon horror, there I beheld my
+cousin Dorothy in the arms of Thomas, the man-servant. I do not know why
+the truth of Thomas's identity did not dawn upon me, but it did not, and I
+stole away from the gate, thinking that Dorothy, after all, was no better
+than the other women I had known at various times in my life, and I
+resolved to tell John what I had seen. You must remember that the women I
+had known were of the courts of Mary Stuart and of Guise, and the less we
+say about them the better. God pity them! Prior to my acquaintance with
+Dorothy and Madge I had always considered a man to be a fool who would put
+his faith in womankind. To me women were as good as men,--no better, no
+worse. But with my knowledge of those two girls there had grown up in me a
+faith in woman's virtue which in my opinion is man's greatest comforter;
+the lack of it his greatest torment.
+
+I went back to Eagle Tower and stood at my window looking down the Wye,
+hoping soon to see Dorothy returning home. I did not feel jealousy in the
+sense that a lover would feel it; but there was a pain in my heart, a
+mingling of grief, anger, and resentment because Dorothy had destroyed not
+only my faith in her, but, alas! my sweet, new-born faith in womankind.
+Through her fault I had fallen again to my old, black belief that virtue
+was only another name for the lack of opportunity. It is easy for a man
+who has never known virtue in woman to bear and forbear the lack of it;
+but when once he has known the priceless treasure, doubt becomes
+excruciating pain.
+
+After an hour or two Dorothy and her servant appeared at the ford and took
+the path up the Wye toward Haddon. Thomas was riding a short distance
+behind his accommodating mistress, and as they approached the Hall, I
+recognized something familiar in his figure. At first, the feeling of
+recognition was indistinct, but when the riders drew near, something about
+the man--his poise on the horse, a trick with the rein or a turn with his
+stirrup, I could not tell what it was--startled me like a flash in the
+dark, and the word "John!" sprang to my lips. The wonder of the thing
+drove out of my mind all power to think. I could only feel happy, so I lay
+down upon my bed and soon dropped off to sleep.
+
+When I awakened I was rapt in peace, for I had again found my treasured
+faith in womankind. I had hardly dared include Madge in my backsliding,
+but I had come perilously near doing it, and the thought of my narrow
+escape from such perfidy frightened me. I have never taken the risk since
+that day. I would not believe the testimony of my own eyes against the
+evidence of my faith in Madge.
+
+I knew that Thomas was Sir John Manners, and yet I did not know it
+certainly. I determined, if possible, to remain in partial ignorance,
+hoping that I might with some small show of truth be able to plead
+ignorance should Sir George accuse me of bad faith in having failed to
+tell him of John's presence in Haddon Hall. That Sir George would sooner
+or later discover Thomas's identity I had little doubt. That he would kill
+him should he once have him in his power, I had no doubt at all. Hence,
+although I had awakened in peace concerning Dorothy, you may understand
+that I awakened to trouble concerning John.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE COST MARK OF JOY
+
+
+Peace had been restored between Dorothy and her father. At least an
+armistice had been tacitly declared. But, owing to Dorothy's knowledge of
+her father's intention that she should marry Lord Stanley, and because of
+Sir George's feeling that Dorothy had determined to do nothing of the
+sort, the belligerent powers maintained a defensive attitude which
+rendered an absolute reconciliation impossible. They were ready for war at
+a moment's notice.
+
+The strangest part of their relation was the failure of each to comprehend
+and fully to realize the full strength of the other's purpose. Dorothy
+could not bring herself to believe that her father, who had until within
+the last few weeks, been kind and indulgent to her, seriously intended to
+force her into marriage with a creature so despicable as Stanley. In fact,
+she did not believe that her father could offer lasting resistance to her
+ardent desire in any matter. Such an untoward happening had never befallen
+her. Dorothy had learned to believe from agreeable experience that it was
+a crime in any one, bordering on treason, to thwart her ardent desires. It
+is true she had in certain events, been compelled to coax and even to weep
+gently. On a few extreme occasions she had been forced to do a little
+storming in order to have her own way; but that any presumptuous
+individuals should resist her will after the storming had been resorted
+to was an event of such recent happening in her life that she had not
+grown familiar with the thought of it. Therefore, while she felt that her
+father might seriously annoy her with the Stanley project, and while she
+realized that she might be compelled to resort to the storming process in
+a degree thitherto uncalled for, she believed that the storm she would
+raise would blow her father entirely out of his absurd and utterly
+untenable position. On the other hand, while Sir George anticipated
+trouble with Dorothy, he had never been able to believe that she would
+absolutely refuse to obey him. In those olden times--now nearly half a
+century past--filial disobedience was rare. The refusal of a child to obey
+a parent, and especially the refusal of a daughter to obey her father in
+the matter of marriage, was then looked upon as a crime and was frequently
+punished in a way which amounted to barbarous ferocity. Sons, being of the
+privileged side of humanity, might occasionally disobey with impunity, but
+woe to the poor girl who dared set up a will of her own. A man who could
+not compel obedience from his daughter was looked upon as a poor weakling,
+and contempt was his portion in the eyes of his fellow-men--in the eyes of
+his fellow-brutes, I should like to say.
+
+Growing out of such conditions was the firm belief on the part of Sir
+George that Dorothy would in the end obey him; but if by any hard chance
+she should be guilty of the high crime of disobedience--Well! Sir George
+intended to prevent the crime. Perhaps mere stubborness and fear of the
+contempt in which he would be held by his friends in case he were defeated
+by his own daughter were no small parts of Sir George's desire to carry
+through the enterprise in which he had embarked with the Stanleys.
+Although there was no doubt in Sir George's mind that he would eventually
+conquer in the conflict with Dorothy, he had a profound respect for the
+power of his antagonist to do temporary battle, and he did not care to
+enter into actual hostilities until hostilities should become actually
+necessary.
+
+Therefore, upon the second day after I had read the beribboned, besealed
+contract to Sir George, he sent an advance guard toward the enemy's line.
+He placed the ornamental piece of parchment in Lady Crawford's hands and
+directed her to give it to Dorothy.
+
+But before I tell you of the parchment I must relate a scene that occurred
+in Aunt Dorothy's room a few hours after I recognized John as he rode up
+the Wye with Dorothy. It was late in the afternoon of the day after I read
+the contract to Sir George and saw the horrid vision on Bowling Green.
+
+I was sitting with Madge at the west window of Dorothy's parlor. We were
+watching the sun as it sank in splendor beneath Overhaddon Hill.
+
+I should like first to tell you a few words--only a few, I pray
+you--concerning Madge and myself. I will.
+
+I have just said that Madge and I were watching the sun at the west
+window, and I told you but the truth, for Madge had learned to see with my
+eyes. Gladly would I have given them to her outright, and willingly would
+I have lived in darkness could I have given light to her. She gave light
+to me--the light of truth, of purity, and of exalted motive. There had
+been no words spoken by Madge nor me to any one concerning the strange and
+holy chain that was welding itself about us, save the partial confession
+which she had whispered to Dorothy. But notwithstanding our silence, our
+friends in the Hall understood that Madge and I were very dear to each
+other. I, of course, saw a great deal of her; but it was the evening hour
+at the west window to which I longingly looked forward all the day. I am
+no poet, nor do my words and thoughts come with the rhythmic flow and
+eloquent imagery of one to whom the talent of poesy is given. But during
+those evening hours it seemed that with the soft touch of Madge's hand
+there ran through me a current of infectious dreaming which kindled my
+soul till thoughts of beauty came to my mind and words of music sprang to
+my lips such as I had always considered not to be in me. It was not I who
+spoke; it was Madge who saw with my eyes and spoke with my voice. To my
+vision, swayed by Madge's subtle influence, the landscape became a thing
+of moving beauty and of life, and the floating clouds became a panorama of
+ever shifting pictures. I, inspired by her, described so eloquently the
+wonders I saw that she, too, could see them. Now a flock of white-winged
+angels rested on the low-hung azure of the sky, watching the glory of
+Phoebus as he drove his fiery steeds over the western edge of the world.
+Again, Mount Olympus would grow before my eyes, and I would plainly see
+Jove sitting upon his burnished throne, while gods and goddesses floated
+at his feet and revelled on the fleecy mountain sides. Then would
+mountain, gods, and goddesses dissolve,--as in fact they did dissolve ages
+ago before the eyes of millions who had thought them real,--and in their
+places perhaps would come a procession of golden-maned lions, at the
+description of which would Madge take pretended fright. Again, would I see
+Madge herself in flowing white robes made of the stuff from which fleecy
+clouds are wrought. All these wonders would I describe, and when I would
+come to tell her of the fair cloud image of herself I would seize the
+joyous chance to make her understand in some faint degree how altogether
+lovely in my eyes the vision was. Then would she smile and softly press my
+hand and say:--
+
+"Malcolm, it must be some one else you see in the cloud," though she was
+pleased.
+
+But when the hour was done then came the crowning moment of the day, for
+as I would rise to take my leave, if perchance we were alone, she would
+give herself to my arms for one fleeting instant and willingly would her
+lips await--but there are moments too sacred for aught save holy thought.
+The theme is sweet to me, but I must go back to Dorothy and tell you of
+the scene I have promised you.
+
+As I have already said, it was the evening following that upon which I had
+read the marriage contract to Sir George, and had seen the vision on the
+hillside. Madge and I were sitting at the west window. Dorothy, in
+kindness to us, was sitting alone by the fireside in Lady Crawford's
+chamber. Thomas entered the room with an armful of fagots, which he
+deposited in the fagot-holder. He was about to replenish the fire, but
+Dorothy thrust him aside, and said:--
+
+"You shall kindle no more fires for me. At least you shall not do so when
+no one else is by. It pains me that you, at whose feet I am unworthy to
+kneel, should be my servant"
+
+Thereupon she took in her hands the fagot John had been holding. He
+offered to prevent her, but she said:--
+
+"Please, John, let me do this."
+
+The doors were open, and we heard all that was said by Dorothy and Tom.
+Madge grasped my hand in surprise and fear.
+
+"Please, John," said Dorothy, "if it gives me pleasure to be your servant,
+you should not wish to deny me. There lives but one person whom I would
+serve. There, John, I will give you another, and you shall let me do as I
+will."
+
+Dorothy, still holding the fagot in her hands, pressed it against John's
+breast and gently pushed him backward toward a large armchair, in which
+she had been sitting by the west side of the fireplace.
+
+"You sit there, John, and we will make believe that this is our house, and
+that you have just come in very cold from a ride, and that I am making a
+fine fire to warm you. Isn't it pleasant, John? There, you sit and warm
+yourself--my--my--husband," she said laughingly. "It is fine sport even to
+play at. There is one fagot on the fire," she said, as she threw the wood
+upon the embers, causing them to fly in all directions. John started up to
+brush the scattered embers back into the fireplace, but Dorothy stopped
+him.
+
+"I will put them all back," she said. "You know you are cold and very
+tired. You have been overseeing the tenantry and have been hunting. Will
+you have a bowl of punch, my--my husband?" and she laughed again and
+kissed him as she passed to the holder for another fagot.
+
+"I much prefer that to punch," said John, laughing softly. "Have you
+more?"
+
+"Thousands of them, John, thousands of them." She rippled forth a little
+laugh and continued: "I occupy my time nowadays in making them that I may
+always have a great supply when we are--that is, you know, when you--when
+the time comes that you may require a great many to keep you in good
+humor." Again came the laugh, merry and clear as the tinkle of sterling
+silver.
+
+She laughed again within a minute or two; but when the second laugh came,
+it sounded like a knell.
+
+Dorothy delighted to be dressed in the latest fashion. Upon this occasion
+she wore a skirt vast in width, of a pattern then much in vogue. The
+sleeves also were preposterously large, in accordance with the custom of
+the times. About her neck a beautiful white linen ruff stood out at least
+the eighth part of an ell. The day had been damp and cold, and the room in
+which she had been sitting was chilly. For that reason, most fortunately,
+she had thrown over her shoulders a wide sable cloak broad enough to
+enfold her many times and long enough to reach nearly to her knees:
+Dorothy thus arrayed was standing in front of John's chair. She had just
+spoken the words "good humor," when the door leading to her father's room
+opened and in walked Sir George. She and her ample skirts and broad
+sleeves were between John and the door. Not one brief instant did Dorothy
+waste in thought. Had she paused to put in motion the machinery of reason,
+John would have been lost. Thomas sitting in Lady Crawford's chair and
+Dorothy standing beside him would have told Sir George all he needed to
+know. He might not have discovered John's identity, but a rope and a tree
+in Bowling Green would quickly have closed the chapter of Dorothy's
+mysterious love affair. Dorothy, however, did not stop to reason nor to
+think. She simply acted without preliminary thought, as the rose unfolds
+or as the lightning strikes. She quietly sat down upon John's knees,
+leaned closely back against him, spread out the ample folds of her skirt,
+threw the lower parts of her broad cape over her shoulders and across the
+back of the chair, and Sir John Manners was invisible to mortal eyes.
+
+"Come in, father," said Dorothy, in dulcet tones that should have betrayed
+her.
+
+"I heard you laughing and talking," said Sir George, "and I wondered who
+was with you."
+
+"I was talking to Madge and Malcolm who are in the other room," replied
+Dorothy.
+
+"Did not Thomas come in with fagots?" asked Sir George.
+
+"I think he is replenishing the fire in the parlor, father, or he may have
+gone out. I did not notice. Do you want him?"
+
+"I do not especially want him," Sir George answered.
+
+"When he finishes in the parlor I will tell him that you want him," said
+Dorothy.
+
+"Very well," replied Sir George.
+
+He returned to his room, but he did not close the door.
+
+The moment her father's back was turned Dorothy called:--
+
+"Tom--Tom, father wants you," and instantly Thomas was standing
+deferentially by her side, and she was seated in the great chair. It was a
+rapid change, I assure you. But a man's life and his fortune for good or
+ill often hang upon a tiny peg--a second of time protruding from the wall
+of eternity. It serves him briefly; but if he be ready for the vital
+instant, it may serve him well.
+
+"Yes, mistress," said Thomas, "I go to him at once."
+
+John left the room and closed the door as he passed out. Then it was that
+Dorothy's laugh sounded like the chilling tones of a knell. It was the
+laugh of one almost distraught. She came to Madge and me laughing, but the
+laugh quickly changed to convulsive sobs. The strain of the brief moment
+during which her father had been in Lady Crawford's room had been too
+great for even her strong nerves to bear. She tottered and would have
+fallen had I not caught her. I carried her to the bed, and Madge called
+Lady Crawford. Dorothy had swooned.
+
+When she wakened she said dreamily:--
+
+"I shall always keep this cloak and gown."
+
+Aunt Dorothy thought the words were but the incoherent utterances of a
+dimly conscious mind, but I knew they were the deliberate expression of a
+justly grateful heart.
+
+The following evening trouble came about over the matter of the marriage
+contract.
+
+You remember I told you that Sir George had sent Lady Crawford as an
+advance guard to place the parchment in the enemy's hands. But the advance
+guard feared the enemy and therefore did not deliver the contract directly
+to Dorothy. She placed it conspicuously upon the table, knowing well that
+her niece's curiosity would soon prompt an examination.
+
+I was sitting before the fire in Aunt Dorothy's room, talking to Madge
+when Lady Crawford entered, placed the parchment on the table, and took a
+chair by my side. Soon Dorothy entered the room. The roll of parchment,
+brave with ribbons, was lying on the table. It attracted her attention at
+once, and she took it in her hands.
+
+"What is this?" she asked carelessly. Her action was prompted entirely by
+idle curiosity. That, by the way, was no small motive with Dorothy. She
+had the curiosity of a young doe. Receiving no answer, she untied the
+ribbons and unrolled the parchment to investigate its contents for
+herself. When the parchment was unrolled, she began to read:--
+
+"In the name of God, amen. This indenture of agreement, looking to union
+in the holy bonds of marriage between the Right Honorable Lord James
+Stanley of the first part, and Mistress Dorothy Vernon of Haddon of the
+second part--"
+
+She read no farther. She crumpled the beautiful parchment in her hands,
+walked over to the fire, and quietly placed the sacred instrument in the
+midst of the flames. Then she turned away with a sneer of contempt upon
+her face and--again I grieve to tell you this--said:--
+
+"In the name of God, amen. May this indenture be damned."
+
+"Dorothy!" exclaimed Lady Crawford, horrified at her niece's profanity. "I
+feel shame for your impious words."
+
+"I don't care what you feel, aunt," retorted Dorothy, with a dangerous
+glint in her eyes. "Feel as you wish, I meant what I said, and I will say
+it again if you would like to hear it. I will say it to father when I see
+him. Now, Aunt Dorothy, I love you and I love my father, but I give you
+fair warning there is trouble ahead for any one who crosses me in this
+matter."
+
+She certainly looked as if she spoke the truth. Then she hummed a tune
+under her breath--a dangerous signal in Dorothy at certain times. Soon the
+humming turned to whistling. Whistling in those olden days was looked upon
+as a species of crime in a girl.
+
+Dorothy stood by the window for a short time and then taking up an
+embroidery frame, drew a chair nearer to the light and began to work at
+her embroidery. In a moment or two she stopped whistling, and we could
+almost feel the silence in the room. Madge, of course, only partly knew
+what had happened, and her face wore an expression of expectant, anxious
+inquiry. Aunt Dorothy looked at me, and I looked at the fire. The
+parchment burned slowly. Lady Crawford, from a sense of duty to Sir George
+and perhaps from politic reasons, made two or three attempts to speak, and
+after five minutes of painful silence she brought herself to say:--
+
+"Dorothy, your father left the contract here for you to read. He will be
+angry when he learns what you have done. Such disobedience is sure to--"
+
+"Not another word from you," screamed Dorothy, springing like a tigress
+from her chair. "Not another word from you or I will--I will scratch you.
+I will kill some one. Don't speak to me. Can't you see that I am trying to
+calm myself for an interview with father? An angry brain is full of
+blunders. I want to make none. I will settle this affair with father. No
+one else, not even you, Aunt Dorothy, shall interfere." The girl turned to
+the window, stood beating a tattoo upon the glass for a moment or two,
+then went over to Lady Crawford and knelt by her side. She put her arms
+about Aunt Dorothy's neck, softly kissed her, and said:--
+
+"Forgive me, dear aunt; forgive me. I am almost crazed with my troubles. I
+love you dearly indeed, indeed I do."
+
+Madge gropingly went to Dorothy's side and took her hand. Dorothy kissed
+Madge's hand and rose to her feet.
+
+"Where is my father?" asked Dorothy, to whom a repentant feeling toward
+Lady Crawford had brought partial calmness. "I will go to him immediately
+and will have this matter over. We might as well understand each other at
+once. Father seems very dull at understanding me. But he shall know me
+better before long."
+
+Sir George may have respected the strength of his adversary, but Dorothy
+had no respect for the strength of her foe. She was eager for the fray.
+When she had a disagreeable thing to do, she always wanted to do it
+quickly.
+
+Dorothy was saved the trouble of seeking her father, for at that moment he
+entered the room.
+
+"You are welcome, father," said Dorothy in cold, defiant tones. "You have
+come just in time to see the last flickering flame of your fine marriage
+contract." She led him to the fireplace. "Does it not make a beautiful
+smoke and blaze?"
+
+"Did you dare--"
+
+"Ay, that I did," replied Dorothy.
+
+"You dared?" again asked her father, unable to believe the evidence of his
+eyes.
+
+"Ay, so I said; that I did," again said Dorothy.
+
+"By the death of Christ--" began Sir George.
+
+"Now be careful, father, about your oaths," the girl interrupted. "You
+must not forget the last batch you made and broke."
+
+Dorothy's words and manner maddened Sir George. The expression of her
+whole person, from her feet to her hair, breathed defiance. The poise of
+her body and of her limbs, the wild glint in her eyes, and the turn of her
+head, all told eloquently that Sir George had no chance to win and that
+Dorothy was an unconquerable foe. It is a wonder he did not learn in that
+one moment that he could never bring his daughter to marry Lord Stanley.
+
+"I will imprison you," cried Sir George, gasping with rage.
+
+"Very well," responded Dorothy, smilingly. "You kept me prisoner for a
+fortnight. I did not ask you to liberate me. I am ready to go back to my
+apartments."
+
+"But now you shall go to the dungeon," her father said.
+
+"Ah, the dungeon!" cried the girl, as if she were delighted at the
+thought. "The dungeon! Very well, again. I am ready to go to the dungeon.
+You may keep me there the remainder of my natural life. I cannot prevent
+you from doing that, but you cannot force me to marry Lord Stanley."
+
+"I will starve you until you obey me!" retorted her father. "I will starve
+you!"
+
+"That, again, you may easily do, my dear father; but again I tell you I
+will never marry Stanley. If you think I fear to die, try to kill me. I do
+not fear death. You have it not in your power to make me fear you or
+anything you can do. You may kill me, but I thank God it requires my
+consent for my marriage to Stanley, and I swear before God that never
+shall be given."
+
+The girl's terrible will and calm determination staggered Sir George, and
+by its force beat down even his strong will. The infuriated old man
+wavered a moment and said:--
+
+"Fool, I seek only your happiness in this marriage. Only your happiness.
+Why will you not consent to it?"
+
+I thought the battle was over, and that Dorothy was the victor. She
+thought so, too, but was not great enough to bear her triumph silently.
+She kept on talking and carried her attack too far.
+
+"And I refuse to obey because of my happiness. I refuse because I hate
+Lord Stanley, and because, as you already know, I love another man."
+
+When she spoke the words "because I love another man," the cold, defiant
+expression of her face changed to one of ecstasy.
+
+"I will have you to the dungeon this very hour, you brazen huzzy," cried
+Sir George.
+
+"How often, father, shall I repeat that I am ready to go to the dungeon? I
+am eager to obey you in all things save one."
+
+"You shall have your wish," returned Sir George. "Would that you had died
+ere you had disgraced your house with a low-bred dog whose name you are
+ashamed to utter."
+
+"Father, there has been no disgrace," Dorothy answered, and her words bore
+the ring of truth.
+
+"You have been meeting the fellow at secluded spots in the forest--how
+frequently you have met him God only knows--and you lied to me when you
+were discovered at Bowling Green Gate."
+
+"I would do it again gladly if I but had the chance," answered the girl,
+who by that time was reckless of consequences.
+
+"But the chance you shall not have," retorted Sir George.
+
+"Do not be too sure, father," replied Dorothy. She was unable to resist
+the temptation to mystify him. "I may see him before another hour. I will
+lay you this wager, father, if I do not within one hour see the man--the
+man whom I love--I will marry Lord Stanley. If I see him within that time
+you shall permit me to marry him. I have seen him two score times since
+the day you surprised me at the gate."
+
+That was a dangerous admission for the girl to make, and she soon
+regretted it with all her heart. Truly she was right. An angry brain is
+full of blunders.
+
+Of course Dorothy's words, which were so full of meaning to Madge and me,
+meant little to Sir George. He looked upon them only as irritating
+insolence on her part. A few minutes later, however, they became full of
+significance.
+
+Sir George seemed to have forgotten the Stanley marriage and the burning
+of the contract in his quarrel with Dorothy over her unknown lover.
+
+Conceive, if you can, the situation in Haddon Hall at that time. There was
+love-drunk Dorothy, proud of the skill which had enabled her to outwit her
+wrathful father. There was Sir George, whose mental condition, inflamed by
+constant drinking, bordered on frenzy because he felt that his child, whom
+he had so tenderly loved from the day of her birth, had disgraced herself
+with a low-born wretch whom she refused to name. And there, under the same
+roof, lived the man who was the root and source of all the trouble. A
+pretty kettle of fish!
+
+"The wager, father, will you take it?" eagerly asked Dorothy.
+
+Sir George, who thought that her words were spoken only to anger him,
+waved her off with his hands and said:--
+
+"I have reason to believe that I know the wretch for whose sake you have
+disgraced yourself. You may be sure that I shall soon know him with
+certainty. When I do, I will quickly have him in my power. Then I will
+hang him to a tree on Bowling Green, and you shall see the low-born dog
+die."
+
+"He is better born than any of our house," retorted Dorothy, who had lost
+all sense of caution. "Ay, he is better born than any with whom we claim
+kin."
+
+Sir George stood in open-eyed wonder, and Dorothy continued: "You cannot
+keep him from me. I shall see him, and I will have him despite you. I tell
+you again, I have seen him two score times since you tried to spy upon us
+at Bowling Green Gate, and I will see him whenever I choose, and I will
+wed him when I am ready to do so. You cannot prevent it. You can only be
+forsworn, oath upon oath; and if I were you, I would stop swearing."
+
+Sir George, as was usual with him in those sad times, was inflamed with
+drink, and Dorothy's conduct, I must admit, was maddening. In the midst of
+her taunting Thomas stepped into the room bearing an armful of fagots. Sir
+George turned to him and said:--
+
+"Go and tell Welch to bring a set of manacles."
+
+"For Mistress Dorothy?" Thomas asked, surprised into the exclamation.
+
+"Curse you, do you mean to bandy words with me, you scum?" cried Sir
+George.
+
+He snatched a fagot from John and drew back his arm to strike him. John
+took one step back from Sir George and one step nearer to Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, Thomas," said Dorothy, sneeringly, "bring Welch with the manacles
+for me. My dear father would put me in the dungeon out of the reach of
+other men, so that he may keep me safely for my unknown lover. Go, Thomas.
+Go, else father will again be forsworn before Christ and upon his
+knighthood."
+
+"This before a servant! I'll gag you, you hellish vixen," cried Sir
+George. Then I am sure he knew not what he did. "Curse you!" he cried, as
+he held the fagot upraised and rushed upon Dorothy. John, with his arms
+full of fagots, could not avert the blow which certainly would have killed
+the girl, but he could take it. He sprang between Dorothy and her father,
+the fagot fell upon his head, and he sank to the floor. In his fall John's
+wig dropped off, and when the blood began to flow from the wound Dorothy
+kneeled beside his prostrate form. She snatched the great bush of false
+beard from his face and fell to kissing his lips and his hands in a
+paroxysm of passionate love and grief. Her kisses she knew to be a panacea
+for all ills John could be heir to, and she thought they would heal even
+the wound her father had given, and stop the frightful outpouring of
+John's life-blood. The poor girl, oblivious of all save her wounded
+lover, murmured piteously:--
+
+"John, John, speak to me; 'tis Dorothy." She placed her lips near his ear
+and whispered: "'Tis Dorothy, John. Speak to her." But she received no
+response. Then came a wild light to her eyes and she cried aloud: "John,
+'tis Dorothy. Open your eyes. Speak to me, John! oh, for God's sake speak
+to me! Give some little sign that you live," but John was silent. "My God,
+my God! Help, help! Will no one help me save this man? See you not that
+his life is flowing away? This agony will kill me. John, my lover, my
+lord, speak to me. Ah, his heart, his heart! I will know." She tore from
+his breast the leathern doublet and placed her ear over his heart. "Thank
+God, it beats!" she cried in a frenzied whisper, as she kissed his breast
+and turned her ear again to hear his heart's welcome throbbing. Then she
+tried to lift him in her arms and succeeded in placing his head in her
+lap. It was a piteous scene. God save me from witnessing another like it.
+
+After Dorothy lifted John's head to her lap he began to breathe
+perceptibly, and the girl's agitation passed away as she gently stroked
+his hair and kissed him over and over again, softly whispering her love to
+his unresponsive ear in a gentle frenzy of ineffable tenderness such as
+was never before seen in this world, I do believe. I wish with all my
+heart that I were a maker of pictures so that I might draw for you the
+scene which is as clear and vivid in every detail to my eyes now as it was
+upon that awful day in Haddon Hall. There lay John upon the floor and by
+his side knelt Dorothy. His head was resting in her lap. Over them stood
+Sir George with the murderous fagot raised, as if he intended again to
+strike. I had sprung to his side and was standing by him, intending to
+fell him to the floor should he attempt to repeat the blow upon either
+Dorothy or John. Across from Sir George and me, that is, upon the opposite
+side of Dorothy and John, stood Lady Crawford and Madge, who clung to each
+other in terror. The silence was heavy, save when broken by Dorothy's sobs
+and whispered ejaculations to John. Sir George's terrible deed had
+deprived all of us, including himself, of the power to speak. I feared to
+move from his side lest he should strike again. After a long agony of
+silence he angrily threw the fagot away from him and asked:--
+
+"Who is this fellow? Can any one tell me?"
+
+Only Madge, Dorothy, and I could have given him true answer. By some
+strange power of divination Madge had learned all that had happened, and
+she knew as well as I the name of the man who lay upon the floor battling
+with death. Neither Madge nor I answered.
+
+"Who is this fellow?" again demanded Sir George.
+
+Dorothy lifted her face toward her father.
+
+"He is the man whom you seek, father," she answered, in a low, tearful
+voice. "He is my lover; he is my life; he is my soul, and if you have
+murdered him in your attempt to kill your own child, all England shall
+hear of it and you shall hang. He is worth more in the eyes of the queen
+than we and all our kindred. You know not whom you have killed."
+
+Sir George's act had sobered him.
+
+"I did not intend to kill him--in that manner," said Sir George, dropping
+his words absent-mindedly. "I hoped to hang him. Where is Dawson? Some one
+fetch Dawson."
+
+Several of the servants had gathered about the open door in the next room,
+and in obedience to Sir George's command one of them went to seek the
+forester. I feared that John would die from the effects of the blow; but I
+also knew from experience that a man's head may receive very hard knocks
+and life still remain. Should John recover and should Sir George learn
+his name, I was sure that my violent cousin would again attempt the
+personal administration of justice and would hang him, under the old Saxon
+law. In that event Parliament would not be so easily pacified as upon the
+occasion of the former hanging at Haddon; and I knew that if John should
+die by my cousin's hand, Sir George would pay for the act with his life
+and his estates. Fearing that Sir George might learn through Dawson of
+John's identity, I started out in search of Will to have a word with him
+before he could see his master. I felt sure that for many reasons Will
+would be inclined to save John; but to what extent his fidelity to the
+cause of his master might counteract his resentment of Sir George's act, I
+did not know. I suspected that Dawson was privy to John's presence in
+Haddon Hall, but I was not sure of it, so I wished to prepare the forester
+for his interview with Sir George and to give him a hint of my plans for
+securing John's safety, in the event he should not die in Aunt Dorothy's
+room.
+
+When I opened the door in the Northwest Tower I saw Dawson coming toward
+the Hall from the dove-cote, and I hastened forward to meet him. It was
+pitiful that so good a man as Sir George Vernon was, should have been
+surrounded in his own house by real friends who were also traitors. That
+was the condition of affairs in Haddon Hall, and I felt that I was the
+chief offender. The evil, however, was all of Sir George's making. Tyranny
+is the father of treason.
+
+When I met Dawson I said: "Will, do you know who Tom-Tom is?"
+
+The forester hesitated for a moment, and said, "Well, Sir Malcolm, I
+suppose he is Thomas--"
+
+"No, no, Will, tell me the truth. Do you know that he is--or perhaps by
+this time I should say he was--Sir John Manners?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Was?" cried Will. "Great God! Has Sir George discovered--is he dead? If
+he is dead, it will be a sad day for Sir George and for Haddon Hall. Tell
+me quickly."
+
+I at once knew Will Dawson was in the secret. I answered:--
+
+"I hope he is not dead. Sir George attempted to strike Dorothy with a
+fagot, but Thomas stepped in front of her and received the blow. He is
+lying almost, if not quite, dead in Lady Crawford's room. Sir George knows
+nothing about him, save that he is Dorothy's lover. But should Thomas
+revive I feel sure my cousin will hang him in the morning unless steps are
+taken to prevent the deed."
+
+"Sir Malcolm, if you will stand by me," said Dawson, "Sir George will not
+hang him."
+
+"I certainly will stand by you, Dawson. Have no doubt on that score. Sir
+George intends to cast John into the dungeon, and should he do so I want
+you to send Jennie Faxton to Rutland and have her tell the Rutlanders to
+rescue John to-night. To-morrow morning I fear will be too late. Be on
+your guard, Will. Do not allow Sir George to discover that you have any
+feeling in this matter. Above all, lead him from the possibility of
+learning that Thomas is Sir John Manners. I will contrive to admit the
+Rutland men at midnight."
+
+I hastened with Dawson back to the Hall, where we found the situation as I
+had left it. John's head was lying on Dorothy's lap, and she was trying to
+dress his wound with pieces of linen torn from her clothing. Sir George
+was pacing to and fro across the room, breaking forth at times in curses
+against Dorothy because of her relations with a servant.
+
+When Dawson and I entered the room, Sir George spoke angrily to Will:--
+
+"Who is this fellow? You employed him. Who is he?"
+
+"He gave me his name as Thomas Thompson," returned Will, "and he brought
+me a favorable letter of recommendation from Danford."
+
+Danford was forester to the Duke of Devonshire, and lived at Chatsworth.
+
+"There was naught in the letter save that he was a good servant and an
+honest man. That is all we can ask of any man."
+
+"But who is he?" again demanded Sir George.
+
+"Your worship may perhaps learn from Danford more than I can tell you,"
+replied the forester, adroitly avoiding a lie.
+
+"Think of it, Malcolm," said Sir George, speaking to me. "Think of it. My
+daughter, my only child, seeks for her husband this low-born serving man.
+I have always been sure that the fellow would prove to be such." Then he
+turned to Dawson: "Throw the fellow into the dungeon. If he lives till
+morning, I will have him hanged. To the dungeon with him."
+
+Sir George waved his hand toward Dawson and Tom Welch, and then stepped
+aside. Will made an effort to hide his feelings, and without a word or
+gesture that could betray him, he and Welch lifted John to carry him away.
+Then it was piteous to see Dorothy. She clung to John and begged that he
+might be left with her. Sir George violently thrust her away from John's
+side, but she, still upon her knees, grasped her father's hand and cried
+out in agony:--
+
+"Father, let me remain with him. If you have ever felt love for me, and if
+my love for you has ever touched one tender spot in your heart, pity me
+now and leave this man with me, or let me go with him. I beg you, father;
+I plead; I implore. He may be dying. We know not. In this hour of my agony
+be merciful to me."
+
+But Sir George rudely repulsed her and left the room, following Welch and
+Dawson, who bore John's unconscious form between them. Dorothy rose to her
+feet screaming and tried to follow John. I, fearing that in her frenzy of
+grief she might divulge John's name, caught her in my arms and detained
+her by force. She turned upon me savagely and struck me in her effort to
+escape. She called me traitor, villain, dog, but I lifted her in my arms
+and carried her struggling to her bedroom. I wanted to tell her of the
+plans which Dawson and I had made, but I feared to do so, lest she might
+in some way betray them, so I left her in the room with Lady Crawford and
+Madge. I told Lady Crawford to detain Dorothy at all hazards, and I
+whispered to Madge asking her to tell Dorothy that I would look to John's
+comfort and safety. I then hastily followed Sir George, Dawson, and Welch,
+and in a few moments I saw them leave John, bleeding and senseless, upon
+the dungeon floor. When Sir George's back was turned, Dawson by my orders
+brought the surgeon from the stable where he had been working with the
+horses. The surgeon bound up the wound in John's head and told me, to my
+great joy, that it was not fatal. Then he administered a reviving potion
+and soon consciousness returned. I whispered to John that Dawson and I
+would not forsake him, and, fearing discovery by Sir George, hurriedly
+left the dungeon.
+
+I believe there is a certain amount of grief and sorrow which comes with
+every great joy to give it a cost mark whereby we may always know its
+value. The love between Dorothy and John indeed was marked in plain
+figures of high denominations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE LEICESTER POSSIBILITY
+
+
+On leaving the dungeon I sought Madge, and after I had whispered a word to
+her from my heart I asked her to tell Dorothy the encouraging words of the
+surgeon, and also to tell her that she should not be angry with me until
+she was sure she had good cause. I dared not send a more explicit message,
+and I dared not go to Dorothy, for Sir George was in a suspicious mood and
+I feared ruin not only for myself but for John, should my violent cousin
+suspect me of sympathy with his daughter and her lover.
+
+I also sought Aunt Dorothy and whispered a word to her of which you shall
+hear more presently.
+
+"Ah, I cannot do it," cried the trembling old lady in response to my
+whispered request. "I cannot do it."
+
+"But you must, Aunt Dorothy," I responded. "Upon it depend three lives:
+Sir George's, Dorothy's, and her lover's. You must do it."
+
+"I will try," she replied.
+
+"That assurance will not suit me," I responded. "You must promise upon
+your salvation that you will not fail me."
+
+"I promise upon my salvation," replied Aunt Dorothy.
+
+That evening of course we did not see the ladies at supper. Sir George and
+I ate in silence until my cousin became talkative from drink. Then he
+spoke bitterly of Dorothy's conduct, and bore with emphasis upon the fact
+that the lover to whom Dorothy had stooped was a low-born serving man.
+
+"But Dorothy declares he is noble," I responded.
+
+"She has lied to me so often that I do not believe a word she says,"
+returned Sir George.
+
+He swore oath upon oath that the wretch should hang in the morning, and
+for the purpose of carrying into effect his intention he called in Joe the
+butcher and told him to make all things ready for the execution.
+
+I did not attempt to thwart his purpose by word or gesture, knowing it
+would be useless, but hoped that John would be out of his reach long ere
+the cock would crow his first greeting to the morrow's sun.
+
+After Sir George had drunk far into the night the servants helped him to
+bed, and he carried with him the key to the dungeon together with the keys
+to all the outer doors and gates of Haddon Hall, as was his custom. The
+keys were in a bunch, held together by an iron ring, and Sir George always
+kept them under his pillow at night.
+
+I sought my bed in Eagle Tower and lay down in my clothes to rest and
+wait. The window of my room was open.
+
+Within an hour after midnight I heard the hooting of an owl. The doleful
+sound came up to me from the direction of the stone footbridge at the
+southwest corner of the Hall below the chapel. I went to my window and
+looked out over the courts and terrace. Haddon Hall and all things in and
+about it were wrapped in slumbrous silence. I waited, and again I heard
+the hooting of the owl. Noiselessly leaving my room I descended the stone
+steps to an unused apartment in the tower from which a window opened upon
+the roof of the north wing of the Hall. Along that roof I crept with bared
+feet, till I reached another roof, the battlements of which at the lowest
+point were not more than twenty feet from the ground. Thence I clambered
+down to a window cornice five or six feet lower, and jumped, at the risk
+of my limbs, the remaining distance of fifteen or sixteen feet to the soft
+sod beneath. I ran with all haste, took my stand under Aunt Dorothy's
+window, and whistled softly. The window casing opened and I heard the
+great bunch of keys jingling and clinking against the stone wall as Aunt
+Dorothy paid them out to me by means of a cord. After I had secured the
+keys I called in a whisper to Lady Crawford and directed her to leave the
+cord hanging from the window. I also told her to remain in readiness to
+draw up the keys when they should have served their purpose. Then I took
+them and ran to the stone footbridge where I found four Rutland men who
+had come in response to the message Dawson had sent by Jennie Faxton. Two
+of the men went with me, and we entered the lower garden by the southwest
+postern. Thence we crept noiselessly to the terrace and made our entrance
+into the Hall by "Dorothy's Postern." I had in my life engaged in many
+questionable and dangerous enterprises, but this was my first attempt at
+house-breaking. To say that I was nervous would but poorly define the
+state of my feelings. Since that day I have respected the high calling of
+burglary and regard with favor the daring knights of the skeleton key. I
+was frightened. I, who would feel no fear had I to fight a dozen men,
+trembled with fright during this adventure. The deathlike silence and the
+darkness in familiar places seemed uncanny to me. The very chairs and
+tables appeared to be sleeping, and I was fearful lest they should awaken.
+I cannot describe to you how I was affected. Whether it was fear or awe or
+a smiting conscience I cannot say, but my teeth chattered as if they were
+in the mouth of a fool, and my knees quaked as if they supported a coward.
+Still I knew I was doing my duty, though one's conscience sometimes smites
+him when his reason tells him he is acting righteously. It is more
+dangerous to possess a sensitive conscience which cannot be made to hear
+reason than to have none at all. But I will make short my account of that
+night's doings. The two Rutland men and I groped our way to the dungeon
+and carried forth John, who was weak from loss of blood. I told them to
+lock the door of the Hall as they passed out and to attach the keys to the
+cord hanging from Lady Crawford's window. Then I climbed to my room again,
+feeling in conscience like a criminal because I had done the best act of
+my life.
+
+Early next morning I was awakened by a great noise in the upper court.
+When I looked out at my window I beheld Sir George. He was half dressed
+and was angrily questioning the servants and retainers. I knew that he had
+discovered John's escape, but I did not know all, nor did I know the
+worst. I dressed and went to the kitchen, where I bathed my hands and
+face. There I learned that the keys to the hall had been stolen from under
+Sir George's pillow, and that the prisoner had escaped from the dungeon.
+Old Bess, the cook, nodded her head wisely and whispered to me the words,
+"Good for Mistress Doll."
+
+Bess's unsought confidence alarmed me. I did not relish the thought that
+Bess nor any one else should believe me to be in sympathy with Dorothy,
+and I said:--
+
+"If Mistress Vernon had aught to do with last night's affairs, she should
+be full of shame. I will not believe that she knew of it at all. My
+opinion is that one of the servants was bribed by some person interested
+in Tom-Tom's escape."
+
+"Believe nothing of the sort," retorted Bess. "It is the mistress and not
+the servant who stole the keys and liberated Tom-Tom. But the question is,
+who may Tom-Tom be? and the servants' hall is full of it. We are not
+uncertain as to the manner of his escape. Some of the servants do say that
+the Earl of Leicester be now visiting the Duke of Devonshire; and some
+also do say that his Lordship be fond of disguises in his gallantry. They
+do also say that the queen is in love with him, and that he must disguise
+himself when he woos elsewhere, or she be's famously jealous. It would be
+a pretty mess the master has brought us all into should Tom-Tom prove to
+be my lord Earl of Leicester. We'd all hang and to hell."
+
+"Bess, that tongue of yours will cost you your head one of these good
+times," I remarked, while I rubbed my face with the towel.
+
+"I would sooner lose my head," retorted Bess, "than have my mouth shut by
+fear. I know, Sir Malcolm, that I'll not die till my time comes; but
+please the good God when my time does come I will try to die talking."
+
+"That you will," said I.
+
+"True word, Sir Malcolm," she answered, and I left her in possession of
+the field.
+
+I went into the courtyard, and when Sir George saw me he said, "Malcolm,
+come with me to my room; I want a word with you."
+
+We went to his room.
+
+"I suppose you know of the fellow's escape last night?" he said.
+
+"Yes," I replied, "Bess told me about it in the kitchen."
+
+It seemed to me that my words said, "I did it."
+
+"Not only was the fellow liberated," said my cousin, "but the keys to all
+the outer gates and doors of the Hall have been stolen and carried away.
+Can you help me unravel this affair?"
+
+"Do you suspect any one of having stolen the keys?" I asked.
+
+"I know, of course, that Dorothy did it. Who her accomplices were, if any
+she had, I do not know. I have catechized the servants, but the question
+is bottomless to me."
+
+"Have you spoken to Dorothy on the subject?" I asked.
+
+"No," he replied, "but I have sent word to her by the Faxton girl that I
+am going to see her at once. Come with me."
+
+We went into Lady Crawford's room. She was ill and in bed. I did not
+wonder that she was ill after the experiences of the previous night. Sir
+George asked her if she had heard or seen Dorothy pass through her room
+during the night. She said:--
+
+"Dorothy did not pass through this room last night. I did not once close
+my eyes in sleep, and I should have seen her had she been here at all."
+
+Sir George entered Dorothy's bedroom, and Lady Crawford beckoned me to go
+to her side.
+
+"I waited till sunrise," she said, "that I might draw up the keys."
+
+"Hush!" said I, "the cord?"
+
+"I burned it," she replied.
+
+Then I followed Sir George into Dorothy's room. Madge was dressed for the
+day, and Dorothy, who had been helping her, was making her own toilet. Her
+hair hung loose and fell like a cataract of sunshine over her bare
+shoulders. But no words that I can write would give you a conception of
+her wondrous beauty, and I shall not waste them in the attempt. When we
+entered the room she was standing at the mirror. She turned, comb in hand,
+toward Sir George and said:--
+
+"I suppose, father, you will accuse me of liberating Thomas."
+
+"You must know that I will accuse you," replied Sir George.
+
+"Then, father, for once you will accuse me falsely. I am overjoyed that he
+has escaped, and I certainly should have tried to liberate him had I
+thought it possible to do so. But I did not do it, though to tell you the
+truth I am sorry I did not."
+
+"I do not believe you," her father replied.
+
+"I knew you would not believe me," answered Dorothy. "Had I liberated him
+I should probably have lied to you about it; therefore, I wonder not that
+you should disbelieve me. But I tell you again upon my salvation that I
+know nothing of the stealing of the keys nor of Tom-Tom's escape. Believe
+me or not, I shall deny it no more."
+
+Madge gropingly went to Sir George's side, and he tenderly put his arms
+about her, saying:--
+
+"I would that you were my daughter." Madge took his hand caressingly.
+
+"Uncle, I want to tell you that Dorothy speaks the truth," she said. "I
+have been with her every moment since the terrible scene of yesterday
+evening. Neither Dorothy nor I closed our eyes in sleep all night long.
+She lay through the dark hours moaning, and I tried to comfort her. Our
+door was locked, and it was opened only by your messenger who brought the
+good news of Tom-Tom's escape. I say good news, uncle, because his escape
+has saved you from the stain of murder. You are too brave a man to do
+murder, uncle."
+
+"How dare you," said Sir George, taking his arm from Madge's waist, "how
+dare you defend--"
+
+"Now, uncle, I beg you pause and take a moment's thought," said Madge,
+interrupting him. "You have never spoken unkindly to me."
+
+"Nor will I, Madge, so long as I live. I know there is not a lie in you,
+and I am sure you believe to be true all you tell me, but Dorothy has
+deceived you by some adroit trick."
+
+"If she deceived me, she is a witch," retorted Madge, laughing softly.
+
+"That I am almost ready to believe is the case," said Sir George.
+Dorothy, who was combing her hair at the mirror, laughed softly and
+said:--
+
+"My broomstick is under the bed, father."
+
+Sir George went into Lady Crawford's room and shut the door, leaving me
+with the girls.
+
+When her father had left, Dorothy turned upon me with fire in her eyes:--
+
+"Malcolm Vernon, if you ever lay hands upon me again as you did last
+night, I will--I will scratch you. You pretended to be his friend and
+mine, but for a cowardly fear of my father you came between us and you
+carried me to this room by force. Then you locked the door and--and"--
+
+"Did not Madge give you my message?" I asked, interrupting her.
+
+"Yes, but did you not force me away from him when, through my fault, he
+was almost at death's door?"
+
+"Have your own way, Dorothy," I said. "There lives not, I hope, another
+woman in the world so unreasoning and perverse as you."
+
+She tossed her head contemptuously and continued to comb her hair.
+
+"How, suppose you," I asked, addressing Dorothy's back, as if I were
+seeking information, "how, suppose you, the Rutland people learned that
+John was confined in the Haddon dungeon, and how did they come by the
+keys?"
+
+The girl turned for a moment, and a light came to her anger-clouded face
+as the rainbow steals across the blackened sky.
+
+"Malcolm, Malcolm," she cried, and she ran to me with her bare arms
+outstretched.
+
+"Did you liberate him?" she asked. "How did you get the keys?"
+
+"I know nothing of it, Dorothy, nothing," I replied.
+
+"Swear it, Malcolm, swear it," she said.
+
+"I will swear to nothing," I said, unclasping her arms from my neck.
+
+"Then I will kiss you," she answered, "for you are my dear good brother,
+and never so long as I live will I again doubt you."
+
+But she did before long doubt me again, and with good cause.
+
+Dorothy being in a gentle humor; I took advantage of the opportunity to
+warn her against betraying John's name to her father. I also told her to
+ask her father's forgiveness, and advised her to feign consent to the
+Stanley marriage. Matters had reached a point where some remedy, however
+desperate, must be applied.
+
+Many persons, I fear, will condemn me for advising Dorothy to deceive her
+father; but what would you have had me do? Should I have told her to marry
+Stanley? Certainly not. Had I done so, my advice would have availed
+nothing. Should I have advised her to antagonize her father, thereby
+keeping alive his wrath, bringing trouble to herself and bitter regret to
+him? Certainly not. The only course left for me to advise was the least of
+three evils--a lie. Three evils must be very great indeed when a lie is
+the least of them. In the vast army of evils with which this world swarms
+the lie usually occupies a proud position in the front rank. But at times
+conditions arise when, coward-like, he slinks to the rear and evils
+greater than he take precedence. In such sad case I found Dorothy, and I
+sought help from my old enemy, the lie. Dorothy agreed with me and
+consented to do all in her power to deceive her father, and what she could
+not do to that end was not worth doing.
+
+Dorothy was anxious about John's condition, and sent Jennie Faxton to
+Bowling Green, hoping a letter would be there for her. Jennie soon
+returned with a letter, and Dorothy once more was full of song, for
+John's letter told her that he was fairly well and that he would by some
+means see her soon again despite all opposition.
+
+"At our next meeting, my fair mistress," John said in the letter, "you
+must be ready to come with me. I will wait no longer for you. In fairness
+to me and to yourself you shall not ask me to wait. I will accept no more
+excuses. You must come with me when next we meet."
+
+"Ah, well," said Dorothy to Madge, "if I must go with him, I must. Why did
+he not talk in that fashion when we rode out together the last time? I
+like to be made to do what I want to do. He was foolish not to make me
+consent, or better still would it have been had he taken the reins of my
+horse and ridden off with me, with or against my will. I might have
+screamed, and I might have fought him, but I could not have hurt him, and
+he would have had his way, and--and," with a sigh, "I should have had my
+way."
+
+After a brief pause devoted to thought, she continued:--
+
+"If I were a man and were wooing a woman, I would first learn what she
+wanted to do and then--and then, by my word, I would make her do it."
+
+I went from Dorothy's room to breakfast, where I found Sir George. I took
+my seat at the table and he said:--
+
+"Who, in God's name, suppose you, could have taken the keys from my
+pillow?"
+
+"Is there any one whom you suspect?" I asked for lack of anything else to
+say.
+
+"I at first thought, of course, that Dorothy had taken them," he answered.
+"But Madge would not lie, neither would my sister. Dorothy would not
+hesitate to lie herself blue in the face, but for some reason I believed
+her when she told me she knew nothing of the affair. Her words sounded
+like truth for once."
+
+"I think, Sir George," said I, "you should have left off 'for once.'
+Dorothy is not a liar. She has spoken falsely to you only because she
+fears you. I am sure that a lie is hateful to her."
+
+"Malcolm, I wish I could have your faith," he responded. "By the way,
+Malcolm, have you ever seen the Earl of Leicester?"
+
+"I saw him only once. He visited Scotland during the ceremonies at Queen
+Mary's return from France. I saw him once, and then but briefly. Why do
+you ask?"
+
+"It is whispered among the servants," said Sir George, "that Leicester is
+at Chatsworth in disguise."
+
+Chatsworth was the home of the Duke of Devonshire, and was but a short
+distance from Haddon. After Sir George spoke, I remembered the words of
+old Bess.
+
+"Still, I do not know why you ask." I said.
+
+"My reason is this," replied Sir George; "Dorothy declared the fellow was
+of noble blood. It is said that Leicester loves gallant adventure
+incognito. He fears her Majesty's jealousy if in such matters he acts
+openly. You remember the sad case of Mistress Robsart. I wonder what
+became of the girl? He made way with her in some murderous fashion, I am
+sure." Sir George remained in revery for a moment, and then the poor old
+man cried in tones of distress: "Malcolm, if that fellow whom I struck
+last night was Leicester, and if he has been trying his hellish tricks on
+my Doll I--I should pity her; I should not abuse her. I may have been
+wrong. If he has wronged Doll--if he has wronged my girl, I will pursue
+him to the ends of the earth for vengeance. That is why I ask if you have
+ever seen the Earl of Leicester. Was the man who lay upon the floor last
+night Robert Dudley? If it were he, and if I had known it, I would have
+beaten him to death then and there. Poor Doll!"
+
+Any one hearing the old man speak would easily have known that Doll was
+all that life held for him to love.
+
+"I do not distinctly remember Leicester's face," I answered, "but since
+you speak of it, I believe there is a resemblance between him and the man
+we called Thomas. But even were it he, Sir George, you need have no fear
+for Dorothy. She of all women is able and willing to protect herself."
+
+"I will go to Dorothy and ask her to tell me the truth. Come with me."
+
+We again went to Dorothy's room. She had, since I last saw her, received
+the letter from John of which I have spoken, and when we entered her
+parlor where she and Madge were eating breakfast we found her very happy.
+As a result she was willing and eager to act upon my advice.
+
+She rose and turned toward her father.
+
+"You told me, Doll, that the fellow was of noble blood. Did you speak the
+truth?"
+
+"Yes, father, I spoke the truth. There is no nobler blood in England than
+his, save that of our royal queen. In that you may believe me, father, for
+I speak the truth."
+
+Sir George remained silent for a moment and then said:--
+
+"If the man is he whom I believe him to be he can have no true purpose
+with you. Tell me, my child--the truth will bring no reproaches from
+me--tell me, has he misused you in any way?"
+
+"No, father, before God, he has been a true gentleman to me."
+
+The poor old man struggled for a moment with his emotions; then tears came
+to his eyes and he covered his face with his hands as he started to leave
+the room.
+
+Dorothy ran to him and clasped her arms about his neck. Those two, father
+and child, were surely of one blood as shown in the storms of violence and
+tenderness by which their natures were alternately swept.
+
+"Father, you may believe me; you do believe me," said Dorothy.
+"Furthermore, I tell you that this man has treated me with all courtesy,
+nay, more: he has treated me with all the reverence he would have shown
+our queen."
+
+"He can have no true purpose with you, Doll," said Sir George, who felt
+sure that Leicester was the man.
+
+"But he has, father, a true purpose with me. He would make me his wife
+to-day would I consent."
+
+"Why then does he not seek you openly?"
+
+"That he cannot do," Dorothy responded hesitatingly.
+
+"Tell me, Doll, who is the man?" asked Sir George.
+
+I was standing behind him and Dorothy's face was turned toward me. She
+hesitated, and I knew by her expression that she was about to tell all.
+Sir George, I believe, would have killed her had she done so. I placed my
+finger on my lips and shook my head.
+
+Dorothy said: "That I cannot tell you, father. You are wasting words in
+asking me."
+
+"Is it because of his wish that you refuse to tell me his name?" asked Sir
+George. I nodded my head.
+
+"Yes, father," softly responded Dorothy in the old dangerous, dulcet
+tones.
+
+"That is enough; I know who the man is."
+
+Dorothy kissed her father. He returned the caress, much to my surprise,
+and left the room.
+
+When I turned to follow Sir George I glanced toward Dorothy. Her eyes were
+like two moons, so full were they of wonderment and inquiry.
+
+I stopped with Sir George in his room. He was meditative and sad.
+
+"I believe my Doll has told me the truth," he said.
+
+"Have no doubt of it, Sir George," I replied.
+
+"But what good intent can Leicester have toward my girl?" he asked.
+
+"Of that I cannot say," I replied; "but my dear cousin, of this fact be
+sure: if he have evil intent toward Dorothy, he will fail."
+
+"But there was the Robsart girl," he replied.
+
+"Ay," said I, "but Dorothy Vernon is not Amy Robsart. Have no fear of your
+daughter. She is proof against both villany and craft. Had she been in
+Mistress Robsart's place, Leicester would not have deserted her. Dorothy
+is the sort of woman men do not desert. What say you to the fact that
+Leicester might wish to make her his wife?"
+
+"He may purpose to do so secretly, as in the case of the Robsart girl,"
+returned Sir George. "Go, Malcolm, and ask her if he is willing to make
+her his wife before the world."
+
+I was glad of an opportunity for a word with Dorothy, so I hastily went to
+her. I told her of the Leicester phase of the situation, and I also told
+her that her father had asked me if the man whom she loved was willing to
+make her his wife before the world.
+
+"Tell my father," said she, "that I will be no man's wife save before all
+the world. A man who will not acknowledge me never shall possess me."
+
+I went back to Sir George and delivered the message word for word.
+
+"She is a strange, strong girl, isn't she, Malcolm?" said her father.
+
+"She is her father's child," I replied.
+
+"By my spurs she is. She should have been a man," said Sir George, with a
+twinkle of admiration in his eyes. He admired a good fight even though he
+were beaten in it.
+
+It is easy to be good when we are happy. Dorothy, the great disturber,
+was both. Therefore, peace reigned once more in Haddon Hall.
+
+Letters frequently passed between John and Dorothy by the hand of Jennie
+Faxton, but John made no attempt to meet his sweetheart. He and Dorothy
+were biding their time.
+
+A fortnight passed during which Cupid confined his operations to Madge and
+myself. For her sweet sake he was gracious and strewed our path with
+roses. I should delight to tell you of our wooing. She a fair young
+creature of eighteen, I a palpitating youth of thirty-five. I should love
+to tell you of Madge's promise to be my wife, and of the announcement in
+the Hall of our betrothal; but there was little of interest in it to any
+one save ourselves, and I fear lest you should find it very sentimental
+and dull indeed. I should love to tell you also of the delightful walks
+which Madge and I took together along the sweet old Wye and upon the crest
+of Bowling Green; but above all would I love to tell you of the delicate
+rose tints that came to her cheek, and how most curiously at times, when
+my sweetheart's health was bounding, the blessed light of day would
+penetrate the darkened windows of her eyes, and how upon such occasions
+she would cry out joyously, "Oh, Malcolm, I can dimly see." I say I should
+love to tell you about all those joyous happenings, but after all I fear I
+should shrink from doing so in detail, for the feelings and sayings of our
+own hearts are sacred to us. It is much easier to tell of the love affairs
+of others.
+
+A fortnight or three weeks passed quietly in Haddon Hall. Sir George had
+the notion firmly fixed in his head that the man whom Dorothy had been
+meeting held honorable intentions toward the girl. He did her the justice
+to believe that by reason of her strength and purity she would tolerate
+none other. At times he felt sure that the man was Leicester, and again
+he flouted the thought as impossible. If it were Leicester, and if he
+wished to marry Dorothy, Sir George thought the match certainly would be
+illustrious. Halting between the questions, "Is he Leicester?" and "Is he
+not Leicester?" Sir George did not press the Stanley nuptials, nor did he
+insist upon the signing of the contract. Dorothy received from her father
+full permission to go where and when she wished. But her father's
+willingness to give her liberty excited her suspicions. She knew he would
+permit her to leave the Hall only that he might watch her, and, if
+possible, entrap her and John. Therefore, she rode out only with Madge and
+me, and sought no opportunity to see her lover. It may be that her
+passiveness was partly due to the fact that she knew her next meeting with
+John would mean farewell to Haddon Hall. She well knew she was void of
+resistance when in John's hands. And his letter had told her frankly what
+he would expect from her when next they should meet. She was eager to go
+to him; but the old habit of love for home and its sweet associations and
+her returning affection for her father, now that he was kind to her, were
+strong cords entwining her tender heart, which she could not break
+suddenly even for the sake of the greater joy.
+
+One day Dorothy received from John a letter telling her he would on the
+following morning start for the Scottish border with the purpose of
+meeting the queen of Scotland. A plan had been formed among Mary's friends
+in Scotland to rescue her from Lochleven Castle, where she was a prisoner,
+and to bring her incognito to Rutland. John had been chosen to escort her
+from the English border to his father's castle. From thence, when the
+opportunity should arise, she was to escape to France, or make her peace
+with Elizabeth. The adventure was full of peril both for her Scottish and
+English friends. The Scottish regent Murray surely would hang all the
+conspirators whom he might capture, and Elizabeth would probably inflict
+summary punishment upon any of her subjects whom she could convict of
+complicity in the plot.
+
+In connection with this scheme to rescue Mary it was said there was also
+another conspiracy. There appeared to be a plot within a plot which had
+for its end the enthronement of Mary in Elizabeth's stead.
+
+The Rutlands knew nothing of this subplot.
+
+Elizabeth had once or twice expressed sympathy with her Scottish cousin.
+She had said in John's presence that while she could not for reasons of
+state _invite_ Mary to seek refuge in England, still if Mary would come
+uninvited she would be welcomed. Therefore, John thought he was acting in
+accord with the English queen's secret wish when he went to Rutland with
+the purpose of being in readiness to meet Mary at the Scottish border.
+
+There were two elements in Elizabeth's character on which John had not
+counted. One was her royal prerogative to speak words she did not mean;
+and the other was the universal feminine privilege to change her mind. Our
+queen did not want Mary to visit England, nor had she any knowledge of the
+plot to induce that event. She did, however, fear that Mary's unwise
+friends among the Catholics cherished the purpose of making Mary queen of
+England. Although John had heard faint rumors of such a plot, he had been
+given to understand that Mary had no share in it, and he believed that the
+adventure in which he was about to embark had for its only purpose her
+liberation from a cruel and unjust imprisonment. Her cause appealed to
+John's chivalrous nature as it appealed to so many other good though
+mistaken men who sought to give help to the Scottish queen, and brought
+only grief to her and ruin to themselves.
+
+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."
+
+My reply certainly was not comforting.
+
+"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.
+
+"He is all yours, Dorothy," I answered, "all yours, as surely as that
+death will some day come to all of us. Promise me, Dorothy, that you will
+never again allow a jealous thought to enter your heart. You have no cause
+for jealousy, nor will you ever have. If you permit that hateful passion
+to take possession of you, it will bring ruin in its wake."
+
+"It was, indeed, foolish in me," cried Dorothy, springing to her feet and
+clasping her hands tightly; "and I promise never again to feel jealousy.
+Malcolm, its faintest touch tears and gnaws at my heart and racks me with
+agony. But I will drive it out of me. Under its influence I am not
+responsible for my acts. It would quickly turn me mad. I promise, oh, I
+swear, that I never will allow it to come to me again."
+
+Poor Dorothy's time of madness was not far distant nor was the evil that
+was to follow in its wake.
+
+John in writing to Dorothy concerning his journey to Scotland had
+unhesitatingly intrusted to her keeping his honor, and, unwittingly, his
+life. It did not once occur to him that she could, under any conditions,
+betray him. I trusted her as John did until I saw her vivid flash of
+burning jealousy. But by the light of that flash I saw that should the
+girl, with or without reason, become convinced that Mary Stuart was her
+rival, she would quickly make Derbyshire the warmest locality in
+Christendom, and John's life might pay the cost of her folly. Dorothy
+would brook no rival--no, not for a single hour. Should she become jealous
+she would at once be swept beyond the influence of reason or the care for
+consequences. It were safer to arouse a sleeping devil than Dorothy
+Vernon's jealousy. Now about the time of John's journey to the Scottish
+border, two matters of importance arose at Haddon Hall. One bore directly
+upon Dorothy, namely, the renewal by the Stanleys of their suit for her
+hand. The other was the announcement by the queen that she would soon do
+Sir George Vernon the honor of spending a fortnight under the roof of
+Haddon Hall. Each event was of great importance to the King of the Peak.
+He had concluded that Thomas, the man-servant, was not the Earl of
+Leicester in disguise, and when the Earl of Derby again came forward with
+his marriage project, Sir George fell back into his old hardness toward
+Dorothy, and she prepared her armament, offensive and defensive, for
+instant use if need should arise. I again began my machinations, since I
+can call my double dealing by no other name. I induced Dorothy to agree to
+meet the earl and his son James. Without promising positively to marry
+Lord Stanley, she, at my suggestion, led her father to believe she was
+ready to yield to his wishes. By this course she gained time and liberty,
+and kept peace with her father. Since you have seen the evils that war
+brought to Haddon, you well know how desirable peace was. In time of war
+all Haddon was a field of carnage and unrest. In time of peace the dear
+old Hall was an ideal home. I persuaded Sir George not to insist on a
+positive promise from Dorothy, and I advised him to allow her yielding
+mood to grow upon her. I assured him evasively that she would eventually
+succumb to his paternal authority and love.
+
+What an inherent love we all have for meddling in the affairs of others,
+and what a delicious zest we find in faithfully applying our surplus
+energies to business that is not strictly our own! I had become a part of
+the Sir George-Dorothy-John affair, and I was like the man who caught the
+bear: I could not loose my hold.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+PROUD DAYS FOR THE OLD HALL
+
+
+Of course the queen's approaching visit threw Haddon Hall into a frenzy of
+scrubbing and furbishing. Aunt Dorothy was the busiest woman in England.
+Floors were newly polished. Draperies were taken down and were carefully
+washed with mysterious concoctions warranted to remove dirt without injury
+to color. Superfine wax was bought in great boxes, and candles were made
+for all the chandeliers and candelabra in the house. Perfumed oil was
+purchased for the lamp in the state bedroom. Elizabeth, by the way, when
+she came, did not like the odor of the oil, and with an oath tossed both
+the oil and the lamp out of the window. The fattest sheep, kine, and hogs
+were chosen from the flocks and were brought in to be stall-fed in such
+numbers that one might have supposed we were expecting an ogress who could
+eat an ox at a meal. Pipers and dancers were engaged, and a merry fool was
+brought down from London. At last the eventful day came and with it came
+our queen. She brought with her a hundred yeomen of her guard and a score
+of ladies and gentlemen. Among the latter was the Earl of Leicester, who
+was the queen's prime favorite.
+
+Prior to the queen's announcement of her intention to visit Haddon Sir
+George had, with Dorothy's tacit consent, fixed a day upon which the Earl
+of Derby and his son, Lord James, should be received at the Hall for the
+purpose of signing the marriage contract. Dorothy, of course, had no
+intention of signing the contract, but she put off the evil hour of
+refusal as far as possible, hoping something might occur in the meantime
+to help her out of the dilemma. Something did occur at the last moment. I
+am eager to tell you about it, but it must wait its turn. Truly would the
+story of this ingenious girl's life make a romance if it were written by a
+poet. In her Guinevere and Elaine were moulded into one person with the
+tenderness, purity, and fierceness of each.
+
+To postpone further the time of the Stanley visit, Dorothy suggested that
+the betrothal should take place in the presence of the queen. Sir George
+acquiesced, and in his heart grew less eager for the Stanley match as
+Dorothy apparently became more tractable. He was, however, engaged with
+the earl to an extent that forbade withdrawal, even had he been sure that
+he wished to withdraw.
+
+At the time of which I speak the Earl of Leicester was the most exalted
+subject of the realm. He was ardently devoted to the cause of the ladies,
+and, although he had fixed his hope on Elizabeth and longed for a seat
+beside her on the throne, his inflammable heart was constantly catching
+fire from other eyes. He, of course, made desperate efforts to conceal
+these manifold conflagrations from the queen, but the inflammable tow of
+his heart was always bringing him into trouble with his fiery mistress.
+
+The earl's first glance toward Dorothy was full of admiration. The second
+glance was full of conflagration. The second day of the queen's residence
+in Haddon I was astonished, grieved, and angered to see that our girl had
+turned her powerful batteries upon the earl with the evident purpose of
+conquest. At times her long lashes would fall before him, and again her
+great luminous eyes would open wide, shedding a soft radiance which no man
+could withstand. Once I saw her walking alone with him upon the terrace.
+Her head was drooped shamelessly, and the earl was ardent though restless,
+being fearful of the queen. I boiled with rage against Dorothy, but by a
+strong effort I did not boil over until I had better cause. The better
+cause came later.
+
+I failed to tell you of a brief conversation which occurred between Sir
+George and me after my cousin first saw the Earl of Leicester. Sir George
+had gallantly led the queen to her apartments, and I had conducted
+Leicester and several of the gentlemen to their various rooms. Sir George
+and I met at the staircase after we had quitted our guests.
+
+He said: "Malcolm, that fellow Thomas whom I knocked in the head looked no
+more like Leicester than I do. Why did you tell me there was resemblance?"
+
+"I do not know," I answered. "Perhaps your words suggested the thought of
+a resemblance. Perhaps I had lost all memory of Leicester's features. I
+cannot answer your question."
+
+Then an expression of anger came to Sir George's face, and he said:--
+
+"I believe Dorothy lied to me when she said that the fellow Thomas was of
+noble blood."
+
+The next day a servant reported that Thomas had been seen loitering near
+Bowling Green Gate, and Sir George ordered Dorothy not to leave the Hall
+without his permission.
+
+Dorothy replied to her father's command, "I shall obey you, father."
+
+To me there was a note of danger in her voice. Such docile submissiveness
+was not natural to the girl. Of course all appearance of harshness toward
+Dorothy was suppressed by Sir George during the queen's visit to the Hall.
+In truth, he had no reason to be harsh, for Dorothy was a meek,
+submissive, and obedient daughter. Her meekness, however, as you may well
+surmise, was but the forerunner of dire rebellion.
+
+The fourth day of the queen's presence at Haddon Hall was the one
+appointed for the visit of the Stanleys, and Sir George thought to make a
+great event of the betrothal by having the queen act as a witness to the
+marriage contract. As the day approached Sir George became thoughtful,
+while Dorothy grew gleeful. The girl was frequently seen with Leicester,
+and Sir George could not help noticing that nobleman's pronounced
+admiration for his daughter. These exhibitions of gallantry were never
+made in the presence of the queen. The morning of the day when the
+Stanleys were expected Sir George called me to his room for a private
+consultation. The old gentleman was in a state of excitement, not unmixed
+with perplexity and trouble.
+
+He said, "I have great and good news to impart to you, Malcolm; yet I am
+in a dilemma growing out of it."
+
+"Tell me the good news first, Sir George," I replied. "The dilemma may
+wait."
+
+"Is Doll a very beautiful girl?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"I believe she is the most beautiful woman in the world," I answered.
+
+"Good, good," he replied, rubbing his hands. "Is she so fascinating,
+brilliant, and attractive, think you--of course I speak in jest--but think
+you she might vie with the court ladies for beauty, and think you she
+might attract--for the sake of illustration I will say--might she attract
+a man like Leicester?"
+
+"Unless I am much mistaken," I answered, "Leicester is over his ears in
+love with the girl now."
+
+"Ah, do you believe so, Malcolm?" replied Sir George, laughing and
+slapping his thigh, as he walked to and fro across the room. "You have
+seen so much of that sort of thing that you should know it when it comes
+under your nose. Eh, Malcolm, eh?"
+
+"I should suppose that any one, however inexperienced in such matters,
+could easily see Leicester's infatuation for Dorothy. If you wish me to
+tell you what I really believe--"
+
+"I do, I do," interrupted Sir George.
+
+"I should say," I continued, "that Dorothy has deliberately gone in for
+conquest. Leave the girl to herself, Sir George. She can conduct the
+campaign without help from any one. She understands the art of such
+warfare as well as if she were a veteran."
+
+"Gad, but she does, but she does. I believe she could give Venus herself
+some good points in the matter. But let me tell you, Malcolm,"--the old
+man dropped his voice to a whisper,--"I questioned Doll this morning, and
+she confessed that Leicester had spoken words of love to her. Would it not
+be a great match for our house?"
+
+He said "our house," mind you, not "our Doll." I might call his condition
+of mind patrimonial selfishness. Simple old man! He did not know that
+words of love are not necessarily words of marriage.
+
+"Has Leicester spoken to you?" I asked in alarm for John's sake.
+
+"No, no, he has not spoken," returned my cousin; "for that, of course, he
+must have the queen's consent. But he will speak, I am sure, all in good
+time, Malcolm, all in good time."
+
+"How about the Stanleys?" I asked. "They will be here this afternoon."
+
+"That's the devil's finger in the matter," cried Sir George. "That's where
+my dilemma lies. How shall I put them off, and still retain them in case
+nothing should come from Leicester? Besides, I am in honor bound to the
+earl."
+
+"I have a plan," I replied. "You carry out your part of the agreement
+with the earl, but let Dorothy, at the last moment, refuse to give her
+consent. Let her ask for more time, on the plea that she does not know her
+mind. I will suggest to her, if you wish, the part she is to play; but I
+will conceal from her the fact that you are a party to it."
+
+"No," said the old man, "that would be bad faith toward the earl." After a
+pause he continued doubtingly: "No, do not speak to Doll. I believe she
+needs no suggestions in the matter. I fear that mischief is in her mind
+already. Her easy acquiescence in my wishes have of late had a suspicious
+appearance. No, don't speak to her, Malcolm. If ever there lived a girl
+who could be perverse and wilful on her own account, without help from any
+one, it is my girl Doll. God bless you, man, if she but knew that I wanted
+her to reject Stanley, she would have him in spite of hell itself. I
+wonder what she means by her docility and obedience? No, don't speak a
+word to her on the subject. Let her believe I am serious regarding this
+marriage, and she will have some plan of her own to raise the devil. I
+have been expecting signs of it every day. I had determined not to bear
+with her perversity, but now that the Leicester possibility has come up
+we'll leave Doll to work out her own salvation, Malcolm. Don't interfere.
+No man living can teach that girl a new trick in deviltry. Gods, Malcolm!
+I am curious to know what she will be doing, for she certainly will be
+doing something rather than sign that contract of betrothal."
+
+"But suppose out of obedience to you she should sign the contract?" I
+asked.
+
+"Malcolm, you don't know Doll," he replied. Then, after a pause, "Neither
+do I. I wish she were well married."
+
+When I left Sir George, I found Dorothy in close consultation with the
+queen and two of her ladies. I heard the name of Lord James Stanley spoken
+amid suppressed laughter, and I suspected Dorothy had on foot some prank
+touching that young man, to which her Majesty was a party.
+
+After dinner the Stanleys came a-wooing. The party consisted of father,
+son, and four retainers, who looked as if they had been preserved in
+alcohol for the occasion, so red were their faces.
+
+The Earl of Derby was a fine old gentleman of the rural type. His noble
+son was an uncouth rustic, who had no thought above a stable boy or tavern
+maid, nor any ambition above horse trading. His attire was a wonder to
+behold. He wore a ruff of stupendous proportions. His trunks were so
+puffed out and preposterous in size that they looked like a great painted
+knot on a tree; and the many-colored splendors of his sleeves, his hat,
+his hose, and his shoes were dazzling to the eye. Add to this wondrous
+raiment feet and hands that could not be satisfactorily disposed of, and
+an unrest of manner painful to behold, and you may possibly conceive the
+grandiose absurdity of Dorothy's wooer. The sight of him almost made Sir
+George ill; and his entrance into the long gallery, where the queen was
+seated with her ladies and gentlemen, and Sir George and his friends
+standing about her, was a signal for laughter in which her Majesty openly
+joined.
+
+I shall not lead you through the tedious ceremony of presentation and
+introduction, nor shall I tell you of the pompous manner in which one of
+the earl's retinue, a lawyer, read the marriage contract. The fact that
+the contract was read without the presence of Dorothy, whom it so nearly
+concerned, was significant of the small consideration which at that time
+was given to a girl's consent. When all was ready for the signing, Dorothy
+was summoned.
+
+Sir George stood beside the Stanleys, and his nervousness was painfully
+apparent. Two servants opened the great doors at the end of the long
+gallery, and Dorothy, holding up the skirt of her gown, bounded into the
+room. She kneeled to the queen, and turned toward her uncle Stanley and
+her lover-cousin with a low bow. Then she courtesied and said--
+
+"Good even, uncle, and how do you do, cousin. Have you come to inspect me,
+and, perchance, to buy?"
+
+Sir George's face bore an expression of mingled shame, wonder, and alarm,
+and the queen and her suite laughed behind their fans.
+
+"It is well," continued Dorothy. "Here am I, ready for inspection."
+Thereupon she began to disrobe herself before the entire company.
+Leicester laughed outright, and the queen and her ladies suppressed their
+merriment for a moment, and then sent forth peals of laughter without
+restraint. Sir George stepped toward the girl and raised his hand
+warningly, but the queen interposed:--
+
+"Silence, Sir George, I command you;" and Sir George retreated to his
+former place beside the Earl of Derby. Dorothy first removed her bodice,
+showing her shoulders and a part of her arms, clothed in the fashion of a
+tavern maid.
+
+Leicester, who stood by me, whispered, "God never made anything more
+beautiful than Mistress Vernon's arms."
+
+Sir George again spoke angrily, "Doll, what are you doing?" But the queen
+by a wave of her hand commanded silence. Then the girl put her hands
+behind her, and loosened the belt which held her skirt in place. The skirt
+fell to the floor, and out of it bounded Dorothy in the short gown of a
+maid.
+
+"You will be better able to judge of me in this costume, cousin," said
+Dorothy. "It will be more familiar to you than the gowns which ladies
+wear."
+
+"I will retract," said Leicester, whispering to me, and gazing ardently
+at Dorothy's ankles. "God has made something more beautiful than Mistress
+Vernon's arms. By Venus! I suppose that in His omnipotence He might be
+able to create something more beautiful than her ankles, but up to this
+time He has not vouchsafed to me a vision of it. Ah! did any one ever
+behold such strength, such perfect symmetry, such--St. George! the gypsy
+doesn't live who can dance like that."
+
+Sure enough, Dorothy was dancing. The pipers in the balcony had burst
+forth in a ribald jig of a tune, and the girl was whirling in a wild,
+weird, and wondrous dance before her lover-cousin. Sir George ordered the
+pipers to cease playing; but again Elizabeth, who was filled with mirth,
+interrupted, and the music pealed forth in wanton volumes which flooded
+the gallery. Dorothy danced like an elfin gypsy to the inspiring strains.
+Soon her dance changed to wondrous imitations of the movements of a horse.
+She walked sedately around in an ever increasing circle; she trotted and
+paced; she gave the single foot and racked; she galloped, slowly for a
+while, and then the gallop merged into a furious run which sent the blood
+of her audience thrilling through their veins with delight. The wondrous
+ease and grace, and the marvellous strength and quickness of her
+movements, cannot be described. I had never before thought the human body
+capable of such grace and agility as she displayed.
+
+After her dance was finished she stepped in front of her cousin and
+delivered herself as follows:--
+
+"I am sound from ear tip to fetlock. There is not a blemish in me."
+
+"No, by my faith, I will swear there is not!" cried the Earl of Leicester.
+
+"I have good wind," continued Dorothy, "two good eyes. By night or by day
+I can see everything within the range of my vision, and a great deal that
+is not. I shy, at times, when an uncouth object suddenly comes upon me. I
+am warranted gentle if properly handled, but otherwise it is unsafe to
+curry my heels."
+
+Sir George could no longer restrain himself, and again tried to prevent
+Dorothy from proceeding with her terrible insult to the Stanleys. The
+queen, however, was determined to see the end of the frolic, and she
+said:--
+
+"Proceed, Mistress Vernon, proceed."
+
+Dorothy, nothing loath, continued: "As for my disposition, it might be
+better. It probably will improve with age, if it doesn't grow worse. I
+have all the gaits a horse should have. I am four years old, I have never
+been trained to work double, and I think I never shall be. What think you?
+Now what have you to offer in exchange? Step out and let me see you move."
+
+She took the poor youth by the hand and led him to the middle of the
+floor.
+
+"How old are you? Show me your teeth," she said. The heir to Derby smiled
+uneasily, and drew his hand across his nose.
+
+"Ah, you have a touch of the distemper, I see. Are you subject to it?"
+
+Stanley smiled, and the earl said:--
+
+"Sir George, this insult has gone far enough."
+
+"Stand back, my Lord Derby," said the queen. "Do not interfere with this
+interesting barter."
+
+The earl reluctantly lapsed into silence. He remembered the insult of her
+Majesty's words all his life.
+
+"Now step off," said Dorothy to Lord James.
+
+The young man stood in helpless confusion. Dorothy took a step backward
+from him, and after watching Stanley a moment said:--
+
+"What! You can neither trot, pace, nor gallop? I don't believe you can
+even walk alone." Then she turned toward Sir George. A smile was on her
+lips, but a look from hell was in her eyes as she said:--
+
+"Father, take a lesson from this day. I gave you fair warning. Bring me no
+more scurvy cobs for barter nor trade." Then she turned to the Earl of
+Derby and to her cousin Lord James, made a deep courtesy, and said:--
+
+"You can have no barter with me. Good day."
+
+She ran from the room, and a great peal of laughter from all save Sir
+George and the Stanleys followed her as she passed out through the double
+door. When the laughter had subsided, the Earl of Derby turned to Sir
+George and said:--
+
+"Sir George, this insult is unbearable, and I shall expect satisfaction
+for it." Then he turned to the queen: "I beg that your Majesty will give
+me leave to depart with my son."
+
+"Granted," answered Elizabeth, and father and son started to leave the
+room, moving backward toward the great doors. Sir George asked the earl
+and Lord Stanley to remain, and in the presence of the company who had
+witnessed the insult, he in the humblest manner made abject apology for
+the treatment his distinguished guests had received at the hands of his
+daughter. He very honestly and in all truth disclaimed any sympathy with
+Dorothy's conduct, and offered, as the only reparation he could make, to
+punish her in some way befitting the offence. Then he conducted the guests
+to the mounting block near the entrance tower and saw them depart. Dorothy
+had solved her father's dilemma with a vengeance.
+
+Sir George was not sure that he wanted to be angry at Dorothy, though he
+felt it was a duty he owed to himself and to the Stanleys. He had wished
+that the girl would in some manner defer the signing of the contract, but
+he had not wanted her to refuse young Stanley's hand in a manner so
+insulting that the match would be broken off altogether.
+
+As the day progressed, and as Sir George pondered over Dorothy's conduct,
+he grew more inclined to anger; but during the afternoon she kept well
+under the queen's wing, and he found no opportunity to give vent to his
+ill-temper.
+
+Late that night he called me to his room. He had been drinking during the
+evening and was poised between good-humored hilarity and ill-tempered
+ferocity. The latter condition was usually the result of his libations.
+When I entered the room it was evident he was amused.
+
+"Did you ever hear or see such brazen effrontery?" he asked, referring to
+Dorothy's treatment of the Stanleys. "Is there another girl on earth who
+would have conceived the absurd thought, or, having conceived it, would
+have dared to carry it out?"
+
+I took a chair and replied, "I think there is not another."
+
+"I hope not," continued Sir George. He sat in thought for a moment, and
+then broke forth into a great laugh. When he had finished laughing he
+said: "I admit it was laughable and--and pretty--beautiful. Damme, I
+didn't know the girl could do it, Malcolm! I didn't know she had it in
+her. There is not another girl living could have carried the frolic
+through." Then he spoke seriously, "But I will make her smart for it when
+the queen leaves Haddon."
+
+"Sir George, if you will allow me to suggest what I feel on the subject, I
+would say that you have no reason whatever for desiring to make Dorothy
+smart. She may have deeper designs than we can see."
+
+"What designs do you suppose she can have? Tell me, Malcolm," asked Sir
+George.
+
+I remained silent for a moment, hardly knowing how to express my thought.
+"Certainly she could not have appeared to a better advantage than in her
+tavern maid's costume," I said.
+
+"That is true," answered Sir George. "Though she is my own daughter, I
+must admit that I have never seen any woman so beautiful as she." The old
+gentleman laughed softly for a moment and said: "But wasn't it brazen?
+Wasn't it shameless? I have always given the girl credit for modesty,
+but--damme, damme--"
+
+"Her beauty in the tavern maid's costume fired Leicester's heart as
+nothing else could have done," I said. "He stood by my side, and was in
+raptures over her charms."
+
+Sir George mused a moment and said something about the "Leicester
+possibility," which I knew to be an impossibility, and before I left him
+he had determined to allow the matter to drop for the present. "I am
+making a damned pretty mess of the whole affair, I fear, Malcolm," he
+said.
+
+"You don't seem to be clearing it up, Sir George," I responded.
+
+After talking over some arrangements for the queen's entertainment, I said
+good night, and left my cousin brooding over as complicated a problem as
+man ever tried to solve.
+
+The next morning I told Dorothy how her father felt with respect to the
+"Leicester possibility." She laughed and said:--
+
+"I will encourage father in that matter, and," with a saucy twinkle in her
+eye, "incidentally I will not discourage my proud lord of Leicester. I
+will make the most of the situation, fear not, Malcolm."
+
+"I do not fear," said I, emphatically.
+
+There it was: the full-blown spirit of conquest, strong even in a
+love-full heart. God breathed into Adam the breath of life; but into Eve
+he breathed the love of conquest, and it has been growing stronger in the
+hearts of her daughters with each recurring generation.
+
+"How about John?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, John?" she answered, throwing her head contemplatively to one side.
+"He is amply able to protect his own interests. I could not be really
+untrue to him if I wished to be. It is I who am troubled on the score of
+infidelity. John will be with the most beautiful queen--" She broke off in
+the midst of her sentence, and her face became clouded with an expression
+of anger and hatred. "God curse her! I wish she were dead, dead, dead.
+There! you know how I feel toward your English-French-Scottish beauty.
+Curse the mongrel--" She halted before the ugly word she was about to use;
+but her eyes were like glowing embers, and her cheeks were flushed by the
+heat of anger.
+
+"Did you not promise me, Dorothy, that you would not again allow yourself
+to become jealous of Queen Mary?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, I promised, but I cannot prevent the jealousy, and I do not intend
+to try. I hate her, and I love to hate her."
+
+"Why should you hate her?" I asked. "If John remains true to you, there is
+certainly no cause for you to hate any one. If he should be untrue to you,
+you should hate him."
+
+"Hate him?" she exclaimed. "That, indeed, is pretty reasoning. If he
+should be untrue to me, I should of course hate her. I could not hate him.
+I did not make myself love him. I would never have been so great a fool as
+to bring that pain upon myself intentionally. I suppose no girl would
+deliberately make herself love a man and bring into her heart so great an
+agony. I feel toward John as I do, because I must; and I hate your
+Scottish mongrel because I must. I tell you, Malcolm, when she comes to
+Rutland, if I hear of her trying any of her wanton tricks on John there
+will be trouble--mark my words!"
+
+"I ask you to promise me this, Dorothy: that you will do nothing
+concerning John and Queen Mary without first speaking to me."
+
+She paced across the room angrily. "I promise you nothing, Malcolm, save
+that I shall not allow that woman to come between John and me. That I
+promise you, on my oath."
+
+Dorothy continued to shed her luminous smiles on Leicester, though she was
+careful not to shine in the queen's presence. My lord was dazzled by the
+smiles, and continually sought opportunities to bask in their dangerous
+light. As a result of this smiling and basking the great London
+heart-breaker was soon helplessly caught in the toils of Doll, the country
+maiden. She played him as an angler plays a trout. The most experienced
+court coquette could not have done the part better than did this girl,
+whose knowledge of the subject was wholly intuitive, for her life had all
+been spent amid the green hills and groves of Derbyshire. She so managed
+the affair that her father should see enough of Leicester's preference to
+keep alive in Sir George's mind the hope for the "Leicester possibility."
+Those words had become with her a phrase slyly to play upon.
+
+One afternoon when the sun was graciously warm and bright, I induced Madge
+to walk with me upon the terrace, that I might for a few moments feel the
+touch of her hand and hear her whispered words. We took a seat by a large
+holly bush, which effectually concealed us from view. We had been there
+but a few moments when we heard footsteps approaching. Looking between the
+branches of the holly bush I saw Dorothy and Leicester coming toward us
+from the north end of the terrace. Dorothy's eyes were cast down demurely,
+and her head hung in the attitude of a shy, modest girl, who listens
+timidly to words that are music in her ears. Never have I seen an attitude
+more indicative of the receptive mood than that which Dorothy assumed
+toward Leicester.
+
+"Ah," thought I, "poor John has given his heart and has risked his life
+for the sake of Doll, and Doll is a miserable coquette."
+
+But there was conduct still more objectionable to come from Dorothy.
+
+Unconscious of our presence, Leicester said, "My fair beauty, my Venus,
+here is a settle under this holly bush, well hidden from prying eyes. It
+invites us. Will you sit here with me for one happy moment, and give me a
+taste of Paradise?"
+
+"I fear I should not sit with you, my lord, however much I--may--may wish
+to do so. My father or the queen might observe us." The black lashes fell
+upon the fair cheek, and the red golden head with its crown of glory hung
+forward convincingly.
+
+"You false jade," thought I.
+
+"I ask for but one moment," pleaded Leicester. "The queen sleeps at this
+time after dinner, and perhaps your father would not object if you were to
+grant this little favor to the first nobleman of the realm."
+
+"You do not know my father, my lord. He is very strict regarding my
+conduct," murmured the drooping head.
+
+"I ask for but one little moment," continued the earl, "in which to tell
+you that you have filled my heart with adoration and love."
+
+"I should not listen to you, my lord. Were I mindful of my happiness, I
+should return to the Hall at once," said the drooping lashes and hanging
+head.
+
+"You lying wench," thought I. By that time I was thoroughly angered.
+
+"Only one little moment on the settle," pleaded Leicester, "that I may
+speak to you that which I wish so ardently to say."
+
+"Can you not speak while we walk, my lord?" asked Dorothy.
+
+I felt a bitter desire to curse the girl.
+
+"It is difficult for me to speak while we walk," said Leicester,
+cautiously taking the girl's hand; so she permitted him to lead her to the
+settle under the holly bush, on the opposite side of which Madge and I
+were sitting.
+
+The earl retained the hand for a moment after he and Dorothy were seated,
+but she gently drew it away and moved a little distance from his Lordship.
+Still, her eyes were drooped, her head hung low, and her bosom actually
+heaved as if with emotion.
+
+"I will tell John of your shamelessness," I said to myself. "He shall feel
+no more heartaches for you--you wanton huzzy."
+
+Then Leicester poured forth his passion most eloquently. Poesy, verse, and
+rhetoric all came to help him in his wooing. Now and then the girl would
+respond to his ardor with "Please, my lord," or "I pray you, my lord," and
+when he would try to take her hand she would say, "I beg you, my lord, do
+not." But Leicester evidently thought that the "do not" meant "do," for
+soon he began to steal his arm about her waist, and she was so slow in
+stopping him that I thought she was going to submit. She, however, arose
+gently to her feet and said:--
+
+"My lord, I must return to the Hall. I may not longer remain here with
+you."
+
+The earl caught her hand and endeavored to kiss it, but she adroitly
+prevented him, and stepping out into the path, started slowly toward the
+Hall. She turned her head slightly toward Leicester in a mute but eloquent
+invitation, and he quickly followed her.
+
+I watched the pair walk up the terrace. They descended the steps to the
+garden, and from thence they entered the Hall by way of the porch.
+
+"Was it not very wicked in Dorothy to listen to such words from
+Leicester?" asked Madge. "I do not at all understand her."
+
+Madge, of course, knew only a part of what had happened, and a very small
+part at that, for she had not seen Dorothy. Madge and I returned to the
+Hall, and we went at once to Dorothy's room, hoping to see her, and
+intending to tell her our opinion of the shameless manner in which she had
+acted.
+
+Dorothy was in her room alone when we entered. She clapped her hands, ran
+to the door, bolted it, and bounded back toward us.
+
+"I have the greatest news to tell you," she cried laughingly,--"the
+greatest news and the greatest sport of which you ever heard. My lord
+Leicester is in love with me."
+
+"Indeed, that is very fine," I responded; but my irony met its usual fate.
+She did not see it.
+
+"Yes," continued Dorothy, brimming over with mirth, "you should have heard
+him pleading with me a few moments since upon the terrace."
+
+"We did hear him," said Madge.
+
+"You heard him? Where? How?" Her eyes were wide with wonder.
+
+"We were on the opposite side of the holly bush from you," I answered. "We
+heard him and we saw you."
+
+"Did you? Good. I am glad of it," said Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, we saw and we heard all, and we think that your conduct was
+shameless," I responded severely.
+
+"Shameless?" demanded Dorothy. "Now pray tell me what I did or said that
+was shameless.".
+
+I was at a loss to define the wrong in her conduct, for it had been of an
+intangible quality which in itself was nothing, but notwithstanding meant
+a great deal.
+
+"You permitted him to hold your hand," I said, trying to fix on something
+real with which to accuse her.
+
+"I did nothing of the sort," said Dorothy, laughingly. "He caught my hand
+several times, but I withdrew it from him"
+
+I knew she spoke the truth regarding her hand, so I tried again.
+
+"You--you hung your head and kept your eyes cast down, and you looked--"
+
+"Oh, I hung my head, I cast down my eyes, and I looked?" she answered,
+laughing heartily. "Pray let me ask you, Master Fault-finder, for what use
+else are heads and eyes made?"
+
+I was not prepared to say that the uses to which Dorothy had put her head
+and eyes were not some of the purposes for which they were created. They
+are good purposes, too, I admit, although I would not have conceded as
+much to Dorothy. I knew the girl would soon wheedle me into her way of
+thinking, so I took a bold stand and said:--
+
+"It is my intention to tell John about your conduct with Leicester, and I
+shall learn for what purpose he thinks eyes and heads are created."
+
+"Tell John?" cried Dorothy. "Of course you may tell John. He well knows
+the purposes of heads and eyes, and their proper uses. He has told me many
+times his opinion on the subject." She laughed for a moment, and then
+continued: "I, too, shall tell John all that happened or shall happen
+between Lord Leicester and me. I wish I could tell him now. How I wish I
+could tell him now." A soft light came to her eyes, and she repeated
+huskily: "If I might tell him now; if I might tell him now. Why, Malcolm,
+I despise Leicester. He is a poor, weak fool. He has no more force nor
+strength than I have. He is not a man. He is no more attractive than a
+woman. He wanted to kiss me. He begged me to give him but one. It is but a
+poor kiss which a man gets by begging. Think you I would give him one? Had
+he but touched my lips, think you I would ever allow John to soil himself
+again by kissing them? Fear not, Malcolm. Fear not for John nor for me.
+No man will ever receive from me a favor, the granting of which would make
+me unfit to be John's--John's wife. I have paid too dearly for him to
+throw him away for a penny whistle that I do not want." Then she grew
+earnest, with a touch of anger: "Leicester! What reason, suppose you,
+Malcolm, have I for treating him as I do? Think you I act from sheer
+wantonness? If there were one little spot of that fault upon my soul, I
+would tear myself from John, though I should die for it."
+
+Her laughing mood had passed away, and I feared to say that I could see no
+reason other than coquetry for her conduct, I feared the red-haired
+tigress would scratch my eyes out.
+
+"I have wanted to see you," she continued, "that I might tell you of my
+plans and of the way they are working out, but now since you have spoken
+to me in this manner, Sir Malcolm François de Lorraine Vernon, I shall
+tell you nothing. You suspect me. Therefore, you shall wait with the rest
+of the world to learn my purposes. You may tell John all you have seen and
+heard. I care not how quickly you do it." Then with a sigh: "I pray God it
+may be very soon. He will wish for no explanation, and he shall one day
+have in me a rich reward for his faith."
+
+"Do you trust him as he trusts you?" I asked, "and would you demand an
+explanation were he to act toward Mary Stuart as you have acted toward
+Leicester?"
+
+"He could not act toward her as I did toward Lord Leicester," she said
+thoughtfully. Then after a moment she laughingly continued: "John
+can't--he can't hang his head and--droop his eyes and look."
+
+"But if--" I began.
+
+"I want no more of your hellish 'ifs,'" cried the girl in sudden fury. "If
+John were to--to look at that Scottish mongrel as I looked at Leicester, I
+would--I would kill the royal wanton. I would kill her if it cost my
+life. Now, for God's sake, leave me. You see the state into which you
+have wrought me." I left Madge with Dorothy and walked out upon Bowling
+Green to ponder on the events that were passing before me.
+
+From the time we learned that John had gone to fetch the Scottish queen I
+had fears lest Dorothy's inflammable jealousy might cause trouble, and now
+those fears were rapidly transforming themselves into a feeling of
+certainty. There is nothing in life so sweet and so dangerous as the love
+of a hot-blooded woman.
+
+I soon saw Dorothy again. "Tell me," said I, in conciliation, "tell me,
+please, what is your reason for acting as you do toward Leicester, and why
+should you look differently upon similar conduct on John's part?"
+
+"I will not tell you my plans," she responded,--"not now, at least.
+Perhaps I shall do so when I have recovered from my ill-temper. It is hard
+for me to give my reasons for feeling differently about like conduct on
+John's part. Perhaps I feel as I do because--because--It is this way:
+While I might do little things--mere nothings--such as I have done--it
+would be impossible for me to do any act of unfaithfulness to John. Oh, it
+could not be. But with him, he--he--well, he is a man and--and--oh, don't
+talk to me! Don't talk to me! You are driving me mad. Out of my sight! Out
+of my room! Holy Virgin! I shall die before I have him; I know I shall."
+
+There it was again. The thought of Mary Stuart drove her wild. Dorothy
+threw herself on her face upon the bed, and Madge went over and sat by her
+side to soothe her. I, with a feeling of guilt, so adroit had been
+Dorothy's defence, left the girls and went to my room in the tower to
+unravel, by the help of my pipe, the tangled web of woman's
+incomprehensibility. I failed, as many another man had failed before me,
+and as men will continue to fail to the end of time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+MARY STUART
+
+
+And now I come to an event in this history which I find difficult to place
+before you in its true light. For Dorothy's sake I wish I might omit it
+altogether. But in true justice to her and for the purpose of making you
+see clearly the enormity of her fault and the palliating excuses therefor,
+if any there were, I shall pause briefly to show the condition of affairs
+at the time of which I am about to write--a time when Dorothy's madness
+brought us to the most terrible straits and plunged us into deepest
+tribulations.
+
+Although I have been unable to show you as much of John as I have wished
+you to see, you nevertheless must know that he, whose nature was not like
+the shallow brook but was rather of the quality of a deep, slow-moving
+river, had caught from Dorothy an infection of love from which he would
+never recover. His soul was steeped in the delicious essence of the girl.
+I would also call your attention to the conditions under which his passion
+for Dorothy had arisen. It is true he received the shaft when first he saw
+her at the Royal Arms in Derby-town, but the shaft had come from Dorothy's
+eyes. Afterward she certainly had done her full part in the wooing. It was
+for her sake, after she had drawn him on to love her, that he became a
+servant in Haddon Hall. For her sake he faced death at the hands of her
+father. And it was through her mad fault that the evil came upon him of
+which I shall now tell you. That she paid for her fault in suffering does
+not excuse her, since pain is but the latter half of evil.
+
+During the term of Elizabeth's residence in Haddon Hall John returned to
+Rutland with Queen Mary Stuart, whose escape from Lochleven had excited
+all England. The country was full of rumors that Mary was coming to
+England not so much for sanctuary as to be on the ground ready to accept
+the English crown when her opportunity to do so should occur. The
+Catholics, a large and powerful party, flushed with their triumphs under
+the "Bloody Queen," were believed to sympathize with Mary's cause.
+Although Elizabeth said little on the subject, she felt deeply, and she
+feared trouble should the Scottish queen enter her dominion. Another cause
+of annoyance to Elizabeth was the memory that Leicester had once been
+deeply impressed with Mary's charms, and had sought her hand in marriage.
+Elizabeth's prohibition alone had prevented the match. That thought
+rankled in Elizabeth's heart, and she hated Mary, although her hatred, as
+in all other cases, was tempered with justice and mercy. This great queen
+had the brain of a man with its motives, and the heart of a woman with its
+emotions.
+
+When news of Mary's escape reached London, Cecil came in great haste to
+Haddon. During a consultation with Elizabeth he advised her to seize Mary,
+should she enter England, and to check the plots made in Mary's behalf by
+executing the principal friends of the Scottish queen. He insistently
+demanded that Elizabeth should keep Mary under lock and key, should she be
+so fortunate as to obtain possession of her person, and that the men who
+were instrumental in bringing her into England should be arraigned for
+high treason.
+
+John certainly had been instrumental in bringing her into England, and if
+Cecil's advice were taken by the queen, John's head would pay the forfeit
+for his chivalric help to Mary.
+
+Elizabeth was loath to act on this advice, but Cecil worked upon her fears
+and jealousies until her mind and her heart were in accord, and she gave
+secret orders that his advice should be carried out. Troops were sent to
+the Scottish border to watch for the coming of the fugitive queen. But
+Mary was already ensconced, safely, as she thought, in Rutland Castle
+under the assumed name of Lady Blanche. Her presence at Rutland was, of
+course, guarded as a great secret.
+
+Dorothy's mind dwelt frequently upon the fact that John and the beautiful
+young Scottish queen lived under the same roof, for John had written to
+Dorothy immediately after his return. Nothing so propagates itself as
+jealousy. There were in Haddon Hall two hearts in which this
+self-propagating process was rapidly progressing--Elizabeth's and
+Dorothy's. Each had for the cause of her jealousy the same woman.
+
+One night, soon after Cecil had obtained from Elizabeth the order for
+Mary's arrest, Dorothy, on retiring to her room at a late hour found
+Jennie Faxton waiting for her with a precious letter from John. Dorothy
+drank in the tenderness of John's letter as the thirsty earth absorbs the
+rain; but her joy was neutralized by frequent references to the woman who
+she feared might become her rival. One-half of what she feared, she was
+sure had been accomplished: that is, Mary's half. She knew in her heart
+that the young queen would certainly grow fond of John. That was a
+foregone conclusion. No woman could be with him and escape that fate,
+thought Dorothy. Her hope as to the other half--John's part--rested solely
+upon her faith in John, which was really great, and her confidence in her
+own charms and in her own power to hold him, which in truth, and with good
+reason, was not small, Dorothy went to bed, and Jennie, following her
+usual custom, when at Haddon, lay upon the floor in the same room. John's
+letter, with all its tenderness, had thrown Dorothy into an inquisitive
+frame of mind. After an hour or two of restless tossing upon the bed she
+fell asleep, but soon after midnight she awakened, and in her drowsy
+condition the devil himself played upon the strings of her dream-charged
+imagination. After a time she sprang from the bed, lighted a candle at the
+rush light, and read John's letter in a tremor of dream-wrought fear. Then
+she aroused Jennie Faxton and asked:--
+
+"When were you at Rutland?"
+
+"I spent yesterday and to-day there, mistress," answered Jennie.
+
+"Did you see a strange lady?" asked Dorothy.
+
+"Oh, yes, mistress, I did see her three or four times," answered Jennie.
+"Lady Blanche is her name, and she be a cousin of Sir John's. She do come,
+they say, from France, and do speak only in the tongue of that country."
+
+"I--I suppose that this--this Lady Blanche and--and Sir John are very good
+friends? Did you--did you--often see them together?" asked Dorothy. She
+felt guilty in questioning Jennie for the purpose of spying upon her
+lover. She knew that John would not pry into her conduct.
+
+"Indeed, yes, mistress," returned Jennie, who admired John greatly from
+her lowly sphere, and who for her own sake as well as Dorothy's was
+jealous of Queen Mary. "They do walk together a great deal on the
+ramparts, and the white snaky lady do look up into Sir John's face like
+this"--here Jennie assumed a lovelorn expression. "And--and once,
+mistress, I thought--I thought--"
+
+"Yes, yes, Jesu!" hissed Dorothy, clutching Jennie by the arm, "you
+thought, you thought. Tell me! Tell me! What in hell's name did you think?
+Speak quickly, wench."
+
+"I be not sure, mistress, but I thought I saw his arm about her waist one
+evening on the ramparts. It was dark, and for sure I could not tell,
+but--"
+
+"God's curse upon the white huzzy!" screamed Dorothy. "God's curse upon
+her! She is stealing him from me, and I am helpless."
+
+She clasped her hands over the top of her head and ran to and fro across
+the room uttering inarticulate cries of agony. Then she sat upon the
+bedside and threw herself into Madge's arms, crying under her breath: "My
+God! My God! Think of it, Madge. I have given him my heart, my soul, O
+merciful God, my love--all that I have worth giving, and now comes this
+white wretch, and because she is a queen and was sired in hell she tries
+to steal him from me and coaxes him to put his arm around her waist."
+
+"Don't feel that way about it, Dorothy," said Madge, soothingly. "I know
+Sir John can explain it all to you when you see him. He is true to you, I
+am sure."
+
+"True to me, Madge! How can he be true to me if she coaxes him to woo her
+and if he puts his arm--I am losing him; I know it. I--I--O God, Madge, I
+am smothering; I am strangling! Holy Virgin! I believe I am about to die."
+She threw herself upon the bed by Madge's side, clutching her throat and
+breast, and her grand woman's form tossed and struggled as if she were in
+convulsions.
+
+"Holy mother!" she cried, "take this frightful agony from my breast.
+Snatch this terrible love from my heart. God! If you have pity, give it
+now. Help me! Help me! Ah, how deeply I love. I never loved him so much as
+I do at this awful moment. Save me from doing that which is in my heart.
+If I could have him for only one little portion of a minute. But that is
+denied me whose right it is, and is given to her who has no right. Ah,
+God is not just. If he were he would strike her dead. I hate her and I
+hate--hate him."
+
+She arose to a sitting posture on the edge of the bed and held out her
+arms toward Madge.
+
+"Madge," she continued, frenzied by the thought, "his arm was around her
+waist. That was early in the evening. Holy Virgin! What may be happening
+now?"
+
+Dorothy sprang from the bed and staggered about the room with her hands
+upon her throbbing temples.
+
+"I cannot bear this agony. God give me strength." Soon she began to gasp
+for breath. "I can--see--them now--together, together. I hate her; I hate
+him. My love has turned bitter. What can I do? What can I do? I will do
+it. I will. I will disturb their sweet rest. If I cannot have him, she
+shall not. I'll tell the queen, I'll tell the queen."
+
+Dorothy acted on her resolution the moment it was taken, and at once began
+to unbolt the door.
+
+"Stay, Dorothy, stay!" cried Madge. "Think on what you are about to do. It
+will cost John his life. Come to me for one moment, Dorothy, I pray you."
+Madge arose from the bed and began groping her way toward Dorothy, who was
+unbolting the door.
+
+Madge could have calmed the tempest-tossed sea as easily as she could have
+induced Dorothy to pause in her mad frenzy. Jennie Faxton, almost
+paralyzed by fear of the storm she had raised, stood in the corner of the
+room trembling and speechless. Dorothy was out of the room before poor
+blind Madge could reach her. The frenzied girl was dressed only in her
+night robes and her glorious hair hung dishevelled down to her waist. She
+ran through the rooms of Lady Crawford and those occupied by her father
+and the retainers. Then she sped down the long gallery and up the steps to
+Elizabeth's apartment.
+
+She knocked violently at the queen's door.
+
+"Who comes?" demanded one of her Majesty's ladies.
+
+"I, Dorothy," was the response. "I wish to speak to her Majesty at once
+upon a matter of great importance to her."
+
+Elizabeth ordered her ladies to admit Dorothy, and the girl ran to the
+queen, who had half arisen in her bed.
+
+"You must have affairs of great moment, indeed," cried Elizabeth, testily,
+"if they induce you to disturb me in this manner."
+
+"Of great moment, indeed, your Majesty," replied Dorothy, endeavoring to
+be calm, "of moment to you and to me. Mary Stuart is in England at this
+instant trying to steal your crown and my lover. She is now sleeping
+within five leagues of this place. God only knows what she is doing. Let
+us waste no time, your Majesty."
+
+The girl was growing wilder every second.
+
+"Let us go--you and I--and seize this wanton creature. You to save your
+crown; I to save my lover and--my life."
+
+"Where is she?" demanded Elizabeth, sharply. "Cease prattling about your
+lover. She would steal both my lover and my crown if she could. Where is
+she?"
+
+"She is at Rutland Castle, your Majesty," answered Dorothy.
+
+"Ah, the Duke of Rutland and his son John," said Elizabeth. "I have been
+warned of them. Send for my Lord Cecil and Sir William St. Loe."
+
+Sir William was in command of the yeoman guards.
+
+"Is Sir John Manners your lover?" asked Elizabeth, turning to Dorothy.
+
+"Yes," answered the girl.
+
+"You may soon seek another," replied the queen, significantly.
+
+Her Majesty's words seemed to awaken Dorothy from her stupor of frenzy,
+and she foresaw the result of her act. Then came upon her a reaction worse
+than death.
+
+"You may depart," said the queen to Dorothy, and the girl went back to
+her room hardly conscious that she was moving.
+
+At times we cannot help feeling that love came to the human breast through
+a drop of venom shot from the serpent's tongue into the heart of Eve.
+Again we believe it to be a spark from God's own soul. Who will solve me
+this riddle?
+
+Soon the hard, cold ringing of arms, and the tramp of mailed feet
+resounded through Haddon Hall, and the doom-like din reached Dorothy's
+room in the tones of a clanging knell. There seemed to be a frightful
+rhythm in the chaos of sounds which repeated over and over again the
+words: "John will die, John will die," though the full import of her act
+and its results did nor for a little time entirely penetrate her
+consciousness. She remembered the queen's words, "You may soon seek
+another." Elizabeth plainly meant that John was a traitor, and that John
+would die for his treason. The clanking words, "John will die, John will
+die," bore upon the girl's ears in ever increasing volume until the agony
+she suffered deadened her power to think. She wandered aimlessly about the
+room, trying to collect her senses, but her mind was a blank. After a few
+minutes she ran back to the queen, having an undefined purpose of doing
+something to avert the consequences of her mad act. She at first thought
+to tell the queen that the information she had given concerning Mary
+Stuart's presence in Rutland was false, but she well knew that a lie
+seldom succeeds; and in this case, even through her clouded mentality, she
+could see that a lie would surely fail. She determined to beg the queen to
+spare John's life. She did not know exactly what she would do, but she
+hoped by the time she should reach the queen's room to hit upon some plan
+that would save him. When she knocked at Elizabeth's door it was locked
+against her. Her Majesty was in consultation with Cecil, Sir William St.
+Loe, and a few other gentlemen, among whom was Sir George Vernon.
+
+Dorothy well knew there was no help for John if her father were of the
+queen's council. She insisted upon seeing the queen, but was rudely
+repulsed. By the time she again reached her room full consciousness had
+returned, and agony such as she had never before dreamed of overwhelmed
+her soul. Many of us have felt the same sort of pain when awakened
+suddenly to the fact that words we have spoken easily may not, by our
+utmost efforts, be recalled, though we would gladly give our life itself
+to have them back. If suffering can atone for sin, Dorothy bought her
+indulgence within one hour after sinning. But suffering cannot atone for
+sin; it is only a part of it--the result.
+
+"Arise, Madge, and dress," said Dorothy, gently. "I have made a terrible
+mistake. I have committed a frightful crime. I have betrayed John to
+death. Ah, help me, Madge, if you can. Pray God to help me. He will listen
+to you. I fear to pray to Him. He would turn my prayers to curses. I am
+lost." She fell for a moment upon the bed and placed her head on Madge's
+breast murmuring, "If I could but die."
+
+"All may turn out better than it now appears," said Madge. "Quiet yourself
+and let us consider what may be done to arrest the evil of your--your
+act."
+
+"Nothing can be done, nothing," wailed Dorothy, as she arose from the bed
+and began to dress. "Please arise, Madge, and dress yourself. Here are
+your garments and your gown."
+
+They hastily dressed without speaking, and Dorothy began again to pace the
+floor.
+
+"He will die hating me," said Dorothy. "If he could live I willingly would
+give him to the--the Scottish woman. Then I could die and my suffering
+would cease. I must have been mad when I went to the queen. He trusted me
+with his honor and his life, and I, traitress that I am, have betrayed
+both. Ah, well, when he dies I also shall die. There is comfort at least
+in that thought. How helpless I am."
+
+She could not weep. It seemed as if there were not a tear in her. All was
+hard, dry, burning agony. She again fell upon the bed and moaned piteously
+for a little time, wringing her hands and uttering frantic ejaculatory
+prayers for help.
+
+"My mind seems to have forsaken me," she said hoarsely to Madge. "I cannot
+think. What noise is that?"
+
+She paused and listened for a moment. Then she went to the north window
+and opened the casement.
+
+"The yeoman guards from Bakewell are coming," she said. "I recognize them
+by the light of their flambeaux. They are entering the gate at the
+dove-cote."
+
+A part of the queen's guard had been quartered in the village of Bakewell.
+
+Dorothy stood at the window for a moment and said: "The other guards are
+here under our window and are ready to march to Rutland. There is Lord
+Cecil, and Sir William St. Loe, and Malcolm, and there is my father. Now
+they are off to meet the other yeomen at the dove-cote. The stable boys
+are lighting their torches and flambeaux. They are going to murder John,
+and I have sent them."
+
+Dorothy covered her face with her hands and slowly walked to and fro
+across the room.
+
+"Call Malcolm," said Madge. "Perhaps he can help us. Lead me to the
+window, Dorothy, and I will call him." Dorothy led Madge to the window,
+and above the din of arms I heard her soft voice calling, "Malcolm,
+Malcolm."
+
+The order to march had been given before Madge called, but I sought Sir
+William and told him I would return to the Hall to get another sword and
+would soon overtake him on the road to Rutland.
+
+I then hastened to Dorothy's room. I was ignorant of the means whereby
+Elizabeth had learned of Mary's presence at Rutland. The queen had told no
+one how the information reached her. The fact that Mary was in England was
+all sufficient for Cecil, and he proceeded to execute the order Elizabeth
+had given for Mary's arrest, without asking or desiring any explanation.
+I, of course, was in great distress for John's sake, since I knew that he
+would be attainted of treason. I had sought in vain some plan whereby I
+might help him, but found none. I, myself, being a Scottish refugee,
+occupied no safe position, and my slightest act toward helping John or
+Mary would be construed against me.
+
+When I entered Dorothy's room, she ran to me and said: "Can you help me,
+Malcolm? Can you help me save him from this terrible evil which I have
+brought upon him?"
+
+"How did you bring the evil upon him?" I asked, in astonishment. "It was
+not your fault that he brought Mary Stuart to--"
+
+"No, no," she answered; "but I told the queen she was at Rutland."
+
+"You told the queen?" I exclaimed, unwilling to believe my ears. "You
+told--How--why--why did you tell her?"
+
+"I do not know why I told her," she replied. "I was mad with--with
+jealousy. You warned me against it, but I did not heed you. Jennie Faxton
+told me that she saw John and--but all that does not matter now. I will
+tell you hereafter if I live. What we must now do is to save him--to save
+him if we can. Try to devise some plan. Think--think, Malcolm."
+
+My first thought was to ride to Rutland Castle and give the alarm. Sir
+George would lead the yeomen thither by the shortest route--the road by
+way of Rowsley. There was another route leading up the Lathkil through the
+dale, and thence by a road turning southward to Rutland. That road was
+longer by a league than the one Sir George would take, but I could put my
+horse to his greatest speed, and I might be able to reach the castle in
+time to enable John and Mary to escape. I considered the question a
+moment. My own life certainly would pay the forfeit in case of failure;
+but my love for John and, I confess it with shame, the memory of my old
+tenderness for Mary impelled me to take the risk. I explained the plan
+upon which I was thinking, and told them of my determination. When I did
+so, Madge grasped me by the arm to detain me, and Dorothy fell upon her
+knees and kissed my hand.
+
+I said, "I must start at once; for, ride as I may, I fear the yeomen will
+reach Rutland gates before I can get there."
+
+"But If the guards should be at the gates when you arrive, or if you
+should be missed by Cecil, you, a Scottish refugee and a friend of Queen
+Mary, would be suspected of treason, and you would lose your life," said
+Madge, who was filled with alarm for my sake.
+
+"That is true," I replied; "but I can think of no other way whereby John
+can possibly be saved."
+
+Dorothy stood for a moment in deep thought, and said:--
+
+"I will ride to Rutland by way of Lathkil Dale--I will ride in place of
+you, Malcolm. It is my duty and my privilege to do this if I can."
+
+I saw the truth of her words, and felt that since Dorothy had wrought the
+evil, it was clearly her duty to remedy it if she could. If she should
+fail, no evil consequences would fall upon her. If I should fail, it would
+cost me my life; and while I desired to save John, still I wished to save
+myself. Though my conduct may not have been chivalric, still I was willing
+that Dorothy should go in my place, and I told her so. I offered to ride
+with her as far as a certain cross-road a league distant from Rutland
+Castle. There I would leave her, and go across the country to meet the
+yeomen on the road they had taken. I could join them before they reached
+Rutland, and my absence during the earlier portion of the march would not
+be remarked, or if noticed it could easily be explained.
+
+This plan was agreed upon, and after the guards had passed out at
+Dove-cote Gate and were well down toward Rowsley, I rode out from the
+Hall, and waited for Dorothy at an appointed spot near Overhaddon.
+
+Immediately after my departure Dolcy was saddled, and soon Dorothy rode
+furiously up to me. Away we sped, Dorothy and I, by Yulegrave church, down
+into the dale, and up the river. Never shall I forget that mad ride. Heavy
+rains had recently fallen, and the road in places was almost impassable.
+The rivers were in flood, but when Dorothy and I reached the ford, the
+girl did not stop to consider the danger ahead of her. I heard her
+whisper, "On, Dolcy, on," and I heard the sharp "whisp" of the whip as she
+struck the trembling, fearful mare, and urged her into the dark flood.
+Dolcy hesitated, but Dorothy struck her again and again with the whip and
+softly cried, "On, Dolcy, on." Then mare and rider plunged into the
+swollen river, and I, of course, followed them. The water was so deep that
+our horses were compelled to swim, and when we reached the opposite side
+of the river we had drifted with the current a distance of at least three
+hundred yards below the road. We climbed the cliff by a sheep path. How
+Dorothy did it I do not know; and how I succeeded in following her I know
+even less. When we reached the top of the cliff, Dorothy started off at
+full gallop, leading the way, and again I followed. The sheep path
+leading up the river to the road followed close the edge of the cliff,
+where a false step by the horse would mean death to both horse and rider.
+But Dorothy feared not, or knew not, the danger, and I caught her ever
+whispered cry,--"On, Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy, on." Ashamed to fall behind,
+yet fearing to ride at such a pace on such a path, I urged my horse
+forward. He was a fine, strong, mettlesome brute, and I succeeded in
+keeping the girl's dim form in sight. The moon, which was rapidly sinking
+westward, still gave us light through rifts in the black bank of floating
+clouds, else that ride over the sheep path by the cliff would have been
+our last journey in the flesh.
+
+Soon we reached the main road turning southward. It was a series of rough
+rocks and mudholes, and Dorothy and Dolcy shot forward upon it with the
+speed of the tempest, to undo, if possible, the evil which a dozen words,
+untimely spoken, had wrought. I urged my horse until his head was close by
+Dolcy's tail, and ever and anon could I hear the whispered cry,--"On,
+Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy, sweet Dolcy, good Dolcy; on, my pet, on."
+
+No word was spoken between Dorothy and me; but I could hear Dolcy panting
+with her mighty effort, and amid the noise of splashing water and the
+thud, thud, thud of our horses' hoofs came always back to me from
+Dorothy's lips the sad, sad cry, full of agony and longing,--"On, Dolcy,
+on; on Dolcy, on."
+
+The road we took led us over steep hills and down through dark,
+shadow-crowded ravines; but up hill, down hill, and on the level the
+terrible girl before me plunged forward with unabated headlong fury until
+I thought surely the flesh of horse, man, and woman could endure the
+strain not one moment longer. But the horses, the woman, and--though I say
+it who should not--the man were of God's best handiwork, and the cords of
+our lives did not snap. One thought, and only one, held possession of the
+girl, and the matter of her own life or death had no place in her mind.
+
+When we reached the cross-road where I was to leave her, we halted while I
+instructed Dorothy concerning the road she should follow from that point
+to Rutland, and directed her how to proceed when she should arrive at the
+castle gate. She eagerly listened for a moment or two, then grew
+impatient, and told me to hasten in my speech, since there was no time to
+lose. Then she fearlessly dashed away alone into the black night; and as I
+watched her fair form fade into the shadows, the haunting cry came faintly
+back to me,--"On, Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy on," and I was sick at heart. I was
+loath to leave her thus in the inky gloom. The moon had sunk for the
+night, and the clouds had banked up without a rift against the hidden
+stars; but I could give her no further help, and my life would pay the
+forfeit should I accompany her. She had brought the evil upon herself. She
+was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain. She was fulfilling her
+destiny. She was doing that which she must do: nothing more, nothing less.
+She was filling her little niche in the universal moment. She was a part
+of the infinite kaleidoscope--a fate-charged, fate-moved, fragile piece of
+glass which might be crushed to atoms in the twinkling of an eye, in the
+sounding of a trump.
+
+After leaving Dorothy I rode across the country and soon overtook the
+yeoman guard whom I joined unobserved. Then I marched with them, all too
+rapidly to suit me, to Rutland. The little army had travelled with greater
+speed than I had expected, and I soon began to fear that Dorothy would not
+reach Rutland Castle in time to enable its inmates to escape.
+
+Within half an hour from the time I joined the yeomen we saw the dim
+outlines of the castle, and Sir William St. Loe gave the command to hurry
+forward. Cecil, Sir William, Sir George, and myself rode in advance of the
+column. As we approached the castle by the road leading directly to the
+gate from the north, I saw for a moment upon the top of the hill west of
+the castle gate the forms of Dorothy and Dolcy in dim silhouette against
+the sky. Then I saw them plunge madly down the hill toward the gate. I
+fancied I could hear the girl whispering in frenzied hoarseness,--"On,
+Dolcy, on," and I thought I could catch the panting of the mare. At the
+foot of the hill, less than one hundred yards from the gate, poor Dolcy,
+unable to take another step, dropped to the ground. Dolcy had gone on to
+her death. She had filled her little niche in the universe and had died at
+her post Dorothy plunged forward over the mare's head, and a cry of alarm
+came from my lips despite me. I was sure the girl had been killed. She,
+however, instantly sprang to her feet. Her hair was flying behind her and
+she ran toward the gate crying: "John, John, fly for your life!" And then
+she fell prone upon the ground and did not rise.
+
+We had all seen the mare fall, and had seen the girl run forward toward
+the gates and fall before reaching them. Cecil and Sir William rode to the
+spot where Dorothy lay, and dismounted.
+
+In a moment Sir William called to Sir George:--
+
+"The lady is your daughter, Mistress Dorothy."
+
+"What in hell's name brings her here?" cried Sir George, hurriedly riding
+forward, "and how came she?"
+
+I followed speedily, and the piteous sight filled my eyes with tears. I
+cannot describe it adequately to you, though I shall see it vividly to the
+end of my days. Dorothy had received a slight wound upon the temple, and
+blood was trickling down her face upon her neck and ruff. Her hair had
+fallen from its fastenings. She had lost her hat, and her gown was torn in
+shreds and covered with mud. I lifted the half-conscious girl to her feet
+and supported her; then with my kerchief I bound up the wound upon her
+temple.
+
+"Poor Dolcy," she said, almost incoherently, "I have killed her and I have
+failed--I have failed. Now I am ready to die. Would that I had died with
+Dolcy. Let me lie down here, Malcolm,--let me lie down."
+
+I still held her in my arms and supported her half-fainting form.
+
+"Why are you here?" demanded Sir George.
+
+"To die," responded Dorothy.
+
+"To die? Damned nonsense!" returned her father.
+
+"How came you here, you fool?"
+
+"On Dolcy. She is dead," returned Dorothy.
+
+"Were you not at Haddon when we left there?" asked her father.
+
+"Yes," she replied.
+
+"Did you pass us on the road?" he asked.
+
+"How came you here?" Sir George insisted.
+
+"Oh, I flew hither. I am a witch. Don't question me, father. I am in no
+temper to listen to you. I warn you once and for all, keep away from me;
+beware of me. I have a dagger in my bosom. Go and do the work you came to
+do; but remember this, father, if harm comes to him I will take my own
+life, and my blood shall be upon your soul."
+
+"My God, Malcolm, what does she mean?" asked Sir George, touched with fear
+by the strength of his daughter's threat. "Has she lost her wits?"
+
+"No," the girl quickly responded, "I have only just found them."
+
+Sir George continued to question Dorothy, but he received no further
+response from her. She simply held up the palm of her hand warningly
+toward him, and the gesture was as eloquent as an oration. She leaned
+against me, and covered her face with her hands, while her form shook and
+trembled as if with a palsy.
+
+Cecil and Sir William St. Loe then went toward the gate, and Sir George
+said to me:--
+
+"I must go with them. You remain with Doll, and see that she is taken
+home. Procure a horse for her. If she is unable to ride, make a litter, or
+perhaps there is a coach in the castle; if so, take possession of it. Take
+her home by some means when we return. What, think you, could have brought
+her here?"
+
+I evaded the question by replying, "I will probably be able to get a coach
+in the castle, Sir George. Leave Dorothy with me."
+
+Soon, by the command of Sir William, the yeomen rode to the right and to
+the left for the purpose of surrounding the castle, and then I heard Cecil
+at the gates demanding:--
+
+"Open in the name of the queen."
+
+"Let us go to the gates," said Dorothy, "that we may hear what they say
+and see what they do. Will they kill him here, think you?" she asked,
+looking wildly into my face.
+
+The flambeaux on the castle gate and those which the link-boys had brought
+with them from Haddon were lighted, and the scene in front of the gate was
+all aglow.
+
+"No, no, my sweet one," I answered, "perhaps they will not kill him at
+all. Certainly they will not kill him now. They must try him first."
+
+I tried to dissuade her from going to the gates, but she insisted, and I
+helped her to walk forward.
+
+When Dorothy and I reached the gates, we found that Cecil and Lord Rutland
+were holding a consultation through the parley-window. The portcullis was
+still down, and the gates were closed; but soon the portcullis was
+raised, a postern was opened from within, and Sir William entered the
+castle with two score of the yeomen guards.
+
+Sir George approached and again plied Dorothy with questions, but she
+would not speak. One would have thought from her attitude that she was
+deaf and dumb. She seemed unconscious of her father's presence.
+
+"She has lost her mind," said Sir George, in tones of deep trouble, "and I
+know not what to do."
+
+"Leave her with me for a time, cousin. I am sure she will be better if we
+do not question her now."
+
+Then Dorothy seemed to awaken. "Malcolm is right, father. Leave me for a
+time, I pray you."
+
+Sir George left us, and waited with a party of yeomen a short distance
+from the gate for the return of Sir William with his prisoners.
+
+Dorothy and I sat upon a stone bench, near the postern through which Sir
+William and the guardsmen had entered, but neither of us spoke.
+
+After a long, weary time of waiting Sir William came out of the castle
+through the postern, and with him came Mary Stuart. My heart jumped when I
+saw her in the glare of the flambeaux, and the spirit of my dead love for
+her came begging admission to my heart. I cannot describe my sensations
+when I beheld her, but this I knew, that my love for her was dead past
+resurrection.
+
+Following Mary came Lord Rutland, and immediately following his Lordship
+walked John. When he stepped through the postern, Dorothy sprang to her
+feet and ran to him with a cry, "John, John!"
+
+He looked at her in surprise, and stepped toward her with evident intent
+to embrace her. His act was probably the result of an involuntary impulse,
+for he stopped before he reached the girl.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Sir George had gone at Sir William's request to arrange the guards for
+the return march.
+
+Dorothy and John were standing within two yards of each other.
+
+"Do not touch me," cried Dorothy, "save to strike me If you will. The evil
+which has come upon you is of my doing. I betrayed you to the queen."
+
+I saw Mary turn quickly toward the girl when she uttered those words.
+
+"I was insane when I did it," continued Dorothy. "They will take your
+life, John. But when you die I also shall die. It is a poor reparation, I
+know, but it is the only one I can make."
+
+"I do not understand you, Dorothy," said John. "Why should you betray me?"
+
+"I cannot tell you," she answered. "All I know is that I did betray you
+and I hardly know how I did it. It all seems like a dream--like a fearful
+monster of the night. There is no need for me to explain. I betrayed you
+and now I suffer for it, more a thousand-fold than you can possibly
+suffer. I offer no excuse. I have none. I simply betrayed you, and ask
+only that I may die with you."
+
+Then was manifest in John's heart the noblest quality which God has given
+to man--charity, strengthened by reason. His face glowed with a light that
+seemed saintlike, and a grand look of ineffable love and pity came to his
+eyes. He seemed as if by inspiration to understand all that Dorothy had
+felt and done, and he knew that if she had betrayed him she had done it at
+a time when she was not responsible for her acts. He stepped quickly to
+the girl's side, and caring naught that we all should see him, caught her
+to his breast. He held her in his arms, and the light of the flambeaux
+fell upon her upturned face.
+
+"Dorothy," he said, "it matters not what you have done; you are my only
+love. I ask no explanation. If you have betrayed me to death, though I
+hope it will not come to that evil, you did not do it because you did not
+love me."
+
+"No, no, John, you know that," sobbed the girl.
+
+"I do know it, Dorothy; I know all that I wish to know. You would not
+intentionally bring evil upon me while you love me."
+
+"Ah, that I do, John; only God knows how deeply, how desperately. My love
+was the cause--my love was my curse--it was your curse."
+
+"Do not weep, Dorothy," said John, interrupting her. "I would that I could
+take all your suffering upon myself. Do not weep."
+
+Dorothy buried her face upon his breast and tears came to her relief. She
+was not alone in her weeping, for there stood I like a very woman, and by
+my side stood rough old Sir William. Tears were coursing down the bronzed
+cheek of the grand old warrior like drops of glistening dew upon the
+harrowed face of a mountain rock. When I saw Sir William's tears, I could
+no longer restrain my emotions, and I frankly tell you that I made a
+spectacle of myself in full view of the queen's yeoman guard.
+
+Sir George approached our little group, and when he saw Dorothy in John's
+arms, he broke forth into oaths and stepped toward her intending to force
+her away. But John held up the palm of his free hand warningly toward Sir
+George, and drawing the girl's drooping form close to his breast he spoke
+calmly:--
+
+"Old man, if you but lay a finger on this girl, I will kill you where you
+stand. No power on earth can save you."
+
+There was a tone in John's voice that forced even Sir George to pause.
+Then Sir George turned to me.
+
+"This is the man who was in my house. He is the man who called himself
+Thomas. Do you know him?"
+
+Dorothy saved me from the humiliation of an answer.
+
+She took one step from John's side and held him by the hand while she
+spoke.
+
+"Father," she said, "this man is Sir John Manners. Now you may understand
+why he could not seek my hand openly, and you also know why I could not
+tell you his name." She again turned to John, and he put his arm about
+her. You can imagine much better that I can describe Sir George's fury. He
+snatched a halberd from the hands of a yeoman who was standing near by and
+started toward John and Dorothy. Thereupon the hard old warrior, Sir
+William St. Loe, whose heart one would surely say was the last place where
+sentiment could dwell, performed a little act of virtue which will balance
+many a page on the debtor side of his ledger of life. He lifted his sword
+and scabbard and struck Sir George's outstretched hand, causing the
+halberd to fall to the ground.
+
+"Don't touch the girl," cried Sir William, hoarsely.
+
+"She is my daughter," retorted Sir George, who was stunned mentally as
+well as physically by Sir William's blow.
+
+"I care not whose daughter she is," returned Sir William. "You shall not
+touch her. If you make but one other attempt, I will use my blade upon
+you."
+
+Sir William and John had been warm friends at London court, and the old
+captain of the guards quickly guessed the true situation when he saw
+Dorothy run to John's arms.
+
+"Sir, you shall answer for this," said Sir George, angrily, to Sir
+William.
+
+"With pleasure," returned Sir William. "I will give you satisfaction
+whenever you wish it, save this present time. I am too busy now."
+
+Blessed old Sir William! You have been dead these many winters; and were I
+a priest, I would say a mass for your soul gratis every day in the year.
+
+"Did the girl betray us?" asked Queen Mary.
+
+No one answered her question. Then she turned toward Sir John and touched
+him upon the shoulder. He turned his face toward her, signifying that he
+was listening.
+
+"Who is this girl?" Mary demanded.
+
+"My sweetheart, my affianced wife," John answered.
+
+"She says she betrayed us," the queen responded.
+
+"Yes," said John.
+
+"Did you trust her with knowledge of our presence in Rutland?" Mary
+demanded angrily.
+
+"I did," he answered.
+
+"You were a fool," said Mary.
+
+"I know it," responded John.
+
+"You certainly bear her no resentment for her treason," said Mary.
+
+"I certainly do not," quietly answered John. "Her suffering is greater
+than mine. Can you not see that it is?"
+
+"It is your privilege," said Mary, scornfully, "to intrust your own
+secrets to whomsoever you may choose for your confidant, and it is quite
+saintlike in you to forgive this person for betraying you; but what think
+you of the hard case in which her treason and your folly have placed me?"
+
+"That is my greatest grief, save for Dorothy," answered John, softly.
+Lived there ever a man possessed of broader charity or deeper love than
+John? God surely made him of gold dust, not of common clay.
+
+Queen Mary stepped away from John in disgust, and when she turned she saw
+me for the first time. She started and was about to speak, but I placed my
+fingers warningly upon my lips and she remained silent.
+
+"Where do you take us, Sir William?" asked John.
+
+"To Haddon Hall. There you will await the commands of the queen."
+
+"How came you here?" John asked gently of Dorothy.
+
+"I rode Dolcy," she whispered. "She dropped dead at the foot of the hill.
+Yonder she lies. I came up the Lathkil by the long road, and I hoped that
+I might reach you in time to give warning. When the guard left Haddon I
+realized the evil that would come upon you by reason of my base betrayal."
+Here she broke down and for a moment could not proceed in the narrative.
+She soon recovered and continued: "Then I mounted Dolcy, and tried to
+reach here by way of the long road. Poor Dolcy seemed to understand my
+trouble and my despair, and she brought me with all the speed that a horse
+could make; but the road was too long and too rough; and she failed, and I
+failed. Would that I could have died in her place. She gave her life in
+trying to remedy my fault."
+
+Dorothy again began to weep, and John tenderly whispered:--
+
+"All will yet come right" Then he kissed her before us all, and handed her
+to me saying, "Care for her, I pray you, sir."
+
+John spoke a few words to Sir William, and in a moment they both went back
+to the castle.
+
+In a short time the gates were opened, and the Rutland coach drawn by four
+horses emerged from the castle grounds. Sir William then directed Mary and
+Dorothy to enter the coach and requested me to ride with them to Haddon
+Hall.
+
+The yeoman guards were in marching order, and I took my seat in the coach.
+The fates surely were in a humorous mood when they threw Dorothy, Queen
+Mary, and myself together. Pause for a moment and consider the situation.
+You know all the facts and you can analyze it as well as I. I could not
+help laughing at the fantastic trick of destiny.
+
+Soon after I entered the coach Sir William gave the word, and the yeomen
+with Lord Rutland and John moved forward on the road to Haddon.
+
+The coach at once followed the guard and a score of yeomen followed us.
+
+Queen Mary occupied the back seat of the coach, and Dorothy and I sat upon
+the front seat facing her.
+
+Dorothy was exhausted, and her head lay upon my shoulder. Now and again
+she would softly moan and sob, but she said nothing.
+
+After a few minutes of silence Queen Mary spoke:--
+
+"Why did you betray me, you miserable wretch? Why did you betray me?"
+
+Dorothy did not answer. Mary continued:--
+
+"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.
+
+"I can easily believe you," said Mary, sharply. "Did you expect to injure
+me?"
+
+No answer came from Dorothy.
+
+"If you expect to injure me," Mary continued, "you will be disappointed. I
+am a queen, and my Cousin Elizabeth would not dare to harm me, even though
+she might wish to do so. We are of the same blood, and she will not wish
+to do me injury. Your doting lover will probably lose his head for
+bringing me to England without his queen's consent. He is her subject. I
+am not. I wish you joy of the trouble you have brought upon him and upon
+yourself."
+
+"Upon him!" cried Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, upon him," continued Mary, relishing the torture she was inflicting.
+"You will enjoy seeing him beheaded, will you not, you fool, you huzzy,
+you wretch? I hope his death will haunt you till the end of your days."
+
+Poor Dorothy, leaning against me, said faintly:--
+
+"It will--it will. You--you devil."
+
+The girl was almost dead from exhaustion and anguish, but she would have
+been dead indeed had she lacked the power to strike back. I believe had it
+not been for Dorothy's physical weakness she would have silenced Mary with
+her hands.
+
+After a little time Dorothy's heavy breathing indicated that she had
+fallen asleep. Her head rested upon my shoulder, and the delicious perfume
+of her hair and the sweet warm breath from her lips were almost
+intoxicating even to me, though I was not in love with her. How great must
+their effect have been coming upon John hot from her intense young soul!
+
+As the link-boys passed the coach some and some with their flambeaux I
+could see Dorothy's sweet pale face, almost hidden in the tangled golden
+red hair which fell in floods about her. The perfect oval of her cheek,
+the long wet lashes, the arched eyebrows, the low broad forehead, the
+straight nose, the saucy chin--all presented a picture of beauty and
+pathos sufficient to soften a heart of stone. Mary had no heart of any
+sort, therefore she was not moved to pity. That emotion, I am sure, she
+never felt from the first to the last day of her life. She continued to
+probe Dorothy's wound until I told her the girl was asleep. I changed
+Dorothy's position and placed her head against the corner cushion of the
+coach that she might rest more comfortably. She did not awaken when I
+moved her. She slept and looked like a child. For a little time after I
+had changed Dorothy's position Mary and I sat in silence. She was the
+first to speak. She leaned forward and placing her hands upon mine,
+whispered my name:--
+
+"Malcolm!"
+
+After a brief silence I said:--
+
+"What would you, your Majesty?"
+
+"Not 'your Majesty'" said Mary, softly, "but Mary, as of old."
+
+She remained for a moment with her hand upon my knee, and then
+whispered:--
+
+"Will you not sit by me, Malcolm?"
+
+I believe that Mary Stuart's voice was the charm wherewith she fascinated
+men. I resisted to my utmost strength, but that seemed to be little more
+than utter weakness; so I took a seat by her side, and she gently placed
+her hand in mine. The warm touch of her strong, delicate fingers gave me a
+familiar thrill. She asked me to tell her of my wanderings since I had
+left Scotland, and I briefly related all my adventures. I told her of my
+home at Haddon Hall and of the welcome given me by my cousin, Sir George.
+
+"Malcolm, have you forgotten?" she whispered, leaning gently against me.
+"Have you forgotten our old-time vows and love? Have you forgotten all
+that passed between us in the dear old château, when I gave to you my
+virgin love, fresh from my virgin heart?" I sighed and tried to harden my
+heart to her blandishments, for I knew she wished to use me and was
+tempting me to that end. She continued, "I was then only fourteen years
+old--ten years ago. You said that you loved me and I believed you. You
+could not doubt, after the proof I gave to you, that my heart was all
+yours. We were happy, oh, so happy. Do you remember, Malcolm?"
+
+She brought her face close to mine while she spoke, and pressed my hand
+upon her breast.
+
+My reason told me that it was but the song of the siren she was singing to
+my ears. My memory told me that she had been false to me twice two score
+times, and I knew full well she would again be false to me, or to any
+other man whom she could use for her purposes, and that she cared not the
+price at which she purchased him. Bear in mind, you who would blame me for
+my fall, that this woman not only was transcendently beautiful and fatally
+fascinating, but she was a queen and had held undisputed sway over my
+heart for more years than I could accurately number. As I said, added to
+all her beauty, she was a queen. If you have never known royalty, you
+cannot understand its enthralling power.
+
+"I remember it all, madam," I replied, trying to hold myself away from
+her. "It is fresh to me as if it all had happened yesterday." The queen
+drew my arm closely to her side and nestled her cheek for an instant upon
+my shoulder.
+
+"I remember also," I continued, "your marriage with Darnley when I had
+your promise that you would marry me; and, shame upon shame, I remember
+your marriage with Darnley's murderer, Bothwell."
+
+"Cruel, cruel, Malcolm," she said. "You well know the overpowering
+reasons of state which impelled me to sacrifice my own happiness by
+marrying Darnley. I told you at the time that I hated the marriage more
+than I dreaded death. But I longed to quiet the factions in Scotland, and
+I hoped to save my poor bleeding people from the evils of war. You know I
+hated Darnley. You know I loved you. You knew then and you know now that
+you are the only man who has ever possessed my heart. You know that my
+words are true. You know that you, alone, have had my love since the time
+when I was a child."
+
+"And Rizzio?" I asked.
+
+"Ah, Malcolm," she answered tearfully, "I hope you, of all men, do not
+believe that I ever gave a thought of love to Rizzio. He was to me like my
+pet monkey or my favorite falcon. He was a beautiful, gentle, harmless
+soul. I loved him for his music. He worshipped me as did my spaniel."
+
+Still I was determined that her blandishments should not move me.
+
+"And Bothwell?" I asked.
+
+"That is past endurance from you, Malcolm," she said, beginning to weep.
+"You know I was brutally abducted and was forced into marriage with him.
+He was an outlaw, an outcast. He was an uncouth brute whom any woman would
+loathe. I was in his power, and I feigned acquiescence only that I might
+escape and achieve vengeance upon him. Tell me, Malcolm, tell me,"
+continued Mary, placing her arms about my neck and clinging to me, "tell
+me, you, to whom I gave my maiden's love, you who have my woman's heart,
+tell me, do you believe that I could willingly have married Bothwell, even
+though my heart had not been filled with the image of you, who are strong,
+gentle, and beautiful?"
+
+You, if you are a man, may think that in my place you would have resisted
+the attack of this beautiful queen, but if so you think--pardon me, my
+friend--you are a fool. Under the spell of her magic influence I wavered
+in the conviction which had long since come upon me, that I had for years
+been her fool and her dupe. I forgot the former lessons I had learned from
+her perfidy. I forgot my manhood. I forgot all of good that had of late
+grown up in me. God help me, I forgot even Madge.
+
+"If I could only believe you, Mary," I answered, growing insane under the
+influence of her fascinations, "If I could only believe you."
+
+"Give me your lips, Malcolm," she whispered, "give me your lips.--Again,
+my Malcolm.--Ah, now you believe me."
+
+The lying logic of a wanton kiss is irresistible. I was drunk and, alas! I
+was convinced. When I think of that time, Samson is my only
+comfort--Samson and a few hundred million other fools, who like Samson and
+me have been wheedled, kissed, and duped into misery and ruin.
+
+I said: "I do believe you, Mary. I beg you to forgive me for having
+doubted you. You have been traduced and brutally misused."
+
+"It is sweet to hear you speak those words. But it is better to think that
+at last we have come together with nothing to part us save that I am a
+prisoner in the hands of my vindictive, jealous cousin. I thank God that
+my kingdom of Scotland has been taken from me. I ever hated the Scots.
+They are an ignorant, unkempt, wry-necked, stubborn, filthy race. But,
+above all, my crown stood between you and me. I may now be a woman, and
+were it not for Elizabeth, you and I could yet find solace in each other
+for all our past sufferings. Malcolm, I have a sweet thought. If I could
+escape to fair, beautiful France, all would be happiness for us. You could
+claim your mother's estates in the balmy south, and we might live upon
+them. Help me, my Malcolm, to escape, and your reward shall be greater and
+sweeter than man ever before received from woman."
+
+I struggled against her blandishments for a moment, but I was lost.
+
+"You shall escape and I will go with you," said I. Man needs to make but
+one little prayer to God, "Lead me not into temptation." That prayer
+answered, all else of good will follow.
+
+The morning sun had just begun to rise over Bowling Green Hill and the
+shadows of the night were fleeing before his lances, when our cavalcade
+entered the grounds of Haddon at the dove-cote. If there were two suns
+revolving about the earth, one to shine upon us by night and one by day,
+much evil would be averted. Men do evil in the dark because others cannot
+see them; they think evil in the dark because they cannot see themselves.
+
+With the first faint gray of dawn there came to me thoughts of Madge. I
+had forgotten her, but her familiar spirit, the light, brought me back to
+its fair mistress.
+
+When our coach reached the stone bridge I looked up to the Hall and saw
+Madge standing at the open casement of the tower window. She had been
+watching there all night, I learned, hoping for our speedy and safe
+return, and had been warned of our approach by the noise of the tramping
+guard. I drew back from the coach window, feeling that I was an evil shade
+slinking away before the spirit of light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+LIGHT
+
+
+Dorothy had awakened while we were entering Rowsley, and I was glad that
+Mary could not touch me again.
+
+When our coach reached the stone steps of the entrance tower we found Sir
+George, Lady Crawford, and Madge waiting to receive us. The steps and the
+path leading to them had been carpeted with soft rugs, and Mary, although
+a prisoner, was received with ceremonies befitting her rank. It was a
+proud day for Sir George when the roof of his beautiful Hall sheltered the
+two most famous queens of christendom.
+
+Sir George assisted Mary from the coach most graciously, and in knightly
+fashion led her to Lady Crawford and Madge, who were standing at the foot
+of the tower steps. Due presentations were made, and the ladies of Haddon
+having kissed the queen's hand, Mary went into the Hall upon the arm of
+his Majesty, the King of the Peak, who stepped forward most proudly.
+
+His resentment against Dorothy was for the moment neutralized by the great
+honor of which his house and himself were the recipients.
+
+John and Lord Rutland were taken to the dungeon.
+
+I assisted Dorothy from the coach and led her to Madge, who was waiting
+for us upon the lowest of the steps leading to the entrance tower doorway.
+Dorothy took Madge's outstretched hand; but Madge, by some strange
+instinct, knowing of my presence, turned her face toward me. I could not
+lift my eyes to her face, nor could I endure to remain in her presence.
+While we were ascending the steps she held out her hand to me and said:--
+
+"Is all well with you, Malcolm?" Her voice was full of tender concern, and
+it pained me to the heart to hear her speak kindly to me, who was so
+unworthy of her smallest thought.
+
+"Yes, Lady--yes, Madge," I responded; but she knew from the tones of my
+voice that all was not right with me.
+
+"I fear, Malcolm, that you do not tell me the truth. You will come to me
+soon?" she asked.
+
+"I may not be able to go to you soon," I answered, "but I will do so at
+the first opportunity."
+
+The torture of her kindness was almost unbearable to me. One touch of her
+hand, one tone of her rare voice, had made me loathe myself. The powers of
+evil cannot stand for one moment in a fair conflict with the powers of
+good. I felt that I, alone, was to blame for my treason to Madge; but
+despite my effort at self-condemnation there was an under-consciousness
+that Mary Stuart was to blame, and I hated her accordingly. Although
+Madge's presence hurt me, it was not because I wished to conceal my
+conduct from her. I knew that I could be happy again only after I had
+confessed to her and had received forgiveness.
+
+Madge, who was blind of sight, led Dorothy, who was piteously blind of
+soul, and the two girls went to their apartments.
+
+Curiosity is not foreign even to the royal female breast, and while Mary
+Stuart was entering Haddon Hall, I saw the luminous head of the Virgin
+Queen peeked out at a casement on the second floor watching her rival with
+all the curiosity of a Dutch woman sitting by her window mirror.
+
+I went to my room in Eagle Tower, fell upon my bed, and abandoned myself
+to an anguish of soul which was almost luxurious. I shall not tease you
+with the details of my mental and moral processes. I hung in the balance a
+long time undetermined what course I should pursue. The difference between
+the influence of Mary and the effect wrought by Madge was the difference
+between the intoxication and the exhilaration of wine. Following the
+intoxication of Mary's presence ever came a torturing reaction, while the
+exhilarating influence of Madge gave health and strength. I chose the
+latter. I have always been glad I reached that determination without the
+aid of any impulse outside of myself; for events soon happened which again
+drove all faith in Mary from my heart forever. Those events would have
+forced me to abandon my trust in her; but mind you, I took my good resolve
+from inclination rather than necessity before I learned of Mary's perfidy.
+
+The events of the night had exhausted Dorothy, and she was confined to her
+bed by illness for the first time in her life. She believed that she was
+dying, and she did not want to live. I did not go to her apartments. Madge
+remained with her, and I, coward-like, feared to face the girl to whom I
+had been untrue.
+
+Dorothy's one and only desire, of course, was to see John, but that desire
+for a time seemed impossible of accomplishment.
+
+Elizabeth, Cecil, Leicester, and Sir William St. Loe were in secret
+consultation many times during three or four days and nights. Occasionally
+Sir George was called into their councils, and that flattering attention
+so wrought upon the old man's pride that he was a slave to the queen's
+slightest wish, and was more tyrannical and dictatorial than ever before
+to all the rest of mankind. There were, however, two persons besides the
+queen before whom Sir George was gracious: one of these was Mary Stuart,
+whose powers of fascination had been brought to bear upon the King of the
+Peak most effectively. The other was Leicester, to whom, as my cousin
+expressed it, he hoped to dispose of that troublesome and disturbing
+body--Dorothy. These influences, together with the fact that his enemies
+of Rutland were in the Haddon dungeon, had given Sir George a spleen-vent,
+and Dorothy, even in the face of her father's discovery that Manners was
+her mysterious lover, had for once a respite from Sir George's just and
+mighty wrath.
+
+The purpose of Elizabeth's many councils of war was to devise some means
+of obtaining from John and his father, information concerning the plot,
+which had resulted in bringing Mary Stuart into England. The ultimate
+purpose of Mary's visit, Elizabeth's counsellors firmly believed to be the
+dethronement of the English queen and the enthronement of her Scottish
+cousin. Elizabeth, in her heart, felt confident that John and his father
+were not parties to the treasonable plot, although she had been warned
+against each of them. Cecil and Sir William St. Loe also secretly held to
+that opinion, though neither of them expressed it, Elizabeth was conscious
+of having given to John while at London court an intimation that she would
+be willing that Mary should visit England. Of such intimation Cecil and
+Sir William had no knowledge, though they, together with many persons of
+the Court, believed that Elizabeth was not entirely averse to Mary's
+presence.
+
+Lord Rutland and John were questioned by Cecil in the hope of obtaining
+some hints which might lead to the detection of those concerned in the
+chief plot, provided such plot existed. But Lord Rutland knew nothing of
+the affair except that John had brought the Scottish queen from Scotland,
+and John persisted in the statement that he had no confederate and that he
+knew nothing of any plot to place Mary upon the English throne.
+
+John said: "I received from Queen Mary's friends in Scotland letters
+asking me to meet her on the border, and requesting me to conduct her to
+my father's castle. Those letters mentioned no Englishman but myself, and
+they stated that Queen Mary's flight to England was to be undertaken with
+the tacit consent of our gracious queen. That fact, the letters told me,
+our queen wished should not be known. There were reasons of state, the
+letters said, which made it impolitic for our queen openly to invite Queen
+Mary to seek sanctuary in England. I received those letters before I left
+Westminster. Upon the day when I received them, I heard our gracious queen
+say that she would gladly invite Queen Mary to England, were it not for
+the fact that such an invitation would cause trouble between her and the
+regent, Murray. Her Majesty at the same time intimated that she would be
+glad if Mary Stuart should come to England uninvited." John turned to
+Elizabeth, "I beg your Majesty, in justice, to ratify my words." Elizabeth
+hesitated for a moment after John's appeal; but her love of justice came
+to her rescue and she hung her head as she said, "You are right, Sir
+John." Then she looked her counsellors in the face and said, "I well
+remember that I so expressed myself."
+
+"In truth," said John, "I having only an hour before received the letter
+from Scotland, believed that your Majesty's words were meant for my ear. I
+felt that your Majesty knew of the letters, and I thought that I should be
+carrying out your royal wishes should I bring Queen Mary into England
+without your knowledge."
+
+The queen responded: "I then felt that I wished Queen Mary to seek refuge
+in my kingdom, but so many untoward events have transpired since I spoke
+on the subject at Westminster that I have good cause to change my mind,
+though I easily understand how you might have been misled by my words."
+
+"I am sure," replied John, "that your Majesty has had good cause to change
+your mind; but I protest in all sincerity that I considered the Scottish
+letters to be a command from my queen."
+
+Elizabeth was a strange combination of paradoxes. No one could be truer
+than she to a fixed determination once taken. No one could be swayed by
+doubt so easily as she to change her mind sixty times in the space of a
+minute. During one moment she was minded to liberate John and Lord
+Rutland; in the next she determined to hold them in prison, hoping to
+learn from them some substantial fact concerning the plot which, since
+Mary's arrival in England, had become a nightmare to her. But, with all
+her vagaries the Virgin Queen surely loved justice. That quality, alone,
+makes a sovereign great. Elizabeth, like her mother, Anne Boleyn, had
+great faith in her personal beauty; like her father, she had unbounded
+confidence in her powers of mind. She took great pride in the ease with
+which she controlled persons. She believed that no one was so adroit as
+Elizabeth Tudor in extracting secrets from others, and in unravelling
+mysterious situations, nor so cunning in hunting out plots and in running
+down plotters. In all such matters she delighted to act secretly and
+alone.
+
+During the numerous councils held at Haddon, Elizabeth allowed Cecil to
+question John to his heart's content; but while she listened she
+formulated a plan of her own which she was sure would be effective in
+extracting all the truth from John, if all the truth had not already been
+extracted. Elizabeth kept her cherished plan to herself. It was this:--
+
+She would visit Dorothy, whom she knew to be ill, and would by her subtle
+art steal from John's sweetheart all that the girl knew of the case. If
+John had told Dorothy part of the affair concerning Mary Stuart, he had
+probably told her all, and Elizabeth felt confident that she could easily
+pump the girl dry. She did not know Dorothy. Accordingly our queen,
+Elizabeth, the adroit, went to Dorothy's room under the pretence of paying
+the girl a gracious visit. Dorothy wished to arise and receive her royal
+guest, but Elizabeth said gently:--
+
+"Do not arise, Dorothy; rest quietly, and I will sit here beside you on
+the bed. I have come to tell you that you must recover your health at
+once. We miss you greatly in the Hall."
+
+No one could be more gracious than Elizabeth when the humor was upon her;
+though, in truth, the humor was often lacking.
+
+"Let us send all save you and me from the room," said the queen, "that we
+may have a quiet little chat together."
+
+All who were in the room save Dorothy and Elizabeth of course departed at
+once.
+
+When the door was closed, the queen said: "I wish to thank you for telling
+me of the presence of her Scottish Majesty at Rutland. You know there is a
+plot on foot to steal my throne from me."
+
+"God forbid that there should be such a plot," replied Dorothy, resting
+upon her elbow in the bed.
+
+"I fear it is only too true that there is such a plot," returned
+Elizabeth, "and I owe you a great debt of gratitude for warning me of the
+Scottish queen's presence in my kingdom."
+
+"I hope the danger will be averted from your Majesty," said Dorothy; "but
+that which I did will cause my death--it will kill me. No human being ever
+before has lived through the agony I have suffered since that terrible
+night. I was a traitress. I betrayed the man who is dearer to me than my
+immortal soul. He says that he forgives me, but your Majesty knows that my
+fault is beyond forgiveness."
+
+"Sir John is a noble gentleman, child," said the queen. "I hope that he is
+loyal to me, but I fear--I fear."
+
+"Do not doubt, do not fear, my queen," returned Dorothy, eagerly; "there
+is nothing false in him."
+
+"Do you love him deeply, little one?" asked the queen.
+
+"No words can tell you my love for him," answered the girl. "I feel shame
+to say that he has taken even the holy God's place in my heart. Perhaps it
+is for that sin that God now punishes me."
+
+"Fear not on that score, Dorothy," replied the queen. "God will not punish
+you for feeling the love which He Himself has put into your heart. I would
+willingly give my crown could I feel such love for a worthy man who would
+in return love me for myself. But I cannot feel, nor can I have faith.
+Self-interest, which is so dominant in all men, frightens me, and I doubt
+their vows."
+
+"Surely, any man would love you for your own sake," said Dorothy,
+tenderly.
+
+"It may be that you speak truly, child; but I cannot know when men's vows
+are true nor when they are false. The real trouble is within myself. If I
+could but feel truly, I could interpret truthfully."
+
+"Ah, your Majesty," interrupted Dorothy, "you do not know the thing for
+which you are wishing; it is a torture worse than death; it is an ecstasy
+sweeter than heaven. It is killing me. I pity you, though you are a queen,
+if you have never felt it."
+
+"Would you do anything I might ask of you, if you could thereby save Sir
+John's life?" asked the queen.
+
+"Ah, I would gladly give my soul to save him," responded Dorothy, with
+tears in her eyes and eagerness in her voice. "Oh, my queen, do not lead
+me to hope, and then plunge me again into despair. Give me no
+encouragement unless you mean to free him. As for my part, take my life
+and spare John's. Kill me by torture, burn me at the stake, stretch me
+upon the rack till my joints are severed and my flesh is torn asunder. Let
+me die by inches, my queen; but spare him, oh, spare him, and do with me
+as you will. Ask from me what you wish. Gladly will I do all that you may
+demand; gladly will I welcome death and call it sweet, if I can thereby
+save him. The faint hope your Majesty's words hold out makes me strong
+again. Come, come, take my life; take all that I can give. Give me him."
+
+"Do you believe that I am an ogress thirsting for blood, Dorothy, that you
+offer me your life for his? You can purchase Sir John's life at a much
+smaller cost." Dorothy rose to the queen with a cry, and put her arms
+about her neck. "You may purchase his freedom," continued the queen, "and
+you may serve your loving queen at one and the same time, if you wish to
+do so."
+
+Dorothy had sunk back into the bed, and Elizabeth was sitting close by her
+side; but when the queen spoke she turned her head on the pillow and
+kissed the royal hand which was resting upon the coverlid.
+
+"Ah, you are so good, so true, and so beautiful," said Dorothy.
+
+Her familiarity toward the queen was sweet to the woman, to whom it was
+new.
+
+Dorothy did not thank the queen for her graciousness. She did not reply
+directly to her offer. She simply said:--
+
+"John has told me many times that he was first attracted to me because I
+resembled you."
+
+The girl had ample faith in her own beauty, and knew full well the subtle
+flattery which lay in her words. "He said," she continued, "that my hair
+in some faint degree resembled yours, but he said it was not of so
+beautiful a hue. I have loved my hair ever since the day he told me that
+it resembled your Majesty's." The girl leaned forward toward the queen and
+gently kissed the royal locks. They no more resembled Dorothy's hair than
+brick dust resembles the sheen of gold.
+
+The queen glanced at the reflection of her hair in the mirror and it
+flatly contradicted Dorothy. But the girl's words were backed by
+Elizabeth's vanity, and the adroit flattery went home.
+
+"Ah, my child," exclaimed her Majesty softly, as she leaned forward and
+kissed Dorothy's fair cheek.
+
+Dorothy wept gently for a moment and familiarly rested her face upon the
+queen's breast. Then she entwined her white arms about Elizabeth's neck
+and turned her glorious eyes up to the queen's face that her Majesty might
+behold their wondrous beauty and feel the flattery of the words she was
+about to utter.
+
+"He said also," continued Dorothy, "that my eyes in some slight degree
+resembled your Majesty's, but he qualified his compliment by telling
+me--he did not exactly tell me that my eyes were not so large and
+brilliant as your Majesty's, for he was making love to me, and of course
+he would not have dared to say that my eyes were not the most perfect on
+earth; but he did say that--at least I know that he meant--that my eyes,
+while they resembled yours, were hardly so glorious, and--and I am very
+jealous of your Majesty. John will be leaving me to worship at your feet."
+
+Elizabeth's eyes were good enough. The French called them "marcassin,"
+that is, wild boar's eyes. They were little and sparkling; they were not
+luminous and large like Dorothy's, and the girl's flattery was rank.
+Elizabeth, however, saw Dorothy's eyes and believed her words rather than
+the reply of the lying mirror, and her Majesty's heart was soft from the
+girl's kneading. Consider, I pray you, the serpent-like wisdom displayed
+by Dorothy's method of attack upon the queen. She did not ask for John's
+liberty. She did not seek it. She sought only to place John softly on
+Elizabeth's heart. Some natures absorb flattery as the desert sands absorb
+the unfrequent rain, and Elizabeth--but I will speak no ill of her. She is
+the greatest and the best sovereign England has ever had. May God send to
+my beloved country others like her. She had many small shortcomings; but I
+have noticed that those persons who spend their evil energies in little
+faults have less force left for greater ones. I will show you a mystery:
+Little faults are personally more disagreeable and rasping to us than
+great ones. Like flying grains of sand upon a windy day, they vex us
+constantly. Great faults come like an avalanche, but they come less
+frequently, and we often admire their possessor, who sooner or later is
+apt to become our destroyer.
+
+"I can hardly tell you," said Dorothy in response to a question by
+Elizabeth, "I can hardly tell you why I informed your Majesty of Queen
+Mary's presence at Rutland. I did it partly for love of your Majesty and
+partly because I was jealous of that white, plain woman from Scotland."
+
+"She is not a plain woman, is she?" said Elizabeth, delighted to hear Mary
+of Scotland so spoken of for once. One way to flatter some women is to
+berate those whom they despise or fear. Elizabeth loved Dorothy better for
+the hatred which the girl bore to Mary. Both stood upon a broad plane of
+mutual sympathy-jealousy of the same woman. It united the queen and the
+maiden in a common heart-touching cause.
+
+Dorothy's confidence grew apace. "She is plain," replied Dorothy,
+poutingly. "She appears plain, colorless, and repulsive by the side of
+your Majesty."
+
+"No, no, Dorothy, that cannot be," returned Queen Elizabeth, gently
+patting. Dorothy's cheek and glancing stealthily at the reflection of her
+own face in the mirror. At this point Dorothy considered that the time had
+come for a direct attack.
+
+"Your Majesty need have no fear of a plot to place Queen Mary upon your
+throne. The English people would not endure her wicked pale face for a
+moment."
+
+"But there is such a plot in existence," said Elizabeth.
+
+"What you say may be true," returned Dorothy; "but, your Majesty, John is
+not in the plot, and he knows nothing of it."
+
+"I hope--I believe--he is not in the plot," said Elizabeth, "but I fear--"
+
+The girl kissed the sleeve of Elizabeth's gown, and then she drew the
+queen closer to her and kissed her hair and her face.
+
+"Ah, my beauteous queen," said Dorothy, "I thank you for those words. You
+must know that John loves you, and is your loyal subject. Take pity upon
+me. Help me. Hold out your gracious hand and lift me from my despair."
+
+Dorothy slipped from the bed and fell on her knees, burying her face in
+the queen's lap.
+
+Elizabeth was touched by the girl's appeal, and caressingly stroked her
+hair, as she said: "I believe he is innocent, but I fear he knows or
+suspects others who harbor treasonable designs. Tell me, Dorothy, do you
+know of any such persons? If you can tell me their names, you will serve
+your queen, and will save your lover. No harm shall come to Sir John, and
+no one save myself shall have knowledge of any word that you may speak. If
+I do not learn the names of the traitors through you or through Sir John,
+I may be compelled to hold him a prisoner until I discover them. If
+through you I learn them, Sir John shall go free at once."
+
+"Gladly, for your Majesty's sake alone would I tell you the names of such
+traitorous men, did I know them;" replied Dorothy, "and thrice gladly
+would I do so if I might thereby liberate John. Your Majesty must see that
+these motives are strong enough to induce me to speak if I knew aught to
+tell you. I would betray the whole world to save him, of that you may be
+sure. But alas! I know no man whom I can betray. John told me nothing of
+his expedition to the Scottish border save what was in two letters which
+he sent to me. One of these I received before he left Rutland, and the
+other after his return."
+
+She fetched the letters to the queen, who read them carefully.
+
+"Perhaps if I were to see him, he might, upon my importunity, tell me all
+he knows concerning the affair and those connected with it if he knows
+anything more than he has already told," said Dorothy, by a great effort
+suppressing her eagerness. "I am sure, your Majesty, he would tell me all
+Should he tell me the names of any persons connected with any treasonable
+plot, I will certainly tell you. It would be base in me again to betray
+John's confidence; but your Majesty has promised me his life and liberty,
+and to obtain those I would do anything, however evil it might be. If I
+may see John, I promise to learn all that he knows, if he knows anything;
+and I also promise to tell you word for word all that he says."
+
+The girl felt safe in making these promises, since she was sure that John
+knew nothing of a treasonable character.
+
+The queen, thinking that she had adroitly led Dorothy up to making the
+offer, said, "I accept the conditions. Be in readiness to visit Sir John,
+upon my command."
+
+Thus the compact was sealed, and the queen, who thought herself wise, was
+used by the girl, who thought herself simple.
+
+For the purpose of hiding her exultation, Dorothy appeared to be ill, but
+when the queen passed out at the door and closed it behind her, the girl
+sprang from the bed and danced around the room as if she were a
+bear-baiter. From the depths of despair she flew to the pinnacle of hope.
+She knew, however, that she must conceal her happiness; therefore she went
+back to bed and waited impatiently the summons of Elizabeth requiring her
+to go to John.
+
+But now I must pause to tell you of my troubles which followed so swiftly
+upon the heels of my fault that I was fairly stunned by them. My narrative
+will be brief, and I shall soon bring you back again to Dorothy.
+
+Queen Mary had no sooner arrived at Haddon Hall than she opened an attack
+upon Leicester, somewhat after the same plan, I suppose, which she had
+followed with me in the coach. She could no more easily resist inviting
+homage from men than a swallow can refrain from flying. Thus, from
+inclination and policy, she sought Leicester and endeavored by the
+pleasant paths of her blandishments to lead him to her cause. There can be
+no doubt concerning Leicester's wishes in the premises. Had Mary's cause
+held elements of success, he would have joined her; but he feared
+Elizabeth, and he hoped some day to share her throne. He would, however,
+prefer to share the throne with Mary.
+
+Mary told him of her plans and hopes. She told him that I had ridden with
+Dorothy for the purpose of rescuing John and herself, and that I had
+promised to help her to escape to France. She told him she would use me
+for her tool in making her escape, and would discard me when once she
+should be safe out of England. Then would come Leicester's turn. Then
+should my lord have his recompense, and together they would regain the
+Scottish crown.
+
+How deeply Leicester became engaged in the plot I cannot say, but this I
+know: through fear of Elizabeth, or for the purpose of winning her favor,
+he unfolded to our queen all the details of Mary's scheme, together with
+the full story of my ride with Dorothy to Rutland, and my return with
+Dorothy and Mary in the coach. Thereupon Mary was placed under strict
+guard. The story spread quickly through the Hall, and Dawson brought it to
+me. On hearing it, my first thought was of Madge. I knew it would soon
+reach her. Therefore I determined to go to her at once and make a clean
+breast of all my perfidy. Had I done so sooner, I should at least have had
+the benefit of an honest, voluntary confession; but my conscience had made
+a coward of me, and the woman who had been my curse for years had so
+completely disturbed my mind that I should have been quite as well off
+without any at all. It led me from one mistake into another.
+
+After Dawson told me that my miserable story was known throughout the
+Hall, I sought Madge, and found her with Aunt Dorothy. She was weeping,
+and I at once knew that I was too late with my confession. I spoke her
+name, "Madge," and stood by her side awaiting her reply.
+
+"Is it true, Malcolm?" she asked. "I cannot believe it till I hear it from
+your lips."
+
+"It was true," I responded. "I promised to help Queen Mary escape, and I
+promised to go with her; but within one hour of the time when I gave my
+word I regretted it as I have never regretted anything else in all my
+life. I resolved that, while I should, according to my promise, help the
+Scottish queen escape, I would not go with her. I resolved to wait here at
+Haddon to tell all to you and to our queen, and then I would patiently
+take my just punishment from each. My doom from the queen, I believed,
+would probably be death; but I feared more your--God help me! It is
+useless for me to speak." Here I broke down and fell upon my knees,
+crying, "Madge, Madge, pity me, pity me! Forgive me if you can, and, if
+our queen decrees it, I shall die happy."
+
+In my desperation I caught the girl's hand, but she drew it quickly from
+me, and said:--
+
+"Do not touch me!"
+
+She arose to her feet, and groped her way to her bedroom. We were in Aunt
+Dorothy's room. I watched Madge as she sought with her outstretched hand
+the doorway; and when she passed slowly through it, the sun of my life
+seemed to turn black. Just as Madge passed from the room, Sir William St.
+Loe, with two yeomen, entered by Sir George's door and placed irons upon
+my wrist and ankles. I was led by Sir William to the dungeon, and no word
+was spoken by either of us.
+
+I had never in my life feared death, and now I felt that I would welcome
+it. When a man is convinced that his life is useless, through the dire
+disaster that he is a fool, he values it little, and is even more than
+willing to lose it.
+
+Then there were three of us in the dungeon,--John, Lord Rutland, and
+myself; and we were all there because we had meddled in the affairs of
+others, and because Dorothy had inherited from Eve a capacity for insane,
+unreasoning jealousy.
+
+Lord Rutland was sitting on the ground in a corner of the dungeon. John,
+by the help of a projecting stone in the masonry, had climbed to the small
+grated opening which served to admit a few straggling rays of light into
+the dungeon's gloom. He was gazing out upon the fair day, whose beauty he
+feared would soon fade away from him forever.
+
+Elizabeth's coldness had given him no hope. It had taken all hope from his
+father.
+
+The opening of the door attracted John's attention, and he turned his face
+toward me when I entered. He had been looking toward the light, and his
+eyes, unaccustomed for the moment to the darkness, failed at first to
+recognize of me. When the dungeon door had closed behind me, he sprang
+down from his perch by the window, and came toward me with outstretched
+hands. He said sorrowfully:--
+
+"Malcolm, have I brought you here, too? Why are you in irons? It seems
+that I am destined to bring calamity upon all whom I love."
+
+"It is a long story," I replied laughingly. "I will tell it to you when
+the time begins to drag; but I tell you now it is through no fault of
+yours that I am here. No one is to blame for my misfortune but myself."
+Then I continued bitterly, "Unless it be the good God who created me a
+fool."
+
+John went to his father's side and said:--
+
+"Sir Malcolm is here, father. Will you not rise and greet him?"
+
+John's voice aroused his father, and the old lord came to the little patch
+of light in which I was standing and said: "A terrible evil has fallen
+upon us, Sir Malcolm, and without our fault. I grieve to learn that you
+also are entangled in the web. The future looks very dark."
+
+"Cheer up, father," said John, taking the old man's hand. "Light will soon
+come; I am sure it will."
+
+"I have tried all my life to be a just man," said Lord Rutland. "I have
+failed at times, I fear, but I have tried. That is all any man can do. I
+pray that God in His mercy will soon send light to you, John, whatever of
+darkness there may be in store for me."
+
+I thought, "He will surely answer this just man's prayer," and almost
+before the thought was completed the dungeon door turned upon its hinges
+and a great light came with glorious refulgence through the open
+portal--Dorothy.
+
+"John!"
+
+Never before did one word express so much of mingled joy and grief. Fear
+and confidence, and, greater than all, love unutterable were blended in
+its eloquent tones. She sprang to John as the lightning leaps from cloud
+to cloud, and he caught her to his heart. He gently kissed her hair, her
+face being hidden in the folds of his doublet.
+
+"Let me kneel, John, let me kneel," she murmured.
+
+"No, Dorothy, no," he responded, holding her closely in his arms.
+
+"But one moment, John," she pleased.
+
+"No, no; let me see your eyes, sweet one," said John, trying to turn her
+face upward toward his own.
+
+"I cannot yet, John, I cannot. Please let me kneel for one little moment
+at your feet."
+
+John saw that the girl would find relief in self-abasement, so he relaxed
+his arms, and she sank to her knees upon the dungeon floor. She wept
+softly for a moment, and then throwing back her head with her old
+impulsive manner looked up into his face.
+
+"Oh, forgive me, John! Forgive me! Not that I deserve your forgiveness,
+but because you pity me."
+
+"I forgave you long ago, Dorothy. You had my full forgiveness before you
+asked it."
+
+He lifted the weeping girl to her feet and the two clung together in
+silence. After a pause Dorothy spoke:--
+
+"You have not asked me, John, why I betrayed you."
+
+"I want to know nothing, Dorothy, save that you love me."
+
+"That you already know. But you cannot know how much I love you. I myself
+don't know. John, I seem to have turned all to love. 'However much there
+is of me, that much there is of love for you. As the salt is in every drop
+of the sea, so love is in every part of my being; but John," she
+continued, drooping her head and speaking regretfully, "the salt in the
+sea is not unmixed with many things hurtful." Her face blushed with shame
+and she continued limpingly: "And my love is not--is not without evil. Oh,
+John, I feel deep shame in telling you, but my love is terribly jealous.
+At times a jealousy comes over me so fierce and so distracting that under
+its influence I am mad, John, mad. I then see nothing in its true light;
+my eyes seem filled with--with blood, and all things appear red or black
+and--and--oh! John, I pray you never again cause me jealousy. It makes a
+demon of me."
+
+You may well know that John was nonplussed.
+
+"I cause you jealousy?" he asked in surprise. "When did I--" But Dorothy
+interrupted him, her eyes flashing darkly and a note of fierceness in her
+voice. He saw for himself the effects of jealousy upon her.
+
+"That white--white Scottish wanton! God's curse be upon her! She tried to
+steal you from me."
+
+"Perhaps she did," replied John, smilingly, "of that I do not know. But
+this I do know, and you, Dorothy, must know it too henceforth and for all
+time to come. No woman can steal my love from you. Since I gave you my
+troth I have been true to you; I have not been false even in one little
+thought."
+
+"I feel sure, John, that you have not been untrue to me," said the girl
+with a faint smile playing about her lips; "but--but you remember the
+strange woman at Bowling Green Gate whom you would have--"
+
+"Dorothy, I hope you have not come to my dungeon for the purpose of making
+me more wretched than I already am?"
+
+"No, no, John, forgive me," she cried softly; "but John, I hate her, I
+hate her! and I want you to promise that you too will hate her."
+
+"I promise," said John, "though, you have had no cause for jealousy of
+Queen Mary."
+
+"Perhaps--not," she replied hesitatingly. "I have never thought," the
+girl continued poutingly, "that you did anything of which I should be
+jealous; but she--she--oh, I hate her! Let us not talk about her. Jennie
+Faxton told me--I will talk about her, and you shall not stop me--Jennie
+Faxton told me that the white woman made love to you and caused you to put
+your arm about her waist one evening on the battlements and-"
+
+"Jennie told you a lie," said John.
+
+"Now don't interrupt me," the girl cried nervously, almost ready for
+tears, "and I will try to tell you all. Jennie told me the--the white
+woman looked up to you this fashion," and the languishing look she gave
+John in imitation of Queen Mary was so beautiful and comical that he could
+do nothing but laugh and cover her face with kisses, then laugh again and
+love the girl more deeply and yet more deeply with each new breath he
+drew. Dorothy was not sure whether she wanted to laugh or to cry, so she
+did both.
+
+"Jennie told me in the middle of the night," continued Dorothy, "when all
+things seem so vivid and appear so distorted and--and that terrible
+blinding jealousy of which I told you came upon me and drove me mad. I
+really thought, John, that I should die of the agony. Oh, John, if you
+could know the anguish I suffered that night you would pity me; you would
+not blame me."
+
+"I do not blame you, Dorothy."
+
+"No, no, there-" she kissed him softly, and quickly continued: "I felt
+that I must separate her from you at all cost. I would have done murder to
+accomplish my purpose. Some demon whispered to me, 'Tell Queen Elizabeth,'
+and--and oh, John, let me kneel again."
+
+"No, no, Dorothy, let us talk of something else," said John, soothingly.
+
+"In one moment, John. I thought only of the evil that would come to
+her--her of Scotland. I did not think of the trouble I would bring to
+you, John, until the queen, after asking me if you were my lover, said
+angrily: 'You may soon seek another.' Then, John, I knew that I had also
+brought evil upon you. Then I _did_ suffer. I tried to reach Rutland, and
+you know all else that happened on that terrible night. Now John, you know
+all--all. I have withheld nothing. I have, confessed all, and I feel that
+a great weight is taken from my heart. You will not hate me, will you,
+John?"
+
+He caught the girl to his breast and tried to turn her face toward his.
+
+"I could not hate you if I would," he replied, with quick-coming breath,
+"and God knows I would not. To love you is the sweetest joy in life," and
+he softly kissed the great lustrous eyes till they closed as if in sleep.
+Then he fiercely sought the rich red lips, waiting soft and passive for
+his caresses, while the fair head fell back upon the bend of his elbow in
+a languorous, half-conscious sweet surrender to his will. Lord Rutland and
+I had turned our backs on the shameless pair, and were busily discussing
+the prospect for the coming season's crops.
+
+Remember, please, that Dorothy spoke to John of Jennie Faxton. Her doing
+so soon bore bitter fruit for me.
+
+Dorothy had been too busy with John to notice any one else, but he soon
+presented her to his father. After the old lord had gallantly kissed her
+hand, she turned scornfully to me and said:--
+
+"So you fell a victim to her wanton wiles? If it were not for Madge's
+sake, I could wish you might hang."
+
+"You need not balk your kindly desire for Madge's sake," I answered. "She
+cares little about my fate. I fear she will never forgive me."
+
+"One cannot tell what a woman will do," Dorothy replied. "She is apt to
+make a great fool of herself when it comes to forgiving the man she
+loves."
+
+"Men at times have something to forgive," I retorted, looking with a
+smile toward John. The girl made no reply, but took John's hand and looked
+at him as if to say, "John, please don't let this horrid man abuse me."
+
+"But Madge no longer cares for me," I continued, wishing to talk upon the
+theme, "and your words do not apply to her."
+
+The girl turned her back disdainfully on me and said, "You seem to be
+quite as easily duped by the woman who loves you and says she doesn't as
+by the one who does not care for you but says she does."
+
+"Damn that girl's tongue!" thought I; but her words, though biting,
+carried joy to my heart and light to my soul.
+
+After exchanging a few words with Lord Rutland, Dorothy turned to John and
+said:--
+
+"Tell me upon your knightly honor, John, do you know aught of a wicked,
+treasonable plot to put the Scottish woman on the English throne?"
+
+I quickly placed my finger on my lips and touched my ear to indicate that
+their words would be overheard; for a listening-tube connected the dungeon
+with Sir George's closet.
+
+"Before the holy God, upon my knighthood, by the sacred love we bear each
+other, I swear I know of no such plot," answered John. "I would be the
+first to tell our good queen did I suspect its existence."
+
+Dorothy and John continued talking upon the subject of the plot, but were
+soon interrupted by a warning knock upon the dungeon door.
+
+Lord Rutland, whose heart was like twenty-two carat gold, soft, pure, and
+precious, kissed Dorothy's hand when she was about to leave, and said:
+"Dear lady, grieve not for our sake. I can easily see that more pain has
+come to you than to us. I thank you for the great fearless love you bear
+my son. It has brought him trouble, but it is worth its cost. You have my
+forgiveness freely, and I pray God's choicest benediction may be with
+you." She kissed the old lord and said, "I hope some day to make you love
+me."
+
+"That will be an easy task," said his Lordship, gallantly. Dorothy was
+about to leave. Just at the doorway she remembered the chief purpose of
+her visit; so she ran back to John, put her hand over his mouth to insure
+silence, and whispered in his ear.
+
+On hearing Dorothy's whispered words, signs of joy were so apparent in
+John's face that they could not be mistaken. He said nothing, but kissed
+her hand and she hurriedly left the dungeon.
+
+After the dungeon door closed upon Dorothy, John went to his father and
+whispered a few words to him. Then he came to me, and in the same
+secretive manner said:--
+
+"The queen has promised Dorothy our liberty." I was not at all sure that
+"our liberty" included me,--I greatly doubted it,--but I was glad for the
+sake of my friends, and, in truth, cared little for myself.
+
+Dorothy went from our dungeon to the queen, and that afternoon, according
+to promise, Elizabeth gave orders for the release of John and his father.
+Sir George, of course, was greatly chagrined when his enemies slipped from
+his grasp; but he dared not show his ill humor in the presence of the
+queen nor to any one who would be apt to enlighten her Majesty on the
+subject.
+
+Dorothy did not know the hour when her lover would leave Haddon; but she
+sat patiently at her window till at last John and Lord Rutland appeared.
+She called to Madge, telling her of the joyous event, and Madge, asked:--
+
+"Is Malcolm with them?"
+
+"No," replied Dorothy, "he has been left in the dungeon, where he
+deserves to remain."
+
+After a short pause, Madge said:--
+
+"If John had acted toward the Scottish queen as Malcolm did, would you
+forgive him?"
+
+"Yes, of course. I would forgive him anything."
+
+"Then why shall we not forgive Malcolm?" asked Madge.
+
+"Because he is not John," was the absurd reply.
+
+"No," said Madge, promptly; "but he is 'John' to me."
+
+"That is true," responded Dorothy, "and I will forgive him if you will."
+
+"I don't believe it makes much difference to Malcolm whether or not you
+forgive him," said Madge, who was provoked at Dorothy's condescending
+offer. "My forgiveness, I hope, is what he desires."
+
+"That is true, Madge," replied Dorothy, laughingly; "but may not I, also,
+forgive him?"
+
+"If you choose," responded Madge, quietly; "as for me, I know not what I
+wish to do."
+
+You remember that Dorothy during her visit to the dungeon spoke of Jennie
+Faxton. The girl's name reached Sir George's ear through the
+listening-tube and she was at once brought in and put to the question.
+
+Jennie, contrary to her wont, became frightened and told all she knew
+concerning John and Dorothy, including my part in their affairs. In Sir
+George's mind, my bad faith to him was a greater crime than my treason to
+Elizabeth, and he at once went to the queen with his tale of woe.
+
+Elizabeth, the most sentimental of women, had heard from Dorothy the story
+of her tempestuous love, and also of mine, and the queen was greatly
+interested in the situation.
+
+I will try to be brief.
+
+Through the influence of Dorothy and Madge, as I afterward learned, and
+by the help of a good word from Cecil, the queen was induced to order my
+liberation on condition that I should thenceforth reside in France. So one
+morning, three days after John's departure from Haddon, I was overjoyed to
+hear the words, "You are free."
+
+I did not know that Jennie Faxton had given Sir George her large stock of
+disturbing information concerning my connection with the affairs of
+Dorothy and John. So when I left the dungeon, I, supposing that my stormy
+cousin would be glad to forgive me if Queen Elizabeth would, sought and
+found him in Aunt Dorothy's room. Lady Crawford and Sir George were
+sitting near the fire and Madge was standing near the door in the next
+room beyond. When I entered, Sir George sprang to his feet and cried out
+angrily:--
+
+"You traitorous dog, the queen has seen fit to liberate you, and I cannot
+interfere with her orders; but if you do not leave my Hall at once I shall
+set the hounds on you. Your effects will be sent to The Peacock, and the
+sooner you quit England the safer you will be." There was of course
+nothing for me to do but to go.
+
+"You once told me, Sir George--you remember our interview at The
+Peacock--that if you should ever again order me to leave Haddon, I should
+tell you to go to the devil. I now take advantage of your kind permission,
+and will also say farewell."
+
+I kissed Aunt Dorothy's cheek, took my leave, and sought Cecil, from whom
+I obtained a passport to France. Then I asked Dawson to fetch my horse.
+
+I longed to see Madge before I left Haddon, but I knew that my desire
+could not be gratified; so I determined to stop at Rowsley and send back a
+letter to her which Dawson undertook to deliver. In my letter I would ask
+Madge's permission to return for her from France and to take her home
+with me as my wife. After I had despatched my letter I would wait at The
+Peacock for an answer.
+
+Sore at heart, I bade good-by to Dawson, mounted my horse, and turned his
+head toward the Dove-cote Gate. As I rode under Dorothy's window she was
+sitting there. The casement was open, for the day was mild, although the
+season was little past midwinter. I heard her call to Madge, and then she
+called to me:--
+
+"Farewell, Malcolm! Forgive me for what I said to you in the dungeon. I
+was wrong, as usual. Forgive me, and God bless you. Farewell!"
+
+While Dorothy was speaking, and before I replied, Madge came to the open
+casement and called:--
+
+"Wait for me, Malcolm, I am going down to you."
+
+Great joy is a wonderful purifier, and Madge's cry finished the work of
+the past few months and made a good man of me, who all my life before had
+known little else than evil.
+
+Soon Madge's horse was led by a groom to the mounting block, and in a few
+minutes she emerged gropingly from the great door of Entrance Tower.
+Dorothy was again a prisoner in her rooms and could not come down to bid
+me farewell. Madge mounted, and the groom led her horse to me and placed
+the reins in my hands.
+
+"Is it you, Malcolm?" asked Madge.
+
+"Yes," I responded, in a voice husky with emotion. "I cannot thank you
+enough for coming to say farewell. You have forgiven me?"
+
+"Yes," responded Madge, almost in tears, "but I have not come to say
+farewell."
+
+I did not understand her meaning.
+
+"Are you going to ride part of the way with me--perhaps to Rowsley?" I
+asked, hardly daring to hope for so much.
+
+"To France, Malcolm, if you wish to take me," she responded murmuringly.
+
+For a little time I could not feel the happiness that had come upon me in
+so great a flood. But when I had collected my scattered senses, I said:--
+
+"I thank God that He has turned your heart again to me. May I feel His
+righteous anger if ever I give you cause to regret the step you are
+taking."
+
+"I shall never regret it, Malcolm," she answered softly, as she held out
+her hand to me.
+
+Then we rode by the dove-cote, out from Haddon Hall, never to see its
+walls again.
+
+We went to Rutland, whence after a fortnight we journeyed to France. There
+I received my mother's estates, and never for one moment, to my knowledge,
+has Madge regretted having intrusted her life and happiness to me. I need
+not speak for myself.
+
+Our home is among the warm, sunlit, vine-covered hills of southern France,
+and we care not for the joys of golden streets so long as God in His
+goodness vouchsafes to us our earthly paradise. Age, with the heart at
+peace, is the fairest season of life; and love, leavened of God, robs even
+approaching death of his sting and makes for us a broad flower-strewn path
+from the tempestuous sea of time to the calm, sweet ocean of eternity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE
+
+
+I shall now tell you of the happenings in Haddon Hall during the fortnight
+we spent at Rutland before our departure for France.
+
+We left Dorothy, you will remember, a prisoner in her rooms.
+
+After John had gone Sir George's wrath began to gather, and Dorothy was
+not permitted to depart from the Hall for even a walk upon the terrace,
+nor could she leave her own apartments save when the queen requested her
+presence.
+
+A few days after my departure from Haddon, Sir George sent Dawson out
+through the adjoining country to invite the nobility and gentry to a grand
+ball to be given at the Hall in honor of Queen Elizabeth. Queen Mary had
+been sent a prisoner to Chatsworth.
+
+Tom Shaw, the most famous piper of his times, and a choice company of
+musicians to play with him were hired for the occasion, and, in short, the
+event was so glorious that its wonders have been sung in minstrelsy
+throughout Derbyshire ever since.
+
+Dorothy's imprisonment saddened Leicester's heart, and he longed to see
+her, for her beauty had touched him nearly. Accordingly, the earl one day
+intimated to Sir George his wish in terms that almost bespoke an intention
+to ask for the girl's hand when upon proper opportunity the queen's
+consent might be sought and perchance obtained. His equivocal words did
+not induce Sir George to grant a meeting by which Dorothy might be
+compromised; but a robust hope for the ultimate accomplishment of the
+"Leicester possibility" was aroused in the breast of the King of the Peak,
+and from hope he could, and soon did, easily step to faith. He saw that
+the earl was a handsome man, and he believed, at least he hoped, that the
+fascinating lord might, if he were given an opportunity, woo Dorothy's
+heart away from the hated scion of a hated race. Sir George, therefore,
+after several interviews with the earl, grew anxious to give his Lordship
+an opportunity to win her. But both Sir George and my lord feared
+Elizabeth's displeasure, and the meeting between Leicester and the girl
+seemed difficult to contrive. Sir George felt confident that Dorothy
+could, if she would, easily capture the great lord in a few private
+interviews; but would she? Dorothy gave her father no encouragement in the
+matter, and took pains to shun Leicester rather than to seek him.
+
+As Dorothy grew unwilling, Leicester and Sir George grew eager, until at
+length the latter felt that it was almost time to exert his parental
+authority. He told Aunt Dorothy his feeling on the subject, and she told
+her niece. It was impossible to know from what source Dorothy might draw
+inspiration for mischief. It came to her with her father's half-command
+regarding Leicester.
+
+Winter had again asserted itself. The weather was bitter cold and snow
+covered the ground to the depth of a horse's fetlock.
+
+The eventful night of the grand ball arrived, and Dorothy's heart throbbed
+till she thought surely it would burst.
+
+At nightfall guests began to arrive, and Sir George, hospitable soul that
+he was, grew boisterous with good humor and delight.
+
+The rare old battlements of Haddon were ablaze with flambeaux, and inside
+the rooms were alight with waxen tapers. The long gallery was brilliant
+with the smiles of bejewelled beauty, and laughter, song, and merriment
+filled the grand old Hall from terrace to Entrance Tower. Dorothy, of
+course, was brought down from her prison to grace the occasion with a
+beauty which none could rival. Her garments were of soft, clinging,
+bright-colored silks and snowy laces, and all who saw her agreed that a
+creature more radiant never greeted the eye of man.
+
+When the guests had all arrived, the pipers in the balcony burst forth in
+heart-swelling strains of music, and every foot in the room longed for the
+dance to begin.
+
+I should like to tell you how Elizabeth most graciously opened the ball
+with his Majesty, the King of the Peak, amid the plaudits of worshipping
+subjects, and I should enjoy describing the riotous glory which
+followed,--for although I was not there, I know intimately all that
+happened,--but I will balk my desire and tell you only of those things
+which touched Dorothy.
+
+Leicester, of course, danced with her, and during a pause in the figure,
+the girl in response to pleadings which she had adroitly incited,
+reluctantly promised to grant the earl the private interview he so much
+desired if he could suggest some means for bringing it about. Leicester
+was in raptures over her complaisance and glowed with triumph and
+delightful anticipation. But he could think of no satisfactory plan
+whereby his hopes might be brought to a happy fruition. He proposed
+several, but all seemed impracticable to the coy girl, and she rejected
+them. After many futile attempts he said:--
+
+"I can suggest no good plan, mistress. I pray you, gracious lady,
+therefore, make full to overflowing the measure of your generosity, and
+tell me how it may be accomplished."
+
+Dorothy hung her head as if in great shame and said: "I fear, my lord, we
+had better abandon the project for a time. Upon another occasion
+perhaps--"
+
+"No, no," interrupted the earl, pleadingly, "do not so grievously
+disappoint me. My heart yearns to have you to myself for one little moment
+where spying eyes cannot see nor prying ears hear. It is cruel in you to
+raise my hopes only to cast them down. I beg you, tell me if you know in
+what manner I may meet you privately."
+
+After a long pause, Dorothy with downcast eyes said, "I am full of shame,
+my lord, to consent to this meeting, and then find the way to it,
+but--but--" ("Yes, yes, my Venus, my gracious one," interrupted the
+earl)--"but if my father would permit me to--to leave the Hall for a few
+minutes, I might--oh, it is impossible, my lord. I must not think of it."
+
+"I pray you, I beg you," pleaded Leicester. "Tell me, at least, what you
+might do if your father would permit you to leave the Hall. I would gladly
+fall to my knees, were it not for the assembled company."
+
+With reluctance in her manner and gladness in her heart, the girl said:--
+
+"If my father would permit me to leave the Hall, I might--only for a
+moment, meet you at the stile, in the northeast corner of the garden back
+of the terrace half an hour hence. But he would not permit me, and--and,
+my lord, I ought not to go even should father consent."
+
+"I will ask your father's permission for you. I will seek him at once,"
+said the eager earl.
+
+"No, no, my lord, I pray you, do not," murmured Dorothy, with distracting
+little troubled wrinkles in her forehead. Her trouble was more for fear
+lest he would not than for dread that he would.
+
+"I will, I will," cried his Lordship, softly; "I insist, and you shall not
+gainsay me."
+
+The girl's only assent was silence, but that was sufficient for so
+enterprising a gallant as the noble Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. So
+he at once went to seek Sir George.
+
+The old gentleman, although anxious to give Leicester a chance to press
+his suit with Dorothy, at first refused, but Leicester said:--
+
+"My intentions are honorable, Sir George. If I can win your daughter's
+heart, it is my wish, if the queen's consent can be obtained, to ask
+Mistress Vernon's hand in marriage."
+
+Sir George's breast swelled with pride and satisfaction, for Leicester's
+words were as near an offer of marriage as it was in his power to make. So
+the earl received, for Dorothy, permission to leave the Hall, and eagerly
+carried it to her.
+
+"Your father consents gladly," said the earl. "Will you meet me half an
+hour hence at the stile?"
+
+"Yes," murmured the girl, with shamelessly cast down eyes and drooping
+head. Leicester bowed himself away, and fully fifteen minutes before the
+appointed time left the Hall to wait in the cold at the stile for Dorothy.
+
+Before the expiration of the tedious half hour our meek maiden went to her
+father and with deep modesty and affected shame said:--
+
+"Father, is it your wish that I go out of the Hall for a few minutes to
+meet--to meet--" She apparently could not finish the sentence, so modest
+and shame-faced was she.
+
+"Yes, Doll, I wish you to go on this condition: if Leicester asks you to
+marry him, you shall consent to be his wife."
+
+"I promise, father," replied the dutiful girl, "if Lord Leicester asks me
+this night, I will be his wife."
+
+"That is well, child, that is well. Once more you are my good, obedient
+daughter, and I love you. Wear your sable cloak, Doll; the weather is very
+cold out of doors."
+
+Her father's solicitude touched her nearly, and she gently led him to a
+secluded alcove near by, threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him
+passionately. The girl's affection was sweet to the old man who had been
+without it so long, and his eyes grew moist as he returned her caresses.
+Dorothy's eyes also were filled with tears. Her throat was choked with
+sobs, and her heart was sore with pain. Poor young heart! Poor old man!
+
+Soon after Dorothy had spoken with her father she left the Hall by
+Dorothy's Postern. She was wrapped in her sable cloak--the one that had
+saved John's life in Aunt Dorothy's room; but instead of going across the
+garden to the stile where Lord Leicester was waiting, which was north and
+east of the terrace, she sped southward down the terrace and did not stop
+till she reached the steps which led westward to the lower garden. She
+stood on the terrace till she saw a man running toward her from the
+postern in the southwest corner of the lower garden. Then down the steps
+she sped with winged feet, and outstretching her arms, fell upon the man's
+breast, whispering: "John, my love! John, my love!"
+
+As for the man--well, during the first minute or two he wasted no time in
+speech.
+
+When he spoke he said:--
+
+"We must not tarry here. Horses are waiting at the south end of the
+footbridge. Let us hasten away at once."
+
+Then happened the strangest of all the strange things I have had to record
+of this strange, fierce, tender, and at time almost half-savage girl.
+
+Dorothy for months had longed for that moment. Her heart had almost burst
+with joy when a new-born hope for it was suggested by the opportunities of
+the ball and her father's desire touching my lord of Leicester. But now
+that the longed-for moment was at hand, the tender heart, which had so
+anxiously awaited it, failed, and the girl broke down weeping
+hysterically.
+
+"Oh, John, you have forgiven so many faults in me," she said between
+sobs, "that I know you will forgive me when I tell you I cannot go with
+you to-night. I thought I could and I so intended when I came out here to
+meet you. But oh, John, my dearest love, I cannot go; I cannot go. Another
+time I will go with you, John. I promise that I will go with you soon,
+very soon, John; but I cannot go now, oh, I cannot. You will forgive me,
+won't you, John? You will forgive me?"
+
+"No," cried John in no uncertain tones, "I will not forgive you. I will
+take you. If you cry out, I will silence you." Thereupon he rudely took
+the girl in his arms and ran with her toward the garden gate near the
+north end of the stone footbridge.
+
+"John, John!" she cried in terror. But he placed his hand over her mouth
+and forced her to remain silent till they were past the south wall. Then
+he removed his hand and she screamed and struggled against him with all
+her might. Strong as she was, her strength was no match for John's, and
+her struggles were in vain.
+
+John, with his stolen bride, hurriedly crossed the footbridge and ran to
+the men who were holding the horses. There he placed Dorothy on her feet
+and said with a touch of anger:--
+
+"Will you mount of your own will or shall I put you in the saddle?"
+
+"I'll mount of my own will, John," she replied submissively, "and John,
+I--I thank you, I thank you for--for--" she stopped speaking and toyed
+with the tufts of fur that hung from the edges of her cloak.
+
+"For what, my love? For what do you thank me?" asked John after a little
+pause.
+
+"For making--me--do--what I--I longed to do. My conscience would not let
+me do it of my own free will."
+
+Then tears came from her eyes in a great flood, and throwing her arms
+about John's neck she gave him herself and her heart to keep forever and
+forever.
+
+And Leicester was shivering at the stile! The girl had forgotten even the
+existence of the greatest lord in the realm.
+
+My wife, Lord Rutland, and I waited in the watch-room above the castle
+gates for the coming of Dorothy and John; and when they came--but I will
+not try to describe the scene. It were a vain effort. Tears and laughter
+well compounded make the sweetest joy; grief and joy the truest happiness;
+happiness and pain the grandest soul, and none of these may be described.
+We may analyze them, and may take them part from part; but, like love,
+they cannot be compounded. We may know all the component parts, but when
+we try to create these great emotions in description, we lack the subtle
+compounding flux to unite the ingredients, and after all is done, we have
+simply said that black is black and that white is white.
+
+Next day, in the morning, Madge and I started for our new home in France.
+We rode up the hill down which poor Dolcy took her last fatal plunge, and
+when we reached the crest, we paused to look back. Standing on the
+battlements, waving a kerchief in farewell to us, was the golden-crowned
+form of a girl. Soon she covered her face with her kerchief, and we knew
+she was weeping Then we, also, wept as we turned away from the fair
+picture; and since that far-off morning--forty long, long years ago--we
+have not seen the face nor heard the voice of our sweet, tender friend.
+Forty years! What an eternity it is if we tear it into minutes!
+
+
+
+
+L'ENVOI
+
+
+The fire ceases to burn; the flames are sucked back into the earth; the
+doe's blood has boiled away; the caldron cools, and my shadowy friends--so
+real to me--whom I love with a passionate tenderness beyond my power to
+express, have sunk into the dread black bank of the past, and my poor,
+weak wand is powerless to recall them for the space of even one fleeting
+moment. So I must say farewell to them; but all my life I shall carry a
+heart full of tender love and pain for the fairest, fiercest, gentlest,
+weakest, strongest of them all--Dorothy Vernon.
+
+
+
+
+MALCOLM POSSIBLY IN ERROR
+
+
+Malcolm Vernon is the only writer on the life of Dorothy Vernon who speaks
+of Rutland Castle. All others writing on the subject say that Belvoir
+Castle was the home of the Earl of Rutland.
+
+No other writer mentions the proposed marriage, spoken of by Malcolm,
+between Dorothy and Lord Derby's son. They do, however, say that Dorothy
+had an elder sister who married a Stanley, but died childless, leaving
+Dorothy sole heiress to Sir George Vernon's vast estate.
+
+All writers agree with Malcolm upon the main fact that brave Dorothy
+eloped with John Manners and brought to him the fair estate of Haddon,
+which their descendant, the present Duke of Rutland, now possesses.
+
+No other writer speaks of Mary Stuart having been at Haddon, and many
+chroniclers disagree with Malcolm as to the exact date of her imprisonment
+in Lochleven and her escape.
+
+In all other essential respects the history of Dorothy Vernon as told by
+Malcolm agrees with other accounts of her life.
+
+I do not pretend to reconcile the differences between these great
+historical authorities, but I confess to considerable faith in Malcolm.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall, by Charles Major
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14671 ***
diff --git a/14671-h/14671-h.htm b/14671-h/14671-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a59e291
--- /dev/null
+++ b/14671-h/14671-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,11557 @@
+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+<meta name="generator" content=
+"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dorothy Vernon of Haddon
+Hall, by Charles Major.</title>
+
+<style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p {  margin-top: .75em;
+         text-align: justify;
+         margin-bottom: .75em;
+         }
+    h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {
+         text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+         clear: both;
+         }
+    hr { width: 33%;
+         margin-top: 2em;
+         margin-bottom: 2em;
+         margin-left: auto;
+         margin-right: auto;
+         clear: both;
+       }
+
+    table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+
+    body{margin-left: 10%;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+        }
+
+    .linenum  {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */
+    .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .pagenum  {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */
+    .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em;
+               padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em;
+               float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em;
+               font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;}
+
+    .bb       {border-bottom: solid 2px;}
+    .bl       {border-left: solid 2px;}
+    .bt       {border-top: solid 2px;}
+    .br       {border-right: solid 2px;}
+    .bbox     {border: solid 2px;}
+
+    .center   {text-align: center;}
+    .smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+    .figcenter   {margin: auto; text-align: center;}
+
+    .figleft     {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top:
+                 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;}
+
+    .figright    {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;
+                 margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;}
+
+    .footnotes        {border: dashed 1px;}
+    .footnote         {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;}
+    .footnote .label  {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;}
+    .fnanchor         {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;}
+
+    .poem             {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;}
+    .poem br          {display: none;}
+    .poem .stanza     {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+    .poem span        {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i2     {display: block; margin-left: 2em;}
+    .poem span.i4     {display: block; margin-left: 4em;}
+    // -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+</style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14671 ***</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v001" id="v001"></a> <img src=
+"images/v001.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<h2>Mary Pickford Edition</h2>
+<h1>Dorothy Vernon of</h1>
+<h1>Haddon Hall</h1>
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>CHARLES MAJOR</h2>
+<p class="center">AUTHOR OF<br />
+WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER,<br />
+YOLANDA, ETC.</p>
+<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED WITH<br />
+SCENES FROM THE PHOTOPLAY<br />
+<br />
+GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP<br />
+PUBLISHERS NEW YORK<br />
+<br />
+Made in the United States of America</p>
+<p class="center">Set up and electrotyped. Published April,
+1908<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Printed in U.S.A.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>To My Wife</h2>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<div style="margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%;">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#A_TOUCH_OF_BLACK_MAGIC"><b>A TOUCH OF
+BLACK MAGIC</b></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'>&nbsp;</td>
+<td align='left'>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>I RIDE DOWN TO HADDON</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THE IRON, THE SEED, THE CLOUD, AND THE
+RAIN</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THE PITCHER GOES TO THE WELL</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THE GOLDEN HEART</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>TRIBULATION IN HADDON</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER
+VIII</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>MALCOLM NO. 2</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>A TRYST AT BOWLING GREEN GATE</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THOMAS THE MAN-SERVANT</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THE COST MARK OF JOY</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THE LEICESTER POSSIBILITY</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER
+XIII</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>PROUD DAYS FOR THE OLD HALL</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>MARY STUART</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>LIGHT</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'>&nbsp;</td>
+<td align='left'>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#LENVOI"><b>L'ENVOI</b></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#MALCOLM_POSSIBLY_IN_ERROR"><b>MALCOLM
+POSSIBLY IN ERROR</b></a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_TOUCH_OF_BLACK_MAGIC" id=
+"A_TOUCH_OF_BLACK_MAGIC"></a> <a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a>A
+TOUCH OF BLACK MAGIC</h2>
+<p>I draw the wizard's circle upon the sands, and blue flames
+spring from its circumference. I describe an inner circle, and
+green flames come responsive to my words of magic. I touch the
+common centre of both with my wand, and red flames, like adders'
+tongues, leap from the earth. Over these flames I place my caldron
+filled with the blood of a new-killed doe, and as it boils I speak
+my incantations and make my mystic signs and passes, watching the
+blood-red mist as it rises to meet the spirits of Air. I chant my
+conjurations as I learned them from the Great Key of Solomon, and
+while I speak, the ruddy fumes take human forms. Out of the dark,
+fathomless Past&mdash;the Past of near four hundred years
+ago&mdash;comes a goodly company of simple, pompous folk all having
+a touch of childish savagery which shows itself in the fierceness
+of their love and of their hate.</p>
+<p>The fairest castle-ch&acirc;teau in all England's great domain,
+the walls and halls of which were builded in the depths of time,
+takes on again its olden form quick with quivering life, and from
+the gates of Eagle Tower issues my quaint and radiant company. Some
+are clad in gold lace, silks, and taffetas; some wear leather,
+buckram and clanking steel. While the caldron boils, their
+cloud-forms grow ever more distinct and definite, till at length I
+can trace their every feature. I see the color of their eyes. I
+discern the shades of their hair. Some heads are streaked with
+gray; others are glossy with the sheen of youth.<a name="Page_2"
+id="Page_2"></a> As a climax to my conjurations I speak the word of
+all words magical, "Dorothy," and lo! as though God had said, "Let
+there be light," a fair, radiant girl steps from the portals of
+Haddon Hall and illumines all my ancient company so that I may see
+even the workings of their hearts.</p>
+<p>They, and the events of their lives, their joys and sorrows,
+their virtues and sins, their hatreds, jealousies, and
+loves&mdash;the seven numbers in the total sum of life&mdash;pass
+before me as in a panorama, moving when I bid them move, pausing
+when I bid them pause, speaking when I bid them speak, and alas!
+fading back into the dim gray limbo of the past long, long ere I
+would have them go.</p>
+<p>But hark! my radiant shades are about to speak. The play is
+about to begin.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1>DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL</h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h2>I RIDE DOWN TO HADDON</h2>
+<p>Since I play no mean part in the events of this chronicle, a few
+words concerning my own history previous to the opening of the
+story I am about to tell you will surely not be amiss, and they may
+help you to a better understanding of my narrative.</p>
+<p>To begin with an unimportant fact&mdash;unimportant, that is, to
+you&mdash;my name is Malcolm Fran&ccedil;ois de Lorraine Vernon. My
+father was cousin-german to Sir George Vernon, at and near whose
+home, Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, occurred the events which will
+furnish my theme.</p>
+<p>Of the ancient lineage of the house of Vernon I need not speak.
+You already know that the family is one of the oldest in England,
+and while it is not of the highest nobility, it is quite gentle and
+noble enough to please those who bear its honored name. My mother
+boasted nobler blood than that of the Vernons. She was of the
+princely French house of Guise&mdash;a niece and ward to the Great
+Duke, for whose sake I was named.</p>
+<p>My father, being a younger brother, sought adventure in the land
+of France, where his handsome person and engaging manner won the
+smiles of Dame Fortune and my mother at one and the same cast. In
+due time I was born, and upon the day following that great event my
+<a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a>father died. On the day of his
+burial my poor mother, unable to find in me either compensation or
+consolation for the loss of her child's father, also died, of a
+broken heart, it was said. But God was right, as usual, in taking
+my parents; for I should have brought them no happiness, unless
+perchance they could have moulded my life to a better form than it
+has had&mdash;a doubtful chance, since our great virtues and our
+chief faults are born and die with us. My faults, alas! have been
+many and great. In my youth I knew but one virtue: to love my
+friend; and that was strong within me. How fortunate for us it
+would be if we could begin our life in wisdom and end it in
+simplicity, instead of the reverse which now obtains!</p>
+<p>I remained with my granduncle, the Great Duke, and was brought
+up amid the fighting, vice, and piety of his sumptuous court. I was
+trained to arms, and at an early age became Esquire in Waiting to
+his Grace of Guise. Most of my days between my fifteenth and
+twenty-fifth years were spent in the wars. At the age of
+twenty-five I returned to the ch&acirc;teau, there to reside as my
+uncle's representative, and to endure the ennui of peace. At the
+ch&acirc;teau I found a fair, tall girl, fifteen years of age: Mary
+Stuart, Queen of Scotland, soon afterward Queen of France and
+rightful heiress to the English throne. The ennui of peace, did I
+say? Soon I had no fear of its depressing effect, for Mary Stuart
+was one of those women near whose fascinations peace does not
+thrive. When I found her at the ch&acirc;teau, my martial ardor
+lost its warmth. Another sort of flame took up its home in my
+heart, and no power could have turned me to the wars again.</p>
+<p>Ah! what a gay, delightful life, tinctured with bitterness, we
+led in the grand old ch&acirc;teau, and looking back at it how
+heartless, godless, and empty it seems. Do not from these words
+conclude that I am a fanatic, nor that I shall pour into your ears
+a ranter's tale; for cant is more to be despised <a name="Page_5"
+id="Page_5"></a>even than godlessness; but during the period of my
+life of which I shall write I learned&mdash;but what I learned I
+shall in due time tell you.</p>
+<p>While at the court of Guise I, like many another man, conceived
+for Mary Stuart a passion which lay heavy upon my heart for many
+years. Sweethearts I had by the scores, but she held my longings
+from all of them until I felt the touch of a pure woman's love, and
+then&mdash;but again I am going beyond my story.</p>
+<p>I did not doubt, nor do I hesitate to say, that my passion was
+returned by Mary with a fervor which she felt for no other lover;
+but she was a queen, and I, compared with her, was nobody. For this
+difference of rank I have since had good cause to be thankful.
+Great beauty is diffusive in its tendency. Like the sun, it cannot
+shine for one alone. Still, it burns and dazzles the one as if it
+shone for him and for no other; and he who basks in its rays need
+have no fear of the ennui of peace.</p>
+<p>The time came when I tasted the unutterable bitterness of Mary's
+marriage to a simpering fool, Francis II., whom she loathed,
+notwithstanding absurd stories of their sweet courtship and
+love.</p>
+<p>After her marriage to Francis, Mary became hard and callous of
+heart, and all the world knows her sad history. The stories of
+Darnley, Rizzio, and Bothwell will be rich morsels, I suppose, for
+the morbid minds of men and women so long as books are read and
+scandal is loved.</p>
+<p>Ah, well, that was long ago; so long ago that now as I write it
+seems but a shadow upon the horizon of time.</p>
+<p>And so it happened that Francis died, and when the queen went
+back to Scotland to ascend her native throne, I went with her, and
+mothlike hovered near the blaze that burned but did not warm
+me.</p>
+<p>Then in the course of time came the Darnley tragedy. I saw
+Rizzio killed. Gods! what a scene for hell was that!<a name=
+"Page_6" id="Page_6"></a> Then followed the Bothwell disgrace, the
+queen's imprisonment at Lochleven, and my own flight from Scotland
+to save my head.</p>
+<p>You will hear of Mary again in this history, and still clinging
+to her you will find that same strange fatality which during all
+her life brought evils upon her that were infectious to her friends
+and wrought their ruin.</p>
+<p>One evening, in the autumn of the year 1567, I was sitting
+moodily before my fire in the town of Dundee, brooding over Mary's
+disgraceful liaison with Bothwell. I had solemnly resolved that I
+would see her never again, and that I would turn my back upon the
+evil life I had led for so many years, and would seek to acquire
+that quiescence of nature which is necessary to an endurable old
+age. A tumultuous soul in the breast of an old man breeds torture,
+but age, with the heart at rest, I have found is the best season of
+life.</p>
+<p>In the midst of my gloomy thoughts and good resolves my friend,
+Sir Thomas Douglas, entered my room without warning and in great
+agitation.</p>
+<p>"Are you alone?" he asked hurriedly, in a low voice.</p>
+<p>"Save for your welcome presence, Sir Thomas," I answered,
+offering my hand.</p>
+<p>"The queen has been seized," he whispered, "and warrants for
+high treason have been issued against many of her friends&mdash;you
+among the number. Officers are now coming to serve the writ. I rode
+hither in all haste to warn you. Lose not a moment, but flee for
+your life. The Earl of Murray will be made regent to-morrow."</p>
+<p>"My servant? My horse?" I responded.</p>
+<p>"Do not wait. Go at once. I shall try to send a horse for you to
+Craig's ferry. If I fail, cross the firth without one. Here is a
+purse. The queen sends it to you. Go! Go!"</p>
+<p>I acted upon the advice, of Sir Thomas and hurried into the
+street, snatching up my hat, cloak, and sword as I <a name="Page_7"
+id="Page_7"></a>went. Night had fallen, and darkness and rain,
+which at first I was inclined to curse, proved to be my friends. I
+sought the back streets and alleys and walked rapidly toward the
+west gates of the city. Upon arriving at the gates I found them
+closed. I aroused the warden, and with the artful argument of gold
+had almost persuaded him to let me pass. My evident eagerness was
+my undoing, for in the hope of obtaining more gold the warden
+delayed opening the gates till two men approached on horseback,
+and, dismounting, demanded my surrender.</p>
+<p>I laughed and said: "Two against one! Gentlemen, I am caught." I
+then drew my sword as if to offer it to them. My action threw the
+men off their guard, and when I said, "Here it is," I gave it to
+the one standing near me, but I gave it to him point first and in
+the heart.</p>
+<p>It was a terrible thing to do, and bordered so closely on a
+broken parole that I was troubled in conscience. I had not,
+however, given my parole, nor had I surrendered; and if I had done
+so&mdash;if a man may take another's life in self-defence, may he
+not lie to save himself?</p>
+<p>The other man shot at me with his fusil, but missed. He then
+drew his sword; but he was no match for me, and soon I left him
+sprawling on the ground, dead or alive, I knew not which.</p>
+<p>At the time of which I write I was thirty-five years of age, and
+since my fifteenth birthday my occupations had been arms and the
+ladies&mdash;two arts requiring constant use if one would remain
+expert in their practice.</p>
+<p>I escaped, and ran along the wall to a deep breach which had
+been left unrepaired. Over the sharp rocks I clambered, and at the
+risk of breaking my neck I jumped off the wall into the moat, which
+was almost dry. Dawn was breaking when I found a place to ascend
+from the moat, and I hastened to the fields and forests, where all
+day and all night long I wandered without food or drink. Two
+<a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>hours before sunrise next morning
+I reached Craig's Ferry. The horse sent by Douglas awaited me, but
+the ferry-master had been prohibited from carrying passengers
+across the firth, and I could not take the horse in a small boat.
+In truth, I was in great alarm lest I should be unable to cross,
+but I walked up the Tay a short distance, and found a fisherman,
+who agreed to take me over in his frail craft. Hardly had we
+started when another boat put out from shore in pursuit of us. We
+made all sail, but our pursuers overtook us when we were within
+half a furlong of the south bank, and as there were four men in the
+other boat, all armed with fusils, I peaceably stepped into their
+craft and handed my sword to their captain.</p>
+<p>I seated myself on one of the thwarts well forward in the boat.
+By my side was a heavy iron boat-hook. I had noticed that all the
+occupants of the boat, except the fisherman who sailed her, wore
+armor; and when I saw the boat-hook, a diabolical thought entered
+my mind and I immediately acted upon its suggestion. Noiselessly I
+grasped the hook, and with its point pried loose a board in the
+bottom of the boat, first having removed my boots, cloak, and
+doublet. When the board was loosened I pressed my heel against it
+with all the force I could muster, and through an opening six
+inches broad and four feet long came a flood of water that swamped
+the boat before one could utter twenty words. I heard a cry from
+one of the men: "The dog has scuttled the boat. Shoot him!" At the
+same instant the blaze and noise of two fusils broke the still
+blackness of the night, but I was overboard and the powder and lead
+were wasted. The next moment the boat sank in ten fathoms of water,
+and with it went the men in armor. I hope the fisherman saved
+himself. I have often wondered if even the law of self-preservation
+justified my act. It is an awful thing to inflict death, but it is
+worse to endure it, and I feel sure that I am foolish <a name=
+"Page_9" id="Page_9"></a>to allow my conscience to trouble me for
+the sake of those who would have led me back to the scaffold.</p>
+<p>I fear you will think that six dead men in less than as many
+pages make a record of bloodshed giving promise of terrible things
+to come, but I am glad I can reassure you on that point. Although
+there may be some good fighting ahead of us, I believe the last man
+has been killed of whom I shall chronicle&mdash;the last, that is,
+in fight or battle.</p>
+<p>In truth, the history which you are about to read is not my own.
+It is the story of a beautiful, wilful girl, who was madly in love
+with the one man in all the world whom she should have
+avoided&mdash;as girls are wont to be. This perverse tendency,
+philosophers tell us, is owing to the fact that the unattainable is
+strangely alluring to womankind. I, being a man, shall not, of
+course, dwell upon the foibles of my own sex. It were a foolish
+candor.</p>
+<p>As I said, there will be some good fighting ahead of us, for
+love and battle usually go together. One must have warm, rich blood
+to do either well; and, save religion, there is no source more
+fruitful of quarrels and death than that passion which is the
+source of life.</p>
+<p>You, of course, know without the telling, that I reached land
+safely after I scuttled the boat, else I should not be writing this
+forty years afterwards.</p>
+<p>The sun had risen when I waded ashore. I was swordless,
+coatless, hatless, and bootless; but I carried a well-filled purse
+in my belt. Up to that time I had given no thought to my ultimate
+destination; but being for the moment safe, I pondered the question
+and determined to make my way to Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, where I
+was sure a warm welcome would await me from my cousin, Sir George
+Vernon. How I found a peasant's cottage, purchased a poor horse and
+a few coarse garments, and how in the disguise of a peasant I rode
+southward to <a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>the English border,
+avoiding the cities and the main highways, might interest you; but
+I am eager to come to my story, and I will not tell you of my
+perilous journey.</p>
+<p>One frosty morning, after many hairbreadth escapes, I found
+myself well within the English border, and turned my horse's head
+toward the city of Carlisle. There I purchased a fine charger. I
+bought clothing fit for a gentleman, a new sword, a hand-fusil, a
+breastplate, and a steel-lined cap, and feeling once again like a
+man rather than like a half-drowned rat, I turned southward for
+Derbyshire and Haddon Hall.</p>
+<p>When I left Scotland I had no fear of meeting danger in England;
+but at Carlisle I learned that Elizabeth held no favor toward
+Scottish refugees. I also learned that the direct road from
+Carlisle to Haddon, by way of Buxton, was infested with English
+spies who were on the watch for friends of the deposed Scottish
+queen. Several Scotchmen had been arrested, and it was the general
+opinion that upon one pretext or another they would be hanged. I
+therefore chose a circuitous road leading to the town of Derby,
+which lay south of Haddon at a distance of six or seven leagues. It
+would be safer for me to arrive at Haddon travelling from the south
+than from the north. Thus, after many days, I rode into Derby-town
+and stabled my horse at the Royal Arms.</p>
+<p>I called for supper, and while I was waiting for my joint of
+beef a stranger entered the room and gave his orders in a free,
+offhand manner that stamped him a person of quality.</p>
+<p>The night outside was cold. While the stranger and I sat before
+the fire we caught its infectious warmth, and when he showed a
+disposition to talk, I gladly fell in with his humor. Soon we were
+filling our glasses from the same bowl of punch, and we seemed to
+be on good terms with each other. But when God breathed into the
+human <a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>body a part of himself, by
+some mischance He permitted the devil to slip into the tongue and
+loosen it. My tongue, which ordinarily was fairly well behaved,
+upon this occasion quickly brought me into trouble.</p>
+<p>I told you that the stranger and I seemed to be upon good terms.
+And so we were until I, forgetting for the moment Elizabeth's
+hatred of Mary's friends, and hoping to learn the stranger's name
+and quality, said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My name is Vernon&mdash;Sir Malcolm Vernon, knight by the hand
+of Queen Mary of Scotland and of France." This remark, of course,
+required that my companion should in return make known his name and
+degree; but in place of so doing he at once drew away from me and
+sat in silence. I was older than he, and it had seemed to me quite
+proper and right that I should make the first advance. But
+instantly after I had spoken I regretted my words. I remembered not
+only my danger, being a Scottish refugee, but I also bethought me
+that I had betrayed myself. Aside from those causes of uneasiness,
+the stranger's conduct was an insult which I was in duty bound not
+to overlook. Neither was I inclined to do so, for I loved to fight.
+In truth, I loved all things evil.</p>
+<p>"I regret, sir," said I, after a moment or two of embarrassing
+silence, "having imparted information that seems to annoy you. The
+Vernons, whom you may not know, are your equals in blood, it
+matters not who you are."</p>
+<p>"I know of the Vernons," he replied coldly, "and I well know
+that they are of good blood and lineage. As for wealth, I am told
+Sir George could easily buy the estates of any six men in
+Derbyshire."</p>
+<p>"You know Sir George?" I asked despite myself.</p>
+<p>"I do not know him, I am glad to say," returned the
+stranger.</p>
+<p>"By God, sir, you shall answer-"</p>
+<p>"At your pleasure, Sir Malcolm."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>My pleasure is now," I
+retorted eagerly.</p>
+<p>I threw off my doublet and pushed the table and chairs against
+the wall to make room for the fight; but the stranger, who had not
+drawn his sword, said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I have eaten nothing since morning, and I am as hungry as a
+wolf. I would prefer to fight after supper; but if you
+insist&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I do insist," I replied. "Perhaps you will not care for supper
+when I have&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"That may be true," he interrupted; "but before we begin I think
+it right to tell you, without at all meaning to boast of my skill,
+that I can kill you if I wish to do so. Therefore you must see that
+the result of our fight will be disagreeable to you in any case.
+You will die, or you will owe me your life."</p>
+<p>His cool impertinence angered me beyond endurance. He to speak
+of killing me, one of the best swordsmen in France, where the art
+of sword-play is really an art! The English are but bunglers with a
+gentleman's blade, and should restrict themselves to pike and
+quarterstaff.</p>
+<p>"Results be damned!" I answered. "I can kill you if I wish."
+Then it occurred to me that I really did not wish to kill the
+handsome young fellow toward whom I felt an irresistible
+attraction.</p>
+<p>I continued: "But I prefer that you should owe me your life. I
+do not wish to kill you. Guard!"</p>
+<p>My opponent did not lift his sword, but smilingly
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Then why do you insist upon fighting? I certainly do not wish
+to kill you. In truth, I would be inclined to like you if you were
+not a Vernon."</p>
+<p>"Damn your insolence! Guard! or I will run you through where you
+stand," I answered angrily.</p>
+<p>"But why do we fight?" insisted the stubborn fellow, with a
+coolness that showed he was not one whit in fear of me.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>You should know," I replied,
+dropping my sword-point to the floor, and forgetting for the moment
+the cause of our quarrel. "I&mdash;I do not."</p>
+<p>"Then let us not fight," he answered, "until we have discovered
+the matter of our disagreement."</p>
+<p>At this remark neither of us could resist smiling. I had not
+fought since months before, save for a moment at the gates of
+Dundee, and I was loath to miss the opportunity, so I remained in
+thought during the space of half a minute and remembered our cause
+of war.</p>
+<p>"Oh! I recall the reason for our fighting," I replied, "and a
+good one it was. You offered affront to the name of Sir George
+Vernon, and insultingly refused me the courtesy of your name after
+I had done you the honor to tell you mine."</p>
+<p>"I did not tell you my name," replied the stranger, "because I
+believed you would not care to hear it; and I said I was glad not
+to know Sir George Vernon because&mdash;because he is my father's
+enemy. I am Sir John Manners. My father is Lord Rutland."</p>
+<p>Then it was my turn to recede. "You certainly are right. I do
+not care to hear your name."</p>
+<p>I put my sword in its scabbard and drew the table back to its
+former place. Sir John stood in hesitation for a moment or two, and
+then said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm, may we not declare a truce for to-night? There is
+nothing personal in the enmity between us."</p>
+<p>"Nothing," I answered, staring at the fire, half regretful that
+we bore each other enmity at all.</p>
+<p>"You hate me, or believe you do," said Manners, "because your
+father's cousin hates my father; and I try to make myself believe
+that I hate you because my father hates your father's cousin. Are
+we not both mistaken?"</p>
+<p>I was quick to anger and to fight, but no man's heart <a name=
+"Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>was more sensitive than mine to the fair
+touch of a kind word.</p>
+<p>"I am not mistaken, Sir John, when I say that I do not hate
+you," I answered.</p>
+<p>"Nor do I hate you, Sir Malcolm. Will you give me your
+hand?"</p>
+<p>"Gladly," I responded, and I offered my hand to the enemy of my
+house.</p>
+<p>"Landlord," I cried, "bring us two bottles of your best sack.
+The best in the house, mind you."</p>
+<p>After our amicable understanding, Sir John and myself were very
+comfortable together, and when the sack and roast beef, for which
+the Royal Arms was justly famous, were brought in, we sat down to
+an enjoyable meal.</p>
+<p>After supper Sir John lighted a small roll or stick made from
+the leaves of tobacco. The stick was called a cigarro, and I, proud
+not to be behind him in new-fashioned, gentlemanly accomplishments,
+called to the landlord for a pipe. Manners interrupted me when I
+gave the order and offered me a cigarro which I gladly
+accepted.</p>
+<p>Despite my effort to reassure myself, I could not quite throw
+off a feeling of uneasiness whenever I thought of the manner in
+which I had betrayed to Sir John the fact that I was a friend to
+Mary Stuart. I knew that treachery was not native to English blood,
+and my knowledge of mankind had told me that the vice could not
+live in Sir John Manners's heart. But he had told me of his
+residence at the court of Elizabeth, and I feared trouble might
+come to me from the possession of so dangerous a piece of knowledge
+by an enemy of my house.</p>
+<p>I did not speak my thoughts upon the matter, and we sat the
+evening through discussing many subjects. We warmed toward each
+other and became quite confidential. I feel ashamed when I admit
+that one of my many sins was an excessive indulgence in wine. While
+I was not a <a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>drunkard, I was
+given to my cups sometimes in a degree both dangerous and
+disgraceful; and during the evening of which I have just spoken I
+talked to Sir John with a freedom that afterward made me blush,
+although my indiscretion brought me no greater trouble.</p>
+<p>My outburst of confidence was prompted by Sir John's voluntary
+assurance that I need fear nothing from having told him that I was
+a friend of Queen Mary. The Scottish queen's name had been
+mentioned, and Sir John had said&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I take it, Sir Malcolm, that you are newly arrived in England,
+and I feel sure you will accept the advice I am about to offer in
+the kindly spirit in which it is meant. I deem it unsafe for you to
+speak of Queen Mary's friendship in the open manner you have used
+toward me. Her friends are not welcome visitors to England, and I
+fear evil will befall those who come to us as refugees. You need
+have no fear that I will betray you. Your secret is safe with me. I
+will give you hostage. I also am Queen Mary's friend. I would not,
+of course, favor her against the interest of our own queen. To
+Elizabeth I am and always shall be loyal; but the unfortunate
+Scottish queen has my sympathy in her troubles, and I should be
+glad to help her. I hear she is most beautiful and gentle in
+person."</p>
+<p>Thus you see the influence of Mary's beauty reached from
+Edinburgh to London. A few months only were to pass till this
+conversation was to be recalled by each of us, and the baneful
+influence of Mary's beauty upon all whom it touched was to be shown
+more fatally than had appeared even in my own case. In truth, my
+reason for speaking so fully concerning the, Scottish queen and
+myself will be apparent to you in good time.</p>
+<p>When we were about to part for the night, I asked Sir John,
+"What road do you travel to-morrow?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>I am going to Rutland Castle
+by way of Rowsley," he answered.</p>
+<p>"I, too, travel by Rowsley to Haddon Hall. Shall we not extend
+our truce over the morrow and ride together as far as Rowsley?" I
+asked.</p>
+<p>"I shall be glad to make the truce perpetual," he replied
+laughingly.</p>
+<p>"So shall I," was my response.</p>
+<p>Thus we sealed our compact and knitted out of the warp and woof
+of enmity a friendship which became a great joy and a sweet grief
+to each of us.</p>
+<p>That night I lay for hours thinking of the past and wondering
+about the future. I had tasted the sweets&mdash;all flavored with
+bitterness&mdash;of court life. Women, wine, gambling, and fighting
+had given me the best of all the evils they had to offer. Was I now
+to drop that valorous life, which men so ardently seek, and was I
+to take up a browsing, kinelike existence at Haddon Hall, there to
+drone away my remaining days in fat'ning, peace, and quietude? I
+could not answer my own question, but this I knew: that Sir George
+Vernon was held in high esteem by Elizabeth, and I felt that his
+house was, perhaps, the only spot in England where my head could
+safely lie. I also had other plans concerning Sir George and his
+household which I regret to say I imparted to Sir John in the
+sack-prompted outpouring of my confidence. The plans of which I
+shall now speak had been growing in favor with me for several
+months previous to my enforced departure from Scotland, and that
+event had almost determined me to adopt them. Almost, I say, for
+when I approached Haddon Hall I wavered in my resolution.</p>
+<p>At the time when I had last visited Sir George at Haddon, his
+daughter Dorothy&mdash;Sir George called her Doll&mdash;was a
+slipshod girl of twelve. She was exceedingly plain, and gave
+promise of always so remaining. Sir George, <a name="Page_17" id=
+"Page_17"></a>who had no son, was anxious that his vast estates
+should remain in the Vernon name. He had upon the occasion of my
+last visit intimated to me that when Doll should become old enough
+to marry, and I, perchance, had had my fill of knocking about the
+world, a marriage might be brought about between us which would
+enable him to leave his estates to his daughter and still to retain
+the much-loved Vernon name for his descendants.</p>
+<p>Owing to Doll's rusty red hair, slim shanks, and freckled face,
+the proposition had not struck me with favor, yet to please Sir
+George I had feigned acquiescence, and had said that when the time
+should come, we would talk it over. Before my flight from Scotland
+I had often thought of Sir George's proposition made six or seven
+years before. My love for Mary Stuart had dimmed the light of other
+beauties in my eyes, and I had never married. For many months
+before my flight, however, I had not been permitted to bask in the
+light of Mary's smiles to the extent of my wishes. Younger men,
+among them Darnley, who was but eighteen years of age, were
+preferred to me, and I had begun to consider the advisability of an
+orderly retreat from the Scottish court before my lustre should be
+entirely dimmed. It is said that a man is young so long as he is
+strong, and I was strong as in the days of my youth. My cheeks were
+fresh, my eyes were bright, and my hair was red as when I was
+twenty, and without a thread of gray. Still, my temperament was
+more exacting and serious, and the thought of becoming settled for
+life, or rather for old age and death, was growing in favor with
+me. With that thought came always a suggestion of slim, freckled
+Dorothy and Sir George's offer. She held out to me wealth and
+position, a peaceful home for my old age, and a grave with a
+pompous, pious epitaph at Bakewell church, in death.</p>
+<p>When I was compelled to leave Scotland, circumstances <a name=
+"Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>forced me to a decision, and my
+resolution was quickly taken. I would go to Derbyshire and would
+marry Dorothy. I did not expect ever again to feel great love for a
+woman. The fuse, I thought, had burned out when I loved Mary
+Stuart. One woman, I believed, was like another to me, and Dorothy
+would answer as well as any for my wife. I could and would be kind
+to her, and that alone in time would make me fond. It is true, my
+affection would be of a fashion more comfortable than exciting; but
+who, having passed his galloping youth, will contemn the joys that
+come from making others happy? I believe there is no person, past
+the age of forty, at all given to pondering the whys of life, who
+will gainsay that the joy we give to others is our chief source of
+happiness. Why, then, should not a wise man, through purely selfish
+motives, begin early to cultivate the gentle art of giving joy?</p>
+<p>But the fates were to work out the destinies of Dorothy and
+myself without our assistance. Self-willed, arrogant creatures are
+those same fates, but they save us a deal of trouble by assuming
+our responsibilities.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><a name="Page_19" id=
+"Page_19"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h2>THE IRON, THE SEED, THE CLOUD, AND THE RAIN</h2>
+<p>The morning following my meeting with Manners, he and I made an
+early start. An hour before noon we rode into the town of Rowsley
+and halted at The Peacock for dinner.</p>
+<p>When we entered the courtyard of the inn we saw three ladies
+warmly wrapped in rich furs leave a ponderous coach and walk to the
+inn door, which they entered. One of them was an elderly lady whom
+I recognized as my cousin, Lady Dorothy Crawford, sister to Sir
+George Vernon. The second was a tall, beautiful girl, with an
+exquisite ivory-like complexion and a wonderful crown of fluffy red
+hair which encircled her head like a halo of sunlit glory. I could
+compare its wondrous lustre to no color save that of molten gold
+deeply alloyed with copper. But that comparison tells you nothing.
+I can find no simile with which to describe the beauties of its
+shades and tints. It was red, but it also was golden, as if the
+enamoured sun had gilded every hair with its radiance. In all my
+life I had never seen anything so beautiful as this tall girl's
+hair. Still, it was the Vernon red. My cousin, Sir George, and many
+Vernons had hair of the same color. Yet the girl's hair differed
+from all other I had ever seen. It had a light and a lustre of its
+own which was as distinct from the ordinary Vernon red, although
+that is very good and we are proud of it, as the sheen of gold is
+from <a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>the glitter of brass. I
+knew by the girl's hair that she was my cousin, Dorothy Vernon,
+whom I reluctantly had come to wed.</p>
+<p>I asked myself, "Can this be the plain, freckled girl I knew
+seven years ago?" Compared with her beauty even Mary Stuart's was
+pale as the vapid moon at dawn. The girl seemed to be the
+incarnated spirit of universal life and light, and I had
+condescendingly come to marry this goddess. I felt a dash of
+contemptuous pity for my complacent self.</p>
+<p>In my cogitations concerning marriage with Dorothy Vernon, I had
+not at all taken into consideration her personal inclination. A
+girl, after all, is but the chattel of her father, and must,
+perforce, if needs be, marry the man who is chosen for her. But
+leaving parental authority out of the question, a girl with
+brick-red hair and a multitude of freckles need not be considered
+when an agreeable, handsome man offers himself as a husband. She
+usually is willing to the point of eagerness. That is the manner in
+which I had thought about Dorothy Vernon, if I considered her at
+all. But when a man is about to offer himself to a goddess, he is
+apt to pause. In such a case there are always two sides to the
+question, and nine chances to one the goddess will coolly take
+possession of both. When I saw Dorothy in the courtyard of The
+Peacock, I instantly knew that she was a girl to be taken into
+account in all matters wherein she was personally concerned. Her
+every feature, every poise and gesture, unconsciously bore the
+stamp of "I will" or "I will not."</p>
+<p>Walking by Dorothy's side, holding her hand, was a fair young
+woman whose hair was black, and whose skin was of the white, clear
+complexion such as we see in the faces of nuns. She walked with a
+hesitating, cautious step, and clung to Dorothy, who was gentle and
+attentive to her.<a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a> But of this
+fair, pale girl I have so much to say in the pages to come that I
+shall not further describe her here.</p>
+<p>When the ladies had entered the inn, my companion and I
+dismounted, and Manners exclaimed:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Did you see the glorious girl who but now entered the inn door?
+Gods! I never before saw such beauty."</p>
+<p>"Yes," I replied, "I know her."</p>
+<p>"How fortunate I am," said Sir John. "Perhaps I may induce you
+to present me to her. At least you will tell me her name, that I
+may seek her acquaintance by the usual means. I am not susceptible,
+but by my faith, I&mdash;I&mdash;she looked at me from the
+door-steps, and when I caught her eyes it seemed&mdash;that is, I
+saw&mdash;or I felt a stream of burning life enter my soul,
+and&mdash;but you will think I am a fool. I know I am a fool. But I
+feel as if I were&mdash;as if I had been bewitched in one little
+second of time, and by a single glance from a pair of brown eyes.
+You certainly will think I am a fool, but you cannot
+understand&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Why can't I understand?" I asked indignantly. "The thing you
+have seen and felt has been in this world long enough for every man
+to understand. Eve used it upon Adam. I can't understand? Damme,
+sir, do you think I am a clod? I have felt it fifty times."</p>
+<p>"Not&mdash;" began Sir John, hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"Nonsense!" I replied. "You, too, will have the same experience
+fifty times again before you are my age."</p>
+<p>"But the lady," said Sir John, "tell me of her. Will
+you&mdash;can you present me to her? If not, will you tell me who
+she is?"</p>
+<p>I remained for a moment in thought, wondering if it were right
+for me to tell him that the girl whom he so much admired was the
+daughter of his father's enemy. I could see no way of keeping
+Dorothy's name from him, so I determined to tell him.</p>
+<p>"She is my cousin, Mistress Dorothy Vernon," I said.<a name=
+"Page_22" id="Page_22"></a> "The eldest is Lady Dorothy Crawford.
+The beautiful, pale girl I do not know."</p>
+<p>"I am sorry," returned Sir John; "she is the lady whom you have
+come to marry, is she not?"</p>
+<p>"Y-e-s," said I, hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"You certainly are to be congratulated," returned Manners.</p>
+<p>"I doubt if I shall marry her," I replied.</p>
+<p>"Why?" asked Manners.</p>
+<p>"For many reasons, chief among which is her beauty."</p>
+<p>"That is an unusual reason for declining a woman," responded Sir
+John, with a low laugh.</p>
+<p>"I think it is quite usual," I replied, having in mind the
+difficulty with which great beauties are won. But I continued, "A
+woman of moderate beauty makes a safer wife, and in the long run is
+more comforting than one who is too attractive."</p>
+<p>"You are a philosopher, Sir Malcolm," said Manners,
+laughingly.</p>
+<p>"And a liar," I muttered to myself. I felt sure, however, that I
+should never marry Dorothy Vernon, and I do not mind telling you,
+even at this early stage in my history, that I was right in my
+premonition. I did not marry her.</p>
+<p>"I suppose I shall now be compelled to give you up to your
+relatives," said Manners.</p>
+<p>"Yes," I returned, "we must say good-by for the present; but if
+we do not meet again, it shall not be for the lack of my wishing.
+Your father and Sir George would feel deeply injured, should they
+learn of our friendship, therefore&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"You are quite right," he interrupted. "It is better that no one
+should know of it. Nevertheless, between you and me let there be no
+feud."</p>
+<p>"The secrecy of our friendship will give it zest," said I. "That
+is true, but 'good wine needs no bush.' You will not mention my
+name to the ladies?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>No, if you wish that I shall
+not."</p>
+<p>"I do so wish."</p>
+<p>When the stable boys had taken our horses, I gave my hand to Sir
+John, after which we entered the inn and treated each other as
+strangers.</p>
+<p>Soon after I had washed the stains of travel from my hands and
+face, I sent the maid to my cousins, asking that I might be
+permitted to pay my devotions, and Dorothy came to the tap-room in
+response to my message.</p>
+<p>When she entered she ran to me with outstretched hands and a
+gleam of welcome in her eyes. We had been rare friends when she was
+a child.</p>
+<p>"Ah, Cousin Malcolm, what a fine surprise you have given us!"
+she exclaimed, clasping both my hands and offering me her cheek to
+kiss. "Father's delight will be beyond measure when he sees
+you."</p>
+<p>"As mine now is," I responded, gazing at her from head to foot
+and drinking in her beauty with my eyes. "Doll! Doll! What a
+splendid girl you have become. Who would have thought
+that&mdash;that&mdash;" I hesitated, realizing that I was rapidly
+getting myself into trouble.</p>
+<p>"Say it. Say it, cousin! I know what is in your mind. Rusty red
+hair, angular shoulders, sharp elbows, freckles thickly set as
+stars upon a clear night, and so large and brown that they fairly
+twinkled. Great staring green eyes. Awkward!&mdash;" And she threw
+up her hands in mimic horror at the remembrance. "No one could have
+supposed that such a girl would have become&mdash;that is, you
+know," she continued confusedly, "could have changed. I haven't a
+freckle now," and she lifted her face that I might prove the truth
+of her words by examination, and perhaps that I might also observe
+her beauty.</p>
+<p>Neither did I waste the opportunity. I dwelt longingly upon the
+wondrous red golden hair which fringed her low broad forehead, and
+upon the heavy black eyebrows, the <a name="Page_24" id=
+"Page_24"></a>pencilled points of whose curves almost touched
+across the nose. I saw the rose-tinted ivory of her skin and the
+long jet lashes curving in a great sweep from her full white lids,
+and I thought full sure that Venus herself was before me. My gaze
+halted for a moment at the long eyes which changed chameleon-like
+with the shifting light, and varied with her moods from deep
+fathomless green to violet, and from violet to soft voluptuous
+brown, but in all their tints beaming forth a lustre that would
+have stirred the soul of an anchorite. Then I noted the beauty of
+her clean-cut saucy nose and the red arch of her lips, slightly
+parted for the purpose of showing her teeth. But I could not stop
+long to dwell upon any one especial feature, for there were still
+to be seen her divine round chin, her large white throat, and the
+infinite grace in poise and curve of her strong young form. I dared
+not pause nor waste my time if I were to see it all, for such a
+girl as Dorothy waits no man's leisure&mdash;that is, unless she
+wishes to wait. In such case there is no moving her, and patience
+becomes to her a delightful virtue.</p>
+<p>After my prolonged scrutiny Dorothy lowered her face and said
+laughingly:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Now come, cousin, tell me the truth. Who would have thought it
+possible?"</p>
+<p>"Not I, Doll, not I, if you will pardon me the frankness."</p>
+<p>"Oh, that is easily done." Then with a merry ripple of laughter,
+"It is much easier, I fancy, for a woman to speak of the time when
+she was plain than to refer to the time when&mdash;when she was
+beautiful. What an absurd speech that is for me to make," she said
+confusedly.</p>
+<p>"I certainly did not expect to find so great a change," said I.
+"Why, Doll, you are wondrous, glorious, beautiful. I can't find
+words&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Then don't try, Cousin Malcolm," she said with a smile <a name=
+"Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>that fringed her mouth in dimples.
+"Don't try. You will make me vain."</p>
+<p>"You are that already, Doll," I answered, to tease her.</p>
+<p>"I fear I am, cousin&mdash;vain as a man. But don't call me
+Doll. I am tall enough to be called Dorothy."</p>
+<p>She straightened herself up to her full height, and stepping
+close to my side, said: "I am as tall as you. I will now try to
+make you vain. You look just as young and as handsome as when I
+last saw you and so ardently admired your waving black mustachio
+and your curling chin beard."</p>
+<p>"Did you admire them, Doll&mdash;Dorothy?" I asked, hoping,
+though with little faith, that the admiration might still
+continue.</p>
+<p>"Oh, prodigiously," she answered with unassuring candor.
+"Prodigiously. Now who is vain, Cousin Malcolm Fran&ccedil;ois de
+Lorraine Vernon?"</p>
+<p>"I," I responded, shrugging my shoulders and confessing by
+compulsion.</p>
+<p>"But you must remember," she continued provokingly, "that a girl
+of twelve is very immature in her judgment and will fall in love
+with any man who allows her to look upon him twice."</p>
+<p>"Then I am to believe that the fire begins very early to burn in
+the feminine heart," I responded.</p>
+<p>"With birth, my cousin, with birth," she replied; "but in my
+heart it burned itself out upon your curling beard at the mature
+age of twelve."</p>
+<p>"And you have never been in love since that time,
+Doll&mdash;Dorothy?" I asked with more earnestness in my heart than
+in my voice.</p>
+<p>"No, no; by the Virgin, no! Not even in the shadow of a thought.
+And by the help of the Virgin I hope I never shall be; for when it
+comes to me, mark my word, cousin, there will be trouble in
+Derbyshire."</p>
+<p>"By my soul, I believe you speak the truth," I answered,
+<a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>little dreaming how quickly our
+joint prophecy would come true.</p>
+<p>I then asked Dorothy to tell me about her father.</p>
+<p>"Father is well in health," she said. "In mind he has been much
+troubled and disturbed. Last month he lost the lawsuit against
+detestable old Lord Rutland. He was much angered by the loss, and
+has been moody and morose in brooding over it ever since. He tries,
+poor father, to find relief from his troubles, and&mdash;and I fear
+takes too much liquor. Rutland and his friends swore to one lie
+upon another, and father believes that the judge who tried the case
+was bribed. Father intends to appeal to Parliament, but even in
+Parliament he fears he cannot obtain justice. Lord Rutland's
+son&mdash;a disreputable fellow, who for many years has lived at
+court&mdash;is a favorite with the queen, and his acquaintance with
+her Majesty and with the lords will be to father's prejudice."</p>
+<p>"I have always believed that your father stood in the queen's
+good graces?" I said interrogatively.</p>
+<p>"So he does, but I have been told that this son of Lord Rutland,
+whom I have never seen, has the beauty of&mdash;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."</p>
+<p>"The feud still lives between Vernon and Rutland?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p>We changed the topic. I had expected Dorothy to in<a name=
+"Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>vite 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.</p>
+<p>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.</p>
+<p>After a little time she said: "Is it not cool here? Let us go
+over to the fireplace where it is warmer."</p>
+<p>I turned to go with her, and at once saw that it was not the
+fire in the fireplace which had attracted Dorothy, but quite a
+different sort of flame. In short, much to my consternation, I
+discovered that it was nothing less than my handsome new-found
+friend, Sir John Manners, toward whom Dorothy had been
+glancing.</p>
+<p>We walked over to the fireplace, and one of the fires, Sir John,
+moved away. But the girl turned her face that she might see him in
+his new position. The movement, I confess, looked bold to the point
+of brazenness; but if the movement was bold, what shall I say of
+her glances and the expression of her face? She seemed unable to
+take her eager eyes from the stranger, or to think of anything but
+him, and after a few moments she did not try. Soon she stopped
+talking entirely and did not even hear what I was saying. I, too,
+became silent, and after a long pause the girl asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>Cousin, who is the gentleman
+with whom you were travelling?"</p>
+<p>I was piqued by Dorothy's conduct, and answered rather curtly:
+"He is a stranger. I picked him up at Derby, and we rode here
+together."</p>
+<p>A pause followed, awkward in its duration.</p>
+<p>"Did you&mdash;not&mdash;learn&mdash;his&mdash;name?" asked
+Dorothy, hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"Yes," I replied.</p>
+<p>Then came another pause, broken by the girl, who spoke in a
+quick, imperious tone touched with irritation:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Well, what is it?"</p>
+<p>"It is better that I do not tell you," I answered. "It was quite
+by accident that we met. Neither of us knew the other. Please do
+not ask me to tell you his name."</p>
+<p>"Oh, but you make me all the more eager to learn. Mystery, you
+know, is intolerable to a woman, except in the unravelling. Come,
+tell me! Tell me! Not, of course, that I really care a farthing to
+know&mdash;but the mystery! A mystery drives me wild. Tell me,
+please do, Cousin Malcolm."</p>
+<p>She certainly was posing for the stranger's benefit, and was
+doing all in her power, while coaxing me, to display her charms,
+graces, and pretty little ways. Her attitude and conduct spoke as
+plainly as the spring bird's song speaks to its mate. Yet Dorothy's
+manner did not seem bold. Even to me it appeared modest, beautiful,
+and necessary. She seemed to act under compulsion. She would laugh,
+for the purpose, no doubt, of showing her dimples and her teeth,
+and would lean her head to one side pigeon-wise to display her eyes
+to the best advantage, and then would she shyly glance toward Sir
+John to see if he was watching her. It was shameless, but it could
+not be helped by Dorothy nor any one else. After a few <a name=
+"Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>moments of mute pleading by the girl,
+broken now and then by, "Please, please," I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If you give to me your promise that you will never speak of
+this matter to any person, I will tell you the gentleman's name. I
+would not for a great deal have your father know that I have held
+conversation with him even for a moment, though at the time I did
+not know who he was."</p>
+<p>"Oh, this is delightful! He must be some famous, dashing
+highwayman. I promise, of course I promise&mdash;faithfully." She
+was glancing constantly toward Manners, and her face was bright
+with smiles and eager with anticipation.</p>
+<p>"He is worse than a highwayman, I regret to say. The gentleman
+toward whom you are so ardently glancing is&mdash;Sir John
+Manners."</p>
+<p>A shock of pain passed over Dorothy's face, followed by a hard,
+repellent expression that was almost ugly.</p>
+<p>"Let us go to Aunt Dorothy," she said, as she turned and walked
+across the room toward the door.</p>
+<p>When we had closed the door of the tap-room behind us Dorothy
+said angrily:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Tell me, cousin, how you, a Vernon, came to be in his
+company?"</p>
+<p>"I told you that I met him quite by accident at the Royal Arms
+in Derby-town. We became friends before either knew the other's
+name. After chance had disclosed our identities, he asked for a
+truce to our feud until the morrow; and he was so gentle and open
+in his conduct that I could not and would not refuse his proffered
+olive branch. In truth, whatever faults may be attributable to Lord
+Rutland,&mdash;and I am sure he deserves all the evil you have
+spoken of him,&mdash;his son, Sir John, is a noble gentleman, else
+I have been reading the book of human nature all my life in vain.
+Perhaps he is in no way to <a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>blame
+for his father's conduct He may have had no part in it"</p>
+<p>"Perhaps he has not," said Dorothy, musingly.</p>
+<p>It was not a pleasant task for me to praise Sir John, but my
+sense of justice impelled me to do so. I tried to make myself feel
+injured and chagrined because of Dorothy's manner toward him; for
+you must remember I had arranged with myself to marry this girl,
+but I could not work my feelings into a state of indignation
+against the heir to Rutland. The truth is, my hope of winning
+Dorothy had evaporated upon the first sight of her, like the
+volatile essence it really was. I cannot tell you why, but I at
+once seemed to realize that all the thought and labor which I had
+devoted to the arduous task of arranging with myself this marriage
+was labor lost. So I frankly told her my kindly feelings for Sir
+John, and gave her my high estimate of his character.</p>
+<p>I continued: "You see, Dorothy, I could not so easily explain to
+your father my association with Sir John, and I hope you will not
+speak of it to any one, lest the news should reach Sir George's
+ears."</p>
+<p>"I will not speak of it," she returned, sighing faintly. "After
+all, it is not his fault that his father is such a villain. He
+doesn't look like his father, does he?"</p>
+<p>"I cannot say. I never saw Lord Rutland," I replied.</p>
+<p>"He is the most villanous-looking&mdash;" but she broke off the
+sentence and stood for a moment in revery. We were in the darkened
+passage, and Dorothy had taken my hand. That little act in another
+woman of course would have led to a demonstration on my part, but
+in this girl it seemed so entirely natural and candid that it was a
+complete bar to undue familiarity. In truth, I had no such
+tendency, for the childish act spoke of an innocence and faith that
+were very sweet to me who all my life had lived <a name="Page_31"
+id="Page_31"></a>among men and women who laughed at those simple
+virtues. The simple conditions of life are all that are worth
+striving for. They come to us fresh from Nature and from Nature's
+God. The complex are but concoctions of man after recipes in the
+devil's alchemy. So much gold, so much ambition, so much lust. Mix
+well. Product: so much vexation.</p>
+<p>"He must resemble his mother," said Dorothy, after a long pause.
+"Poor fellow! His mother is dead. He is like me in that respect. I
+wonder if his father's villanies trouble him?"</p>
+<p>"I think they must trouble him. He seems to be sad," said I,
+intending to be ironical.</p>
+<p>My reply was taken seriously.</p>
+<p>"I am sorry for him," she said, "it is not right to hate even
+our enemies. The Book tells us that."</p>
+<p>"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," said I, amused and provoked.</p>
+<p>Unexpected and dangerous symptoms were rapidly developing in the
+perverse girl, and trouble was brewing "in Derbyshire."</p>
+<p>The adjective perverse, by the way, usually is superfluous when
+used to modify the noun girl.</p>
+<p>"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," I repeated.</p>
+<p>"Why, y-e-s," she responded. "I cannot help that, but you know
+it would be very wrong to&mdash;to hate all his family. To hate him
+is bad enough."</p>
+<p>I soon began to fear that I had praised Sir John overmuch.</p>
+<p>"I think Sir John is all there is of Lord Rutland's family," I
+said, alarmed yet amused at Dorothy's search for an excuse not to
+hate my new-found friend.</p>
+<p>"Well," she continued after a pause, throwing her head to one
+side, "I am sorry there are no more of that family not to
+hate."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>Dorothy! Dorothy!" I
+exclaimed. "What has come over you? You surprise me."</p>
+<p>"Yes," she answered, with a little sigh, "I certainly have
+surprised myself by&mdash;by my willingness to forgive those who
+have injured my house. I did not know there was so much&mdash;so
+much good in me."</p>
+<p>"Mistress Pharisee," thought I, "you are a hypocrite."</p>
+<p>Again intending to be ironical, I said, "Shall I fetch him from
+the tap-room and present him to you?"</p>
+<p>Once more my irony was lost upon the girl. Evidently that sort
+of humor was not my strong point.</p>
+<p>"No, no," she responded indignantly, "I would not speak to him
+for&mdash;" Again she broke her sentence abruptly, and after a
+little pause, short in itself but amply long for a girl like
+Dorothy to change her mind two score times, she continued: "It
+would not be for the best. What think you, Cousin Malcolm?"</p>
+<p>"Surely the girl has gone mad," thought I. Her voice was soft
+and conciliating as if to say, "I trust entirely to your mature,
+superior judgment."</p>
+<p>My judgment coincided emphatically with her words, and I said:
+"I spoke only in jest. It certainly would not be right. It would be
+all wrong if you were to meet him."</p>
+<p>"That is true," the girl responded with firmness, "but&mdash;but
+no real harm could come of it," she continued, laughing nervously.
+"He could not strike me nor bite me. Of course it would be
+unpleasant for me to meet him, and as there is no need&mdash;I am
+curious to know what one of his race is like. It's the only reason
+that would induce me to consent. Of course you know there could be
+no other reason for me to wish&mdash;that is, you know&mdash;to be
+willing to meet him. Of course you know."</p>
+<p>"Certainly," I replied, still clinging to my unsuccessful irony.
+"I will tell you all I know about him, so that you <a name=
+"Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>may understand what he is like. As for
+his personal appearance, you saw him, did you not?"</p>
+<p>I thought surely that piece of irony would not fail, but it did,
+and I have seldom since attempted to use that form of humor.</p>
+<p>"Yes&mdash;oh, yes, I saw him for a moment."</p>
+<p>"But I will not present him to you, Dorothy, however much you
+may wish to meet him," I said positively.</p>
+<p>"It is almost an insult, Cousin Malcolm, for you to say that I
+wish to meet him," she answered in well-feigned indignation.</p>
+<p>The French blood in my veins moved me to shrug my shoulders. I
+could do nothing else. With all my knowledge of womankind this girl
+had sent me to sea.</p>
+<p>But what shall we say of Dorothy's conduct? I fancy I can hear
+you mutter, "This Dorothy Vernon must have been a bold, immodest,
+brazen girl." Nothing of the sort. Dare you of the cold
+blood&mdash;if perchance there be any with that curse in their
+veins who read these lines&mdash;dare you, I say, lift your voice
+against the blessed heat in others which is but a greater,
+stronger, warmer spark of God's own soul than you possess or than
+you can comprehend? "Evil often comes of it," I hear you say. That
+I freely admit; and evil comes from eating too much bread, and from
+hearing too much preaching. But the universe, from the humblest
+blade of grass to the infinite essence of God, exists because of
+that warmth which the mawkish world contemns. Is the iron immodest
+when it creeps to the lodestone and clings to its side? Is the hen
+bird brazen when she flutters to her mate responsive to his
+compelling woo-song? Is the seed immodest when it sinks into the
+ground and swells with budding life? Is the cloud bold when it
+softens into rain and falls to earth because it has no other
+choice? or is it brazen when it nestles for a time on the bosom of
+heaven's <a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>arched dome and sinking
+into the fathomless depths of a blue black infinity ceases to be
+itself? Is the human soul immodest when, drawn by a force it cannot
+resist, it seeks a stronger soul which absorbs its ego as the blue
+sky absorbs the floating cloud, as the warm earth swells the seed,
+as the magnet draws the iron? All these are of one quality. The
+iron, the seed, the cloud, and the soul of man are <i>what</i> they
+are, do <i>what</i> they do, love as they love, live as they live,
+and die as they die because they must&mdash;because they have no
+other choice. We think we are free because at times we act as we
+please, forgetting that God gives us the "please," and that every
+act of our being is but the result of a dictated motive. Dorothy
+was not immodest. This was her case. She was the iron, the seed,
+the cloud, and the rain. You, too, are the iron, the seed, the
+cloud, and the rain. It is only human vanity which prompts you to
+believe that you are yourself and that you are free. Do you find
+any freedom in this world save that which you fondly believe to
+exist within yourself? Self! There is but one self, God. I have
+been told that the people of the East call Him Brahma. The word, it
+is said, means "Breath," "Inspiration," "All." I have felt that the
+beautiful pagan thought has truth in it; but my conscience and my
+priest tell me rather to cling to truths I have than to fly to
+others that I know not of. As a result, I shall probably die
+orthodox and mistaken.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><a name="Page_35"
+id="Page_35"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h2>THE PITCHER GOES TO THE WELL.</h2>
+<p>Dorothy and I went to the inn parlors, where I received a
+cordial welcome from my cousin, Lady Crawford. After our greeting,
+Dorothy came toward me leading the fair, pale girl whom I had seen
+in the courtyard.</p>
+<p>"Madge, this is my cousin, Malcolm Vernon," said Dorothy. "He
+was a dear friend of my childhood and is much beloved by my father.
+Lady Magdalene Stanley, cousin," and she placed the girl's soft
+white hand in mine. There was a peculiar hesitancy in the girl's
+manner which puzzled me. She did not look at me when Dorothy placed
+her hand in mine, but kept her eyes cast down, the long, black
+lashes resting upon the fair curves of her cheek like a shadow on
+the snow. She murmured a salutation, and when I made a remark that
+called for a response, she lifted her eyes but seemed not to look
+at me. Unconsciously I turned my face toward Dorothy, who closed
+her eyes and formed with her lips the word "blind."</p>
+<p>I retained the girl's hand, and she did not withdraw it. When I
+caught Dorothy's unspoken word I led Lady Madge to a chair and
+asked if I might sit beside her.</p>
+<p>"Certainly," she answered smilingly; "you know I am blind, but I
+can hear and speak, and I enjoy having persons I like sit near me
+that I may touch them now and then while we talk. If I could only
+see!" she exclaimed.<a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a> Still,
+there was no tone of complaint in her voice and very little even of
+regret. The girl's eyes were of a deep blue and were entirely
+without scar or other evidence of blindness, except that they did
+not seem to see. I afterward learned that her affliction had come
+upon her as the result of illness when she was a child. She was
+niece to the Earl of Derby, and Dorothy's mother had been her aunt.
+She owned a small estate and had lived at Haddon Hall five or six
+years because of the love that existed between her and Dorothy. A
+strong man instinctively longs to cherish that which needs his
+strength, and perhaps it was the girl's helplessness that first
+appealed to me. Perhaps it was her rare, peculiar beauty, speaking
+eloquently of virtue such as I had never known, that touched me. I
+cannot say what the impelling cause was, but this I know: my heart
+went out in pity to her, and all that was good within
+me&mdash;good, which I had never before suspected&mdash;stirred in
+my soul, and my past life seemed black and barren beyond endurance.
+Even Dorothy's marvellous beauty lacked the subtle quality which
+this simple blind girl possessed. The first step in regeneration is
+to see one's faults; the second is to regret them; the third is to
+quit them. The first and second steps constitute repentance; the
+second and third regeneration. One hour within the radius of Madge
+Stanley's influence brought me to repentance. But repentance is an
+everyday virtue. Should I ever achieve regeneration? That is one of
+the questions this history will answer. To me, Madge Stanley's
+passive force was the strongest influence for good that had ever
+impinged on my life. With respect to her, morally, I was the iron,
+the seed, the cloud, and the rain, for she, acting unconsciously,
+moved me with neither knowledge nor volition on my part.</p>
+<p>Soon after my arrival at the ladies' parlor dinner was served,
+and after dinner a Persian merchant was ushered <a name="Page_37"
+id="Page_37"></a>in, closely followed by his servants bearing bales
+of rare Eastern fabrics. A visit and a dinner at the inn were
+little events that made a break in the monotony of life at the
+Hall, and the ladies preferred to visit the merchant, who was
+stopping at The Peacock for a time, rather than to have him take
+his wares to Haddon.</p>
+<p>While Lady Crawford and Dorothy were revelling in Persian silks,
+satins, and gold cloths, I sat by Lady Madge and was more than
+content that we were left to ourselves. My mind, however, was as
+far from thoughts of gallantry as if she had been a black-veiled
+nun. I believe I have not told you that I was of the Holy Catholic
+Faith. My religion, I may say, has always been more nominal and
+political than spiritual, although there ran through it a strong
+vein of inherited tendencies and superstitions which were highly
+colored by contempt for heresy and heretics. I was Catholic by
+habit. But if I analyzed my supposed religious belief, I found that
+I had none save a hatred for heresy. Heretics, as a rule, were
+low-born persons, vulgarly moral, and as I had always thought,
+despisedly hypocritical. Madge Stanley, however, was a Protestant,
+and that fact shook the structure of my old mistakes to its
+foundation, and left me religionless.</p>
+<p>After the Persian merchant had packed his bales and departed,
+Dorothy and Lady Crawford joined Madge and me near the fireplace.
+Soon Dorothy went over to the window and stood there gazing into
+the courtyard.</p>
+
+<p>After a few minutes Lady Crawford said, "Dorothy,
+had we not better order Dawson to bring out the horses and coach?"
+Will Dawson was Sir George's forester.</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford repeated her
+question, but Dorothy was too intently watching the scene in the
+courtyard to hear. I went over to her, and looking out at the
+window discovered the object of Dorothy's rapt attention. There is
+no need for me to tell you who it was. Irony, as you know, <a name=
+"Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>and as I had learned, was harmless
+against this thick-skinned nymph. Of course I had no authority to
+scold her, so I laughed. The object of Dorothy's attention was
+about to mount his horse. He was drawing on his gauntleted gloves
+and held between his teeth a cigarro. He certainly presented a
+handsome figure for the eyes of an ardent girl to rest upon while
+he stood beneath the window, clothed in a fashionable Paris-made
+suit of brown, doublet, trunks, and hose. His high-topped boots
+were polished till they shone, and his broad-rimmed hat, of soft
+beaver, was surmounted by a flowing plume. Even I, who had no
+especial taste nor love for masculine beauty, felt my sense of the
+beautiful strongly moved by the attractive picture my new-found
+friend presented. His dress, manner, and bearing, polished by the
+friction of life at a luxurious court, must have appeared god-like
+to Dorothy. She had never travelled farther from home than Buxton
+and Derby-town, and had met only the half-rustic men belonging to
+the surrounding gentry and nobility of Derbyshire, Nottingham, and
+Stafford. She had met but few even of them, and their lives had
+been spent chiefly in drinking, hunting, and
+gambling&mdash;accomplishments that do not fine down the texture of
+a man's nature or fit him for a lady's bower. Sir John Manners was
+a revelation to Dorothy; and she, poor girl, was bewildered and
+bewitched by him.</p>
+<p>When John had mounted and was moving away, he looked up to the
+window where Dorothy stood, and a light came to her eyes and a
+smile to her face which no man who knows the sum of two and two can
+ever mistake if he but once sees it.</p>
+<p>When I saw the light in Dorothy's eyes, I knew that all the
+hatred that was ever born from all the feuds that had ever lived
+since the quarrelling race of man began its feuds in Eden could not
+make Dorothy Vernon hate the son of her father's enemy.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>I
+was&mdash;was&mdash;watching him draw smoke through the&mdash;the
+little stick which he holds in his mouth, and&mdash;and blow it out
+again," said Dorothy, in explanation of her attitude. She blushed
+painfully and continued, "I hope you do not think&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I do not think," I answered. "I would not think of
+thinking."</p>
+<p>"Of course not," she responded, with a forced smile, as she
+watched Sir John pass out of sight under the arch of the innyard
+gate. I did not think. I knew. And the sequel, so full of trouble,
+soon proved that I was right. After John had passed through the
+gate, Dorothy was willing to go home; and when Will Dawson brought
+the great coach to the inn door, I mounted my horse and rode beside
+the ladies to Haddon Hall, two miles north from Rowsley.</p>
+<p>I shall not stop to tell you of the warm welcome given me by Sir
+George Vernon, nor of his delight when I briefly told him my
+misfortunes in Scotland&mdash;misfortunes that had brought me to
+Haddon Hall. Nor shall I describe the great boar's head supper
+given in my honor, at which there were twenty men who could have
+put me under the table. I thought I knew something of the art of
+drinking, but at that supper I soon found I was a mere tippler
+compared with these country guzzlers. At that feast I learned also
+that Dorothy, when she had hinted concerning Sir George's excessive
+drinking, had told the truth. He, being the host, drank with all
+his guests. Near midnight he grew distressingly drunk, talkative,
+and violent, and when toward morning he was carried from the room
+by his servants, the company broke up. Those who could do so reeled
+home; those who could not walk at all were put to bed by the
+retainers at Haddon Hall. I had chosen my bedroom high up in Eagle
+Tower. At table I had tried to remain sober. That, however, was an
+impossible task, for at the <a name="Page_40" id=
+"Page_40"></a>upper end of the hall there was a wrist-ring placed
+in the wainscoting at a height of ten or twelve inches above the
+head of an ordinary man, and if he refused to drink as much as the
+other guests thought he should, his wrist was fastened above his
+head in the ring, and the liquor which he should have poured down
+his throat was poured down his sleeve. Therefore to avoid this
+species of rustic sport I drank much more than was good for me.
+When the feast closed I thought I was sober enough to go to my room
+unassisted; so I took a candle, and with a great show of
+self-confidence climbed the spiral stone stairway to the door of my
+room. The threshold of my door was two or three feet above the
+steps of the stairway, and after I had contemplated the distance
+for a few minutes, I concluded that it would not be safe for me to
+attempt to climb into my sleeping apartments without help.
+Accordingly I sat down upon the step on which I had been standing,
+placed my candle beside me, called loudly for a servant, received
+no response, and fell asleep only to be awakened by one of Sir
+George's retainers coming downstairs next morning.</p>
+<p>After that supper, in rapid succession, followed hunting and
+drinking, feasting and dancing in my honor. At the dances the
+pipers furnished the music, or, I should rather say, the noise.
+Their miserable wailings reminded me of Scotland. After all,
+thought I, is the insidious, polished vice of France worse than the
+hoggish, uncouth practices of Scotland and of English country life?
+I could not endure the latter, so I asked Sir George, on the
+pretext of ill health, to allow me to refuse invitations to other
+houses, and I insisted that he should give no more entertainments
+at Haddon Hall on my account. Sir George eagerly acquiesced in all
+my wishes. In truth, I was treated like an honored guest and a
+member of the family, and I congratulated myself that my life had
+fallen in such pleasant lines. Dorothy and Madge became my constant
+com<a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>panions, for Sir George's
+time was occupied chiefly with his estates and with his duties as
+magistrate. A feeling of rest and contentment came over me, and my
+past life drifted back of me like an ever receding cloud.</p>
+<p>Thus passed the months of October and November.</p>
+<p>In the meantime events in Scotland and in England proved my
+wisdom in seeking a home at Haddon Hall, and showed me how great
+was my good fortune in finding it.</p>
+<p>Queen Mary was a prisoner at Lochleven Castle, and her brother
+Murray had beheaded many of her friends. Elizabeth, hating Mary as
+only a plain, envious woman can hate one who is transcendently
+beautiful, had, upon different pretexts, seized many of Mary's
+friends who had fled to England for sanctuary, and some of them had
+suffered imprisonment or death.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth, in many instances, had good cause for her attitude
+toward Mary's friends, since plots were hatching thick and fast to
+liberate Mary from Lochleven; and many such plots, undoubtedly, had
+for their chief end the deposition of Elizabeth, and the
+enthronement of Mary as Queen of England.</p>
+<p>As a strict matter of law, Mary was rightful heir to the English
+throne, and Elizabeth was an usurper. Parliament, at Henry's
+request, had declared that Elizabeth, his issue by Anne Boleyn, was
+illegitimate, and that being true, Mary was next in line of
+descent. The Catholics of England took that stand, and Mary's
+beauty and powers of fascination had won for her friends even in
+the personal household of the Virgin Queen. Small cause for wonder
+was it that Elizabeth, knowing all these facts, looked with
+suspicion and fear upon Mary's refugee friends.</p>
+<p>The English queen well knew that Sir George Vernon was her
+friend, therefore his house and his friendship were <a name=
+"Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>my sanctuary, without which my days
+certainly would have been numbered in the land of Elizabeth, and
+their number would have been small. I was dependent on Sir George
+not only for a roof to shelter me, but for my very life. I speak of
+these things that you may know some of the many imperative reasons
+why I desired to please and conciliate my cousin. In addition to
+those reasons, I soon grew to love Sir George, not only because of
+his kindness to me, but because he was a lovable man. He was
+generous, just, and frank, and although at times he was violent
+almost to the point of temporary madness, his heart was usually
+gentle, and was as easily touched by kindness as it was quickly
+moved to cruelty by injury, fancied or actual. I have never known a
+more cruel, tender man than he. You will see him in each of his
+natures before you have finished this history. But you must judge
+him only after you have considered his times, which were forty
+years ago, his surroundings, and his blood.</p>
+<p>During those two months remarkable changes occurred within the
+walls of Haddon, chief of which were in myself, and, alas! in
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>My pilgrimage to Haddon, as you already know, had been made for
+the purpose of marrying my fair cousin; for I did not, at the time
+I left Scotland, suppose I should need Sir George's protection
+against Elizabeth. When I met Dorothy at Rowsley, my desire to
+marry her became personal, in addition to the mercenary motives
+with which I had originally started. But I quickly recognized the
+fact that the girl was beyond my reach. I knew I could not win her
+love, even though I had a thousand years to try for it; and I would
+not accept her hand in marriage solely at her father's command. I
+also soon learned that Dorothy was the child of her father, gentle,
+loving, and tender beyond the naming, but also wilful, violent, and
+fierce to the extent that no command could influence her.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>First I shall speak of the
+change within myself. I will soon be done with so much "I" and
+"me," and you shall have Dorothy to your heart's content, or
+trouble, I know not which.</p>
+<p>Soon after my arrival at Haddon Hall the sun ushered in one of
+those wonderful days known only to the English autumn, when the
+hush of Nature's drowsiness, just before her long winter's sleep,
+imparts its soft restfulness to man, as if it were a lotus feast.
+Dorothy was ostentatiously busy with her household matters, and was
+consulting with butler, cook, and steward. Sir George had ridden
+out to superintend his men at work, and I, wandering aimlessly
+about the hail, came upon Madge Stanley sitting in the chaplain's
+room with folded hands.</p>
+<p>"Lady Madge, will you go with me for a walk this beautiful
+morning?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Gladly would I go, Sir Malcolm," she responded, a smile
+brightening her face and quickly fading away, "but I&mdash;I cannot
+walk in unfamiliar places. I should fail. You would have to lead me
+by the hand, and that, I fear, would mar the pleasure of your
+walk."</p>
+<p>"Indeed, it would not, Lady Madge. I should enjoy my walk all
+the more."</p>
+<p>"If you really wish me to go, I shall be delighted," she
+responded, as the brightness came again to her face. "I sometimes
+grow weary, and, I confess, a little sad sitting alone when Dorothy
+cannot be with me. Aunt Dorothy, now that she has her magnifying
+glasses,&mdash;spectacles, I think they are called,&mdash;devotes
+all her time to reading, and dislikes to be interrupted."</p>
+<p>"I wish it very much," I said, surprised by the real eagerness
+of my desire, and unconsciously endeavoring to keep out of the
+tones of my voice a part of that eagerness.</p>
+<p>"I shall take you at your word," she said. "I will go to my room
+to get my hat and cloak."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>She rose and began to grope
+her way toward the door, holding out her white, expressive hands in
+front of her. It was pitiful and beautiful to see her, and my
+emotions welled up in my throat till I could hardly speak.</p>
+<p>"Permit me to give you my hand," I said huskily. How I longed to
+carry her! Every man with the right sort of a heart in his breast
+has a touch of the mother instinct in him; but, alas I only a
+touch. Ah, wondrous and glorious womanhood! If you had naught but
+the mother instinct to lift you above your masters by the hand of
+man-made laws, those masters were still unworthy to tie the strings
+of your shoes.</p>
+<p>"Thank you," said the girl, as she clasped my hand, and moved
+with confidence by my side. "This is so much better than the
+dreadful fear of falling. Even through these rooms where I have
+lived for many years I feel safe only in a few places,&mdash;on the
+stairs, and in my rooms, which are also Dorothy's. When Dorothy
+changes the position of a piece of furniture in the Hall, she leads
+me to it several times that I may learn just where it is. A long
+time ago she changed the position of a chair and did not tell me. I
+fell against it and was hurt. Dorothy wept bitterly over the
+mishap, and she has never since failed to tell me of such changes.
+I cannot make you know how kind and tender Dorothy is to me. I feel
+that I should die without her, and I know she would grieve terribly
+were we to part."</p>
+<p>I could not answer. What a very woman you will think I was! I,
+who could laugh while I ran my sword through a man's heart, could
+hardly restrain my tears for pity of this beautiful blind girl.</p>
+<p>"Thank you; that will do," she said, when we came to the foot of
+the great staircase. "I can now go to my rooms alone."</p>
+<p>When she reached the top she hesitated and groped for <a name=
+"Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>a moment; then she turned and called
+laughingly to me while I stood at the bottom of the steps, "I know
+the way perfectly well, but to go alone in any place is not like
+being led."</p>
+<p>"There are many ways in which one may be led, Lady Madge," I
+answered aloud. Then I said to myself, "That girl will lead you to
+Heaven, Malcolm, if you will permit her to do so."</p>
+<p>But thirty-five years of evil life are hard to neutralize. There
+is but one subtle elixir that can do it&mdash;love; and I had not
+thought of that magic remedy with respect to Madge.</p>
+<p>I hurriedly fetched my hat and returned to the foot of the
+staircase. Within a minute or two Madge came down stairs holding up
+the skirt of her gown with one hand, while she grasped the banister
+with the other. As I watched her descending I was enraptured with
+her beauty. Even the marvellous vital beauty of Dorothy could not
+compare with this girl's fair, pale loveliness. It seemed to be
+almost a profanation for me to admire the sweet oval of her face.
+Upon her alabaster skin, the black eyebrows, the long lashes, the
+faint blue veins and the curving red lips stood in exquisite
+relief. While she was descending the stairs, I caught a gleam of
+her round, snowy forearm and wrist; and when my eyes sought the
+perfect curves of her form disclosed by the clinging silk gown she
+wore, I felt that I had sinned in looking upon her, and I was
+almost glad she could not see the shame which was in my face.</p>
+<p>"Cousin Malcolm, are you waiting?" she asked from midway in the
+staircase.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I am at the foot of the steps," I answered.</p>
+<p>"I called you 'Cousin Malcolm,'" she said, holding out her hand
+when she came near me. "Pardon me; it was a slip of the tongue. I
+hear 'Cousin Malcolm' so frequently from Dorothy that the name is
+familiar to me."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>I shall be proud if you will
+call me 'Cousin Malcolm' always. I like the name better than any
+that you can use."</p>
+<p>"If you wish it," she said, in sweet, simple candor, "I will
+call you 'Cousin Malcolm,' and you may call me 'Cousin Madge' or
+'Madge,' just as you please."</p>
+<p>"'Cousin Madge' it shall be; that is a compact," I answered, as
+I opened the door and we walked out into the fresh air of the
+bright October morning.</p>
+<p>"That will stand for our first compact; we are progressing
+famously," she said, with a low laugh of delight.</p>
+<p>Ah, to think that the blind can laugh. God is good.</p>
+<p>We walked out past the stables and the cottage, and crossed the
+river on the great stone bridge. Then we took our way down the
+babbling Wye, keeping close to its banks, while the dancing waters
+and even the gleaming pebbles seemed to dimple and smile as they
+softly sang their song of welcome to the fair kindred spirit who
+had come to visit them. If we wandered from the banks for but a
+moment, the waters seemed to struggle and turn in their course
+until they were again by her side, and then would they gently flow
+and murmur their contentment as they travelled forward to the sea,
+full of the memory of her sweet presence. And during all that time
+I led her by the hand. I tell you, friends, 'tis sweet to write of
+it.</p>
+<p>When we returned we crossed the Wye by the stone footbridge and
+entered the garden below the terrace at the corner postern. We
+remained for an hour resting upon the terrace balustrade, and
+before we went indoors Madge again spoke of Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed this walk, nor how
+thankful I am to you for taking me," she said.</p>
+<p>I did not interrupt her by replying, for I loved to hear her
+talk.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy sometimes takes me with her for a short <a name=
+"Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>walk, but I seldom have that pleasure.
+Walking is too slow for Dorothy. She is so strong and full of life.
+She delights to ride her mare Dolcy. Have you seen Dolcy?"</p>
+<p>"No," I responded.</p>
+<p>"You must see her at once. She is the most beautiful animal in
+the world. Though small of limb, she is swift as the wind, and as
+easy as a cradle in her gaits. She is mettlesome and fiery, but
+full of affection. She often kisses Dorothy. Mare and rider are
+finely mated. Dorothy is the most perfect woman, and Dolcy is the
+most perfect mare. 'The two D's,' we call them. But Dorothy says we
+must be careful not to put a&mdash;a dash between them," she said
+with a laugh and a blush.</p>
+<p>Then I led Madge into the hall, and she was blithe and happy as
+if the blessed light of day were in her eyes. It was in her soul,
+and that, after all, is where it brings the greatest good.</p>
+<p>After that morning, Madge and I frequently walked out when the
+days were pleasant. The autumn was mild, well into winter time, and
+by the end of November the transparent cheeks of the blind girl
+held an exquisite tinge of color, and her form had a new grace from
+the strength she had acquired in exercise. We had grown to be dear
+friends, and the touch of her hand was a pleasure for which I
+waited eagerly from day to day. Again I say thoughts of love for
+her had never entered my mind. Perhaps their absence was because of
+my feeling that they could not possibly exist in her heart for
+me.</p>
+<p>One evening in November, after the servants had all gone to bed,
+Sir George and I went to the kitchen to drink a hot punch before
+retiring for the night. I drank a moderate bowl and sat in a large
+chair before the fire, smoking a pipe of tobacco, while Sir George
+drank brandy toddy at the massive oak table in the middle of the
+room.</p>
+<p>Sir George was rapidly growing drunk. He said:<a name="Page_48"
+id="Page_48"></a> "Dawson tells me that the queen's officers
+arrested another of Mary Stuart's damned French friends at
+Derby-town yesterday,&mdash;Count somebody; I can't pronounce their
+miserable names."</p>
+<p>"Can you not remember his name?" I asked. "He may be a friend of
+mine." My remark was intended to remind Sir George that his
+language was offensive to me.</p>
+<p>"That is true, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "I beg your
+pardon. I meant to speak ill only of Mary's meddlesome friends, who
+are doing more injury than good to their queen's cause by their
+plotting."</p>
+<p>I replied: "No one can regret these plots more than I do. They
+certainly will work great injury to the cause they are intended to
+help. But I fear many innocent men are made to suffer for the few
+guilty ones. Without your protection, for which I cannot
+sufficiently thank you, my life here would probably be of short
+duration. After my misfortunes in Scotland, I know not what I
+should have done had it not been for your generous welcome. I lost
+all in Scotland, and it would now be impossible for me to go to
+France. An attempt on my part to escape would result in my arrest.
+Fortune certainly has turned her capricious back upon me, with the
+one exception that she has left me your friendship."</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, my boy," said Sir George, drawing his chair toward me,
+"that which you consider your loss is my great gain. I am growing
+old, and if you, who have seen so much of the gay world, will be
+content to live with us and share our dulness and our cares, I
+shall be the happiest man in England."</p>
+<p>"I thank you more than I can tell," I said, careful not to
+commit myself to any course.</p>
+<p>"Barring my quarrel with the cursed race of Manners," continued
+Sir George, "I have little to trouble me; and if you will remain
+with us, I thank God I may leave the feud <a name="Page_49" id=
+"Page_49"></a>in good hands. Would that I were young again only for
+a day that I might call that scoundrel Rutland and his imp of a son
+to account in the only manner whereby an honest man may have
+justice of a thief. There are but two of them,
+Malcolm,&mdash;father and son,&mdash;and if they were dead, the
+damned race would be extinct."</p>
+<p>I believe that Sir George Vernon when sober could not have
+spoken in that fashion even of his enemies.</p>
+<p>I found difficulty in replying to my cousin's remarks, so I said
+evasively:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I certainly am the most fortunate of men to find so warm a
+welcome from you, and so good a home as that which I have at Haddon
+Hall. When I met Dorothy at the inn, I knew at once by her kindness
+that my friends of old were still true to me. I was almost stunned
+by Dorothy's beauty."</p>
+<p>My mention of Dorothy was unintentional and unfortunate. I had
+shied from the subject upon several previous occasions, but Sir
+George was continually trying to lead up to it. This time my lack
+of forethought saved him the trouble.</p>
+<p>"Do you really think that Doll is very beautiful&mdash;so very
+beautiful? Do you really think so, Malcolm?" said the old
+gentleman, rubbing his hands in pride and pleasure.</p>
+<p>"Surprisingly beautiful," I answered, seeking hurriedly through
+my mind for an excuse to turn the conversation. I had within two
+months learned one vital fact: beautiful as Dorothy was, I did not
+want her for my wife, and I could not have had her even were I
+dying for love. The more I learned of Dorothy and myself during the
+autumn through which I had just passed&mdash;and I had learned more
+of myself than I had been able to discover in the thirty-five
+previous years of my life&mdash;the more clearly I saw the utter
+unfitness of marriage between us.</p>
+<p>"In all your travels," asked Sir George, leaning his <a name=
+"Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>elbows upon his knees and looking at his
+feet between his hands, "in all your travels and court life have
+you ever seen a woman who was so beautiful as my girl Doll?"</p>
+<p>His pride in Dorothy at times had a tinge of egotism and
+selfishness. It seemed to be almost the pride of possession and
+ownership. "My girl!" The expression and the tone in which the
+words were spoken sounded as if he had said: "My fine horse," "My
+beautiful Hall," or "My grand estates." Dorothy was his property.
+Still, he loved the girl passionately. She was dearer to him than
+all his horses, cattle, halls, and estates put together, and he
+loved even them to excess. He loved all that he possessed; whatever
+was his was the best of the sort. Such a love is apt to grow up in
+the breasts of men who have descended from a long line of
+proprietary ancestors, and with all its materialism it has in it
+possibilities of great good. The sturdy, unflinching patriotism of
+the English people springs from this source. The thought, "That
+which I possess is the best," has beauty and use in it, though it
+leads men to treat other men, and, alas! women, as mere chattels.
+All this was passing through my mind, and I forgot to answer Sir
+George's question.</p>
+<p>"Have you ever seen a woman more beautiful than Doll?" he again
+asked.</p>
+<p>"I certainly have never seen one whose beauty may even be
+compared with Dorothy's," I answered.</p>
+<p>"And she is young, too," continued Sir George; "she is not yet
+nineteen."</p>
+<p>"That is very young," I answered, not knowing what else to
+say.</p>
+<p>"And she will be rich some day. Very rich. I am called 'King of
+the Peak,' you know, and there are not three estates in Derbyshire
+which, if combined, would equal mine."</p>
+<p>"That is true, cousin," I answered, "and I rejoice in your good
+fortune."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>Dorothy will have it all one
+of these days&mdash;all, all," continued my cousin, still looking
+at his feet.</p>
+<p>After a long pause, during which Sir George took several
+libations from his bowl of toddy, he cleared his throat and said,
+"So Dorothy is the most beautiful girl and the richest heiress you
+know?"</p>
+<p>"Indeed she is," I responded, knowing full well what he was
+leading up to. Realizing that in spite of me he would now speak his
+mind, I made no attempt to turn the current of the
+conversation.</p>
+<p>After another long pause, and after several more draughts from
+the bowl, my old friend and would-be benefactor said: "You may
+remember a little conversation between us when you were last at
+Haddon six or seven years ago, about&mdash;about Dorothy? You
+remember?"</p>
+<p>I, of course, dared not pretend that I had forgotten.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I remember," I responded.</p>
+<p>"What do you think of the proposition by this time?" asked Sir
+George. "Dorothy and all she will inherit shall be
+yours&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Stop, stop, Sir George!" I exclaimed. "You do not know what you
+say. No one but a prince or a great peer of the realm is worthy of
+aspiring to Dorothy's hand. When she is ready to marry you should
+take her to London court, where she can make her choice from among
+the nobles of our land. There is not a marriageable duke or earl in
+England who would not eagerly seek the girl for a wife. My dear
+cousin, your generosity overwhelms me, but it must not be thought
+of. I am utterly unworthy of her in person, age, and position. No!
+no!"</p>
+<p>"But listen to me, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "Your
+modesty, which, in truth, I did not know you possessed, is pleasing
+to me; but I have reasons of my own for wishing that you should
+marry Dorothy. I want my estates to remain in the Vernon name, and
+one day <a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>you or your children
+will make my house and my name noble. You and Dorothy shall go to
+court, and between you&mdash;damme! if you can't win a dukedom, I
+am no prophet. You would not object to change your faith, would
+you?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, no," I responded, "of course I should not object to
+that."</p>
+<p>"Of course not. I knew you were no fool," said Sir George. "Age!
+why, you are only thirty-five years old&mdash;little more than a
+matured boy. I prefer you to any man in England for Dorothy's
+husband."</p>
+<p>"You overwhelm me with your kindness," I returned, feeling that
+I was being stranded on a very dangerous shore, amidst wealth and
+beauty.</p>
+<p>"Tut, tut, there's no kindness in it," returned my cousin. "I do
+not offer you Dorothy's hand from an unselfish motive. I have told
+you one motive, but there is another, and a little condition
+besides, Malcolm." The brandy Sir George had been drinking had sent
+the devil to his brain.</p>
+<p>"What is the condition?" I asked, overjoyed to hear that there
+was one.</p>
+<p>The old man leaned toward me and a fierce blackness overclouded
+his face. "I am told, Malcolm, that you have few equals in
+swordsmanship, and that the duello is not new to you. Is it
+true?"</p>
+<p>"I believe I may say it is true," I answered. "I have fought
+successfully with some of the most noted duellists of&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Enough, enough! Now, this is the condition, Malcolm,&mdash;a
+welcome one to you, I am sure; a welcome one to any brave man." His
+eyes gleamed with fire and hatred. "Quarrel with Rutland and his
+son and kill both of them."</p>
+<p>I felt like recoiling from the old fiend. I had often <a name=
+"Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>quarrelled and fought, but, thank God,
+never in cold blood and with deliberate intent to do murder.</p>
+<p>"Then Dorothy and all I possess shall be yours," said Sir
+George. "The old one will be an easy victim. The young one, they
+say, prides himself on his prowess. I do not know with what cause,
+I have never seen him fight. In fact, I have never seen the fellow
+at all. He has lived at London court since he was a child, and has
+seldom, if ever, visited this part of the country. He was a page
+both to Edward VI. and to Queen Mary. Why Elizabeth keeps the
+damned traitor at court to plot against her is more than I can
+understand. Do the conditions suit you, Malcolm?" asked Sir George,
+piercing me with his eyes.</p>
+<p>I did not respond, and he continued: "All I ask is your promise
+to kill Rutland and his son at the first opportunity. I care not
+how. The marriage may come off at once. It can't take place too
+soon to please me."</p>
+<p>I could not answer for a time. The power to speak and to think
+had left me. To accept Sir George's offer was out of the question.
+To refuse it would be to give offence beyond reparation to my only
+friend, and you know what that would have meant to me. My refuge
+was Dorothy. I knew, however willing I might be or might appear to
+be, Dorothy would save me the trouble and danger of refusing her
+hand. So I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"We have not consulted Dorothy. Perhaps her
+inclinations&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Doll's inclinations be damned. I have always been kind and
+indulgent to her, and she is a dutiful, obedient daughter. My wish
+and command in this affair will furnish inclinations enough for
+Doll."</p>
+<p>"But, Sir George," I remonstrated, "I would not accept the hand
+of Dorothy nor of any woman unless she desired it. I could not. I
+could not."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>If Doll consents, I am to
+understand that you accept?" asked Sir George.</p>
+<p>I saw no way out of the dilemma, and to gain time I said, "Few
+men in their right mind would refuse so flattering an offer unless
+there were a most potent reason, and I&mdash;I&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Good! good! I shall go to bed happy to-night for the first time
+in years. The Rutlands will soon be out of my path."</p>
+<p>There is a self-acting retribution in our evil passions which
+never fails to operate. One who hates must suffer, and Sir George
+for years had paid the penalty night and day, unconscious that his
+pain was of his own making.</p>
+<p>Before we parted I said, "This is a delicate matter, with
+reference to Dorothy, and I insist that you give me time to win, if
+possible, her kindly regard before you express to her your
+wish."</p>
+<p>"Nonsense, nonsense, Malcolm! I'll tell the girl about it in the
+morning, and save you the trouble. The women will want to make some
+new gowns and&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"But," I interrupted emphatically, "I will not have it so. It is
+every man's sweet privilege to woo the woman of his choice in his
+own way. It is not a trouble to me; it is a pleasure, and it is
+every woman's right to be wooed by the man who seeks her. I again
+insist that I only shall speak to Dorothy on this subject. At
+least, I demand that I be allowed to speak first."</p>
+<p>"That's all damned nonsense," responded Sir George; "but if you
+will have it so, well and good. Take your own course. I suppose
+it's the fashion at court. The good old country way suits me. A
+girl's father tells her whom she is to marry, and, by gad, she does
+it without a word and is glad to get a man. English girls obey
+their parents. They know what to expect if they don't&mdash;the
+lash, by God and the dungeon under the keep. Your <a name="Page_55"
+id="Page_55"></a>roundabout method is all right for tenants and
+peasants; but among people who possess estates and who control vast
+interests, girls are&mdash;girls are&mdash;Well, they are born and
+brought up to obey and to help forward the interests of their
+houses." The old man was growing very drunk, and after a long pause
+he continued: "Have your own way, Malcolm, but don't waste time.
+Now that the matter is settled, I want to get it off my hands
+quickly."</p>
+<p>"I shall speak to Dorothy on the subject at the first favorable
+opportunity," I responded; "but I warn you, Sir George, that if
+Dorothy proves disinclined to marry me, I will not accept her
+hand."</p>
+<p>"Never fear for Doll; she will be all right," and we parted.</p>
+<p>Doll all right! Had he only known how very far from "all right"
+Dorothy was, he would have slept little that night.</p>
+<p>This brings me to the other change of which I spoke&mdash;the
+change in Dorothy. Change? It was a metamorphosis.</p>
+<p>A fortnight after the scene at The Peacock I accidentally
+discovered a drawing made by Dorothy of a man with a cigarro in his
+mouth. The girl snatched the paper from my hands and blushed
+convincingly.</p>
+<p>"It is a caricature of&mdash;of him," she said. She smiled, and
+evidently was willing to talk upon the subject of "him." I declined
+the topic.</p>
+<p>This happened a month or more previous to my conversation with
+Sir George concerning Dorothy. A few days after my discovery of the
+cigarro picture, Dorothy and I were out on the terrace together.
+Frequently when she was with me she would try to lead the
+conversation to the topic which I well knew was in her mind, if not
+in her heart, at all times. She would speak of our first meeting
+<a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>at The Peacock, and would use
+every artifice to induce me to bring up the subject which she was
+eager to discuss, but I always failed her. On the day mentioned
+when we were together on the terrace, after repeated failures to
+induce me to speak upon the desired topic, she said, "I suppose you
+never meet&mdash;meet&mdash;him when you ride out?"</p>
+<p>"Whom, Dorothy?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"The gentleman with the cigarro," she responded, laughing
+nervously.</p>
+<p>"No," I answered, "I know nothing of him."</p>
+<p>The subject was dropped.</p>
+<p>At another time she said, "He was in the
+village&mdash;Overhaddon&mdash;yesterday."</p>
+<p>Then I knew who "him" was.</p>
+<p>"How do you know?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Jennie Faxton, the farrier's daughter, told me. She often comes
+to the Hall to serve me. She likes to act as my maid, and is
+devoted to me."</p>
+<p>"Did he send any word to you?" I asked at a venture. The girl
+blushed and hung her head. "N-o," she responded.</p>
+<p>"What was it, Dorothy?" I asked gently. "You may trust me."</p>
+<p>"He sent no word to me," the girl responded. "Jennie said she
+heard two gentlemen talking about me in front of the farrier's
+shop, and one of them said something about&mdash;oh, I don't know
+what it was. I can't tell you. It was all nonsense, and of course
+he did not mean it."</p>
+<p>"Tell me all, Dorothy," I said, seeing that she really wanted to
+speak.</p>
+<p>"Oh, he said something about having seen Sir George Vernon's
+daughter at Rowsley, and&mdash;and&mdash;I can't tell you what he
+said, I am too full of shame." If her cheeks told the truth, she
+certainly was "full of shame."</p>
+<p>"Tell me all, sweet cousin; I am sorry for you," I said.<a name=
+"Page_57" id="Page_57"></a> She raised her eyes to mine in quick
+surprise with a look of suspicion.</p>
+<p>"You may trust me, Dorothy. I say it again, you may trust
+me."</p>
+<p>"He spoke of my beauty and called it marvellous," said the girl.
+"He said that in all the world there was not another
+woman&mdash;oh, I can't tell you."</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes, go on, Dorothy," I insisted.</p>
+<p>"He said," she continued, "that he could think of nothing else
+but me day or night since he had first seen me at
+Rowsley&mdash;that I had bewitched him and&mdash;and&mdash;Then the
+other gentleman said, 'John, don't play with fire; it will burn
+you. Nothing good can come of it for you.'"</p>
+<p>"Did Jennie know who the gentleman was?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"No," returned Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"How do you know who he was?"</p>
+<p>"Jennie described him," she said.</p>
+<p>"How did she describe him?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"She said he was&mdash;he was the handsomest man in the world
+and&mdash;and that he affected her so powerfully she fell in love
+with him in spite of herself. The little devil, to dare! You see
+that describes him perfectly."</p>
+<p>I laughed outright, and the girl blushed painfully.</p>
+<p>"It does describe him," she said petulantly. "You know it does.
+No one can gainsay that he is wonderfully, dangerously handsome. I
+believe the woman does not live who could refrain from feasting her
+eyes on his noble beauty. I wonder if I shall ever
+again&mdash;again." Tears were in her voice and almost in her
+eyes.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy! My God, Dorothy!" I exclaimed in terror.</p>
+<p>"Yes! yes! My God, Dorothy!" she responded, covering her face
+with her hands and sighing deeply, as she dropped her head and left
+me.</p>
+<p>Yes, yes, my God, Dorothy! The helpless iron and the <a name=
+"Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>terrible loadstone! The passive seed!
+The dissolving cloud and the falling rain!</p>
+<p>Less than a week after the above conversation, Dorothy, Madge,
+and I were riding from Yulegrave Church up to the village of
+Overhaddon, which lies one mile across the hills from Haddon Hall.
+My horse had cast a shoe, and we stopped at Faxton's shop to have
+him shod. The town well is in the middle of an open space called by
+the villagers "The Open," around which are clustered the half-dozen
+houses and shops that constitute the village. The girls were
+mounted, and I was standing beside them in front of the farrier's,
+waiting for my horse. Jennie Faxton, a wild, unkempt girl of
+sixteen, was standing in silent admiration near Dorothy. Our backs
+were turned toward the well. Suddenly a light came into Jennie's
+face, and she plucked Dorothy by the skirt of her habit.</p>
+<p>"Look, mistress, look! Look there by the well!" said Jennie in a
+whisper. Dorothy looked toward the well. I also turned my head and
+beheld my friend, Sir John, holding a bucket of water for his horse
+to drink. I had not seen him since we parted at The Peacock, and I
+did not show that I recognized him. I feared to betray our
+friendship to the villagers. They, however, did not know Sir John,
+and I need not have been so cautious. But Dorothy and Madge were
+with me, and of course I dared not make any demonstration of
+acquaintanceship with the enemy of our house.</p>
+<p>Dorothy watched John closely, and when he was ready to mount she
+struck her horse with the whip, and boldly rode to the well.</p>
+<p>"May I ask you to give my mare water?" she said.</p>
+<p>"Certainly. Ah, I beg pardon. I did not understand," answered
+Sir John, confusedly. John, the polished, self-poised courtier,
+felt the confusion of a country rustic in the presence of this
+wonderful girl, whose knowledge of <a name="Page_59" id=
+"Page_59"></a>life had been acquired within the precincts of Haddon
+Hall. Yet the inexperienced girl was self-poised and unconfused,
+while the wits of the courtier, who had often calmly flattered the
+queen, had all gone wool-gathering.</p>
+<p>She repeated her request.</p>
+<p>"Certainly," returned John, "I&mdash;I knew what you
+said&mdash;but&mdash;but you surprise me."</p>
+<p>"Yes," said brazen Dorothy, "I have surprised myself."</p>
+<p>John, in his haste to satisfy Dolcy's thirst, dashed the water
+against the skirt of Dorothy's habit, and was profuse in his
+apologies.</p>
+<p>"Do not mention it," said Dorothy. "I like a damp habit. The
+wind cannot so easily blow it about," and she laughed as she shook
+the garment to free it of the water. Dolcy refused to drink, and
+Dorothy having no excuse to linger at the well, drew up her reins
+and prepared to leave. While doing so, she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Do you often come to Overhaddon?" Her eager eyes shone like red
+coals, and looking at John, she awaited smilingly his response.</p>
+<p>"Seldom," answered John; "not often. I mean every day&mdash;that
+is, if I may come."</p>
+<p>"Any one may come to the village whenever he wishes to do so,"
+responded Dorothy, laughing too plainly at Sir John's confusion.
+"Is it seldom, or not often, or every day that you come?" In her
+overconfidence she was chaffing him. He caught the tone, and looked
+quickly into the girl's eyes. Her gaze could not stand against
+John's for a moment, and the long lashes drooped to shade her eyes
+from the fierce light of his.</p>
+<p>"I said I would come to Overhaddon every day," he returned; "and
+although I must have appeared very foolish in my confusion, you
+cannot misunderstand the full meaning of my words."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>In John's boldness and in the
+ring of his voice Dorothy felt the touch of her master, against
+whom she well knew all the poor force she could muster would be
+utterly helpless. She was frightened, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I must go. Good-by."</p>
+<p>When she rode away from him she thought: "I believed because of
+his confusion that I was the stronger. I could not stand against
+him for a moment. Holy Virgin! what have I done, and to what am I
+coming?"</p>
+<p>You may now understand the magnitude of the task which Sir
+George had set for me when he bade me marry his daughter and kill
+the Rutlands. I might perform the last-named feat, but dragon
+fighting would be mere child's play compared with the first, while
+the girl's heart was filled with the image of another man.</p>
+<p>I walked forward to meet Dorothy, leaving Madge near the
+farrier's shop.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, are you mad? What have you been doing?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Could you not see?" she answered, under her breath, casting a
+look of warning toward Madge and a glance of defiance at me. "Are
+you, too, blind? Could you not see what I was doing?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," I responded.</p>
+<p>"Then why do you ask?"</p>
+<p>As I went back to Madge I saw John ride out of the village by
+the south road. I afterward learned that he rode gloomily back to
+Rutland Castle cursing himself for a fool. His duty to his father,
+which with him was a strong motive, his family pride, his self
+love, his sense of caution, all told him that he was walking
+open-eyed into trouble. He had tried to remain away from the
+vicinity of Haddon Hall, but, despite his self-respect and
+self-restraint, he had made several visits to Rowsley and to
+Overhaddon, and at one time had ridden to Bakewell, <a name=
+"Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>passing Haddon Hall on his way thither.
+He had as much business in the moon as at Overhaddon, yet he told
+Dorothy he would be at the village every day, and she, it seemed,
+was only too willing to give him opportunities to transact his
+momentous affairs.</p>
+<p>As the floating cloud to the fathomless blue, as the seed to the
+earth, as the iron to the lodestone, so was Dorothy unto John.</p>
+<p>Thus you see our beautiful pitcher went to the well and was
+broken.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><a name="Page_62" id=
+"Page_62"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h2>THE GOLDEN HEART</h2>
+<p>The day after Dorothy's first meeting with Manners at Overhaddon
+she was restless and nervous, and about the hour of three in the
+afternoon she mounted Dolcy and rode toward Bakewell. That
+direction, I was sure, she took for the purpose of misleading us at
+the Hall, and I felt confident she would, when once out of sight,
+head her mare straight for Overhaddon. Within an hour Dorothy was
+home again, and very ill-tempered.</p>
+<p>The next day she rode out in the morning. I asked her if I
+should ride with her, and the emphatic "No" with which she answered
+me left no room for doubt in my mind concerning her desire for my
+company or her destination. Again she returned within an hour and
+hurried to her apartments. Shortly afterward Madge asked me what
+Dorothy was weeping about; and although in my own mind I was
+confident of the cause of Dorothy's tears, I, of course, did not
+give Madge a hint of my suspicion. Yet I then knew, quite as well
+as I now know, that John, notwithstanding the important business
+which he said would bring him to Overhaddon every day, had forced
+himself to remain at home, and Dorothy, in consequence, suffered
+from anger and wounded pride. She had twice ridden to Overhaddon to
+meet him. She had done for his sake that which she knew she should
+have left undone, <a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>and he had
+refused the offering. A smarting conscience, an aching heart, and a
+breast full of anger were Dorothy's rewards for her evil doing. The
+day after her second futile trip to Overhaddon, I, to test her,
+spoke of John. She turned upon me with the black look of a fury,
+and hurled her words at me.</p>
+<p>"Never again speak his despised name in my hearing. Curse him
+and his whole race."</p>
+<p>"Now what has he been doing?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"I tell you, I will not speak of him, nor will I listen to you,"
+and she dashed away from me like a fiery whirlwind.</p>
+<p>Four or five days later the girl rode out again upon Dolcy. She
+was away from home for four long hours, and when she returned she
+was so gentle, sweet, and happy that she was willing to kiss every
+one in the household from Welch, the butcher, to Sir George. She
+was radiant. She clung to Madge and to me, and sang and romped
+through the house like Dorothy of old.</p>
+<p>Madge said, "I am so glad you are feeling better, Dorothy."
+Then, speaking to me: "She has been ill for several days. She could
+not sleep."</p>
+<p>Dorothy looked quickly over to me, gave a little shrug to her
+shoulders, bent forward her face, which was red with blushing, and
+kissed Madge lingeringly upon the lips.</p>
+<p>The events of Dorothy's trip I soon learned from her.</p>
+<p>The little scene between Dorothy, Madge, and myself, after
+Dorothy's joyful return, occurred a week before the momentous
+conversation between Sir George and me concerning my union with his
+house. Ten days after Sir George had offered me his daughter and
+his lands, he brought up the subject again. He and I were walking
+on the ridge of Bowling Green Hill.</p>
+<p>"I am glad you are making such fair progress with<a name=
+"Page_64" id="Page_64"></a> Doll," said Sir George. "Have you yet
+spoken to her upon the subject?"</p>
+<p>I was surprised to hear that I had made any progress. In fact, I
+did not know that I had taken a single step. I was curious to learn
+in what the progress consisted, so I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I have not spoken to Dorothy yet concerning the marriage, and I
+fear that I have made no progress at all. She certainly is friendly
+enough to me, but&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I should say that the gift from you she exhibited would
+indicate considerable progress," said Sir George, casting an
+expressive glance toward me.</p>
+<p>"What gift?" I stupidly inquired.</p>
+<p>"The golden heart, you rascal. She said you told her it had
+belonged to your mother."</p>
+<p>"Holy Mother of Truth!" thought I, "pray give your especial care
+to my cousin Dorothy. She needs it."</p>
+<p>Sir George thrust at my side with his thumb and
+continued:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Don't deny it, Malcolm. Damme, you are as shy as a boy in this
+matter. But perhaps you know better than I how to go at her. I was
+thinking only the other day that your course was probably the right
+one. Doll, I suspect, has a dash of her old father's temper, and
+she may prove a little troublesome unless we let her think she is
+having her own way. Oh, there is nothing like knowing how to handle
+them, Malcolm. Just let them think they are having their own way
+and&mdash;and save trouble. Doll may have more of her father in her
+than I suspect, and perhaps it is well for us to move slowly. You
+will be able to judge, but you must not move too slowly. If in the
+end she should prove stubborn, we will break her will or break her
+neck. I would rather have a daughter in Bakewell churchyard than a
+wilful, stubborn, disobedient huzzy in Haddon Hall."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>Sir George had been drinking,
+and my slip concerning the gift passed unnoticed by him.</p>
+<p>"I am sure you well know how to proceed in this matter, but
+don't be too cautious, Malcolm; the best woman living loves to be
+stormed."</p>
+<p>"Trust me," I answered, "I shall speak&mdash;" and my words
+unconsciously sank away to thought, as thought often, and
+inconveniently at times, grows into words.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, Dorothy," said the thoughts again and again, "where
+came you by the golden heart?" and "where learned you so
+villanously to lie?"</p>
+<p>"From love," was the response, whispered by the sighing winds.
+"From love, that makes men and women like unto gods and teaches
+them the tricks of devils." "From love," murmured the dry rustling
+leaves and the rugged trees. "From love," sighed the fleecy clouds
+as they floated in the sweet restful azure of the vaulted sky.
+"From love," cried the mighty sun as he poured his light and heat
+upon the eager world to give it life. I would not give a fig for a
+woman, however, who would not lie herself black in the face for the
+sake of her lover, and I am glad that it is a virtue few women
+lack. One who would scorn to lie under all other circumstances
+would&mdash;but you understand. I suppose that Dorothy had never
+before uttered a real lie. She hated all that was evil and loved
+all that was good till love came a-teaching.</p>
+<p>I quickly invented an excuse to leave Sir George, and returned
+to the Hall to seek Dorothy. I found her and asked her to accompany
+me for a few minutes that I might speak with her privately. We went
+out upon the terrace and I at once began:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You should tell me when I present you gifts that I may not
+cause trouble by my ignorance nor show surprise when I suddenly
+learn what I have done. You see when a man gives a lady a gift and
+he does not know it, he is apt to&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>Holy Virgin!" exclaimed
+Dorothy, pale with fear and consternation. "Did you&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"No, I did not betray you, but I came perilously near it."</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I wanted to tell you about it. I tried several times to
+do so&mdash;I did so long to tell somebody, but I could not bring
+myself to speak. I was full of shame, yet I was proud and happy,
+for all that happened was good and pure and sacred. You are not a
+woman; you cannot know&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"But I do know. I know that you saw Manners the other day, and
+that he gave you a golden heart."</p>
+<p>"How did you know? Did any one&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Tell me? No. I knew it when you returned after five hours'
+absence, looking radiant as the sun."</p>
+<p>"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, with a startled movement.</p>
+<p>"I also knew," I continued, "that at other times when you rode
+out upon Dolcy you had not seen him."</p>
+<p>"How did you know?" she asked, with quick-coming breath.</p>
+<p>"By your ill-humor," I answered.</p>
+<p>"I knew it was so. I felt that everybody knew all that I had
+been doing. I could almost see father and Madge and you&mdash;even
+the servants&mdash;reading the wickedness written upon my heart. I
+knew that I could hide it from nobody." Tears were very near the
+girl's eyes.</p>
+<p>"We cannot help thinking that our guilty consciences, through
+which we see so plainly our own evil, are transparent to all the
+world. In that fact lies an evil-doer's greatest danger," said I,
+preacher fashion; "but you need have no fear. What you have done I
+believe is suspected by no one save me."</p>
+<p>A deep sigh of relief rose from the girl's heaving breast.</p>
+<p>"Well," she began, "I will tell you all about it, and I am only
+too glad to do so. It is heavy, Malcolm, <a name="Page_67" id=
+"Page_67"></a>heavy on my conscience. But I would not be rid of it
+for all the kingdoms of the earth."</p>
+<p>"A moment since you told me that your conduct was good and pure
+and sacred, and now you tell me that it is heavy on your
+conscience. Does one grieve, Dorothy, for the sake of that which is
+good and pure and sacred?"</p>
+<p>"I cannot answer your question," she replied. "I am no priest.
+But this I know: I have done no evil, and my conscience
+nevertheless is sore. Solve me the riddle, Malcolm, if you
+can."</p>
+<p>"I cannot solve your riddle, Dorothy," I replied; "but I feel
+sure it will be far safer for each of us if you will tell me all
+that happens hereafter."</p>
+<p>"I am sure you are right," she responded; "but some secrets are
+so delicious that we love to suck their sweets alone. I believe,
+however, your advice is good, and I will tell you all that has
+happened, though I cannot look you in the face while doing it." She
+hesitated a moment, and her face was red with tell-tale blushes.
+She continued, "I have acted most unmaidenly."</p>
+<p>"Unmaidenly perhaps, but not unwomanly," said I.</p>
+<p>"I thank you," she said, interrupting my sentence. It probably
+was well that she did so, for I was about to add, "To act womanly
+often means to get yourself into mischief and your friends into as
+much trouble as possible." Had I finished my remark, she would not
+have thanked me.</p>
+<p>"Well," said the girl, beginning her laggard narrative, "after
+we saw&mdash;saw him at Overhaddon, you know, I went to the village
+on each of three days&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Yes, I know that also," I said.</p>
+<p>"How did you&mdash;but never mind. I did not see him, and when I
+returned home I felt angry and hurt and&mdash;and&mdash;but never
+mind that either. One day I found him, and I at once rode to the
+well where he was standing <a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>by
+his horse. He drew water for Dolcy, but the perverse mare would not
+drink."</p>
+<p>"A characteristic of her sex," I muttered.</p>
+<p>"What did you say?" asked the girl.</p>
+<p>"Nothing."</p>
+<p>She continued: "He seemed constrained and distant in his manner,
+but I knew, that is, I thought&mdash;I mean I felt&mdash;oh, you
+know&mdash;he looked as if he were glad to see me and I&mdash;I,
+oh, God! I was so glad and happy to see him that I could hardly
+restrain myself to act at all maidenly. He must have heard my heart
+beat. I thought he was in trouble. He seemed to have something he
+wished to say to me."</p>
+<p>"He doubtless had a great deal he wished to say to you," said I,
+again tempted to futile irony.</p>
+<p>"I was sure he had something to say," the girl returned
+seriously. "He was in trouble. I knew that he was, and I longed to
+help him."</p>
+<p>"What trouble?" I inquired.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I don't know. I forgot to ask, but he looked troubled."</p>
+<p>"Doubtless he was troubled," I responded. "He had sufficient
+cause for trouble," I finished the sentence to myself with the
+words, "in you."</p>
+<p>"What was the cause of his trouble?" she hastily asked, turning
+her face toward me.</p>
+<p>"I do not know certainly," I answered in a tone of irony which
+should have pierced an oak board, while the girl listened and
+looked at me eagerly; "but I might guess."</p>
+<p>"What was it? What was it? Let me hear you guess," she
+asked.</p>
+<p>"You," I responded laconically.</p>
+<p>"I!" she exclaimed in surprise.</p>
+<p>"Yes, you," I responded with emphasis. "You would bring trouble
+to any man, but to Sir John Manners&mdash;well, <a name="Page_69"
+id="Page_69"></a>if he intends to keep up these meetings with you
+it would be better for his peace and happiness that he should get
+him a house in hell, for he would live there more happily than on
+this earth."</p>
+<p>"That is a foolish, senseless remark, Malcolm," the girl
+replied, tossing her head with a show of anger in her eyes. "This
+is no time to jest." I suppose I could not have convinced her that
+I was not jesting.</p>
+<p>"At first we did not speak to each other even to say good day,
+but stood by the well in silence for a very long time. The village
+people were staring at us, and I felt that every window had a
+hundred faces in it, and every face a hundred eyes."</p>
+<p>"You imagined that," said I, "because of your guilty
+conscience."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps so. But it seemed to me that we stood by the well in
+silence a very long time. You see, Cousin Malcolm, I was not the
+one who should speak first. I had done more than my part in going
+to meet him."</p>
+<p>"Decidedly so," said I, interrupting the interesting
+narrative.</p>
+<p>"When I could bear the gaze of the villagers no longer, I drew
+up my reins and started to leave The Open by the north road. After
+Dolcy had climbed halfway up North Hill, which as you know
+overlooks the village, I turned my head and saw Sir John still
+standing by the well, resting his hand upon his horse's mane. He
+was watching me. I grew angry, and determined that he should follow
+me, even if I had to call him. So I drew Dolcy to a stand. Was not
+that bold in me? But wait, there is worse to come, Malcolm. He did
+not move, but stood like a statue looking toward me. I knew that he
+wanted to come, so after a little time I&mdash;I beckoned to him
+and&mdash;and then he came like a thunderbolt. Oh! it was
+delicious. I put Dolcy to a gallop, for when he started toward me I
+was frightened.<a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a> Besides I did
+not want him to overtake me till we were out of the village. But
+when once he had started, he did not wait. He was as swift now as
+he had been slow, and my heart throbbed and triumphed because of
+his eagerness, though in truth I was afraid of him. Dolcy, you
+know, is very fleet, and when I touched her with the whip she soon
+put half a mile between me and the village. Then I brought her to a
+walk and&mdash;and he quickly overtook me.</p>
+<p>"When he came up to me he said: 'I feared to follow you, though
+I ardently wished to do so. I dreaded to tell you my name lest you
+should hate me. Sir Malcolm at The Peacock said he would not
+disclose to you my identity. I am John Manners. Our fathers are
+enemies.'</p>
+<p>"Then I said to him, 'That is the reason I wish to talk to you.
+I wished you to come to meet me because I wanted to tell you that I
+regret and deplore the feud between our fathers.'&mdash;'Ah, you
+wished me to come?' he asked.&mdash;'Of course I did,' I answered,
+'else why should I be here?'&mdash;'No one regrets the feud between
+our houses so deeply as I,' replied Sir John. 'I can think of
+nothing else by day, nor can I dream of anything else by night. It
+is the greatest cause for grief and sorrow that has ever come into
+my life.' You see, Cousin Malcolm," the girl continued, "I was
+right. His father's conduct does trouble him. Isn't he noble and
+broad-minded to see the evil of his father's ways?"</p>
+<p>I did not tell the girl that Sir John's regret for the feud
+between the houses of Manners and Vernon grew out of the fact that
+it separated him from her; nor did I tell her that he did not
+grieve over his "father's ways."</p>
+<p>I asked, "Did Sir John tell you that he grieved because of his
+father's ill-doing?"</p>
+<p>"N-o, not in set terms, but&mdash;that, of course, would have
+been very hard for him to say. I told you what he said, and there
+could be no other meaning to his words."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>Of course not," I
+responded.</p>
+<p>"No, and I fairly longed to reach out my hand and clutch him,
+because&mdash;because I was so sorry for him."</p>
+<p>"Was sorrow your only feeling?" I asked.</p>
+<p>The girl looked at me for a moment, and her eyes filled with
+tears. Then she sobbed gently and said, "Oh, Cousin Malcolm, you
+are so old and so wise." ("Thank you," thought I, "a second Daniel
+come to judgment at thirty-five; or Solomon and Methuselah in
+one.") She continued: "Tell me, tell me, what is this terrible
+thing that has come upon me. I seem to be living in a dream. I am
+burning with a fever, and a heavy weight is here upon my breast. I
+cannot sleep at night. I can do nothing but long and yearn
+for&mdash;for I know not what&mdash;till at times it seems that
+some frightful, unseen monster is slowly drawing the heart out of
+my bosom. I think of&mdash;of him at all times, and I try to recall
+his face, and the tones of his voice until, Cousin Malcolm, I tell
+you I am almost mad. I call upon the Holy Virgin hour by hour to
+pity me; but she is pure, and cannot know what I feel. I hate and
+loathe myself. To what am I coming? Where will it all end? Yet I
+can do nothing to save myself. I am powerless against this terrible
+feeling. I cannot even resolve to resist it. It came upon me mildly
+that day at The Peacock Inn, when I first saw him, and it grows
+deeper and stronger day by day, and, alas! night by night. I seem
+to have lost myself. In some strange way I feel as if I had sunk
+into him&mdash;that he had absorbed me."</p>
+<p>"The iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain," thought I.</p>
+<p>"I believed," continued the girl, "that if he would exert his
+will I might have relief; but there again I find trouble, for I
+cannot bring myself to ask him to will it. The feeling within me is
+like a sore heart: painful as it is, I must keep it. Without it I
+fear I could not live."</p>
+<p>After this outburst there was a long pause during which <a name=
+"Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>she walked by my side, seemingly
+unconscious that I was near her. I had known for some time that
+Dorothy was interested in Manners; but I was not prepared to see
+such a volcano of passion. I need not descant upon the evils and
+dangers of the situation. The thought that first came to me was
+that Sir George would surely kill his daughter before he would
+allow her to marry a son of Rutland. I was revolving in my mind how
+I should set about to mend the matter when Dorothy again spoke.</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Cousin Malcolm, can a man throw a spell over a woman
+and bewitch her?"</p>
+<p>"I do not know. I have never heard of a man witch," I
+responded.</p>
+<p>"No?" asked the girl.</p>
+<p>"But," I continued, "I do know that a woman may bewitch a man.
+John Manners, I doubt not, could also testify knowingly on the
+subject by this time."</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v072" id="v072"></a> <img src=
+"images/v072.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>"Oh, do you think he is bewitched?" cried Dorothy, grasping my
+arm and looking eagerly into my face. "If I could bewitch him, I
+would do it. I would deal with the devil gladly to learn the art. I
+would not care for my soul. I do not fear the future. The present
+is a thousand-fold dearer to me than either the past or the future.
+I care not what comes hereafter. I want him now. Ah, Malcolm, pity
+my shame."</p>
+<p>She covered her face with her hands, and after a moment
+continued: "I am not myself. I belong not to myself. But if I knew
+that he also suffers, I do believe my pain would be less."</p>
+<p>"I think you may set your heart at rest upon that point," I
+answered. "He, doubtless, also suffers."</p>
+<p>"I hope so," she responded, unconscious of the selfish wish she
+had expressed. "If he does not, I know not what will be my
+fate."</p>
+<p>I saw that I had made a mistake in assuring her that<a name=
+"Page_73" id="Page_73"></a> John also suffered, and I determined to
+correct it later on, if possible.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was silent, and I said, "You have not told me about the
+golden heart."</p>
+<p>"I will tell you," she answered. "We rode for two hours or more,
+and talked of the weather and the scenery, until there was nothing
+more to be said concerning either. Then Sir John told me of the
+court in London, where he has always lived, and of the queen whose
+hair, he says, is red, but not at all like mine. I wondered if he
+would speak of the beauty of my hair, but he did not. He only
+looked at it. Then he told me about the Scottish queen whom he once
+met when he was on an embassy to Edinburgh. He described her
+marvellous beauty, and I believe he sympathizes with her
+cause&mdash;that is, with her cause in Scotland. He says she has no
+good cause in England. He is true to our queen. Well&mdash;well he
+talked so interestingly that I could have listened a whole
+month&mdash;yes, all my life."</p>
+<p>"I suppose you could," I said.</p>
+<p>"Yes," she continued, "but I could not remain longer from home,
+and when I left him he asked me to accept a keepsake which had
+belonged to his mother, as a token that there should be no feud
+between him and me." And she drew from her bosom a golden heart
+studded with diamonds and pierced by a white silver arrow.</p>
+<p>"I, of course, accepted it, then we said 'good-by,' and I put
+Dolcy to a gallop that she might speedily take me out of
+temptation."</p>
+<p>"Have you ridden to Overhaddon for the purpose of seeing Manners
+many times since he gave you the heart?" I queried.</p>
+<p>"What would you call 'many times'?" she asked, drooping her
+head.</p>
+<p>"Every day?" I said interrogatively. She nodded.<a name=
+"Page_74" id="Page_74"></a> "Yes. But I have seen him only once
+since the day when he gave me the heart."</p>
+<p>Nothing I could say would do justice to the subject, so I
+remained silent.</p>
+<p>"But you have not yet told me how your father came to know of
+the golden heart," I said.</p>
+<p>"It was this way: One morning while I was looking at the heart,
+father came upon me suddenly before I could conceal it. He asked me
+to tell him how I came by the jewel, and in my fright and confusion
+I could think of nothing else to say, so I told him you had given
+it to me. He promised not to speak to you about the heart, but he
+did not keep his word. He seemed pleased."</p>
+<p>"Doubtless he was pleased," said I, hoping to lead up to the
+subject so near to Sir George's heart, but now farther than ever
+from mine.</p>
+<p>The girl unsuspectingly helped me.</p>
+<p>"Father asked if you had spoken upon a subject of great interest
+to him and to yourself, and I told him you had not. 'When he does
+speak,' said father most kindly, 'I want you to grant his
+request'&mdash;and I will grant it, Cousin Malcolm." She looked in
+my face and continued: "I will grant your request, whatever it may
+be. You are the dearest friend I have in the world, and mine is the
+most loving and lovable father that girl ever had. It almost breaks
+my heart when I think of his suffering should he learn of what I
+have done&mdash;that which I just told to you." She walked beside
+me meditatively for a moment and said, "To-morrow I will return Sir
+John's gift and I will never see him again."</p>
+<p>I felt sure that by to-morrow she would have repented of her
+repentance; but I soon discovered that I had given her much more
+time than she needed to perform that trifling feminine gymnastic,
+for with the next breath she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I have no means of returning the heart. I must see <a name=
+"Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>him once more and I will give&mdash;give
+it&mdash;it&mdash;back to&mdash;to him, and will tell him that I
+can see him never again." She scarcely had sufficient resolution to
+finish telling her intention. Whence, then, would come the will to
+put it in action? Forty thieves could not have stolen the heart
+from her, though she thought she was honest when she said she would
+take it to him.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy," said I, seriously but kindly, "have you and Sir John
+spoken of&mdash;"</p>
+<p>She evidently knew that I meant to say "of love," for she
+interrupted me.</p>
+<p>"N-o, but surely he knows. And I&mdash;I think&mdash;at least I
+hope with all my heart that&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I will take the heart to Sir John," said I, interrupting her
+angrily, "and you need not see him again. He has acted like a fool
+and a knave. He is a villain, Dorothy, and I will tell him as much
+in the most emphatic terms I have at my command."</p>
+<p>"Dare you speak against him or to him upon the subject!" she
+exclaimed, her eyes blazing with anger; "you&mdash;you asked for my
+confidence and I gave it. You said I might trust you and I did so,
+and now you show me that I am a fool indeed. Traitor!"</p>
+<p>"My dear cousin," said I, seeing that she spoke the truth in
+charging me with bad faith, "your secret is safe with me. I swear
+it by my knighthood. You may trust me. I spoke in anger. But Sir
+John has acted badly. That you cannot gainsay. You, too, have done
+great evil. That also you cannot gainsay."</p>
+<p>"No," said the girl, dejectedly, "I cannot deny it; but the
+greatest evil is yet to come."</p>
+<p>"You must do something," I continued. "You must take some
+decisive step that will break this connection, and you must take
+the step at once if you would save yourself from the frightful evil
+that is in store for you. Forgive <a name="Page_76" id=
+"Page_76"></a>me for what I said, sweet cousin. My angry words
+sprang from my love for you and my fear for your future."</p>
+<p>No girl's heart was more tender to the influence of kindness
+than Dorothy's. No heart was more obdurate to unkindness or
+peremptory command.</p>
+<p>My words softened her at once, and she tried to smother the
+anger I had aroused. But she did not entirely succeed, and a spark
+remained which in a moment or two created a disastrous
+conflagration. You shall hear.</p>
+<p>She walked by my side in silence for a little time, and then
+spoke in a low, slightly sullen tone which told of her effort to
+smother her resentment.</p>
+<p>"I do trust you, Cousin Malcolm. What is it that you wish to ask
+of me? Your request is granted before it is made."</p>
+<p>"Do not be too sure of that, Dorothy," I replied. "It is a
+request your father ardently desires me to make, and I do not know
+how to speak to you concerning the subject in the way I wish."</p>
+<p>I could not ask her to marry me, and tell her with the same
+breath that I did not want her for my wife. I felt I must wait for
+a further opportunity to say that I spoke only because her father
+had required me to do so, and that circumstances forced me to put
+the burden of refusal upon her. I well knew that she would refuse
+me, and then I intended to explain.</p>
+<p>"Why, what is it all about?" asked the girl in surprise,
+suspecting, I believe, what was to follow.</p>
+<p>"It is this: your father is anxious that his vast estates shall
+not pass out of the family name, and he wishes you to be my wife,
+so that your children may bear the loved name of Vernon."</p>
+<p>I could not have chosen a more inauspicious time to speak. She
+looked at me for an instant in surprise, <a name="Page_77" id=
+"Page_77"></a>turning to scorn. Then she spoke in tones of
+withering contempt.</p>
+<p>"Tell my father that I shall never bear a child by the name of
+Vernon. I would rather go barren to my grave. Ah! that is why Sir
+John Manners is a villain? That is why a decisive step should be
+taken? That is why you come to my father's house a-fortune-hunting?
+After you have squandered your patrimony and have spent a dissolute
+youth in profligacy, after the women of the class you have known
+will have no more of you but choose younger men, you who are old
+enough to be my father come here and seek your fortune, as your
+father sought his, by marriage. I do not believe that my father
+wishes me to&mdash;to marry you. You have wheedled him into giving
+his consent when he was in his cups. But even if he wished it with
+all his heart, I would not marry you." Then she turned and walked
+rapidly toward the Hall.</p>
+<p>Her fierce words angered me; for in the light of my real
+intentions her scorn was uncalled for, and her language was
+insulting beyond endurance. For a moment or two the hot blood
+rushed to my brain and rendered me incapable of intelligent
+thought. But as Dorothy walked from me I realized that something
+must be done at once to put myself right with her. When my fit of
+temper had cooled, and when I considered that the girl did not know
+my real intentions, I could not help acknowledging that in view of
+all that had just passed between us concerning Sir John Manners,
+and, in fact, in view of all that she had seen and could see, her
+anger was justifiable.</p>
+<p>I called to her: "Dorothy, wait a moment. You have not heard all
+I have to say."</p>
+<p>She hastened her pace. A few rapid strides brought me to her
+side. I was provoked, not at her words, for they were almost
+justifiable, but because she would <a name="Page_78" id=
+"Page_78"></a>not stop to hear me. I grasped her rudely by the arm
+and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Listen till I have finished."</p>
+<p>"I will not," she answered viciously. "Do not touch me."</p>
+<p>I still held her by the arm and said: "I do not wish to marry
+you. I spoke only because your father desired me to do so, and
+because my refusal to speak would have offended him beyond any
+power of mine to make amends. I could not tell you that I did not
+wish you for my wife until you had given me an opportunity. I was
+forced to throw the burden of refusal upon you."</p>
+<p>"That is but a ruse&mdash;a transparent, flimsy ruse," responded
+the stubborn, angry girl, endeavoring to draw her arm from my
+grasp.</p>
+<p>"It is not a ruse," I answered. "If you will listen to me and
+will help me by acting as I suggest, we may between us bring your
+father to our way of thinking, and I may still be able to retain
+his friendship."</p>
+<p>"What is your great plan?" asked Dorothy, in a voice such as one
+might expect to hear from a piece of ice.</p>
+<p>"I have formed no plan as yet," I replied, "although I have
+thought of several. Until we can determine upon one, I suggest that
+you permit me to say to your father that I have asked you to be my
+wife, and that the subject has come upon you so suddenly that you
+wish a short time,&mdash;a fortnight or a month&mdash;in which to
+consider your answer."</p>
+<p>"That is but a ruse, I say, to gain time," she answered
+contemptuously. "I do not wish one moment in which to consider. You
+already have my answer. I should think you had had enough. Do you
+desire more of the same sort? A little of such treatment should go
+a long way with a man possessed of one spark of honor or
+self-respect."</p>
+<p>Her language would have angered a sheep.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>If you will not listen to
+me," I answered, thoroughly aroused and careless of consequences,
+"go to your father. Tell him I asked you to be my wife, and that
+you scorned my suit. Then take the consequences. He has always been
+gentle and tender to you because there has been no conflict. Cross
+his desires, and you will learn a fact of which you have never
+dreamed. You have seen the manner in which he treats others who
+oppose him. You will learn that with you, too, he can be one of the
+cruelest and most violent of men."</p>
+<p>"You slander my father. I will go to him as you advise and will
+tell him that I would not marry you if you wore the English crown.
+I, myself, will tell him of my meeting with Sir John Manners rather
+than allow you the pleasure of doing so. He will be angry, but he
+will pity me."</p>
+<p>"For God's sake, Dorothy, do not tell your father of your
+meetings at Overhaddon. He would kill you. Have you lived in the
+same house with him all these years and do you not better know his
+character than to think that you may go to him with the tale you
+have just told me, and that he will forgive you? Feel as you will
+toward me, but believe me when I swear to you by my knighthood that
+I will betray to no person what you have this day divulged to
+me."</p>
+<p>Dorothy made no reply, but turned from me and rapidly walked
+toward the Hall. I followed at a short distance, and all my anger
+was displaced by fear for her. When we reached the Hall she quickly
+sought her father and approached him in her old free manner, full
+of confidence in her influence over him.</p>
+<p>"Father, this man"&mdash;waving her hand toward me&mdash;"has
+come to Haddon Hall a-fortune-hunting. He has asked me to be his
+wife, and says you wish me to accept him."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a>Yes, Doll, I certainly wish
+it with all my heart," returned Sir George, affectionately, taking
+his daughter's hand.</p>
+<p>"Then you need wish it no longer, for I will not marry him."</p>
+<p>"What?" demanded her father, springing to his feet.</p>
+<p>"I will not. I will not. I will not."</p>
+<p>"You will if I command you to do so, you damned insolent wench,"
+answered Sir George, hoarsely. Dorothy's eyes opened in wonder.</p>
+<p>"Do not deceive yourself, father, for one moment," she retorted
+contemptuously. "He has come here in sheep's clothing and has
+adroitly laid his plans to convince you that I should marry him,
+but&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"He has done nothing of the sort," answered Sir George, growing
+more angry every moment, but endeavoring to be calm. "Nothing of
+the sort. Many years ago I spoke to him on this subject, which is
+very dear to my heart. The project has been dear to me ever since
+you were a child. When I again broached it to Malcolm a fortnight
+or more since I feared from his manner that he was averse to the
+scheme. I had tried several times to speak to him about it, but he
+warded me off, and when I did speak, I feared that he was not
+inclined to it."</p>
+<p>"Yes," interrupted the headstrong girl, apparently bent upon
+destroying both of us. "He pretended that he did not wish to marry
+me. He said he wished me to give a sham consent for the purpose of
+gaining time till we might hit upon some plan by which we could
+change your mind. He said he had no desire nor intention to marry
+me. It was but a poor, lame ruse on his part."</p>
+<p>During Dorothy's recital Sir George turned his face from her to
+me. When she had finished speaking, he looked at me for a moment
+and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Does my daughter speak the truth? Did you say&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>Yes," I promptly replied, "I
+have no intention of marrying your daughter." Then hoping to place
+myself before Sir George in a better light, I continued: "I could
+not accept the hand of a lady against her will. I told you as much
+when we conversed on the subject."</p>
+<p>"What?" exclaimed Sir George, furious with anger. "You too? You
+whom I have befriended?"</p>
+<p>"I told you, Sir George, I would not marry Dorothy without her
+free consent. No gentleman of honor would accept the enforced
+compliance of a woman."</p>
+<p>"But Doll says that you told her you had no intention of
+marrying her even should she consent," replied Sir George.</p>
+<p>"I don't know that I spoke those exact words," I replied, "but
+you may consider them said."</p>
+<p>"You damned, ungrateful, treacherous hound!" stormed Sir George.
+"You listened to me when I offered you my daughter's hand, and you
+pretended to consent without at the time having any intention of
+doing so."</p>
+<p>"That, I suppose, is true, Sir George," said I, making a
+masterful effort against anger. "That is true, for I knew that
+Dorothy would not consent; and had I been inclined to the marriage,
+I repeat, I would marry no woman against her will. No gentleman
+would do it."</p>
+<p>My remark threw Sir George into a paroxysm of rage.</p>
+<p>"I did it, you cur, you dog, you&mdash;you traitorous,
+ungrateful&mdash;I did it."</p>
+<p>"Then, Sir George," said I, interrupting him, for I was no
+longer able to restrain my anger, "you were a cowardly
+poltroon."</p>
+<p>"This to me in my house!" he cried, grasping a chair with which
+to strike me. Dorothy came between us.</p>
+<p>"Yes," said I, "and as much more as you wish to hear." I stood
+my ground, and Sir George put down the chair.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>Leave my house at once," he
+said in a whisper of rage.</p>
+<p>"If you are on my premises in one hour from now I will have you
+flogged from my door by the butcher."</p>
+<p>"What have I done?" cried Dorothy. "What have I done?"</p>
+<p>"Your regrets come late, Mistress Vernon," said I.</p>
+<p>"She shall have more to regret," said Sir George, sullenly. "Go
+to your room, you brazen, disobedient huzzy, and if you leave it
+without my permission, by God, I will have you whipped till you
+bleed. I will teach you to say 'I won't' when I say 'you shall.'
+God curse my soul, if I don't make you repent this day!"</p>
+<p>As I left the room Dorothy was in tears, and Sir George was
+walking the floor in a towering rage. The girl had learned that I
+was right in what I had told her concerning her father's violent
+temper.</p>
+<p>I went at once to my room in Eagle Tower and collected my few
+belongings in a bundle. Pitifully small it was, I tell you.</p>
+<p>Where I should go I knew not, and where I should remain I knew
+even less, for my purse held only a few shillings&mdash;the remnant
+of the money Queen Mary had sent to me by the hand of Sir Thomas
+Douglas. England was as unsafe for me as Scotland; but how I might
+travel to France without money, and how I might without a pass
+evade Elizabeth's officers who guarded every English port, even
+were I supplied with gold, were problems for which I had no
+solution.</p>
+<p>There were but two persons in Haddon Hall to whom I cared to say
+farewell. They were Lady Madge and Will Dawson. The latter was a
+Scot, and was attached to the cause of Queen Mary. He and I had
+become friends, and on several occasions we had talked
+confidentially over Mary's sad plight.</p>
+<p>When my bundle was packed, I sought Madge and <a name="Page_83"
+id="Page_83"></a>found her in the gallery near the foot of the
+great staircase. She knew my step and rose to greet me with a
+bright smile.</p>
+<p>"I have come to say good-by to you, Cousin Madge," said I. The
+smile vanished from her face.</p>
+<p>"You are not going to leave Haddon Hall?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"Yes, and forever," I responded. "Sir George has ordered me to
+go."</p>
+<p>"No, no," she exclaimed. "I cannot believe it. I supposed that
+you and my uncle were friends. What has happened? Tell me if you
+can&mdash;if you wish. Let me touch your hand," and as she held out
+her hands, I gladly grasped them.</p>
+<p>I have never seen anything more beautiful than Madge Stanley's
+hands. They were not small, but their shape, from the fair, round
+forearm and wrist to the ends of the fingers was worthy of a
+sculptor's dream. Beyond their physical beauty there was an
+expression in them which would have belonged to her eyes had she
+possessed the sense of sight. The flood of her vital energy had for
+so many years been directed toward her hands as a substitute for
+her lost eyesight that their sensitiveness showed itself not only
+in an infinite variety of delicate gestures and movements, changing
+with her changing moods, but they had an expression of their own,
+such as we look for in the eyes. I had gazed upon her hands so
+often, and had studied so carefully their varying expression,
+discernible both to my sight and to my touch, that I could read her
+mind through them as we read the emotions of others through the
+countenance. The "feel" of her hands, if I may use the word, I can
+in no way describe. Its effect on me was magical. The happiest
+moments I have ever known were those when I held the fair blind
+girl by the hand and strolled upon the great terrace or followed
+the <a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>babbling winding course of
+dear old Wye, and drank in the elixir of all that is good and pure
+from the cup of her sweet, unconscious influence.</p>
+<p>Madge, too, had found happiness in our strolling. She had also
+found health and strength, and, marvellous to say, there had come
+to her a slight improvement in vision. She had always been able to
+distinguish sunlight from darkness, but with renewed strength had
+come the power dimly to discern dark objects in a strong light, and
+even that small change for the better had brought unspeakable
+gladness to her heart. She said she owed it all to me. A faint pink
+had spread itself in her cheeks and a plumpness had been imparted
+to her form which gave to her ethereal beauty a touch of the
+material. Nor was this to be regretted, for no man can adequately
+make love to a woman who has too much of the angel in her. You must
+not think, however, that I had been making love to Madge. On the
+contrary, I again say, the thought had never entered my mind.
+Neither at that time had I even suspected that she would listen to
+me upon the great theme. I had in my self-analysis assigned many
+reasons other than love for my tenderness toward her; but when I
+was about to depart, and she impulsively gave me her hands, I,
+believing that I was grasping them for the last time, felt the
+conviction come upon me that she was dearer to me than all else in
+life.</p>
+<p>"Do you want to tell me why my uncle has driven you from
+Haddon?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"He wished me to ask Dorothy to be my wife," I returned.</p>
+<p>"And you?" she queried.</p>
+<p>"I did so."</p>
+<p>Instantly the girl withdrew her hands from mine and stepped back
+from me. Then I had another revelation. I knew what she meant and
+felt. Her hands told me all, <a name="Page_85" id=
+"Page_85"></a>even had there been no expression in her movement and
+in her face.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy refused," I continued, "and her father desired to force
+her into compliance. I would not be a party to the transaction, and
+Sir George ordered me to leave his house."</p>
+<p>After a moment of painful silence Madge said:&mdash;"I do not
+wonder that you should wish to marry Dorothy. She&mdash;she must be
+very beautiful."</p>
+<p>"I do not wish to marry Dorothy," said I. I heard a slight noise
+back of me, but gave it no heed. "And I should not have married her
+had she consented. I knew that Dorothy would refuse me, therefore I
+promised Sir George that I would ask her to be my wife. Sir George
+had always been my friend, and should I refuse to comply with his
+wishes, I well knew he would be my enemy. He is bitterly angry
+against me now; but when he becomes calm, he will see wherein he
+has wronged me. I asked Dorothy to help me, but she would not
+listen to my plan."</p>
+<p>"&mdash;and now she begs your forgiveness," cried Dorothy, as
+she ran weeping to me, and took my hand most humbly.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy! Dorothy!" I exclaimed.</p>
+<p>"What frightful evil have I brought upon you?" said she. "Where
+can you go? What will you do?"</p>
+<p>"I know not," I answered. "I shall probably go to the Tower of
+London when Queen Elizabeth's officers learn of my quarrel with Sir
+George. But I will try to escape to France."</p>
+<p>"Have you money?" asked Madge, tightly holding one of my
+hands.</p>
+<p>"A small sum," I answered.</p>
+<p>"How much have you? Tell me. Tell me how much have you,"
+insisted Madge, clinging to my hand and speaking with a force that
+would brook no refusal.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>A very little sum, I am
+sorry to say; only a few shillings," I responded.</p>
+<p>She quickly withdrew her hand from mine and began to remove the
+baubles from her ears and the brooch from her throat. Then she
+nervously stripped the rings from her fingers and held out the
+little handful of jewels toward me, groping for my hands.</p>
+<p>"Take these, Malcolm. Take these, and wait here till I return."
+She turned toward the staircase, but in her confusion she missed
+it, and before I could reach her, she struck against the great
+newel post.</p>
+<p>"God pity me," she said, as I took her hand. "I wish I were
+dead. Please lead me to the staircase, Cousin Malcolm. Thank
+you."</p>
+<p>She was weeping gently when she started up the steps, and I knew
+that she was going to fetch me her little treasure of gold.</p>
+<p>Madge held up the skirt of her gown with one hand while she
+grasped the banister with the other. She was halfway up when
+Dorothy, whose generous impulses needed only to be prompted, ran
+nimbly and was about to pass her on the staircase when Madge
+grasped her gown.</p>
+<p>"Please don't, Dorothy. Please do not. I beg you, do not
+forestall me. Let me do this. Let me. You have all else to make you
+happy. Don't take this from me only because you can see and can
+walk faster than I."</p>
+<p>Dorothy did not stop, but hurried past her. Madge sank upon the
+steps and covered her face with her hands. Then she came gropingly
+back to me just as Dorothy returned.</p>
+<p>"Take these, Cousin Malcolm," cried Dorothy. "Here are a few
+stones of great value. They belonged to my mother."</p>
+<p>Madge was sitting dejectedly upon the lowest step of <a name=
+"Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>the staircase. Dorothy held her
+jewel-box toward me, and in the midst of the diamonds and gold I
+saw the heart John Manners had given her. I did not take the
+box.</p>
+<p>"Do you offer me this, too&mdash;even this?" I said, lifting the
+heart from the box by its chain.&mdash;"Yes, yes," cried Dorothy,
+"even that, gladly, gladly." I replaced it in the box.</p>
+<p>Then spoke Madge, while she tried to check the falling
+tears:&mdash;"Dorothy, you are a cruel, selfish girl."</p>
+<p>"Oh, Madge," cried Dorothy, stepping to her side and taking her
+hand. "How can you speak so unkindly to me?"</p>
+<p>"You have everything good," interrupted Madge. "You have beauty,
+wealth, eyesight, and yet you would not leave to me the joy of
+helping him. I could not see, and you hurried past me that you
+might be first to give him the help of which I was the first to
+think."</p>
+<p>Dorothy was surprised at the outburst from Madge, and kneeled by
+her side.</p>
+<p>"We may both help Cousin Malcolm," she said.</p>
+<p>"No, no," responded Madge, angrily. "Your jewels are more than
+enough. He would have no need of my poor offering."</p>
+<p>I took Madge's hand and said, "I shall accept help from no one
+but you, Madge; from no one but you."</p>
+<p>"I will go to our rooms for your box," said Dorothy, who had
+begun to see the trouble. "I will fetch it for you."</p>
+<p>"No, I will fetch it," answered Madge. She arose, and I led her
+to the foot of the staircase. When she returned she held in her
+hands a purse and a little box of jewels. These she offered to me,
+but I took only the purse, saying: "I accept the purse. It contains
+more money than I shall need. From its weight I should say there
+are twenty gold pounds sterling."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>Twenty-five," answered
+Madge. "I have saved them, believing that the time might come when
+they would be of great use to me. I did not know the joy I was
+saving for myself."</p>
+<p>Tears came to my eyes, and Dorothy wept silently.</p>
+<p>"Will you not take the jewels also?" asked Madge.</p>
+<p>"No," I responded; "the purse will more than pay my expenses to
+France, where I have wealthy relatives. There I may have my
+mother's estate for the asking, and I can repay you the gold. I can
+never repay your kindness."</p>
+<p>"I hope you will never offer to repay the gold," said Madge.</p>
+<p>"I will not," I gladly answered.</p>
+<p>"As to the kindness," she said, "you have paid me in advance for
+that many, many times over."</p>
+<p>I then said farewell, promising to send letters telling of my
+fortune. As I was leaving I bent forward and kissed Madge upon the
+forehead, while she gently pressed my hand, but did not speak a
+word.</p>
+<p>"Cousin Malcolm," said Dorothy, who held my other hand, "you are
+a strong, gentle, noble man, and I want you to say that you forgive
+me."</p>
+<p>"I do forgive you, Dorothy, from my heart. I could not blame you
+if I wished to do so, for you did not know what you were
+doing."</p>
+<p>"Not to know is sometimes the greatest of sins," answered
+Dorothy. I bent forward to kiss her cheek in token of my full
+forgiveness, but she gave me her lips and said: "I shall never
+again be guilty of not knowing that you are good and true and
+noble, Cousin Malcolm, and I shall never again doubt your wisdom or
+your good faith when you speak to me." She did doubt me afterward,
+but I fear her doubt was with good cause. I shall tell you of it in
+the proper place.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>Then I forced myself to leave
+my fair friends and went to the gateway under Eagle Tower, where I
+found Will Dawson waiting for me with my horse.</p>
+<p>"Sir George ordered me to bring your horse," said Will. "He
+seemed much excited. Has anything disagreeable happened? Are you
+leaving us? I see you wear your steel cap and breastplate and are
+carrying your bundle."</p>
+<p>"Yes, Will, your master has quarrelled with me and I must leave
+his house."</p>
+<p>"But where do you go, Sir Malcolm? You remember that of which we
+talked? In England no place but Haddon Hall will be safe for you,
+and the ports are so closely guarded that you will certainly be
+arrested if you try to sail for France."</p>
+<p>"I know all that only too well, Will. But I must go, and I will
+try to escape to France. If you wish to communicate with me, I may
+be found by addressing a letter in care of the Duc de Guise."</p>
+<p>"If I can ever be of help to you," said Will, "personally, or in
+that other matter, Queen Mary, you understand,&mdash;you have only
+to call on me."</p>
+<p>"I thank you, Will," I returned, "I shall probably accept your
+kind offer sooner than you anticipate. Do you know Jennie Faxton,
+the ferrier's daughter?"</p>
+<p>"I do," he responded.</p>
+<p>"I believe she may be trusted," I said.</p>
+<p>"Indeed, I believe she is true as any steel in her father's
+shop," Will responded.</p>
+<p>"Good-by, Will, you may hear from me soon."</p>
+<p>I mounted and rode back of the terrace, taking my way along the
+Wye toward Rowsley. When I turned and looked back, I saw Dorothy
+standing upon the terrace. By her side, dressed in white, stood
+Madge. Her hand was covering her eyes. A step or two below them on
+the <a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a>terrace staircase stood Will
+Dawson. They were three stanch friends, although one of them had
+brought my troubles upon me. After all, I was leaving Haddon Hall
+well garrisoned. My heart also was well garrisoned with a faithful
+troop of pain. But I shall write no more of that time. It was too
+full of bitterness.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><a name="Page_91" id=
+"Page_91"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h2>MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE</h2>
+<p>I rode down the Wye to Rowsley, and by the will of my horse
+rather than by any intention of my own took the road up through
+Lathkil Dale. I had determined if possible to reach the city of
+Chester, and thence to ride down into Wales, hoping to find on the
+rough Welsh coast a fishing boat or a smuggler's craft that would
+carry me to France. In truth, I cared little whether I went to the
+Tower or to France, since in either case I felt that I had looked
+my last upon Haddon Hall, and had spoken farewell to the only
+person in all the world for whom I really cared. My ride from
+Haddon gave me time for deliberate thought, and I fully agreed with
+myself upon two propositions. First, I became thoroughly conscious
+of my real feeling toward Madge, and secondly, I was convinced that
+her kindness and her peculiar attitude toward me when I parted from
+her were but the promptings of a tender heart stirred by pity for
+my unfortunate situation, rather than what I thought when I said
+farewell to her. The sweet Wye and the beautiful Lathkil whispered
+to me as I rode beside their banks, but in their murmurings I heard
+only the music of her voice. The sun shone brightly, but its
+blessed light only served to remind me of the beautiful girl whom I
+had left in darkness. The light were worthless to me if I could not
+share it with her. What a mooning lout was I!</p>
+<p><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>All my life I had been a
+philosopher, and as I rode from Haddon, beneath all my gloominess
+there ran a current of amusement which brought to my lips an
+ill-formed, half-born laugh when I thought of the plight and
+condition in which I, by candid self-communion, found myself. Five
+years before that time I had left France, and had cast behind me
+all the fair possibilities for noble achievement which were offered
+to me in that land, that I might follow the fortunes of a woman
+whom I thought I loved. Before my exile from her side I had begun
+to fear that my idol was but a thing of stone; and now that I had
+learned to know myself, and to see her as she really was, I
+realized that I had been worshipping naught but clay for lo, these
+many years. There was only this consolation in the thought for me:
+every man at some time in his life is a fool&mdash;made such by a
+woman. It is given to but few men to have for their fool-maker the
+rightful queen of three kingdoms. All that was left to me of my
+life of devotion was a shame-faced pride in the quality of my
+fool-maker. "Then," thought I, "I have at last turned to be my own
+fool-maker." But I suppose it had been written in the book of fate
+that I should ride from Haddon a lovelorn youth of thirty-five, and
+I certainly was fulfilling my destiny to the letter.</p>
+<p>I continued to ride up the Lathkil until I came to a fork in the
+road. One branch led to the northwest, the other toward the
+southwest. I was at a loss which direction to take, and I left the
+choice to my horse, in whose wisdom and judgement I had more
+confidence than in my own. My horse, refusing the responsibility,
+stopped. So there we stood like an equestrian statue arguing with
+itself until I saw a horseman riding toward me from the direction
+of Overhaddon. When he approached I recognized Sir John Manners. He
+looked as woebegone as I felt, and I could not help laughing at the
+pair of us, for I knew that his <a name="Page_93" id=
+"Page_93"></a>trouble was akin to mine. The pain of love is
+ludicrous to all save those who feel it. Even to them it is
+laughable in others. A love-full heart has no room for that sort of
+charity which pities for kinship's sake.</p>
+<p>"What is the trouble with you, Sir John, that you look so
+downcast?" said I, offering my hand.</p>
+<p>"Ah," he answered, forcing a poor look of cheerfulness into his
+face, "Sir Malcolm, I am glad to see you. Do I look downcast?"</p>
+<p>"As forlorn as a lover who has missed seeing his sweetheart," I
+responded, guessing the cause of Sir John's despondency.</p>
+<p>"I have no sweetheart, therefore missing her could not have made
+me downcast," he replied.</p>
+<p>"So you really did miss her?" I queried. "She was detained at
+Haddon Hall, Sir John, to bid me farewell."</p>
+<p>"I do not understand&mdash;" began Sir John, growing cold in his
+bearing.</p>
+<p>"I understand quite well," I answered. "Dorothy told me all
+to-day. You need keep nothing from me. The golden heart brought her
+into trouble, and made mischief for me of which I cannot see the
+end. I will tell you the story while we ride. I am seeking my way
+to Chester, that I may, if possible, sail for France. This fork in
+the road has brought me to a standstill, and my horse refuses to
+decide which route we shall take. Perhaps you will direct us."</p>
+<p>"Gladly. The road to the southwest&mdash;the one I shall
+take&mdash;is the most direct route to Chester. But tell me, how
+comes it that you are leaving Haddon Hall? I thought you had gone
+there to marry-" He stopped speaking, and a smile stole into his
+eyes.</p>
+<p>"Let us ride forward together, and I will tell you about it,"
+said I.</p>
+<p>While we travelled I told Sir John the circumstances of my
+departure from Haddon Hall, concealing nothing save <a name=
+"Page_94" id="Page_94"></a>that which touched Madge Stanley. I then
+spoke of my dangerous position in England, and told him of my great
+desire to reach my mother's people in France.</p>
+<p>"You will find difficulty and danger in escaping to France at
+this time," said Sir John, "the guard at the ports is very strong
+and strict, and your greatest risk will be at the moment when you
+try to embark without a passport."</p>
+<p>"That is true," I responded; "but I know of nothing else that I
+can do."</p>
+<p>"Come with me to Rutland Castle," said Sir John. "You may there
+find refuge until such time as you can go to France. I will gladly
+furnish you money which you may repay at your pleasure, and I may
+soon be able to procure a passport for you."</p>
+<p>I thanked him, but said I did not see my way clear to accept his
+kind offer.</p>
+<p>"You are unknown in the neighborhood of Rutland," he continued,
+"and you may easily remain incognito." Although his offer was
+greatly to my liking, I suggested several objections, chief among
+which was the distaste Lord Rutland might feel toward one of my
+name. I would not, of course, consent that my identity should be
+concealed from him. But to be brief&mdash;an almost impossible
+achievement for me, it seems&mdash;Sir John assured me of his
+father's welcome, and it was arranged between us that I should take
+my baptismal name, Fran&ccedil;ois de Lorraine, and passing for a
+French gentleman on a visit to England, should go to Rutland with
+my friend. So it happened through the strange workings of fate that
+I found help and refuge under my enemy's roof-tree.</p>
+<p>Kind old Lord Rutland welcomed me, as his son had foretold, and
+I was convinced ere I had passed an hour under his roof that the
+feud between him and Sir George was of the latter's brewing.</p>
+<p>The happenings in Haddon Hall while I lived at Rutland<a name=
+"Page_95" id="Page_95"></a> I knew, of course, only by the mouth of
+others; but for convenience in telling I shall speak of them as if
+I had seen and heard all that took place. I may now say once for
+all that I shall take that liberty throughout this entire
+history.</p>
+<p>On the morning of the day after my departure from Haddon, Jennie
+Faxton went to visit Dorothy and gave her a piece of information,
+small in itself, but large in its effect upon that ardent young
+lady. Will Fletcher, the arrow-maker at Overhaddon, had observed
+Dorothy's movements in connection with Manners; and although
+Fletcher did not know who Sir John was, that fact added to his
+curiosity and righteous indignation.</p>
+<p>"It do be right that some one should tell the King of the Peak
+as how his daughter is carrying on with a young man who does come
+here every day or two to meet her, and I do intend to tell Sir
+George if she put not a stop to it," said Fletcher to some of his
+gossips in Yulegrave churchyard one Sunday afternoon.</p>
+<p>Dorothy notified John, Jennie being the messenger, of Will's
+observations, visual and verbal, and designated another place for
+meeting,&mdash;the gate east of Bowling Green Hill. This gate was
+part of a wall on the east side of the Haddon estates adjoining the
+lands of the house of Devonshire which lay to the eastward. It was
+a secluded spot in the heart of the forest half a mile distant from
+Haddon Hall.</p>
+<p>Sir George, for a fortnight or more after my disappearance,
+enforced his decree of imprisonment against Dorothy, and she, being
+unable to leave the Hall, could not go to Bowling Green Gate to
+meet Sir John. Before I had learned of the new trysting-place John
+had ridden thither several evenings to meet Dorothy, but had found
+only Jennie bearing her mistress's excuses. I supposed his
+journeyings had been to Overhaddon; but I did not press his
+confidence, nor did he give it.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>Sir George's treatment of
+Dorothy had taught her that the citadel of her father's wrath could
+be stormed only by gentleness, and an opportunity was soon
+presented in which she used that effective engine of feminine
+warfare to her great advantage.</p>
+<p>As I have told you, Sir George was very rich. No man, either
+noble or gentle, in Derbyshire or in any of the adjoining counties,
+possessed so great an estate or so beautiful a hall as did he. In
+France we would have called Haddon Hall a grand ch&acirc;teau.</p>
+<p>Sir George's deceased wife had been a sister to the Earl of
+Derby, who lived at the time of which I am now writing. The earl
+had a son, James, who was heir to the title and to the estates of
+his father. The son was a dissipated, rustic clown&mdash;almost a
+simpleton. He had the vulgarity of a stable boy and the vices of a
+courtier. His associates were chosen from the ranks of gamesters,
+ruffians, and tavern maids. Still, he was a scion of one of the
+greatest families of England's nobility.</p>
+<p>After Sir George's trouble with Dorothy, growing out of his
+desire that I should wed her, the King of the Peak had begun to
+feel that in his beautiful daughter he had upon his hands a
+commodity that might at any time cause him trouble. He therefore
+determined to marry her to some eligible gentleman as quickly as
+possible, and to place the heavy responsibility of managing her in
+the hands of a husband. The stubborn violence of Sir George's
+nature, the rough side of which had never before been shown to
+Dorothy, in her became adroit wilfulness of a quality that no
+masculine mind may compass. But her life had been so entirely
+undisturbed by opposing influences that her father, firm in the
+belief that no one in his household would dare to thwart his will,
+had remained in dangerous ignorance of the latent trouble which
+pervaded his daughter from the soles of her shapely feet to the top
+of her glory-crowned head.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>Sir George, in casting about
+for a son-in-law, had hit upon the heir to the house of Derby as a
+suitable match for his child, and had entered into an alliance
+offensive and defensive with the earl against the common enemy,
+Dorothy. The two fathers had partly agreed that the heir to Derby
+should wed the heiress of Haddon. The heir, although he had never
+seen his cousin except when she was a plain, unattractive girl, was
+entirely willing for the match, but the heiress&mdash;well, she had
+not been consulted, and everybody connected with the affair
+instinctively knew there would be trouble in that quarter. Sir
+George, however, had determined that Dorothy should do her part in
+case the contract of marriage should be agreed upon between the
+heads of the houses. He had fully resolved to assert the majesty of
+the law vested in him as a father and to compel Dorothy to do his
+bidding, if there were efficacy in force and chastisement. At the
+time when Sir George spoke to Dorothy about the Derby marriage, she
+had been a prisoner for a fortnight or more, and had learned that
+her only hope against her father lay in cunning. So she wept, and
+begged for time in which to consider the answer she would give to
+Lord Derby's request. She begged for two months, or even one month,
+in which to bring herself to accede to her father's commands.</p>
+<p>"You have always been so kind and good to me, father, that I
+shall try to obey if you and the earl eventually agree upon terms,"
+she said tearfully, having no intention whatever of trying to do
+anything but disobey.</p>
+<p>"Try!" stormed Sir George. "Try to obey me! By God, girl, I say
+you shall obey!"</p>
+<p>"Oh, father, I am so young. I have not seen my cousin for years.
+I do not want to leave you, and I have never thought twice of any
+man. Do not drive me from you."</p>
+<p>Sir George, eager to crush in the outset any disposition
+<a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>to oppose his will, grew violent
+and threatened his daughter with dire punishment if she were not
+docile and obedient.</p>
+<p>Then said rare Dorothy:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"It would indeed be a great match." Greater than ever will
+happen, she thought. "I should be a countess." She strutted across
+the room with head up and with dilating nostrils. The truth was,
+she desired to gain her liberty once more that she might go to
+John, and was ready to promise anything to achieve that end. "What
+sort of a countess would I make, father?"</p>
+<p>"A glorious countess, Doll, a glorious countess," said her
+father, laughing. "You are a good girl to obey me so readily."</p>
+<p>"Oh, but I have not obeyed you yet," returned Dorothy, fearing
+that her father might be suspicious of a too ready
+acquiescence.</p>
+<p>"But you will obey me," answered Sir George, half in command and
+half in entreaty.</p>
+<p>"There are not many girls who would refuse the coronet of a
+countess." She then seated herself upon her father's knee and
+kissed him, while Sir George laughed softly over his easy
+victory.</p>
+<p>Blessed is the man who does not know when he is beaten.</p>
+<p>Seeing her father's kindly humor, Dorothy said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Father, do you still wish me to remain a prisoner in my
+rooms?"</p>
+<p>"If you promise to be a good, obedient daughter," returned Sir
+George, "you shall have your liberty."</p>
+<p>"I have always been that, father, and I am too old to learn
+otherwise," answered this girl, whose father had taught her
+deception by his violence. You may drive men, but you cannot drive
+any woman who is worth possessing. You may for a time think you
+drive her, but in the end she will have her way.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a>Dorothy's first act of
+obedience after regaining liberty was to send a letter to Manners
+by the hand of Jennie Faxton.</p>
+<p>John received the letter in the evening, and all next day he
+passed the time whistling, singing, and looking now and again at
+his horologue. He walked about the castle like a happy wolf in a
+pen. He did not tell me there was a project on foot, with Dorothy
+as the objective, but I knew it, and waited with some impatience
+for the outcome.</p>
+<p>Long before the appointed time, which was sunset, John galloped
+forth for Bowling Green Gate with joy and anticipation in his heart
+and pain in his conscience. As he rode, he resolved again and again
+that the interview toward which he was hastening should be the last
+he would have with Dorothy. But when he pictured the girl to
+himself, and thought upon her marvellous beauty and infinite
+winsomeness, his conscience was drowned in his longing, and he
+resolved that he would postpone resolving until the morrow.</p>
+<p>John hitched his horse near the gate and stood looking between
+the massive iron bars toward Haddon Hall, whose turrets could be
+seen through the leafless boughs of the trees. The sun was sinking
+perilously low, thought John, and with each moment his heart also
+sank, while his good resolutions showed the flimsy fibre of their
+fabric and were rent asunder by the fear that she might not come.
+As the moments dragged on and she did not come, a hundred alarms
+tormented him. First among these was a dread that she might have
+made resolves such as had sprung up so plenteously in him, and that
+she might have been strong enough to act upon them and to remain at
+home. But he was mistaken in the girl. Such resolutions as he had
+been making and breaking had never come to her at all. The
+difference between the man and the woman was this: he resolved in
+his mind not to see her and failed in keeping to <a name="Page_100"
+id="Page_100"></a>his resolution; while she resolved in her heart
+to see him&mdash;resolved that nothing in heaven or earth or the
+other place could keep her from seeing him, and succeeded in
+carrying out her resolution. The intuitive resolve, the one that
+does not know it is a resolution, is the sort before which
+obstacles fall like corn before the sickle.</p>
+<p>After John had waited a weary time, the form of the girl
+appeared above the crest of the hill. She was holding up the skirt
+of her gown, and glided over the earth so rapidly that she appeared
+to be running. Beat! beat! oh, heart of John, if there is aught in
+womanhood to make you throb; if there is aught in infinite grace
+and winsomeness; if there is aught in perfect harmony of color and
+form and movement; if there is aught of beauty, in God's power to
+create that can set you pulsing, beat! for the fairest creature of
+His hand is hastening to greet you. The wind had dishevelled her
+hair and it was blowing in fluffy curls of golden red about her
+face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed with joy and exercise, her
+red lips were parted, and her eyes&mdash;but I am wasting words. As
+for John's heart it almost smothered him with its beating. He had
+never before supposed that he could experience such violent
+throbbing within his breast and live. But at last she was at the
+gate, in all her exquisite beauty and winsomeness, and something
+must be done to make the heart conform to the usages of good
+society. She, too, was in trouble with her breathing, but John
+thought that her trouble was owing to exertion. However that may
+have been, nothing in heaven or earth was ever so beautiful, so
+radiant, so graceful, or so fair as this girl who had come to give
+herself to John. It seems that I cannot take myself away from the
+attractive theme.</p>
+<p>"Ah, Sir John, you did come," said the girl, joyously.</p>
+<p>"Yes," John succeeded in replying, after an effort, "and
+you&mdash;I thank you, gracious lady, for coming. I do not <a name=
+"Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>deserve&mdash;" the heart again
+asserted itself, and Dorothy stood by the gate with downcast eyes,
+waiting to learn what it was that John did not deserve. She thought
+he deserved everything good.</p>
+<p>"I fear I have caused you fatigue," said John, again thinking,
+and with good reason, that he was a fool.</p>
+<p>The English language, which he had always supposed to be his
+mother tongue, had deserted him as if it were his step-mother.
+After all, the difficulty, as John subsequently said, was that
+Dorothy's beauty had deprived him of the power to think. He could
+only see. He was entirely disorganized by a girl whom he could have
+carried away in his arms.</p>
+<p>"I feel no fatigue," replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I feared that in climbing the hill you had lost your breath,"
+answered disorganized John.</p>
+<p>"So I did," she returned. Then she gave a great sigh and said,
+"Now I am all right again."</p>
+<p>All right? So is the morning sun, so is the arching rainbow, and
+so are the flitting lights of the north in midwinter. All are "all
+right" because God made them, as He made Dorothy, perfect, each
+after its kind.</p>
+<p>A long, uneasy pause ensued. Dorothy felt the embarrassing
+silence less than John, and could have helped him greatly had she
+wished to do so. But she had made the advances at their former
+meetings, and as she had told me, she "had done a great deal more
+than her part in going to meet him." Therefore she determined that
+he should do his own wooing thenceforward. She had graciously given
+him all the opportunity he had any right to ask.</p>
+<p>While journeying to Bowling Green Gate, John had formulated many
+true and beautiful sentiments of a personal nature which he
+intended expressing to Dorothy; but when the opportunity came for
+him to speak, the weather, his horse, Dorothy's mare Dolcy, the
+queens of England and<a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a> Scotland
+were the only subjects on which he could induce his tongue to
+perform, even moderately well.</p>
+<p>Dorothy listened attentively while John on the opposite side of
+the gate discoursed limpingly on the above-named themes; and
+although in former interviews she had found those topics quite
+interesting, upon that occasion she had come to Bowling Green Gate
+to listen to something else and was piqued not to hear it. After
+ten or fifteen minutes she said demurely:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I may not remain here longer. I shall be missed at the Hall. I
+regained my liberty but yesterday, and father will be suspicious of
+me during the next few days. I must be watchful and must have a
+care of my behavior."</p>
+<p>John summoned his wits and might have spoken his mind freely had
+he not feared to say too much. Despite Dorothy's witchery, honor,
+conscience, and prudence still bore weight with him, and they all
+dictated that he should cling to the shreds of his resolution and
+not allow matters to go too far between him and this fascinating
+girl. He was much in love with her; but Dorothy had reached at a
+bound a height to which he was still climbing. Soon John, also, was
+to reach the pinnacle whence honor, conscience, and prudence were
+to be banished.</p>
+<p>"I fear I must now leave you," said Dorothy, as darkness began
+to gather.</p>
+<p>"I hope I may soon see you again," said John.</p>
+<p>"Sometime I will see you if&mdash;if I can," she answered with
+downcast eyes. "It is seldom I can leave the Hall alone, but I
+shall try to come here at sunset some future day." John's silence
+upon a certain theme had given offence.</p>
+<p>"I cannot tell you how greatly I thank you," cried John.</p>
+<p>"I will say adieu," said Dorothy, as she offered him her hand
+through the bars of the gate. John raised the hand gallantly to his
+lips, and when she had withdrawn it there <a name="Page_103" id=
+"Page_103"></a>seemed no reason for her to remain. But she stood
+for a moment hesitatingly. Then she stooped to reach into her
+pocket while she daintily lifted the skirt of her gown with the
+other hand and from the pocket drew forth a great iron key.</p>
+<p>"I brought this key, thinking that you might wish to unlock the
+gate&mdash;and come to&mdash;to this side. I had great difficulty
+in taking it from the forester's closet, where it has been hanging
+for a hundred years or more."</p>
+<p>She showed John the key, returned it to her pocket, made a
+courtesy, and moved slowly away, walking backward.</p>
+<p>"Mistress Vernon," cried John, "I beg you to let me have the
+key."</p>
+<p>"It is too late, now," said the girl, with downcast eyes.
+"Darkness is rapidly falling, and I must return to the Hall."</p>
+<p>John began to climb the gate, but she stopped him. He had thrown
+away his opportunity.</p>
+<p>"Please do not follow me, Sir John," said she, still moving
+backward. "I must not remain longer."</p>
+<p>"Only for one moment," pleaded John.</p>
+<p>"No," the girl responded, "I&mdash;I may, perhaps, bring the key
+when I come again. I am glad, Sir John, that you came to meet me
+this evening." She courtesied, and then hurried away toward Haddon
+Hall. Twice she looked backward and waved her hand, and John stood
+watching her through the bars till her form was lost to view
+beneath the crest of Bowling Green Hill.</p>
+<p>"'I brought this key, thinking that you might wish to unlock the
+gate and come to this side,'" muttered John, quoting the girl's
+words. "Compared with you, John Manners, there is no other fool in
+this world." Then meditatively: "I wonder if she feels toward me as
+I feel toward her? Surely she does. What other reason could bring
+her here to meet me unless she is a brazen, wanton creature who is
+for every man." Then came a jealous <a name="Page_104" id=
+"Page_104"></a>thought that hurt him like the piercing of a knife.
+It lasted but a moment, however, and he continued muttering to
+himself: "If she loves me and will be my wife, I will&mdash;I will
+... In God's name what will I do? If I were to marry her, old
+Vernon would kill her, and I&mdash;I should kill my father."</p>
+<p>Then John mounted his horse and rode homeward the unhappiest
+happy man in England. He had made perilous strides toward that
+pinnacle sans honor, sans caution, sans conscience, sans everything
+but love.</p>
+<p>That evening while we were walking on the battlements, smoking,
+John told me of his interview with Dorothy and extolled her beauty,
+grace, and winsomeness which, in truth, as you know, were
+matchless. But when he spoke of "her sweet, shy modesty," I came
+near to laughing in his face.</p>
+<p>"Did she not write a letter asking you to meet her?" I
+asked.</p>
+<p>"Why&mdash;y-e-s," returned John.</p>
+<p>"And," I continued, "has she not from the first sought you?"</p>
+<p>"It almost seems to be so," answered John, "but notwithstanding
+the fact that one might say&mdash;might call&mdash;that one might
+feel that her conduct is&mdash;that it might be&mdash;you know,
+well&mdash;it might be called by some persons not knowing all the
+facts in the case, immodest&mdash;I hate to use the word with
+reference to her&mdash;yet it does not appear to me to have been at
+all immodest in Mistress Vernon, and, Sir Malcolm, I should be
+deeply offended were any of my friends to intimate&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Now, John," I returned, laughing at him, "you could not, if you
+wished, make me quarrel with you; and if you desire it, I will
+freely avow my firm belief in the fact that my cousin Dorothy is
+the flower of modesty. Does that better suit you?"</p>
+<p><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>I could easily see that my
+bantering words did not suit him at all; but I laughed at him, and
+he could not find it in his heart to show his ill-feeling.</p>
+<p>"I will not quarrel with you," he returned; "but in plain words,
+I do not like the tone in which you speak of her. It hurts me, and
+I do not believe you would wilfully give me pain."</p>
+<p>"Indeed, I would not," I answered seriously.</p>
+<p>"Mistress Vernon's conduct toward me," John continued, "has been
+gracious. There has been no immodesty nor boldness in it."</p>
+<p>I laughed again and said: "I make my humble apologies to her
+Majesty, Queen Dorothy. But in all earnestness, Sir John, you are
+right: Dorothy is modest and pure. As for her conduct toward you,
+there is a royal quality about beauty such as my cousin possesses
+which gives an air of graciousness to acts that in a plainer girl
+would seem bold. Beauty, like royalty, has its own
+prerogatives."</p>
+<p>For a fortnight after the adventures just related, John, in
+pursuance of his oft-repeated resolution not to see Dorothy, rode
+every evening to Bowling Green Gate; but during that time he failed
+to see her, and the resolutions, with each failure, became weaker
+and fewer.</p>
+<p>One evening, after many disappointments, John came to my room
+bearing in his hands a letter which he said Jennie Faxton had
+delivered to him at Bowling Green Gate.</p>
+<p>"Mistress Vernon," said John, "and Lady Madge Stanley will ride
+to Derby-town to-morrow. They will go in the Haddon Hall coach, and
+Dawson will drive. Mistress Vernon writes to me thus:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>"'To SIR JOHN MANNERS:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"'My good wishes and my kind greeting. Lady Madge Stanley, my
+good aunt, Lady Crawford, and myself do intend journeying to
+Derby-town to-morrow. My aunt,<a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>
+Lady Crawford, is slightly ill, and although I should much regret
+to see her sickness grow greater, yet if ill she must be, I do hope
+that her worst day will be upon the morrow, in which case she could
+not accompany Lady Madge and me. I shall nurse my good aunt
+carefully this day, and shall importune her to take plentifully of
+physic that she may quickly recover her health&mdash;after
+to-morrow. Should a gentleman ask of Will Dawson, who will be in
+the tap-room of the Royal Arms at eleven o'clock of the morning,
+Dawson will be glad to inform the gentleman concerning Lady
+Crawford's health. Let us hope that the physic will cure Lady
+Crawford&mdash;by the day after to-morrow at furthest. The said
+Will Dawson may be trusted. With great respect,</p>
+<p>DOROTHY VERNON.'"</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>"I suppose the gentleman will be solicitous concerning Lady
+Crawford's health to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock," said I.</p>
+<p>"The gentleman is now solicitous concerning Lady Crawford's
+health," answered John, laughingly. "Was there ever a lady more
+fair and gracious than Mistress Vernon?"</p>
+<p>I smiled with a superior air at John's weakness, being, as you
+know, entirely free from his complaint myself, and John
+continued:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Perhaps you would call Mistress Dorothy bold for sending me
+this letter?"</p>
+<p>"It is redolent with shyness," I answered. "But would you really
+wish poor Lady Crawford to be ill that you might witness Mistress
+Dorothy's modesty?"</p>
+<p>"Please don't jest on that subject," said John, seriously. "I
+would wish anything, I fear, that would bring me an opportunity to
+see her, to look upon her face, and to hear her voice. For her I
+believe I would sacrifice every one who is dear to me. One day she
+shall be mine&mdash;mine <a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a>at
+whatever cost&mdash;if she will be. If she will be. Ah, there is
+the rub! If she will be. I dare not hope for that."</p>
+<p>"I think," said I, "that you really have some little cause to
+hope."</p>
+<p>"You speak in the same tone again. Malcolm, you do not
+understand her. She might love me to the extent that I sometimes
+hope; but her father and mine would never consent to our union, and
+she, I fear, could not be induced to marry me under those
+conditions. Do not put the hope into my heart."</p>
+<p>"You only now said she should be yours some day," I
+answered.</p>
+<p>"So she shall," returned John, "so she shall."</p>
+<p>"But Lady Madge is to be with her to-morrow," said I, my own
+heart beating with an ardent wish and a new-born hope, "and you may
+be unable, after all, to see Mistress Dorothy."</p>
+<p>"That is true," replied John. "I do not know how she will
+arrange matters, but I have faith in her ingenuity."</p>
+<p>Well might he have faith, for Dorothy was possessed of that sort
+of a will which usually finds a way.</p>
+<p>"If you wish me to go with you to Derby-town, I will do so.
+Perhaps I may be able to entertain Lady Madge while you have a word
+with Dorothy. What think you of the plan?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"If you will go with me, Malcolm, I shall thank you with all my
+heart."</p>
+<p>And so it was agreed between us that we should both go to
+Derby-town for the purpose of inquiring about Lady Crawford's
+health, though for me the expedition was full of hazard.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><a name="Page_108" id=
+"Page_108"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h2>A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN</h2>
+<p>The next morning broke brightly, but soon clouds began to gather
+and a storm seemed imminent. We feared that the gloomy prospect of
+the sky might keep Dorothy and Madge at home, but long before the
+appointed hour John and I were at the Royal Arms watching eagerly
+for the Haddon coach. At the inn we occupied a room from which we
+could look into the courtyard, and at the window we stood
+alternating between exaltation and despair.</p>
+<p>When my cogitations turned upon myself&mdash;a palpitating youth
+of thirty-five, waiting with beating heart for a simple blind girl
+little more than half my age; and when I remembered how for years I
+had laughed at the tenderness of the fairest women of the French
+and Scottish courts&mdash;I could not help saying to myself, "Poor
+fool! you have achieved an early second childhood." But when I
+recalled Madge in all her beauty, purity, and helplessness, my
+cynicism left me, and I, who had enjoyed all of life's ambitious
+possibilities, calmly reached the conclusion that it is sometimes a
+blessed privilege to be a fool. While I dwelt on thoughts of Madge,
+all the latent good within me came uppermost. There is latent good
+in every man, though it may remain latent all his life. Good
+resolves, pure thoughts, and noble aspirations&mdash;new sensations
+to me, I blush to confess&mdash;bubbled <a name="Page_109" id=
+"Page_109"></a>in my heart, and I made a mental prayer, "If this is
+folly, may God banish wisdom." What is there, after all is said, in
+wisdom, that men should seek it? Has it ever brought happiness to
+its possessor? I am an old man at this writing. I have tasted all
+the cups of life, and from the fulness of my experience I tell you
+that the simple life is the only one wherein happiness is found.
+When you permit your heart and your mind to grow complex and wise,
+you make nooks and crannies for wretchedness to lodge in. Innocence
+is Nature's wisdom; knowledge is man's folly.</p>
+<p>An hour before noon our patience was rewarded when we saw the
+Haddon Hall coach drive into the courtyard with Dawson on the box.
+I tried to make myself believe that I did not wish Lady Crawford
+were ill. But there is little profit in too close scrutiny of our
+deep-seated motives, and in this case I found no comfort in
+self-examination. I really did wish that Aunt Dorothy were ill.</p>
+<p>My motive studying, however, was brought to a joyous end when I
+saw Will Dawson close the coach door after Madge and Dorothy had
+alighted.</p>
+<p>How wondrously beautiful they were! Had we lived in the days
+when Olympus ruled the world, John surely would have had a god for
+his rival. Dorothy seemed luminous, so radiant was she with the
+fire of life. As for Madge, had I beheld a corona hovering over her
+head I should have thought it in all respects a natural and
+appropriate phenomenon&mdash;so fair and saintlike did she appear
+to me. Her warm white furs and her clinging gown of soft
+light-colored woollen stuff seemed to be a saint's robe, and her
+dainty little hat, fashioned with ermine about the edge of the
+rim&mdash;well, that was the corona, and I was ready to
+worship.</p>
+<p>Dorothy, as befitted her, wore a blaze of harmonious colors and
+looked like the spirit of life and youth. I wish<a name="Page_110"
+id="Page_110"></a> I could cease rhapsodizing over those two girls,
+but I cannot. You may pass over it as you read, if you do not like
+it.</p>
+<p>"Ye gods! did ever a creature so perfect as she tread the
+earth?" asked John, meaning, of course, Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"No," answered I, meaning, of course, Madge.</p>
+<p>The girls entered the inn, and John and I descended to the
+tap-room for the purpose of consulting Will Dawson concerning the
+state of Aunt Dorothy's health.</p>
+<p>When we entered the tap-room Will was standing near the
+fireplace with a mug of hot punch in his hand. When I touched him,
+he almost dropped the mug so great was his surprise at seeing
+me.</p>
+<p>"Sir Mal&mdash;" he began to say, but I stopped him by a
+gesture. He instantly recovered his composure and appeared not to
+recognize me.</p>
+<p>I spoke in broken English, for, as you know, I belong more to
+France than to any other country. "I am Sir Fran&ccedil;ois de
+Lorraine," said I. "I wish to inquire if Lady Crawford is in good
+health?"</p>
+<p>"Her ladyship is ill, sir, I am sorry to say," responded Will,
+taking off his hat. "Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge Stanley are at
+the inn. If you wish to inquire more particularly concerning Lady
+Crawford's health, I will ask them if they wish to receive you.
+They are in the parlor."</p>
+<p>Will was the king of trumps!</p>
+<p>"Say to them," said I, "that Sir Fran&ccedil;ois de
+Lorraine&mdash;mark the name carefully, please&mdash;and his friend
+desire to make inquiry concerning Lady Crawford's health, and would
+deem it a great honor should the ladies grant them an
+interview."</p>
+<p>Will's countenance was as expressionless as the face upon the
+mug from which he had been drinking. "I shall inform the ladies of
+your honor's request."<a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a> He
+thereupon placed the half-emptied mug upon the fire-shelf and left
+the room.</p>
+<p>When Will announced his errand to the girls, Dorothy said in
+surprise:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Sir Fran&ccedil;ois de Lorraine? That is the name of the Grand
+Duc de Guise, but surely&mdash;Describe him to me, Will."</p>
+<p>"He is about your height, Mistress Dorothy, and is very
+handsome," responded Will.</p>
+<p>The latter part of Will's description placed me under obligation
+to him to the extent of a gold pound sterling.</p>
+<p>"Ah, it is John!" thought Dorothy, forgetting the fact that John
+was a great deal taller than she, but feeling that Will's
+description of "very handsome" could apply to only one man in the
+world. "He has taken Malcolm's name." Then she said, "Bring him to
+us, Will. But who is the friend? Do you know him? Tell me his
+appearance."</p>
+<p>"I did not notice the other gentleman," replied Will, "and I can
+tell you nothing of him."</p>
+<p>"Will, you are a very stupid man. But bring the gentlemen here."
+Dorothy had taken Will into her confidence to the extent of telling
+him that a gentleman would arrive at the Royal Arms who would
+inquire for Lady Crawford's health, and that she, Dorothy, would
+fully inform the gentleman upon that interesting topic. Will may
+have had suspicions of his own, but if so, he kept them to himself,
+and at least did not know that the gentleman whom his mistress
+expected to see was Sir John Manners. Neither did he suspect that
+fact. Dawson had never seen Manners, and did not know he was in the
+neighborhood of Derby. The fact was concealed from Dawson by
+Dorothy not so much because she doubted him, but for the reason
+that she wished him to be able truthfully to plead innocence in
+case trouble should grow out of the Derby-town escapade.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>I wonder why John did not
+come alone?" thought Dorothy. "This friend of his will be a great
+hindrance."</p>
+<p>Dorothy ran to the mirror and hurriedly gave a few touches to
+her hair, pressing it lightly with her soft flexible fingers here,
+and tucking in a stray curl there, which for beauty's sake should
+have been allowed to hang loose. She was standing at the pier-glass
+trying to see the back of her head when Will knocked to announce
+our arrival.</p>
+<p>"Come," said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Will opened the door and held it for us to pass in. Madge was
+seated near the fire. When we entered Dorothy was standing with
+great dignity in the centre of the floor, not of course intending
+to make an exhibition of delight over John in the presence of a
+stranger. But when she saw that I was the stranger, she ran to me
+with outstretched hands.</p>
+<p>"Good morning, Mistress Vernon," said I, in mock
+ceremoniousness.</p>
+<p>"Oh, Malcolm! Malcolm!" cried Madge, quickly rising from her
+chair. "You are cruel, Dorothy, to surprise me in this
+fashion."</p>
+<p>"I, too, am surprised. I did not know that Malcolm was coming,"
+replied Dorothy, turning to give welcome to John. Then I stepped to
+Madge's side and took her hands, but all I could say was "Madge!
+Madge!" and all she said was "Malcolm! Malcolm!" yet we seemed to
+understand each other.</p>
+<p>John and Dorothy were likewise stricken with a paucity of words,
+but they also doubtless understood each other. After a moment or
+two there fell upon me a shower of questions from Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Did you not go to France? How happens it that you are in
+Derby-town? Where did you meet Sir John? What a delightful surprise
+you have given us! Nothing was wanting to make us happy but your
+presence."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>I am so happy that it
+frightens me," said Dorothy in ecstasy. "Trouble will come, I am
+sure. One extreme always follows another. The pendulum always
+swings as far back as it goes forward. But we are happy now, aren't
+we, Madge? I intend to remain so while I can. The pendulum may
+swing as far backward as it chooses hereafter. Sufficient to the
+day is the evil thereof. Sometimes the joy is almost sufficient,
+isn't it, Madge?"</p>
+<p>"The evil is more than sufficient some days," answered
+Madge.</p>
+<p>"Come, Madge, don't be foreboding."</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, I have not met the other gentleman," said Madge.</p>
+<p>"Ah, pardon me. In my surprise I forgot to present you. Lady
+Madge Stanley, let me present Sir John Manners."</p>
+<p>"Sir John Manners!" cried Madge, taking a step backward. Her
+surprise was so great that she forgot to acknowledge the
+introduction. "Dorothy, what means this?" she continued.</p>
+<p>"It means," replied Dorothy, nervously, "that Sir John is my
+very dear friend. I will explain it to you at another time."</p>
+<p>We stood silently for a few moments, and John said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I hope I may find favor in your heart, Lady Madge. I wish to
+greet you with my sincere homage."</p>
+<p>"Sir John, I am glad to greet you, but I fear the pendulum of
+which Dorothy spoke will swing very far backward erelong."</p>
+<p>"Let it swing as far back as it chooses," answered Dorothy, with
+a toss of her head, "I am ready to buy and to pay for happiness.
+That seems to be the only means whereby we may have it. I am ready
+to buy it with pain any day, and am willing to pay upon demand.
+Pain passes away; joy lasts forever."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a>I know," said Sir John,
+addressing Madge, "I know it is not prudent for Malcolm and me to
+be here to-day; but imprudent things seem to be the most
+delightful."</p>
+<p>"For men, Sir John," returned Madge. "Upon women they leave
+their mark."</p>
+<p>"I fear you are right," he answered. "I had not thought of my
+visit in that light. For Mistress Vernon's sake it is better that I
+do not remain in Derby."</p>
+<p>"For Mistress Vernon's sake you shall remain," cried that
+impetuous young woman, clutching John's arm.</p>
+<p>After a time, Dorothy wishing to visit one of the shops to make
+purchases, it was agreed between us that we should all walk out.
+Neither Dorothy nor Madge had ever before visited Derby-town. John
+and I had visited the place but once; that was upon the occasion of
+our first meeting. No one in the town knew us, and we felt safe in
+venturing forth into the streets. So we helped Dorothy and Madge to
+don their furs, and out we went happier and more reckless than four
+people have any good right to be. But before setting out I went to
+the tap-room and ordered dinner.</p>
+<p>I found the host and directed him to prepare a dozen partridges
+in a pie, a haunch of venison, a few links of German sausage, and a
+capon. The host informed me that he had in his pantry a barrel of
+roots called potatoes which had been sent to him by a sea-captain
+who had recently returned from the new world. He hurried away and
+brought a potato for inspection. It was of a gray brown color and
+near the size of an egg. The landlord assured me that it was
+delicious when baked, and I ordered four, at the cost of a crown
+each. I understand that my Lord Raleigh claims to have brought the
+first potatoes and tobacco into England in '85; but I know that I
+smoked tobacco in '66, and I saw potatoes at the Royal Arms in
+Derby-town in '67. I also ordered another new dish for our famous
+dinner. It was a brown beverage called coffee.<a name="Page_115"
+id="Page_115"></a> The berries from which the beverage is made mine
+host showed to me, and said they had been brought to him by a
+sea-faring man from Arabia. I ordered a pot of the drink at a cost
+of three crowns. I have heard it said that coffee was not known in
+Europe or in England till it was introduced by Rawolf in '73, but I
+saw it at the Royal Arms in '67. In addition to this list, I
+ordered for our drinking sweet wine from Madeira and red wine from
+Burgundy. The latter-named wine had begun to grow in favor at the
+French court when I left France five years before. It was little
+liked in England. All these dainties were rare at the time of which
+I write; but they have since grown into considerable use, and I
+doubt not, as we progress in luxury, they will become common
+articles of food upon the tables of the rich. Prongs, or forks, as
+they are called, which by some are used in cutting and eating one's
+food at table, I also predict will become implements of daily use.
+It is really a filthy fashion, which we have, of handling food with
+our fingers. The Italians have used forks for some time, but our
+preachers speak against them, saying God has given us our fingers
+with which to eat, and that it is impious to thwart his purposes by
+the use of forks. The preachers will probably retard the general
+use of forks among the common people.</p>
+<p>After I had given my order for dinner we started out on our
+ramble through Derby-town.</p>
+<p>Shortly after we left the inn we divided into couples for the
+ostensible reason that we did not wish to attract too much
+attention&mdash;Dorothy and John, Madge and I! Our real reason for
+separating was&mdash;but you understand.</p>
+<p>Madge's hand lay like a span of snow upon my arm, and&mdash;but
+this time I will restrain my tendency to rhapsodize.</p>
+<p>We walked out through those parts of the town which were little
+used, and Madge talked freely and happily.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>She fairly babbled, and to
+me her voice was like the murmurings of the rivers that flowed out
+of paradise.</p>
+<p>We had agreed with John and Dorothy to meet them at the Royal
+Arms in one hour, and that time had almost passed when Madge and I
+turned our faces toward the inn.</p>
+<p>When we were within a short distance of our hostelry we saw a
+crowd gathered around a young man who was standing on a box. He was
+speaking in a mournful, lugubrious voice and accompanied his words
+with violent gesticulations. Out of curiosity we stopped to listen,
+and learned that religion was our orator's theme.</p>
+<p>I turned to a man standing near me and asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Who is the fellow speaking?"</p>
+<p>"The pious man is Robert Brown. He is exhorting in the name of
+the Lord of Hosts."</p>
+<p>"The pious Robert Brown?" I queried, "exhorting in the name
+of&mdash;of the Lord of where, did you say?"</p>
+<p>"Hosts," laconically responded my friend, while listening
+intently to the words of Brown.</p>
+<p>"Hosts, say you? Who is he?" I asked of my interesting neighbor.
+"I know him not."</p>
+<p>"Doubtless you know Him not," responded the man, evidently
+annoyed at my interruption and my flippancy.</p>
+<p>After a moment or two I, desiring to know more concerning the
+orator, asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Robert Brown, say you?"</p>
+<p>"Even he," came the response. "It will be good for your soul if
+you but listen to him in a prayerful mood. He is a young man upon
+whom the Spirit hath descended plenteously."</p>
+<p>"The Spirit?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Ay," returned my neighbor.</p>
+<p>I could not extract another word from him, so I had the worst of
+the encounter.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>We had been standing there
+but a short time when the young exhorter descended from his
+improvised pulpit and passed among the crowd for the purpose of
+collecting money. His harangue had appeared ridiculous to me, but
+Madge seemed interested in his discourse. She said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"He is very earnest, Malcolm," and at once my heart went out to
+the young enthusiast upon the box. One kind word from Madge, and I
+was the fellow's friend for life. I would have remained his friend
+had he permitted me that high privilege. But that he would not do.
+When he came to me, I dropped into his hat a small silver piece
+which shone brightly among a few black copper coins. My liberal
+contribution did not induce him to kindness, but, on the contrary,
+it attracted his attention to the giver. He looked at the silver
+coin, and then turning his solemn gaze upon me, eyed me insolently
+from head to foot. While doing so a look of profound disgust spread
+over his mournful countenance. After a calm survey of my person,
+which to me was uncomfortably long, he turned to the bystanders,
+and in the same high-pitched, lugubrious voice which he had used
+when exhorting, said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Brethren, here behold ye the type of anti-Christ," and he waved
+his thin hand toward me much to my amusement and annoyance. "Here,"
+said he, "we find the leading strings to all that is
+iniquitous&mdash;vanity. It is betokened in his velvets, satins,
+and laces. Think ye, young man," he said, turning to me, "that such
+vanities are not an abomination in the eyes of the God of
+Israel?"</p>
+<p>"I believe that the God of Israel cares nothing about my
+apparel," I replied, more amused than angered. He paid no attention
+to my remark.</p>
+<p>"And this young woman," he continued, pointing to Madge, "this
+young woman, daughter of the Roman harlot, no doubt, she also is
+arrayed in silks, taffetas, and fine cloth. Look ye, friends, upon
+this abominable collar of<a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a>
+Satan; this ruff of fine linen, all smeared in the devil's own
+liquor, starch. Her vanity is an offence in the nostrils of God's
+people."</p>
+<p>As he spoke he stretched forth his hand and caught in his
+clawlike grasp the dainty white ruff that encircled Madge's neck.
+When I saw his act, my first impulse was to run him through, and I
+drew my sword half from its scabbard with that purpose. But he was
+not the sort of a man upon whom I could use my blade. He was hardly
+more than a boy&mdash;a wild, half-crazed fanatic, whose reason, if
+he had ever possessed any, had been lost in the Charybdis of his
+zeal. He honestly thought it was his duty to insult persons who
+apparently disagreed with him. Such a method of proselyting is
+really a powerful means of persuasion among certain classes, and it
+has always been used by men who have successfully founded permanent
+religious sects. To plant successfully a religious thought or
+system requires more violent aggression than to conquer a
+nation.</p>
+<p>Since I could not run the fellow through, I drew back my arm,
+and striking as lightly as possible, I laid our zealous friend
+sprawling on his back. Thus had I the honor of knocking down the
+founder of the Brownists.</p>
+<p>If I mistake not, the time will come, if these men are allowed
+to harangue the populace, when the kings of England will be unable
+to accomplish the feat of knocking down Brown's followers.
+Heresies, like noxious weeds, grow without cultivation, and thrive
+best on barren soil. Or shall I say that, like the goodly vine,
+they bear better fruit when pruned? I cannot fully decide this
+question for myself; but I admire these sturdy fanatics who so
+passionately love their own faith, and so bitterly hate all others,
+and I am almost prepared to say that each new heresy brings to the
+world a better orthodoxy.</p>
+<p>For a little time after my encounter with Brown, all my skill
+was needed to ward off the frantic hero. He <a name="Page_119" id=
+"Page_119"></a>quickly rose to his feet, and, with the help of his
+friends, seemed determined to spread the gospel by tearing me to
+pieces. My sword point kept the rabble at a respectful distance for
+a while, but they crowded closely upon me, and I should have been
+compelled to kill some of them had I not been re&euml;nforced by
+two men who came to my help and laid about them most joyfully with
+their quarterstaffs. A few broken heads stemmed for a moment the
+torrent of religious enthusiasm, and during a pause in the
+hostilities I hurriedly retreated with Madge, ungratefully leaving
+my valiant allies to reap the full reward of victory should the
+fortunes of war favor them.</p>
+<p>Madge was terribly frightened, and with her by my side I, of
+course, would not have remained to fight the redoubtable Bayard
+himself.</p>
+<p>We hurried forward, but before we reached the inn we were
+overtaken by our allies whom we had abandoned. Our friends were
+young men. One wore a rich, half-rustic habit, and the other was
+dressed as a horse boy. Both were intoxicated. I had been thankful
+for their help; but I did not want their company.</p>
+<p>"How now, Cousin Madge?" said our richly dressed ally. "What in
+the devil's name has brought you into this street broil?"</p>
+<p>"Ah, Cousin James, is it you?" replied the trembling girl.</p>
+<p>"Yes, but who is your friend that so cleverly unloaded his
+quarrel upon us? Hell's fires! but they were like a swarm of wasps.
+Who is your friend, Madge?"</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm Vernon," replied Madge. "Let me present you, Sir
+Malcolm, to my cousin, Lord James Stanley."</p>
+<p>I offered my hand to his Lordship, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I thank you much for your timely help. I should not have
+deserted you had I not felt that my first duty was to extricate
+Lady Madge from the disagreeable situation. We <a name="Page_120"
+id="Page_120"></a>must hasten away from here, or the mad rabble
+will follow us."</p>
+<p>"Right you are, my hearty," returned Stanley, slapping me on the
+shoulder. "Of course you had to get the wench away. Where do you
+go? We will bear you company."</p>
+<p>I longed to pay the fellow for his help by knocking him down;
+but the possibilities of trouble ahead of us were already too
+great, and I forced myself to be content with the prowess already
+achieved.</p>
+<p>"But you have not told me what brought you into the broil,"
+asked his Lordship, as we walked toward the inn.</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm and I were walking out to see the town
+and&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"To see the town? By gad, that's good, Cousin Madge. How much of
+it did you see? You are as blind as an owl at noon," answered his
+Lordship.</p>
+<p>"Alas! I am blind," returned Madge, clinging closely to me, and
+shrinking from her cousin's terrible jest. I could not think of
+anything sufficiently holy and sacred upon which to vow my
+vengeance against this fellow, if the time should ever come when I
+dared take it.</p>
+<p>"Are you alone with this&mdash;this gentleman?" asked his
+Lordship, grasping Madge by the arm.</p>
+<p>"No," returned Madge, "Dorothy is with us."</p>
+<p>"She is among the shops," I volunteered reluctantly.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy? Dorothy Vernon? By gad, Tod, we are in luck. I must
+see the wench I am to marry," said his Lordship, speaking to his
+companion, the stable boy. "So Dorothy is with you, is she, cousin?
+I haven't seen her for years. They say she is a handsome filly now.
+By gad, she had room to improve, for she was plain enough, to
+frighten rats away from a barn when I last saw her. We will go to
+the inn and see for ourselves, won't we, Tod? Dad's word won't
+satisfy us when it comes to the matter of marrying, will it,
+Tod?"</p>
+<p><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>Tod was the drunken stable
+boy who had assisted his Lordship and me in our battle with the
+Brownists.</p>
+<p>I was at a loss what course to pursue. I was forced to submit to
+this fellow's company, and to endure patiently his insolence. But
+John and Dorothy would soon return, and there is no need that I
+should explain the dangers of the predicament which would then
+ensue.</p>
+<p>When we were within a few yards of the inn door I looked
+backward and saw Dorothy and John approaching us. I held up my hand
+warningly. John caught my meaning, and instantly leaving Dorothy's
+side, entered an adjacent shop. My movement had attracted Stanley's
+attention, and he turned in the direction I had been looking. When
+he saw Dorothy, he turned again to me and asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Is that Dorothy Vernon?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," I replied.</p>
+<p>"Look at her, Tod!" exclaimed my lord, "look at her, Tod! The
+dad was right about her, after all. I thought the old man was
+hoaxing me when he told me that she was beautiful. Holy Virgin,
+Tod, did you ever see anything so handsome? I will take her quick
+enough; I will take her. Dad won't need to tease me. I'm
+willing."</p>
+<p>Dorothy approached to within a few yards of us, and my Lord
+Stanley stepped forward to meet her.</p>
+<p>"Ye don't know me, do ye?" said Stanley.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was frightened and quickly stepped to my side.</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I believe not," responded Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Lord James Stanley," murmured Madge, who knew of the
+approaching Stanley marriage.</p>
+<p>"Madge is right," returned. Stanley, grinning foolishly. "I am
+your cousin James, but not so much of a cousin that I cannot be
+more than cousin, heh?" He laughed boisterously, and winking at
+Tod, thrust his thumb into <a name="Page_122" id=
+"Page_122"></a>that worthy's ribs. "Say, Tod, something more than
+cousin; that's the thing, isn't it, Tod?"</p>
+<p>John was standing half-concealed at the door of the shop in
+which he had sought refuge. Dorothy well knew the peril of the
+situation, and when I frowned at her warningly, she caught the hint
+that she should not resent Stanley's words, however insulting and
+irritating they might become.</p>
+<p>"Let us go to the inn," said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"That's the thing to do. Let us go to the inn and have dinner,"
+said Stanley. "It's two hours past dinner time now, and I'm almost
+famished. We'll have a famous dinner. Come, cousin," said he,
+addressing Dorothy. "We'll have kidneys and tripe and&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"We do not want dinner," said Dorothy. "We must return home at
+once. Sir Malcolm, will you order Dawson to bring out the
+coach?"</p>
+<p>We went to the inn parlor, and I, loath to do so, left the
+ladies with Stanley and his horse-boy friend while I sought Dawson
+for the purpose of telling him to fetch the coach with all
+haste.</p>
+<p>"We have not dined," said the forester.</p>
+<p>"We shall not dine," I answered. "Fetch the coach with all the
+haste you can make." The bystanders in the tap-room were listening,
+and I continued, "A storm is brewing, and we must hasten home."</p>
+<p>True enough, a storm was brewing.</p>
+<p>When I left Dawson, I hurriedly found John and told him we were
+preparing to leave the inn, and that we would expect him to
+overtake us on the road to Rowsley.</p>
+<p>I returned to the ladies in the parlor and found them standing
+near the window. Stanley had tried to kiss Dorothy, and she had
+slapped his face. Fortunately he had taken the blow good-humoredly,
+and was pouring into her unwilling ear a fusillade of boorish
+compliments when. I entered the parlor.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a>I said, "The coach is
+ready."</p>
+<p>The ladies moved toward the door. "I am going to ride with you,
+my beauty," said his Lordship.</p>
+<p>"That you shall not do," retorted Dorothy, with blazing
+eyes.</p>
+<p>"That I will do," he answered. "The roads are free to all, and
+you cannot keep me from following you."</p>
+<p>Dorothy was aware of her predicament, and I too saw it, but
+could find no way out of it. I was troubled a moment; but my fear
+was needless, for Dorothy was equal to the occasion.</p>
+<p>"We should like your company, Cousin Stanley," replied Dorothy,
+without a trace of anger in her manner, "but we cannot let you ride
+with us in the face of the storm that is brewing."</p>
+<p>"We won't mind the storm, will we, Tod? We are going with our
+cousin."</p>
+<p>"If you insist upon being so kind to us," said Dorothy, "you may
+come. But I have changed my mind about dinner. I am very hungry,
+and we accept your invitation."</p>
+<p>"Now you are coming around nicely," said Lord James, joyfully.
+"We like that, don't we, Tod?"</p>
+<p>Tod had been silent under all circumstances.</p>
+<p>Dorothy continued: "Madge and I will drive in the coach to one
+or two of the shops, and we shall return in one hour. Meantime,
+Cousin Stanley, we wish you to have a fine dinner prepared for us,
+and we promise to do ample justice to the fare."</p>
+<p>"She'll never come back," said silent Tod, without moving a
+muscle.</p>
+<p>"How about it, cousin?" asked Stanley. "Tod says you'll never
+come back; he means that you are trying to give us the slip."</p>
+<p>"Never fear, Cousin Stanley," she returned, "I am too <a name=
+"Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>eager for dinner not to come back. If
+you fail to have a well-loaded table for me, I shall never speak to
+you again."</p>
+<p>We then went to the coach, and as the ladies entered it Dorothy
+said aloud to Dawson:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Drive to Conn's shop."</p>
+<p>I heard Tod say to his worthy master:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"She's a slippin' ye."</p>
+<p>"You're a fool, Tod. Don't you see she wants me more than she
+wants the dinner, and she's hungry, too."</p>
+<p>"Don't see," retorted his laconic friend.</p>
+<p>Of course when the coach was well away from the inn, Dawson
+received new instructions, and took the road to Rowsley. When the
+ladies had departed, I went to the tap-room with Stanley, and after
+paying the host for the coffee, the potatoes, and the dinner which
+alas! we had not tasted, I ordered a great bowl of sack and
+proceeded to drink with my allies in the hope that I might make
+them too drunk to follow us. Within half an hour I discovered that
+I was laboring at a hopeless task. There was great danger that I
+would be the first to succumb; so I, expressing a wish to sleep off
+the liquor before the ladies should return, made my escape from the
+tap-room, mounted my horse, and galloped furiously after Dorothy
+and Madge. John was riding by the coach when I overtook it.</p>
+<p>It was two hours past noon when I came up with John and the
+girls. Snow had been falling softly earlier in the afternoon, but
+as the day advanced the storm grew in violence. A cold, bleak wind
+was blowing from the north, and by reason of the weather and
+because of the ill condition of the roads, the progress of the
+coach was so slow that darkness overtook us before we had finished
+half of our journey to Rowsley. Upon the fall of night the storm
+increased in violence, and the snow came in piercing, horizontal
+shafts which stung like the prick of a needle.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>At the hour of six&mdash;I
+but guessed the time&mdash;John and I, who were riding at the rear
+of the coach, heard close on our heels the trampling of horses. I
+rode forward to Dawson, who was in the coach box, and told him to
+drive with all the speed he could make. I informed him that some
+one was following us, and that I feared highwaymen were on our
+track.</p>
+<p>Hardly had I finished speaking to Dawson when I heard the report
+of a hand-fusil, back of the coach, near the spot where I had left
+John. I quickly drew my sword, though it was a task of no small
+labor, owing to the numbness of my fingers. I breathed along the
+blade to warm it, and then I hastened to John, whom I found in a
+desperate conflict with three ruffians. No better swordsman than
+John ever drew blade, and he was holding his ground in the darkness
+right gallantly. When I rode to his rescue, another hand-fusil was
+discharged, and then another, and I knew that we need have no more
+fear from bullets, for the three men had discharged their weapons,
+and they could not reload while John and I were engaging them. I
+heard the bullets tell upon the coach, and I heard the girls
+screaming lustily. I feared they had been wounded, but you may be
+sure I had no leisure to learn the truth. Three against two was
+terrible odds in the dark, where brute force and luck go for more
+than skill. We fought desperately for a while, but in the end we
+succeeded in beating off the highwaymen. When we had finished with
+the knaves who had attacked us, we quickly overtook our party. We
+were calling Dawson to stop when we saw the coach, careening with
+the slant of the hill, topple over, and fall to the bottom of a
+little precipice five or six feet in height. We at once dismounted
+and jumped down the declivity to the coach, which lay on its side,
+almost covered by drifted snow. The pole had broken in the fall,
+and the horses were standing on the road. We first <a name=
+"Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>saw Dawson. He was swearing like a
+Dutchman, and when we had dragged him from his snowy grave, we
+opened the coach door, lifted out the ladies, and seated them upon
+the uppermost side of the coach. They were only slightly bruised,
+but what they lacked in bruises they made up in fright. In respect
+to the latter it were needless for me to attempt a description.</p>
+<p>We can laugh about it now and speak lightly concerning the
+adventure, and, as a matter of truth, the humor of the situation
+appealed to me even then. But imagine yourself in the predicament,
+and you will save me the trouble of setting forth its real
+terrors.</p>
+<p>The snow was up to our belts, and we did not at first know how
+we were to extricate the ladies. John and Dawson, however, climbed
+to the road, and I carried Dorothy and Madge to the little
+precipice where the two men at the top lifted them from my arms.
+The coach was broken, and when I climbed to the road, John, Dawson,
+and myself held a council of war against the storm. Dawson said we
+were three good miles from Rowsley, and that he knew of no house
+nearer than the village at which we could find shelter. We could
+not stand in the road and freeze, so I got the blankets and robes
+from the coach and made riding pads for Dorothy and Madge. These we
+strapped upon the broad backs of the coach horses, and then
+assisted the ladies to mount. I walked by the side of Madge, and
+John performed the same agreeable duty for Dorothy. Dawson went
+ahead of us, riding my horse and leading John's; and thus we
+travelled to Rowsley, half dead and nearly frozen, over the longest
+three miles in the kingdom.</p>
+<p>John left us before entering the village, and took the road to
+Rutland, intending to stop for the night at a cottage two miles
+distant, upon his father's estates. I was to follow Sir John when
+the ladies were safely lodged at The Peacock.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a>It was agreed between us
+that nothing should be said concerning the presence of any man save
+Dawson and myself in our party.</p>
+<p>When John left us, I rode to The Peacock with Dorothy and Madge,
+and while I was bidding them good-by my violent cousin, Sir George,
+entered the inn. Dorothy ran to her father and briefly related the
+adventures of the night, dwelling with undeserved emphasis upon the
+help I had rendered. She told her father&mdash;the statement was
+literally true&mdash;that she had met me at the Royal Arms, where I
+was stopping, and that she had, through fear of the storm and in
+dread of highwaymen, asked me to ride beside their coach to
+Rowsley.</p>
+<p>When I saw Sir George enter the room, I expected to have trouble
+with him; but after he had spoken with Dorothy, much to my
+surprise, he offered me his hand and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I thank you, Malcolm, for the help you have rendered my girls,
+and I am glad you have come back to us."</p>
+<p>"I have not come back to you, Sir George," said I, withholding
+my hand. "I met Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge at the Royal Arms,
+and escorted them to Rowsley for reasons which she has just given
+to you. I was about to depart when you entered."</p>
+<p>"Tut, tut! Malcolm, you will come with us to Haddon Hall."</p>
+<p>"To be ordered away again, Sir George?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"I did not order you to go. You left in a childish fit of anger.
+Why in the devil's name did you run away so quickly? Could you not
+have given a man time to cool off? You treated me very badly,
+Malcolm."</p>
+<p>"Sir George, you certainly know&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I know nothing of the sort. Now I want not another word from
+you. Damme! I say, not another word. If I ever ordered you to leave
+Haddon Hall, I didn't know what I was doing," cried Sir George,
+heartily.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a>But you may again not
+know," said I.</p>
+<p>"Now, Malcolm, don't be a greater fool than I was. If I say I
+did not order you to leave Haddon Hall, can't you take me at my
+word? My age and my love for you should induce you to let me ease
+my conscience, if I can. If the same illusion should ever come over
+you again&mdash;that is, if you should ever again imagine that I am
+ordering you to leave Haddon Hall&mdash;well, just tell me to go to
+the devil. I have been punished enough already, man. Come home with
+us. Here is Dorothy, whom I love better than I love myself. In
+anger I might say the same thing to her that I said to you,
+but&mdash;Nonsense, Malcolm, don't be a fool. Come home with us.
+Haddon is your home as freely as it is the home of Dorothy, Madge,
+and myself."</p>
+<p>The old gentleman's voice trembled, and I could not withstand
+the double force of his kindness and my desire. So it came about
+that when Madge held out her fair hand appealingly to me, and when
+Dorothy said, "Please come home with us, Cousin Malcolm," I offered
+my hand to Sir George, and with feeling said, "Let us make this
+promise to each other: that nothing hereafter shall come between
+us."</p>
+<p>"I gladly promise," responded the generous, impulsive old man.
+"Dorothy, Madge, and you are all in this world whom I love. Nothing
+shall make trouble between us. Whatever happens, we will each
+forgive."</p>
+<p>The old gentleman was in his kindest, softest mood.</p>
+<p>"Let us remember the words," said I.</p>
+<p>"I give my hand and my word upon it," cried Sir George.</p>
+<p>How easy it is to stake the future upon a present impulse. But
+when the time for reckoning comes,&mdash;when the future becomes
+the present,&mdash;it is sometimes hard to pay the priceless
+present for the squandered past. Next morning we all rode home to
+Haddon,&mdash;how sweet <a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a>the
+words sound even at this distance of time!&mdash;and there was
+rejoicing in the Hall as if the prodigal had returned.</p>
+<p>In the evening I came upon Madge unawares. She was softly
+singing a plaintive little love song. I did not disturb her, and as
+I stole away again I said to myself, "God is good." A realization
+of that great truth had of late been growing upon me. When once we
+thoroughly learn it, life takes on a different color.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><a name="Page_130"
+id="Page_130"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h2>TRIBULATION IN HADDON</h2>
+<p>After I had left Haddon at Sir George's tempestuous order, he
+had remained in a state of furious anger against Dorothy and myself
+for a fortnight or more. But after her adroit conversation with him
+concerning the Stanley marriage, wherein she neither promised nor
+refused, and after she learned that she could more easily cajole
+her father than command him, Dorothy easily ensconced herself again
+in his warm heart, and took me into that capacious abode along with
+her.</p>
+<p>Then came the trip to Derby, whereby his serene Lordship, James
+Stanley, had been enabled to see Dorothy and to fall in love with
+her winsome beauty, and whereby I was brought back to Haddon.
+Thereafter came events crowding so rapidly one upon the heels of
+another that I scarce know where to begin the telling of them. I
+shall not stop to say, "Sir George told me this," or "Madge,
+Dorothy, or John told me that," but I shall write as if I had
+personal knowledge of all that happened. After all, the important
+fact is that I know the truth concerning matters whereof I write,
+and of that you may rest with surety.</p>
+<p>The snow lay upon the ground for a fortnight after the storm in
+which we rode from Derby, but at the end of that time it melted,
+and the sun shone with the brilliancy and warmth of springtide. So
+warm and genial was the weather that the trees, flowers, and shrubs
+were cozened into bud<a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a>ding
+forth. The buds were withered by a killing frost which came upon us
+later in the season at a time when the spring should have been
+abroad in all her graciousness, and that year was called the year
+of the leafless summer.</p>
+<p>One afternoon Sir George received a distinguished guest in the
+person of the Earl of Derby, and the two old gentlemen remained
+closeted together for several hours. That night at supper, after
+the ladies had risen from table, Sir George dismissed the servants
+saying that he wished to speak to me in private. I feared that he
+intended again bringing forward the subject of marriage with
+Dorothy, but he soon relieved my mind.</p>
+<p>"The Earl of Derby was here to-day. He has asked for Doll's hand
+in marriage with his eldest son and heir, Lord James Stanley, and I
+have granted the request."</p>
+<p>"Indeed," I responded, with marvellous intelligence. I could say
+nothing more, but I thought&mdash;in truth I knew&mdash;that it did
+not lie within the power of any man in or out of England to dispose
+of Dorothy Vernon's hand in marriage to Lord James Stanley. Her
+father might make a murderess out of her, but Countess of Derby,
+never.</p>
+<p>Sir George continued, "The general terms of the marriage
+contract have been agreed upon by the earl and me, and the lawyers
+will do the rest."</p>
+<p>"What is your feeling in the matter?" I asked aimlessly.</p>
+<p>"My feeling?" cried Sir George. "Why, sir, my feeling is that
+the girl shall marry Stanley just as soon as arrangements can be
+made for the wedding ceremony. The young fellow, it seems, saw Doll
+at Derby-town the day you came home, and since then he is eager,
+his father tells me, for the union. He is coming to see her when I
+give my permission, and I will send him word at as early a date as
+propriety will admit. I must not let them be seen together too
+soon, you know. There might be a hitch in <a name="Page_132" id=
+"Page_132"></a>the marriage negotiations. The earl is a tight one
+in business matters, and might drive a hard bargain with me should
+I allow his son to place Doll in a false position before the
+marriage contract is signed." He little knew how certainly Dorothy
+herself would avoid that disaster.</p>
+<p>He took a long draught from his mug of toddy and winked
+knowingly at me, saying, "I am too wise for that."</p>
+<p>"Have you told Dorothy?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"No," he replied, "I have not exactly told her. I had a talk
+with her a few days ago on the subject, though the earl and I had
+not, at that time, entirely agreed upon the terms, and I did not
+know that we should agree. But I told her of the pending
+negotiations, because I wished to prepare her for the signing of
+the contract; and also, by gad, Malcolm, I wanted to make the girl
+understand at the outset that I will have no trifling with my
+commands in this matter. I made that feature of the case very
+plain, you may rest assured. She understands me fully, and although
+at first she was a little inclined to fight, she soon&mdash;she
+soon&mdash;well, she knuckled under gracefully when she found she
+must."</p>
+<p>"Did she consent to the marriage?" I asked, well knowing that
+even if she had consented in words, she had no thought of doing so
+in deed.</p>
+<p>"Y-e-s," returned Sir George, hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"I congratulate you," I replied.</p>
+<p>"I shall grieve to lose Doll," the old man slowly continued with
+perceptible signs of emotion. "I shall grieve to lose my girl, but
+I am anxious to have the wedding over. You see, Malcolm, of late I
+have noticed signs of wilfulness in Doll that can be more easily
+handled by a husband than by a father. Marriage and children anchor
+a woman, you know. In truth, I have opened my eyes to the fact that
+Doll is growing dangerous. I'gad, the other day I thought she was a
+child, but suddenly I learn <a name="Page_133" id=
+"Page_133"></a>she is a woman. I had not before noticed the change.
+Beauty and wilfulness, such as the girl has of late developed, are
+powers not to be underestimated by wise men. There is hell in them,
+Malcolm, I tell you there is hell in them." Sir George meditatively
+snuffed the candle with his fingers and continued: "If a horse once
+learns that he can kick&mdash;sell him. Only yesterday, as I said,
+Doll was a child, and now, by Jove, she is a full-blown woman, and
+I catch myself standing in awe of her and calling her Dorothy. Yes,
+damme, standing in awe of my own child! That will never do, you
+know. What has wrought the change? And, after all, what is the
+change? I can't define it, but there has been a great one."</p>
+<p>He was in a revery and spoke more to himself than to me.
+"Yesterday she was my child&mdash;she was a child, and
+now&mdash;and now&mdash;she is&mdash;she is&mdash;Why the devil
+didn't you take her, Malcolm?" cried the old man, awakening. "But
+there, never mind; that is all past and gone, and the future Earl
+of Derby will be a great match for her."</p>
+<p>"Do you know the future Earl of Derby?" I asked. "Have you ever
+seen him?"</p>
+<p>"No," Sir George replied. "I hear he is rather wild and uncouth,
+but&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"My dear cousin," said I, interrupting him, "he is a vulgar,
+drunken clown, whose associates have always been stable boys,
+tavern maids, and those who are worse than either."</p>
+<p>"What?" cried Sir George, hotly, the liquor having reached his
+brain. "You won't have Doll yourself, and you won't consent to
+another&mdash;damme, would you have the girl wither into
+spinsterhood? How, sir, dare you interfere?"</p>
+<p>"I withdraw all I said, Sir George," I replied hastily. "I have
+not a word to say against the match. I thought&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a>Well, damn you, sir, don't
+think."</p>
+<p>"You said you wished to consult me about the affair, and I
+supposed&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Don't suppose either," replied Sir George, sullenly. "Supposing
+and thinking have hanged many a man. I didn't wish to consult you.
+I simply wanted to tell you of the projected marriage." Then after
+a moment of half-maudlin, sullen silence he continued, "Go to bed,
+Malcolm, go to bed, or we'll be quarrelling again."</p>
+<p>I was glad enough to go to bed, for my cousin was growing drunk,
+and drink made a demon of this man, whose violence when sober was
+tempered by a heart full of tenderness and love.</p>
+<p>Next morning Sir George was feeling irritable from the effects
+of the brandy he had drunk over night. At breakfast, in the
+presence of Lady Crawford, Madge, and myself, he abruptly informed
+Dorothy that he was about to give that young goddess to Lord James
+Stanley for his wife. He told her of the arrangement he had made
+the day before with the Earl of Derby. Lady Crawford looked toward
+her brother in surprise, and Madge pushed her chair a little way
+back from the table with a startled movement. Dorothy sprang to her
+feet, her eyes flashing fire and her breast rising and falling like
+the storm-wrought pulsing of the sea. I coughed warningly and
+placed my finger on my lips, making the sign of silence to Dorothy.
+The girl made a wondrous and beautiful struggle against her wrath,
+and in a moment all signs of ill-temper disappeared, and her face
+took on an expression of sweet meekness which did not belong there
+of right. She quietly sat down again, and when I looked at her, I
+would have sworn that Griselda in the flesh was sitting opposite
+me. Sir George was right. "Ways such as the girl had of late
+developed were dangerous." Hell was in them to an extent little
+dreamed of by her father. Breakfast was <a name="Page_135" id=
+"Page_135"></a>finished in silence. Dorothy did not come down to
+dinner at noon, but Sir George did not mark her absence. At supper
+her place was still vacant.</p>
+<p>"Where is Doll?" cried Sir George, angrily. He had been drinking
+heavily during the afternoon. "Where is Doll?" he demanded.</p>
+<p>"She is on the terrace," answered Madge. "She said she did not
+want supper."</p>
+<p>"Tell your mistress to come to supper," said Sir George,
+speaking to one of the servants. "You will find her on the
+terrace."</p>
+<p>The servant left the room, but soon returned, saying that
+Mistress Dorothy wanted no supper.</p>
+<p>"Tell her to come to the table whether she wants supper or not.
+Tell her I will put a stop to her moping about the place like a
+surly vixen," growled Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Don't send such a message by a servant," pleaded Lady
+Crawford.</p>
+<p>"Then take it to her yourself, Dorothy," exclaimed her
+brother.</p>
+<p>Dorothy returned with her aunt and meekly took her place at the
+table.</p>
+<p>"I will have none of your moping and pouting," said Sir George,
+as Dorothy was taking her chair.</p>
+<p>The girl made no reply, but she did not eat.</p>
+<p>"Eat your supper," her father commanded. "I tell you I will have
+no&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"You would not have me eat if I am not hungry, would you,
+father?" she asked softly.</p>
+<p>"I'd have you hungry, you perverse wench."</p>
+<p>"Then make me an appetite," returned the girl. I never heard
+more ominous tones fall from human lips. They betokened a mood in
+which one could easily do murder in cold blood, and I was surprised
+that Sir George did not take warning and remain silent.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a>I cannot make an appetite
+for you, fool," he replied testily.</p>
+<p>"Then you cannot make me eat," retorted Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Ah, you would answer me, would you, you brazen, insolent
+huzzy," cried her father, angrily.</p>
+<p>Dorothy held up her hand warningly to Sir George, and uttered
+the one word, "Father." Her voice sounded like the clear, low ring
+of steel as I have heard it in the stillness of sunrise during a
+duel to the death. Madge gently placed her hand in Dorothy's, but
+the caress met no response.</p>
+<p>"Go to your room," answered Sir George.</p>
+<p>Dorothy rose to her feet and spoke calmly: "I have not said that
+I would disobey you in regard to this marriage which you have
+sought for me; and your harshness, father, grows out of your effort
+to reconcile your conscience with the outrage you would put upon
+your own flesh and blood&mdash;your only child."</p>
+<p>"Suffering God!" cried Sir George, frenzied with anger and
+drink. "Am I to endure such insolence from my own child? The
+lawyers will be here to-morrow. The contract will be signed, and,
+thank God, I shall soon be rid of you. I'll place you in the hands
+of one who will break your damnable will and curb your vixenish
+temper." Then he turned to Lady Crawford. "Dorothy, if there is
+anything to do in the way of gowns and women's trumpery in
+preparation for the wedding, begin at once, for the ceremony shall
+come off within a fortnight."</p>
+<p>This was beyond Dorothy's power to endure. Madge felt the storm
+coming and clutched her by the arm in an effort to stop her, but
+nothing could have done that.</p>
+<p>"I marry Lord Stanley?" she asked in low, bell-like tones, full
+of contempt and disdain. "Marry that creature? Father, you don't
+know me."</p>
+<p>"By God, I know myself," retorted Sir George, "and I
+say&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a>Now hear me, father," she
+interrupted in a manner that silenced even him. She bent forward,
+resting one fair hand upon the table, while she held out her other
+arm bared to the elbow. "Hear what I say and take it for the truth
+as if it had come from Holy Writ. I will open the veins in this arm
+and will strew my blood in a gapless circle around Haddon Hall so
+that you shall tread upon it whenever you go forth into the day or
+into the night before I will marry the drunken idiot with whom you
+would curse me. Ay, I will do more. I will kill you, if need be,
+should you try to force him on me. Now, father, we understand each
+other. At least you cannot fail to understand me. For the last time
+I warn you. Beware of me."</p>
+<p>She gently pushed the chair back from the table, quietly
+adjusted the sleeve which she had drawn upward from her wrist, and
+slowly walked out of the room, softly humming the refrain of a
+roundelay. There was no trace of excitement about the girl. Her
+brain was acting with the ease and precision of a perfectly
+constructed machine. Sir George, by his violence and cruelty, had
+made a fiend of this strong, passionate, tender heart. That was
+all.</p>
+<p>The supper, of course, was quickly finished, and the ladies left
+the room.</p>
+<p>Sir George took to his bottle and remained with it till his
+servants put him to bed. I slipped away from him and smoked a pipe
+in front of the kitchen fire. Then I went early to my bed in Eagle
+Tower.</p>
+<p>Dorothy went to her apartments. There she lay upon her bed, and
+for a time her heart was like flint. Soon she thought of her
+precious golden heart pierced with a silver arrow, and tears came
+to her eyes as she drew the priceless treasure from her breast and
+breathed upon it a prayer to the God of love for help. Her heart
+was soft again, soft only as hers could be, and peace came <a name=
+"Page_138" id="Page_138"></a>to her as she pressed John's golden
+heart to her lips and murmured over and over the words, "My love,
+my love, my love," and murmuring fell asleep.</p>
+<p>I wonder how many of the countless women of this world found
+peace, comfort, and ecstasy in breathing those magic words
+yesterday? How many have found them to-day? How many will find them
+to-morrow? No one can tell; but this I know, they come to every
+woman at some time in her life, righteously or unrighteously, as
+surely as her heart pulses.</p>
+<p>That evening Jennie Faxton bore a letter to John, informing him
+of the projected Stanley marriage. It asked him to meet the writer
+at Bowling Green Gate, and begged him to help her if he could.</p>
+<p>The small and intermittent remnants of conscience, sense of
+duty, and caution which still remained in John's head&mdash;I will
+not say in John's heart, for that was full to overflowing with
+something else&mdash;were quickly banished by the unwelcome news in
+Dorothy's letter. His first impulse was to kill Stanley; but John
+Manners was not an assassin, and a duel would make public all he
+wished to conceal. He wished to conceal, among other things, his
+presence at Rutland. He had two reasons for so desiring. First in
+point of time was the urgent purpose with which he had come to
+Derbyshire. That purpose was to further a plan for the rescue of
+Mary Stuart and to bring her incognito to Rutland Castle as a
+refuge until Elizabeth could be persuaded to receive her. Of this
+plan I knew nothing till after the disastrous attempt to carry it
+out, of which I shall hereafter tell you. The other reason why John
+wished his presence at Rutland unknown was that if he were supposed
+to be in London, no one would suspect him of knowing Dorothy
+Vernon.</p>
+<p>You must remember there had been no overt love-making between
+John and Dorothy up to that time. The <a name="Page_139" id=
+"Page_139"></a>scene at the gate approached perilously near it, but
+the line between concealment and confession had not been crossed.
+Mind you, I say there had been no love-making <i>between</i> them.
+While Dorothy had gone as far in that direction as a maiden should
+dare go&mdash;and to tell the exact truth, a great deal
+farther&mdash;John had remained almost silent for reasons already
+given you. He also felt a fear of the girl, and failed to see in
+her conduct those signs of intense love which would have been
+plainly discernible had not his perceptions been blinded by the
+fury of his own infatuation. He had placed a curb on his passion
+and did not really know its strength and power until he learned
+that another man was soon to possess the girl he loved. Then life
+held but one purpose for him. Thus, you see that when Dorothy was
+moaning, "My love, my love," and was kissing the golden heart, she
+was taking a great deal for granted. Perhaps, however, she better
+understood John's feeling for her than did he himself. A woman's
+sixth sense, intuition, is a great help to her in such cases.
+Perhaps the girl knew with intuitive confidence that her passion
+was returned; and perhaps at first she found John's receptive mode
+of wooing sweeter far than an aggressive attack would have been. It
+may be also there was more of the serpent's cunning than of
+reticence in John's conduct. He knew well the ways of women, and
+perhaps he realized that if he would allow Dorothy to manage the
+entire affair she would do his wooing for him much better than he
+could do it for himself. If you are a man, try the plan upon the
+next woman whom you seek to win. If she happens to be one who has
+full confidence in her charms, you will be surprised at the result.
+Women lacking that confidence are restrained by fear and doubt. But
+in no case have I much faith in the hammer-and-tongs process at the
+opening of a campaign. Later on, of course&mdash;but you doubtless
+are quite as well <a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a>informed
+concerning this important subject as I. There is, however, so much
+blundering in that branch of science that I have a mind to endow a
+college at Oxford or at Paris in which shall be taught the gentle,
+universally needed art of making love. What a noble attendance such
+a college would draw. But I have wandered wofully from my
+story.</p>
+<p>I must go back a short time in my narrative. A few days before
+my return to Haddon Hall the great iron key to the gate in the wall
+east of Bowling Green Hill was missed from the forester's closet
+where it had hung for a century or more. Bowling Green Hill, as you
+know, is eastward from Haddon Hall a distance of the fourth part of
+a mile, and the gate is east of the hill about the same distance or
+less. A wall is built upon the east line of the Haddon estate, and
+east of the wall lies a great trackless forest belonging to the
+house of Devonshire. In olden times there had been a road from
+Bakewell to Rowsley along the east side of the wall; but before Sir
+George's seizin the road had been abandoned and the gate was not
+used. It stood in a secluded, unfrequented spot, and Dorothy
+thought herself very shrewd in choosing it for a
+trysting-place.</p>
+<p>But as I told you, one day the key was missed. It was of no
+value or use, and at first nothing was thought of its loss; but
+from time to time the fact that it could not be found was spoken of
+as curious. All the servants had been questioned in vain, and the
+loss of the key to Bowling Green Gate soon took on the dignity of a
+mystery&mdash;a mystery soon to be solved, alas! to Dorothy's
+undoing.</p>
+<p>The afternoon of the day following the terrible scene between
+Sir George and his daughter at the supper table, Dorothy rode forth
+alone upon her mare Dolcy. From the window of my room in Eagle
+Tower I saw her go down the west side of the Wye toward Rowsley. I
+<a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a>ascended to the roof of the
+tower, and from that elevation I saw her cross the river, and soon
+she was lost to sight in the forest. At that time I knew nothing of
+the new trysting-place, but I felt sure that Dorothy had gone out
+to seek John. The sun shone brightly, and its gentle warmth enticed
+me to remain upon the tower battlements, to muse, and to dream. I
+fetched my pipe and tobacco from my room. I had been smoking at
+intervals for several months, but had not entirely learned to like
+the weed, because of a slight nausea which it invariably caused me
+to feel. But I thought by practice now and again to inure myself to
+the habit, which was then so new and fashionable among modish
+gentlemen. While I smoked I mused upon the past and present, and
+tried to peer into the future&mdash;a fruitless task wherein we
+waste much valuable time; a vain striving, like Eve's, after
+forbidden knowledge, which, should we possess it, would destroy the
+little remnant of Eden still existing on earth. Could we look
+forward only to our joys, a knowledge of the future might be good
+to have; but imagine, if you can, the horror of anticipating evils
+to come.</p>
+<p>After a short time, a lotuslike dreaminess stole over me, and
+past and future seemed to blend in a supreme present of contentment
+and rest. Then I knew I had wooed and won Tobacco and that
+thenceforth I had at hand an ever ready solace in time of trouble.
+At the end of an hour my dreaming was disturbed by voices, which
+came distinctly up to me from the base of the tower. I leaned over
+the battlements to listen, and what I heard gave me alarm and
+concern such as all the tobacco in the world could not assuage. I
+looked down the dizzy heights of Eagle Tower and saw Sir George in
+conversation with Ben Shaw, a woodman. I had not heard the words
+first spoken between them.</p>
+<p>"Ay, ay, Sir George," said Ben, "they be there, by<a name=
+"Page_142" id="Page_142"></a> Bowling Green Gate, now. I saw them
+twenty minutes since,&mdash;Mistress Vernon and a gentleman."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps the gentleman is Sir Malcolm," answered my cousin. I
+drew back from the battlements, and the woodman replied, "Perhaps
+he be, but I doubt it."</p>
+<p>There had been a partial reconciliation&mdash;sincere on Sir
+George's part, but false and hollow on Dorothy's&mdash;which Madge
+had brought about between father and daughter that morning. Sir
+George, who was sober and repentant of his harshness, was inclined
+to be tender to Dorothy, though he still insisted in the matter of
+the Stanley marriage. Dorothy's anger had cooled, and cunning had
+taken its place. Sir George had asked her to forgive him for the
+hard words he had spoken, and she had again led him to believe that
+she would be dutiful and obedient. It is hard to determine, as a
+question of right and wrong, whether Dorothy is to be condemned or
+justified in the woful deception she practised upon her father. To
+use a plain, ugly word, she lied to him without hesitation or pain
+of conscience. Still, we must remember that, forty years ago, girls
+were frequently forced, regardless of cries and piteous agony, into
+marriages to which death would have been preferable. They were
+flogged into obedience, imprisoned and starved into obedience, and
+alas! they were sometimes killed in the course of punishment for
+disobedience by men of Sir George's school and temper. I could give
+you at least one instance in which a fair girl met her death from
+punishment inflicted by her father because she would not consent to
+wed the man of his choice. Can we blame Dorothy if she would lie or
+rob or do murder to avoid a fate which to her would have been worse
+than death? When you find yourself condemning her, now or hereafter
+in this history, if you are a man ask yourself this question: "If I
+had a sweetheart in Dorothy's sad case, should I not wish her to do
+<a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a>as she did? Should I not wish,
+if it were possible by any means, that she should save herself from
+the worst of fates, and should save me from the agony of losing her
+to such a man as Sir George had selected for Dorothy's husband? Is
+it not a sin to disobey the law of self-preservation actively or
+passively?" Answer these questions as you choose. As for myself, I
+say God bless Dorothy for lying. Perhaps I am in error. Perhaps I
+am not. I but tell you the story of Dorothy as it happened, and I
+am a poor hand at solving questions of right and wrong where a
+beautiful woman is concerned. To my thinking, she usually is in the
+right. In any case, she is sure to have the benefit of the
+doubt.</p>
+<p>When Sir George heard the woodman's story, he started hurriedly
+toward Bowling Green Gate.</p>
+<p>Now I shall tell you of Dorothy's adventures after I saw her
+cross the Wye.</p>
+<p>When she reached the gate, John was waiting for her.</p>
+<p>"Ah, Sir John, I am so glad you are here. That is, I am glad you
+are here before I arrived&mdash;good even," said the girl,
+confusedly. Her heart again was beating in a provoking manner, and
+her breath would not come with ease and regularity. The rapid
+progress of the malady with which she was afflicted or blessed was
+plainly discernible since the last meeting with my friend, Sir
+John. That is, it would have been plain to any one but John, whose
+ailment had taken a fatal turn and had progressed to the
+ante-mortem state of blindness. By the help of the stimulating hope
+and fear which Dorothy's letter had brought to him, he had planned
+an elaborate conversation, and had determined to speak decisive
+words. He hoped to receive from her the answer for which he longed;
+but his heart and breath seemed to have conspired with Dorothy to
+make intercommunication troublesome.</p>
+<p>"I received your gracious letter, Mistress Vernon, and I
+<a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>thank you. I was&mdash;I
+am&mdash;that is, my thanks are more than I&mdash;I can
+express."</p>
+<p>"So I see," said the girl, half amused at John's condition,
+although it was but little worse than her own. This universal
+malady, love, never takes its blind form in women. It opens their
+eyes. Under its influence they can see the truth through a
+millstone. The girl's heart jumped with joy when she saw John's
+truth-telling manner, and composure quickly came to her relief,
+though she still feigned confusion because she wished him to see
+the truth in her as she had seen it in him. She well knew of his
+blindness, and had almost begun to fear lest she would eventually
+be compelled to tell him in words that which she so ardently wished
+him to see for himself. She thought John was the blindest of his
+sex; but she was, to a certain extent, mistaken. John was blind, as
+you already know, but his reticence was not all due to a lack of
+sight. He at least had reached the condition of a well-developed
+hope. He hoped the girl cared for him. He would have fully believed
+it had it not been for the difficulty he found in convincing
+himself that a goddess like Dorothy could care for a man so
+unworthy as himself. Most modest persons are self-respecting. That
+was John's condition; he was not vain.</p>
+<p>"Jennie brought me your letter also," said the girl, laughing
+because she was happy, though her merriment somewhat disconcerted
+John.</p>
+<p>"It told me," she continued, "that you would come. I have it
+here in my pocket&mdash;and&mdash;and the gate key." She determined
+this time to introduce the key early in the engagement. "But I
+feared you might not want to come." The cunning, the boldness, and
+the humility of the serpent was in the girl. "That is, you know, I
+thought&mdash;perhaps&mdash;that is, I feared that you might not
+come. Your father might have been ill, or you might have changed
+your mind after you wrote the letter."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a>No," answered John, whose
+face was beaming with joy. Here, truly, was a goddess who could
+make the blind to see if she were but given a little time.</p>
+<p>"Do you mean that your father is not ill, or that you did not
+change your mind?" asked Dorothy, whose face, as it should have
+been after such a speech, was bent low while she struggled with the
+great iron key, entangled in the pocket of her gown.</p>
+<p>"I mean that I have not changed my mind," said John, who felt
+that the time to speak had come. "There has been no change in me
+other than a new access of eagerness with every hour, and a new
+longing to see you and to hear your voice."</p>
+<p>Dorothy felt a great thrill pass through her breast, and she
+knew that the reward of her labors was at hand.</p>
+<p>"Certainly," said the self-complacent girl, hardly conscious of
+her words, so great was the joyous tumult in her heart, "I should
+have known."</p>
+<p>There was another pause devoted to the key, with bended head.
+"But&mdash;but you might have changed your mind," she continued,
+"and I might not have known it, for, you see, I did not know your
+former state of mind; you have never told me." Her tongue had led
+her further than she had intended to go, and she blushed painfully,
+and I think, considering her words, appropriately.</p>
+<p>"My letter told you my state of mind. At least it told you of my
+intention to come. I&mdash;I fear that I do not understand you,"
+said John.</p>
+<p>"I mean," she replied, with a saucy, fluttering little laugh as
+she looked up from her conflict with the entangled key, "I mean
+that&mdash;that you don't know what I mean. But here is the key at
+last, and&mdash;and&mdash;you may, if you wish, come to this side
+of the gate."</p>
+<p>She stepped forward to unlock the gate with an air that seemed
+to say, "Now, John, you shall have a clear field."<a name=
+"Page_146" id="Page_146"></a></p>
+<p>But to her surprise she found that the lock had been removed.
+That discovery brought back to John his wandering wits.</p>
+<p>"Mistress Dorothy," he cried in tones of alarm, "I must not
+remain here. We are suspected and are sure to be discovered. Your
+father has set a trap for us. I care not for myself, but I would
+not bring upon you the trouble and distress which would surely
+follow discovery. Let us quickly choose another place and time of
+meeting. I pray you, sweet lady, meet me to-morrow at this time
+near the white cliff back of Lathkil mill. I have that to say to
+you which is the very blood of my heart. I must now leave you at
+once."</p>
+<p>He took her hand, and kissing it, started to leave through the
+open gate.</p>
+<p>The girl caught his arm to detain him. "Say it now, John, say it
+now. I have dreamed of it by night and by day. You know all, and I
+know all, and I long to hear from your lips the words that will
+break down all barriers between us." She had been carried away by
+the mad onrush of her passion. She was the iron, the seed, the
+cloud, and the rain, and she spoke because she could not help
+it.</p>
+<p>"I will speak, Dorothy, God help me! God help me, I will speak!"
+said John, as he caught the girl to his breast in a fierce embrace.
+"I love you, I love you! God Himself only knows how deeply, how
+passionately! I do not know. I cannot fathom its depths. With all
+my heart and soul, with every drop of blood that pulses through my
+veins, I love you&mdash;I adore you. Give me your lips, my beauty,
+my Aphrodite, my queen!"</p>
+<p>"There&mdash;they&mdash;are, John,&mdash;there they are. They
+are&mdash;all yours&mdash;all yours&mdash;now! Oh, God! my blood is
+on fire." She buried her face on his breast for shame, that he
+might not see her burning eyes and her scarlet <a name="Page_147"
+id="Page_147"></a>cheeks. Then after a time she cared not what he
+saw, and she lifted her lips to his, a voluntary offering. The
+supreme emotions of the moment drove all other consciousness from
+their souls.</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Dorothy, that you will be my wife. Tell me, tell me!"
+cried John.</p>
+<p>"I will, I will, oh, how gladly, how gladly!"</p>
+<p>"Tell me that no power on earth can force you to marry Lord
+Stanley. Tell me that you will marry no man but me; that you will
+wait&mdash;wait for me till&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I will marry no man but you, John, no man but you," said the
+girl, whisperingly. Her head was thrown back from his breast that
+she might look into his eyes, and that he might see the truth in
+hers. "I am all yours. But oh, John, I cannot wait&mdash;I cannot!
+Do not ask me to wait. It would kill me. I wear the golden heart
+you gave me, John," she continued, as she nestled closer in his
+embrace. "I wear the golden heart always. It is never from me, even
+for one little moment. I bear it always upon my heart, John. Here
+it is." She drew from her breast the golden heart and kissed it.
+Then she pressed it to his lips, and said: "I kiss it twenty times
+in the day and in the night; ay, a hundred times. I do not know how
+often; but now I kiss your real heart, John," and she kissed his
+breast, and then stood tiptoe to lift her lips to his.</p>
+<p>There was no room left now in John's heart for doubt that
+Dorothy Vernon was his own forever and forever. She had convinced
+him beyond the reach of fear or doubt. John forgot the lockless
+gate. He forgot everything but Dorothy, and cruel time passed with
+a rapidity of which they were unconscious. They were, however,
+brought back to consciousness by hearing a long blast from the
+forester's bugle, and John immediately retreated through the
+gate.</p>
+<p>Dorothy then closed the gate and hastily seated herself <a name=
+"Page_148" id="Page_148"></a>upon a stone bench against the Haddon
+side of the wall. She quickly assumed an attitude of listless
+repose, and Dolcy, who was nibbling at the grass near by, doubtless
+supposed that her mistress had come to Bowling Green Gate to rest
+because it was a secluded place, and because she desired to be
+alone.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's attitude was not assumed one moment too soon, for
+hardly was her gown arranged with due regard to carelessness when
+Sir George's form rose above the crest of Bowling Green Hill. In a
+few minutes he was standing in front of his daughter, red with
+anger. Dorothy's face wore a look of calm innocence, which I
+believe would have deceived Solomon himself, notwithstanding that
+great man's experience with the sex. It did more to throw Sir
+George off the scent than any words the girl could have spoken.</p>
+<p>"Who has been with you?" demanded Sir George, angrily.</p>
+<p>"When, father?" queried the girl, listlessly resting her head
+against the wall.</p>
+<p>"Now, this afternoon. Who has been with you? Ben Shaw said that
+a man was here. He said that he saw a man with you less than half
+an hour since."</p>
+<p>That piece of information was startling to Dorothy, but no trace
+of surprise was visible in her manner or in her voice. She turned
+listlessly and brushed a dry leaf from her gown. Then she looked
+calmly up into her father's face and said laconically, but to the
+point:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Ben lied." To herself she said, "Ben shall also suffer."</p>
+<p>"I do not believe that Ben lied," said Sir George. "I, myself,
+saw a man go away from here."</p>
+<p>That was crowding the girl into close quarters, but she did not
+flinch.</p>
+<p>"Which way did he go, father?" she asked, with a fine show of
+carelessness in her manner, but with a feeling of <a name=
+"Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>excruciating fear in her breast. She
+well knew the wisdom of the maxim, "Never confess."</p>
+<p>"He went northward," answered Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Inside the wall?" asked Dorothy, beginning again to breathe
+freely, for she knew that John had ridden southward.</p>
+<p>"Inside the wall, of course," her father replied. "Do you
+suppose I could see him through the stone wall? One should be able
+to see through a stone wall to keep good watch on you."</p>
+<p>"You might have thought you saw him through the wall," answered
+the girl. "I sometimes think of late, father, that you are losing
+your mind. You drink too much brandy, my dear father. Oh, wouldn't
+it be dreadful if you were to lose your mind?" She rose as she
+spoke, and going to her father began to stroke him gently with her
+hand. She looked into his face with real affection; for when she
+deceived him, she loved him best as a partial atonement for her
+ill-doing.</p>
+<p>"Wouldn't that be dreadful?" she continued, while Sir George
+stood lost in bewilderment. "Wouldn't that be dreadful for my dear
+old father to lose his mind? But I really think it must be coming
+to pass. A great change has of late come over you, father. You have
+for the first time in your life been unkind to me and suspicious.
+Father, do you realize that you insult your daughter when you
+accuse her of having been in this secluded place with a man? You
+would punish another for speaking so against my fair name."</p>
+<p>"But, Dorothy," Sir George replied, feeling as if he were in the
+wrong, "Ben Shaw said that he saw you here with a man, and I saw a
+man pass toward Bakewell. Who was he? I command you to tell me his
+name."</p>
+<p>Dorothy knew that her father must have seen a man near the gate,
+but who he was she could not imagine. John surely was beyond the
+wall and well out of sight on <a name="Page_150" id=
+"Page_150"></a>his way to Rowsley before her father reached the
+crest of Bowling Green Hill. But it was evident that Shaw had seen
+John. Evidence that a man had been at the gate was too strong to be
+successfully contradicted. Facts that cannot be successfully
+contradicted had better be frankly admitted. Dorothy sought through
+her mind for an admission that would not admit, and soon hit upon a
+plan which, shrewd as it seemed to be, soon brought her to
+grief.</p>
+<p>"Perhaps you saw Cousin Malcolm," said Dorothy, as the result of
+her mental search. "He passed here a little time since and stopped
+for a moment to talk. Perhaps you saw Malcolm, father. You would
+not find fault with me because he was here, would you?"</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, my daughter," said Sir George, hesitatingly, "are you
+telling me the truth?"</p>
+<p>Then the fair girl lifted up her beautiful head, and standing
+erect at her full height (it pains me to tell you this) said:
+"Father, I am a Vernon. I would not lie."</p>
+<p>Her manner was so truthlike that Sir George was almost
+convinced.</p>
+<p>He said, "I believe you."</p>
+<p>Her father's confidence touched her keenly; but not to the point
+of repentance, I hardly need say.</p>
+<p>Dorothy then grew anxious to return to the Hall that she might
+prepare me to answer whatever idle questions her father should put
+to me. She took Dolcy's rein, and leading the mare with one hand
+while she rested the other upon her father's arm, walked gayly
+across Bowling Green down to the Hall, very happy because of her
+lucky escape.</p>
+<p>But a lie is always full of latent retribution.</p>
+<p>I was sitting in the kitchen, dreamily watching the huge fire
+when Dorothy and her father entered.</p>
+<p>"Ah, Malcolm, are you here?" asked Sir George in a <a name=
+"Page_151" id="Page_151"></a>peculiar tone of surprise for which I
+could see no reason.</p>
+<p>"I thought you were walking."</p>
+<p>I was smoking. I took my pipe from my lips and said, "No, I am
+helping old Bess and Jennie with supper."</p>
+<p>"Have you not been walking?" asked Sir George.</p>
+<p>There was an odd expression on his face when I looked up to him,
+and I was surprised at his persistent inquiry concerning so trivial
+a matter. But Sir George's expression, agitated as it was, still
+was calm when compared with that of Dorothy, who stood a step or
+two behind her father. Not only was her face expressive, but her
+hands, her feet, her whole body were convulsed in an effort to
+express something which, for the life of me, I could not
+understand. Her wonderful eyes wore an expression, only too
+readable, of terror and pleading. She moved her hands rapidly and
+stamped her foot. During this pantomime she was forming words with
+her lips and nodding her head affirmatively. Her efforts at
+expression were lost upon me, and I could only respond with a blank
+stare of astonishment. The expression on my face caused Sir George
+to turn in the direction of my gaze, and he did so just in time to
+catch Dorothy in the midst of a mighty pantomimic effort at mute
+communication.</p>
+<p>"Why in the devil's name are you making those grimaces?"
+demanded Sir George.</p>
+<p>"I wasn't making grimaces&mdash;I&mdash;I think I was about to
+sneeze," replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Do you think I am blind?" stormed Sir George. "Perhaps I am
+losing my mind? You are trying to tell Malcolm to say that he was
+with you at Bowling Green Gate. Losing my mind, am I? Damme, I'll
+show you that if I am losing my mind I have not lost my authority
+in my own house."</p>
+<p>"Now, father, what is all this storming about?" asked the girl,
+coaxingly, as she boldly put her hands upon her <a name="Page_152"
+id="Page_152"></a>father's shoulders and turned her face in all its
+wondrous beauty and childish innocence of expression up to his.
+"Ask Malcolm to tell you whatever you wish to know." She was sure
+that her father had told me what she had been so anxious to
+communicate, and she felt certain that I would not betray her. She
+knew that I, whose only virtues were that I loved my friend and
+despised a lie, would willingly bear false witness for her sake.
+She was right. I had caught the truth of the situation from Sir
+George, and I quickly determined to perjure my soul, if need be, to
+help Dorothy. I cannot describe the influence this girl at times
+exerted over me. When under its spell I seemed to be a creature of
+her will, and my power to act voluntarily was paralyzed by a
+strange force emanating from her marvellous vitality. I cannot
+describe it. I tell you only the incontestable fact, and you may
+make out of it whatever you can. I shall again in the course of
+this history have occasion to speak of Dorothy's strange power, and
+how it was exerted over no less a person than Queen Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>"Ask Malcolm," repeated the girl, leaning coaxingly upon her
+father's breast. But I was saved from uttering the lie I was
+willing to tell; for, in place of asking me, as his daughter had
+desired, Sir George demanded excitedly of Dorothy, "What have you
+in your pocket that strikes against my knee?"</p>
+<p>"Mother of Heaven!" exclaimed Dorothy in a whisper, quickly
+stepping back from her father and slowly lifting her skirt while
+she reached toward her pocket. Her manner was that of one almost
+bereft of consciousness by sudden fright, and an expression of
+helplessness came over her face which filled my heart with pity.
+She stood during a long tedious moment holding with one hand the
+uplifted skirt, while with the other she clutched the key in her
+pocket.</p>
+<p>"What have you in your pocket?" demanded Sir George <a name=
+"Page_153" id="Page_153"></a>with a terrible oath. "Bring it out,
+girl. Bring it out, I tell you." Dorothy started to run from the
+room, but her father caught her by the wrist and violently drew her
+to him. "Bring it out, huzzy; it's the key to Bowling Green Gate.
+Ah, I've lost my mind, have I? Blood of Christ! I have not lost my
+mind yet, but I soon shall lose it at this rate," and he certainly
+looked as if he would.</p>
+<p>Poor frightened Dorothy was trying to take the key from her
+pocket, but she was too slow to please her angry father, so he
+grasped the gown and tore a great rent whereby the pocket was
+opened from top to bottom. Dorothy still held the key in her hand,
+but upon the floor lay a piece of white paper which had fallen out
+through the rent Sir George had made in the gown. He divined the
+truth as if by inspiration. The note, he felt sure, was from
+Dorothy's unknown lover. He did not move nor speak for a time, and
+she stood as if paralyzed by fear. She slowly turned her face from
+her father to me, and in a low tone spoke my name, "Malcolm." Her
+voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but so piteous a cry for
+help I have never heard from human lips. Then she stooped,
+intending to take the letter from the floor, and Sir George drew
+back his arm as if he would strike her with his clenched hand. She
+recoiled from him in terror, and he took up the letter, unfolded
+it, and began to read:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Most gracious lady, I thank you for your letter, and with God's
+help I will meet you at Bowling Green Gate&mdash;." The girl could
+endure no more. She sprang with a scream toward her father and
+tried to snatch the letter. Sir George drew back, holding firmly to
+the paper. She followed him frantically, not to be thrown off, and
+succeeded in clutching the letter. Sir George violently thrust her
+from him. In the scuffle that ensued the letter was torn, and the
+lower portion of the sheet remained in Dorothy's hand. She ran
+<a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>to the fireplace, intending to
+thrust the fragment into the fire, but she feared that her father
+might rescue it from the ashes. She glanced at the piece of paper,
+and saw that the part she had succeeded in snatching from her
+father bore John's name. Sir George strode hurriedly across the
+room toward her and she ran to me.</p>
+<p>"Malcolm! Malcolm!" she cried in terror. The cry was like a
+shriek. Then I saw her put the paper in her mouth. When she reached
+me she threw herself upon my breast and clung to me with her arms
+about my neck. She trembled as a single leaf among the thousands
+that deck a full-leaved tree may tremble upon a still day, moved by
+a convulsive force within itself. While she clung to me her
+glorious bust rose and fell piteously, and her wondrous eyes
+dilated and shone with a marvellous light. The expression was the
+output of her godlike vitality, strung to its greatest tension. Her
+face was pale, but terror dominated all the emotions it expressed.
+Her fear, however, was not for herself. The girl, who would have
+snapped her fingers at death, saw in the discovery which her father
+was trying to make, loss to her of more than life. That which she
+had possessed for less than one brief hour was about to be taken
+from her. She had not enjoyed even one little moment alone in which
+to brood her new-found love, and to caress the sweet thought of it.
+The girl had but a brief instant of rest in my arms till Sir George
+dragged her from me by his terrible strength.</p>
+<p>"Where is the paper?" he cried in rage. "It contained the
+fellow's signature."</p>
+<p>"I have swallowed it, father, and you must cut me open to find
+it. Doubtless that would be a pleasant task for you," answered
+Dorothy, who was comparatively calm now that she knew her father
+could not discover John's name. I believe Sir George in his frenzy
+would have killed the girl had he then learned that the letter was
+from John Manners.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a>I command you to tell me
+this fellow's name," said Sir George, with a calmness born of
+tempest. Dorothy did not answer, and Sir George continued "I now
+understand how you came by the golden heart. You lied to me and
+told me that Malcolm had given it to you. Lie upon lie. In God's
+name I swear that I would rather father a thief than a liar."</p>
+<p>"I did give her the heart, Sir George," I said, interrupting
+him. "It was my mother's." I had caught the lying infection. But
+Sir George, in his violence, was a person to incite lies. He of
+course had good cause for his anger. Dorothy had lied to him. Of
+that there could be no doubt; but her deception was provoked by his
+own conduct and by the masterful love that had come upon her. I
+truly believe that prior to the time of her meeting with Manners
+she had never spoken an untruth, nor since that time I also
+believe, except when driven to do so by the same motive. Dorothy
+was not a thief, but I am sure she would have stolen for the sake
+of her lover. She was gentle and tender to a degree that only a
+woman can attain; but I believe she would have done murder in cold
+blood for the sake of her love. Some few women there are in whose
+hearts God has placed so great an ocean of love that when it
+reaches its flood all other attributes of heart and soul and mind
+are ingulfed in its mighty flow. Of this rare class was
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"God is love," says the Book.</p>
+<p>"The universe is God," says the philosopher. "Therefore," as the
+mathematician would say, "love is the universe." To that
+proposition Dorothy was a corollary.</p>
+<p>The servants were standing open-eyed about us in the
+kitchen.</p>
+<p>"Let us go to the dining hall," I suggested. Sir George led the
+way by the stone steps to the screens, and from the screens to the
+small banquet hail, and I followed, leading Dorothy by the
+hand.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a>The moment of respite from
+her father's furious attack gave her time in which to collect her
+scattered senses.</p>
+<p>When we reached the banquet hall, and after I had closed the
+door, Sir George turned upon his daughter, and with oath upon oath
+demanded to know the name of her lover. Dorothy stood looking to
+the floor and said nothing. Sir George strode furiously to and fro
+across the room.</p>
+<p>"Curse the day you were born, you wanton huzzy. Curse you! curse
+you! Tell me the name of the man who wrote this letter," he cried,
+holding toward her the fragment of paper. "Tell me his name or, I
+swear it before God, I swear it upon my knighthood, I will have you
+flogged in the upper court till you bleed. I would do it if you
+were fifty times my child."</p>
+<p>Then Dorothy awakened. The girl was herself again. Now it was
+only for herself she had to fear.</p>
+<p>Her heart kept saying, "This for his sake, this for his sake."
+Out of her love came fortitude, and out of her fortitude came
+action.</p>
+<p>Her father's oath had hardly been spoken till the girl tore her
+bodice from her shoulders. She threw the garment to the floor and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I am ready for the whip, I am ready. Who is to do the deed,
+father, you or the butcher? It must be done. You have sworn it, and
+I swear before God and by my maidenhood that I will not tell you
+the name of the man who wrote the letter. I love him, and before I
+will tell you his name or forego his love for me, or before I will
+abate one jot or tittle of my love for him, I will gladly die by
+the whip in your hand. I am ready for the whip, father. I am ready.
+Let us have it over quickly."</p>
+<p>The girl, whose shoulders were bare, took a few steps toward the
+door leading to the upper court, but Sir George did not move. I was
+deeply affected by the terrible scene, and I determined to prevent
+the flogging if to do so should <a name="Page_157" id=
+"Page_157"></a>cost Sir George's life at my hands. I would have
+killed him ere he should have laid a single lash of the whip upon
+Dorothy's back.</p>
+<p>"Father," continued the terrible girl, "are you not going to
+flog me? Remember your oaths. Surely you would not be forsworn
+before God and upon your knighthood. A forsworn Christian? A
+forsworn knight? A forsworn Vernon? The lash, father, the
+lash&mdash;I am eager for it."</p>
+<p>Sir George stood in silence, and Dorothy continued to move
+toward the door. Her face was turned backward over her shoulder to
+her father, and she whispered the words, "Forsworn, forsworn,
+forsworn!"</p>
+<p>As she put her hand on the latch the piteous old man held forth
+his arms toward her and in a wail of agony cried: "Doll! Doll! My
+daughter! My child! God help me!"</p>
+<p>He covered his face with his hands, his great form shook for a
+moment as the tree trembles before the fall, and he fell prone to
+the floor sobbing forth the anguish of which his soul was full.</p>
+<p>In an instant Dorothy was by her father's side holding his head
+upon her lap. She covered his face with her kisses, and while the
+tears streamed from her eyes she spoke incoherent words of love and
+repentance.</p>
+<p>"I will tell you all, father; I will tell you all. I will give
+him up; I will see him never again. I will try not to love him. Oh,
+father, forgive me, forgive me. I will never again deceive you so
+long as I live."</p>
+<p>Truly the fate of an overoath is that it shall be broken. When
+one swears to do too much, one performs too little.</p>
+<p>I helped Sir George rise to his feet.</p>
+<p>Dorothy, full of tenderness and in tears, tried to take his
+hand, but he repulsed her rudely, and uttering terrible oaths
+coupled with her name quitted the room with tottering steps.</p>
+<p>When her father had gone Dorothy stood in revery for <a name=
+"Page_158" id="Page_158"></a>a little time, and then looking toward
+the door through which her father had just passed, she spoke as if
+to herself: "He does not know. How fortunate!"</p>
+<p>"But you said you would tell him," I suggested. "You said you
+would give him up."</p>
+<p>Dorothy was in a deep revery. She took her bodice from the floor
+and mechanically put it on.</p>
+<p>"I know I said I would tell my father, and I offered to
+give&mdash;give him up," she replied; "but I will do neither.
+Father would not meet my love with love. He would not forgive me,
+nor would he accept my repentance when it was he who should have
+repented. I was alarmed and grieved for father's sake when I said
+that I would tell him about&mdash;about John, and would give him
+up." She was silent and thoughtful for a little time. "Give him
+up?" she cried defiantly. "No, not for my soul; not for ten
+thousand thousand souls. When my father refused my love, he threw
+away the only opportunity he shall ever have to learn from me
+John's name. That I swear, and I shall never be forsworn. I asked
+father's forgiveness when he should have begged for mine. Whip me
+in the courtyard, would he, till I should bleed! Yet I was willing
+to forgive him, and he would not accept my forgiveness. I was
+willing to forego John, who is more than life to me; but my father
+would not accept my sacrifice. Truly will I never be so great a
+fool the second time. Malcolm, I will not remain here to be the
+victim of another insult such as my father put upon me to-day.
+There is no law, human or divine, that gives to a parent the right
+to treat his daughter as my father has used me. Before this day my
+conscience smote me when I deceived him, and I suffered pain if I
+but thought of my father. But now, thanks to his cruelty, I may be
+happy without remorse. Malcolm, if you betray me, I will&mdash;I
+will kill you if I must follow you over the world to do it."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a>Do you think that I
+deserve that threat from you, Dorothy?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"No, no, my dear friend, forgive me. I trust you," and she
+caught up my hand and kissed it gently.</p>
+<p>Dorothy and I remained in the banquet hail, seated upon the
+stone bench under the blazoned window.</p>
+<p>Soon Sir George returned, closely followed by two men, one of
+whom bore manacles such as were used to secure prisoners in the
+dungeon. Sir George did not speak. He turned to the men and
+motioned with his hand toward Dorothy. I sprang to my feet,
+intending to interfere by force, if need be, to prevent the
+outrage; but before I could speak Lady Crawford hurriedly entered
+the hall and ran to Sir George's side.</p>
+<p>"Brother," she said, "old Bess has just told me that you have
+given orders for Dorothy's confinement in the dungeon. I could not
+believe Bess; but these men with irons lead me to suspect that you
+really intend.&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Do not interfere in affairs that do not concern you," replied
+Sir George, sullenly.</p>
+<p>"But this does concern me greatly," said Aunt Dorothy, "and if
+you send Doll to the dungeon, Madge and I will leave your house and
+will proclaim your act to all England."</p>
+<p>"The girl has disobeyed me and has lied to me, and&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I care not what she has done, I shall leave your house and
+disown you for my brother if you perpetrate this outrage upon my
+niece. She is dear to me as if she were my own child. Have I not
+brought her up since babyhood? If you carry out this order,
+brother, I will leave Haddon Hall forever."</p>
+<p>"And I'll go with her," cried old Bess, who stood at the door of
+the screens.</p>
+<p>"And I, too," said Dawson, who was one of the men who had
+entered with Sir George.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a>And I," cried the other
+man, throwing the manacles to the floor, "I will leave your
+service."</p>
+<p>Sir George took up the manacles and moved toward Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"You may all go, every cursed one of you. I rule my own house,
+and I will have no rebels in it. When I have finished with this
+perverse wench, I'll not wait for you to go. I'll drive you all out
+and you may go to&mdash;"</p>
+<p>He was approaching Dorothy, but I stepped in front of him.</p>
+<p>"This must not be, Sir George," said I, sternly. "I shall not
+leave Haddon Hall, and I fear you not. I shall remain here to
+protect your daughter and you from your own violence. You cannot
+put me out of Haddon Hall; I will not go."</p>
+<p>"Why cannot I put you out of Haddon Hail?" retorted Sir George,
+whose rage by that time was frightful to behold.</p>
+<p>"Because, sir, I am a better man and a better swordsman than you
+are, and because you have not on all your estates a servant nor a
+retainer who will not join me against you when I tell them the
+cause I champion."</p>
+<p>Dawson and his fellow stepped to my side significantly, and Sir
+George raised the iron manacles as if intending to strike me. I did
+not move. At the same moment Madge entered the room.</p>
+<p>"Where is my uncle?" she asked.</p>
+<p>Old Bess led her to Sir George. She spoke not a word, but placed
+her arms gently about his neck and drew his face down to hers. Then
+she kissed him softly upon the lips and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My uncle has never in all his life spoken in aught but kindness
+to me, and now I beg him to be kind to Dorothy."</p>
+<p>The heavy manacles fell clanking to the floor. Sir George placed
+his hand caressingly upon Madge's head and turned from Dorothy.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a>Lady Crawford then
+approached her brother and put her hand upon his arm,
+saying:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Come with me, George, that I may speak to you in private."</p>
+<p>She moved toward the door by which she had entered, and Madge
+quietly took her uncle's hand and led him after Lady Crawford.
+Within five minutes Sir George, Aunt Dorothy, and Madge returned to
+the room.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy?" said Madge in a low voice.</p>
+<p>"Here I am, Madge," murmured Dorothy, who was sitting on the
+bench by the blazoned window. Madge walked gropingly over to her
+cousin and sat by her side, taking her hand. Then Lady Crawford
+spoke to Dorothy:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Your father wishes me to say that you must go to your
+apartments in Entrance Tower, and that you shall not leave them
+without his consent. He also insists that I say to you if you make
+resistance or objection to this decree, or if you attempt to
+escape, he will cause you to be manacled and confined in the
+dungeon, and that no persuasion upon our part will lead him from
+his purpose."</p>
+<p>"Which shall it be?" asked Sir George, directing his question to
+Lady Crawford.</p>
+<p>Dorothy lifted her eyebrows, bit the corner of her lip, shrugged
+her shoulders, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Indeed, it makes no difference to me where you send me, father;
+I am willing to do whatever will give you the greatest happiness.
+If you consult my wishes, you will have me whipped in the courtyard
+till I bleed. I should enjoy that more than anything else you can
+do. Ah, how tender is the love of a father! It passeth
+understanding."</p>
+<p>"Come to your apartments, Dorothy," said Lady Crawford, anxious
+to separate the belligerents. "I have given your father my word of
+honor that I will guard you and will keep you prisoner in your
+rooms. Do you not pity me? I gave my promise only to save you from
+the <a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a>dungeon, and painful as
+the task will be, I will keep my word to your father."</p>
+<p>"Which shall it be, father?" asked Dorothy. "You shall finish
+the task you began. I shall not help you in your good work by
+making choice. You shall choose my place of imprisonment. Where
+shall it be? Shall I go to my rooms or to the dungeon?"</p>
+<p>"Go to your rooms," answered Sir George, "and let me never
+see&mdash;" but Sir George did not finish the sentence. He
+hurriedly left the hall, and Dorothy cheerfully went to
+imprisonment in Entrance Tower.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><a name="Page_163"
+id="Page_163"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h2>MALCOLM No. 2</h2>
+<p>Sir George had done a bad day's work. He had hardened Dorothy's
+heart against himself and had made it more tender toward John.
+Since her father had treated her so cruelly, she felt she was at
+liberty to give her heart to John without stint. So when once she
+was alone in her room the flood-gates of her heart were opened, and
+she poured forth the ineffable tenderness and the passionate
+longings with which she was filled. With solitude came the memory
+of John's words and John's kisses. She recalled every movement,
+every word, every tone, every sensation. She gave her soul
+unbridled license to feast with joyous ecstasy upon the thrilling
+memories. All thoughts of her father's cruelty were drowned in a
+sea of bliss. She forgot him. In truth, she forgot everything but
+her love and her lover. That evening, after she had assisted Madge
+to prepare for bed, as was her custom, Dorothy stood before her
+mirror making her toilet for the night. In the flood of her newly
+found ecstasy she soon forgot that Madge was in the room.</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood before her mirror with her face near to its
+polished surface, that she might scrutinize every feature, and, if
+possible, verify John's words.</p>
+<p>"He called me 'my beauty' twice," she thought, "and 'my
+Aphrodite' once." Then her thoughts grew into unconscious words,
+and she spoke aloud:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a>I wish he could see me
+now." And she blushed at the thought, as she should have done. "He
+acted as if he meant all he said," she thought. "I know he meant
+it. I trust him entirely. But if he should change? Holy Mother, I
+believe I should die. But I do believe him. He would not lie, even
+though he is not a Vernon."</p>
+<p>With thoughts of the scene between herself and her father at the
+gate, there came a low laugh, half of amusement, half of
+contentment, and the laugh meant a great deal that was to be
+regretted; it showed a sad change in Dorothy's heart. But yesterday
+the memory of her deceit would have filled her with grief. To-night
+she laughed at it. Ah, Sir George! Pitiable old man! While your
+daughter laughs, you sigh and groan and moan, and your heart aches
+with pain and impotent rage. Even drink fails to bring comfort to
+you. I say impotent rage, because Dorothy is out of your reach, and
+as surely as the sun rises in the east she is lost to you forever.
+The years of protection and tender love which you have given to her
+go for nothing. Now comes the son of your mortal enemy, and you are
+but an obstruction in her path. Your existence is forgotten while
+she revels in the memory of his words, his embraces, and his lips.
+She laughs while you suffer, in obedience to the fate that Heaven
+has decreed for those who bring children into this world.</p>
+<p>Who is to blame for the pitiable mite which children give in
+return for a parent's flood of love? I do not know, but of this I
+am sure: if parents would cease to feel that they own their
+children in common with their horses, their estates, and their
+cattle; if they would not, as many do in varying degrees, treat
+their children as their property, the return of love would be far
+more adequate than it is.</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood before her mirror plaiting her hair. Her head was
+turned backward a little to one side that she <a name="Page_165"
+id="Page_165"></a>might more easily reach the great red golden
+skein. In that entrancing attitude the reflection of the nether lip
+of which John had spoken so fondly came distinctly to Dorothy's
+notice. She paused in the braiding of her hair and held her face
+close to the mirror that she might inspect the lip, whose beauty
+John had so ardently admired. She turned her face from one side to
+the other that she might view it from all points, and then she
+thrust it forward with a pouting movement that would have set the
+soul of a mummy pulsing if he had ever been a man. She stood for a
+moment in contemplation of the full red lip, and then resting her
+hands upon the top of the mirror table leaned forward and kissed
+its reflected image.</p>
+<p>Again forgetfulness fell upon her and her thoughts grew into
+words.</p>
+<p>"He was surely right concerning my lower lip," she said,
+speaking to herself. Then without the least apparent relevance, "He
+had been smoking." Again her words broke her revery, and she took
+up the unfinished braid of hair. When she did so, she caught a
+glimpse of her arm which was as perfectly rounded as the fairest
+marble of Phidias. She stretched the arm to its full length that
+the mirror might reflect its entire beauty. Again she thought
+aloud: "I wish he could see my arm. Perhaps some day&mdash;" But
+the words ceased, and in their place came a flush that spread from
+her hair to her full white throat, and she quickly turned the
+mirror away so that even it should not behold her beauty.</p>
+<p>You see after all is told Dorothy was modest.</p>
+<p>She finished her toilet without the aid of her mirror; but
+before she extinguished the candle she stole one more fleeting
+glance at its polished surface, and again came the thought,
+"Perhaps some day&mdash;" Then she covered the candle, and amid
+enfolding darkness lay down beside Madge, full of thoughts and
+sensations that made her <a name="Page_166" id=
+"Page_166"></a>tremble; for they were strange to her, and she knew
+not what they meant.</p>
+<p>Dorothy thought that Madge was asleep, but after a few minutes
+the latter said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Dorothy, who was on fire?"</p>
+<p>"Who was on fire?" asked Dorothy in surprise. "What do you mean,
+Madge?"</p>
+<p>"I hope they have not been trying to burn any one," said
+Madge.</p>
+<p>"What do you mean?" again asked Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"You said 'He had been smoking,'" responded Madge.</p>
+<p>"Oh," laughed Dorothy, "that is too comical. Of course not, dear
+one. I was speaking of&mdash;of a man who had been smoking tobacco,
+as Malcolm does." Then she explained the process of tobacco
+smoking.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I know," answered Madge. "I saw Malcolm's pipe. That is, I
+held it in my hands for a moment while he explained to me its
+use."</p>
+<p>Silence ensued for a moment, and Madge again spoke:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"What was it he said about your lower lip, and who was he? I did
+not learn why Uncle George wished to confine you in the dungeon. I
+am so sorry that this trouble has come upon you."</p>
+<p>"Trouble, Madge?" returned Dorothy. "Truly, you do not
+understand. No trouble has come upon me. The greatest happiness of
+my life has come to pass. Don't pity me. Envy me. My happiness is
+so sweet and so great that it frightens me."</p>
+<p>"How can you be happy while your father treats you so cruelly?"
+asked Madge.</p>
+<p>"His conduct makes it possible for my happiness to be complete,"
+returned Dorothy. "If he were kind to me, I should be unhappy, but
+his cruelty leaves me free to be as happy as I may. For my
+imprisonment in this room I care not a farthing. It does not
+trouble me, for when I wish <a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a>to
+see&mdash;see him again, I shall do so. I don't know at this time
+just how I shall effect it; but be sure, sweet one, I shall find a
+way." There was no doubt in Madge's mind that Dorothy would find a
+way.</p>
+<p>"Who is he, Dorothy? You may trust me. Is he the gentleman whom
+we met at Derby-town?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," answered Dorothy, "he is Sir John Manners."</p>
+<p>"Dorothy!" exclaimed Madge in tones of fear.</p>
+<p>"It could not be worse, could it, Madge?" said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Oh, Dorothy!" was the only response.</p>
+<p>"You will not betray me?" asked Dorothy, whose alarm made her
+suspicious.</p>
+<p>"You know whether or not I will betray you," answered Madge.</p>
+<p>"Indeed, I know, else I should not have told you my secret. Oh,
+you should see him, Madge; he is the most beautiful person living.
+The poor soft beauty of the fairest woman grows pale beside him.
+You cannot know how wonderfully beautiful a man may be. You have
+never seen one."</p>
+<p>"Yes, I have seen many men, and I well remember their
+appearance. I was twelve years old, you know, when I lost my
+sight."</p>
+<p>"But, Madge," said Dorothy, out of the fulness of her newly
+acquired knowledge, "a girl of twelve cannot see a man."</p>
+<p>"No woman sees with her eyes the man whom she loves," answered
+Madge, quietly.</p>
+<p>"How does she see him?" queried Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"With her heart."</p>
+<p>"Have you, too, learned that fact?" asked Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Madge hesitated for a moment and murmured "Yes."</p>
+<p>"Who is he, dear one?" whispered Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I may not tell even you, Dorothy," replied Madge,<a name=
+"Page_168" id="Page_168"></a> "because it can come to nothing. The
+love is all on my part."</p>
+<p>Dorothy insisted, but Madge begged her not to ask for her
+secret.</p>
+<p>"Please don't even make a guess concerning him," said Madge. "It
+is my shame and my joy."</p>
+<p>It looked as if this malady which had fallen upon Dorothy were
+like the plague that infects a whole family if one but catch
+it.</p>
+<p>Dorothy, though curious, was generous, and remained content with
+Madge's promise that she should be the first one to hear the sweet
+story if ever the time should come to tell it.</p>
+<p>"When did you see him?" asked Madge, who was more willing to
+receive than to impart intelligence concerning affairs of the
+heart.</p>
+<p>"To-day," answered Dorothy. Then she told Madge about the scenes
+at the gate and described what had happened between her and Sir
+George in the kitchen and banquet hall.</p>
+<p>"How could you tell your father such a falsehood?" asked Madge
+in consternation.</p>
+<p>"It was very easy. You see I had to do it. I never lied until
+recently. But oh, Madge, this is a terrible thing to come upon a
+girl!" "This" was somewhat indefinite, but Madge understood, and
+perhaps it will be clear to you what Dorothy meant. The girl
+continued: "She forgets all else. It will drive her to do anything,
+however wicked. For some strange cause, under its influence she
+does not feel the wrong she does. It acts upon a girl's sense of
+right and wrong as poppy juice acts on pain. Before it came upon me
+in&mdash;in such terrible force, I believe I should have become ill
+had I told my father a falsehood. I might have equivocated, or I
+might have evaded the truth in some slight degree, but I could not
+have told a lie. But now it is as easy as winking."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a>And I fear, Dorothy,"
+responded Madge, "that winking is very easy for you."</p>
+<p>"Yes," answered candid Dorothy with a sigh.</p>
+<p>"It must be a very great evil," said Madge, deploringly.</p>
+<p>"One might well believe so," answered Dorothy, "but it is not.
+One instinctively knows it to be the essence of all that is
+good."</p>
+<p>Madge asked, "Did Sir John tell you that&mdash;that
+he&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Dorothy, covering her face even from the flickering
+rays of the rushlight.</p>
+<p>"Did you tell him?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," came in reply from under the coverlet.</p>
+<p>After a short silence Dorothy uncovered her face.</p>
+<p>"Yes," she said boldly, "I told him plainly; nor did I feel
+shame in so doing. It must be that this strange love makes one
+brazen. You, Madge, would die with shame had you sought any man as
+I have sought John. I would not for worlds tell you how bold and
+over-eager I have been."</p>
+<p>"Oh, Dorothy!" was all the answer Madge gave.</p>
+<p>"You would say 'Oh, Dorothy,' many times if you knew all."
+Another pause ensued, after which Madge asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"How did you know he had been smoking?"</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I tasted it," responded Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"How could you taste it? I hope you did not smoke?" returned
+Madge in wonderment.</p>
+<p>Dorothy smothered a little laugh, made two or three vain
+attempts to explain, tenderly put her arms about Madge's neck and
+kissed her.</p>
+<p>"Oh, Dorothy, that certainly was wrong," returned Madge,
+although she had some doubts in her own mind upon the point.</p>
+<p>"Well, if it is wrong," answered Dorothy, sighing, "I don't care
+to live."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a>Dorothy, I fear you are an
+immodest girl," said Madge.</p>
+<p>"I fear I am, but I don't care&mdash;John, John, John!"</p>
+<p>"How came he to speak of your lower lip?" asked Madge. "It
+certainly is very beautiful; but how came he to speak of it?"</p>
+<p>"It was after&mdash;after&mdash;once," responded Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"And your arm," continued remorseless Madge, "how came he to
+speak of it? You surely did not&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"No, no, Madge; I hope you do not think I would show him my arm.
+I have not come to that. I have a poor remnant of modesty left; but
+the Holy Mother only knows how long it will last. No, he did not
+speak of my arm."</p>
+<p>"You spoke of your arm when you were before the mirror,"
+responded Madge, "and you said, 'Perhaps some day&mdash;'"</p>
+<p>"Oh, don't, Madge. Please spare me. I indeed fear I am very
+wicked. I will say a little prayer to the Virgin to-night. She will
+hear me, even If I am wicked; and she will help me to become good
+and modest again."</p>
+<p>The girls went to sleep, and Dorothy dreamed "John, John, John,"
+and slumbered happily.</p>
+<p>That part of the building of Haddon Hall which lies to the
+northward, west of the kitchen, consists of rooms according to the
+following plan:&mdash;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v170" id="v170"></a> <img src=
+"images/v170.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>The two rooms in Entrance Tower over the great doors at the
+northwest corner of Haddon Hall were occupied by Dorothy and Madge.
+The west room overlooking the Wye was their parlor. The next room
+to the east was their bedroom. The room next their bedroom was
+occupied by Lady Crawford. Beyond that was Sir George's bedroom,
+and east of his room was one occupied by the pages and two
+retainers. To enter Dorothy's apartments one must pass through all
+the other rooms I have mentioned. Her windows were twenty-five feet
+from the ground and were <a name="Page_171" id=
+"Page_171"></a>barred with iron. After Dorothy's sentence of
+imprisonment, Lady Crawford, or some trusted person in her place,
+was always on guard in Aunt Dorothy's room to prevent Dorothy's
+escape, and guards were also stationed in the retainer's room for
+the same purpose. I tell you this that you may understand the
+difficulties Dorothy would have to overcome before she could see
+John, as she declared to Madge she would. But my opinion is that
+there are no limits to the resources of a wilful girl. Dorothy saw
+Manners. The plan she conceived to bring about the desired end was
+so seemingly impossible, and her execution of it was so adroit and
+daring, that I believe it will of itself interest you in the
+telling, aside from the bearing it has upon this history. No sane
+man would have deemed it possible, but this wilful girl carried it
+to fruition. She saw no chance of failure. To her it seemed a
+simple, easy matter. Therefore she said with confidence and truth,
+"I will see him when I wish to."</p>
+<p>Let me tell you of it.</p>
+<p>During Dorothy's imprisonment I spent an hour or two each
+evening with her and Madge at their parlor in the tower. The
+windows of the room, as I have told you, faced westward,
+overlooking the Wye, and disclosed the beautiful, undulating
+scenery of Overhaddon Hill in the distance.</p>
+<p>One afternoon when Madge was not present Dorothy asked me to
+bring her a complete suit of my garments,&mdash;boots, hose,
+trunks, waistcoat, and doublet. I laughed, and asked her what she
+wanted with them, but she refused to tell me. She insisted,
+however, and I promised to fetch the garments to her. Accordingly
+the next evening I delivered the bundle to her hands. Within a week
+she returned them all, saving the boots. Those she kept&mdash;for
+what reason I could not guess.</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford, by command of Sir George, carried in <a name=
+"Page_172" id="Page_172"></a>her reticule the key of the door which
+opened from her own room into Sir George's apartments, and the door
+was always kept locked.</p>
+<p>Dorothy had made several attempts to obtain possession of the
+key, with intent, I believe, of making a bold dash for liberty. But
+Aunt Dorothy, mindful of Sir George's wrath and fearing him above
+all men, acted faithfully her part of gaoler. She smiled, half in
+sadness, when she told me of the girl's simplicity in thinking she
+could hoodwink a person of Lady Crawford's age, experience, and
+wisdom. The old lady took great pride in her own acuteness. The
+distasteful task of gaoler, however, pained good Aunt Dorothy,
+whose simplicity was, in truth, no match for Dorothy's
+love-quickened cunning. But Aunt Dorothy's sense of duty and her
+fear of Sir George impelled her to keep good and conscientious
+guard.</p>
+<p>One afternoon near the hour of sunset I knocked for admission at
+Lady Crawford's door. When I had entered she locked the door
+carefully after me, and replaced the key in the reticule which hung
+at her girdle.</p>
+<p>I exchanged a few words with her Ladyship, and entered Dorothy's
+bedroom, where I left my cloak, hat, and sword. The girls were in
+the parlor. When I left Lady Crawford she again took her chair near
+the candle, put on her great bone-rimmed spectacles, and was soon
+lost to the world in the pages of "Sir Philip de Comynges." The
+dear old lady was near-sighted and was slightly deaf. Dorothy's
+bedroom, like Lady Crawford's apartments, was in deep shadow. In it
+there was no candle.</p>
+<p>My two fair friends were seated in one of the west windows
+watching the sunset. They rose, and each gave me her hand and
+welcomed me with the rare smiles I had learned to expect from them.
+I drew a chair near to the window and we talked and laughed
+together merrily for a few minutes. After a little time Dorothy
+excused her<a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a>self, saying that
+she would leave Madge and me while she went into the bedroom to
+make a change in her apparel.</p>
+<p>Madge and I sat for a few minutes at the window, and I said,
+"You have not been out to-day for exercise."</p>
+<p>I had ridden to Derby with Sir George and had gone directly on
+my return to see my two young friends. Sir George had not
+returned.</p>
+<p>"Will you walk with me about the room?" I asked. My real reason
+for making the suggestion was that I longed to clasp her hand, and
+to feel its velvety touch, since I should lead her if we
+walked.</p>
+<p>She quickly rose in answer to my invitation and offered me her
+hand. As we walked to and fro a deep, sweet contentment filled my
+heart, and I felt that any words my lips could coin would but mar
+the ineffable silence.</p>
+<p>Never shall I forget the soft light of that gloaming as the
+darkening red rays of the sinking sun shot through the panelled
+window across the floor and illumined the tapestry upon the
+opposite wall.</p>
+<p>The tapestries of Haddon Hall are among the most beautiful in
+England, and the picture upon which the sun's rays fell was that of
+a lover kneeling at the feet of his mistress. Madge and I passed
+and repassed the illumined scene, and while it was softly fading
+into shadow a great flood of tender love for the girl whose soft
+hand I held swept over my heart. It was the noblest motive I had
+ever felt.</p>
+<p>Moved by an impulse I could not resist, I stopped in our walk,
+and falling to my knee pressed her hand ardently to my lips. Madge
+did not withdraw her hand, nor did she attempt to raise me. She
+stood in passive silence. The sun's rays had risen as the sun had
+sunk, and the light was falling like a holy radiance from the gates
+of paradise upon the girl's head. I looked upward, and never in my
+eyes had woman's face appeared so fair and saintlike.<a name=
+"Page_174" id="Page_174"></a> She seemed to see me and to feel the
+silent outpouring of my affection. I rose to my feet, and clasping
+both her hands spoke only her name "Madge."</p>
+<p>She answered simply, "Malcolm, is it possible?" And her face,
+illumined by the sunlight and by the love-god, told me all else.
+Then I gently took her to my arms and kissed her lips again and
+again and again, and Madge by no sign nor gesture said me nay. She
+breathed a happy sigh, her head fell upon my breast, and all else
+of good that the world could offer compared with her was dross to
+me.</p>
+<p>We again took our places by the window, since now I might hold
+her hand without an excuse. By the window we sat, speaking little,
+through the happiest hour of my I life. How dearly do I love to
+write about it, and to lave my soul in the sweet aromatic essence
+of its memory. But my rhapsodies must have an end.</p>
+<p>When Dorothy left me with Madge at the window she entered her
+bedroom and quickly arrayed herself in garments which were
+facsimiles of those I had lent her. Then she put her feet into my
+boots and donned my hat and cloak. She drew my gauntleted gloves
+over her hands, buckled my sword to her slim waist, pulled down the
+broad rim of my soft beaver hat over her face, and turned up the
+collar of my cloak. Then she adjusted about her chin and upper lip
+a black chin beard and moustachio, which she had in some manner
+contrived to make, and, in short, prepared to enact the role of
+Malcolm Vernon before her watchful gaoler, Aunt Dorothy.</p>
+<p>While sitting silently with Madge I heard the clanking of my
+sword against the oak floor in Dorothy's bedroom. I supposed she
+had been toying with it and had let it fall. She was much of a
+child, and nothing could escape her curiosity. Then I heard the
+door open into Aunt Dorothy's apartments. I whispered to Madge
+requesting her to remain silently by the window, and then I stepped
+<a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a>softly over to the door
+leading into the bedroom. I noiselessly opened the door and
+entered. From my dark hiding-place in Dorothy's bedroom I witnessed
+a scene in Aunt Dorothy's room which filled me with wonder and
+suppressed laughter. Striding about in the shadow-darkened portions
+of Lady Crawford's apartment was my other self, Malcolm No. 2,
+created from the flesh and substance of Dorothy Vernon.</p>
+<p>The sunlight was yet abroad, though into Lady Crawford's room
+its slanting rays but dimly entered at that hour, and the apartment
+was in deep shadow, save for the light of one flickering candle,
+close to the flame of which the old lady was holding the pages of
+the book she was laboriously perusing.</p>
+<p>The girl held her hand over her mouth trumpet-wise that her
+voice might be deepened, and the swagger with which she strode
+about the room was the most graceful and ludicrous movement I ever
+beheld. I wondered if she thought she was imitating my walk, and I
+vowed that if her step were a copy of mine, I would straightway
+amend my pace.</p>
+<p>"What do you read, Lady Crawford?" said my cloak and hat, in
+tones that certainly were marvellously good imitations of my
+voice.</p>
+<p>"What do you say, Malcolm?" asked the deaf old lady, too gentle
+to show the ill-humor she felt because of the interruption to her
+reading.</p>
+<p>"I asked what do you read?" repeated Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"The 'Chronicle of Sir Philip de Comynges,'" responded Lady
+Crawford. "Have you read it? It is a rare and interesting
+history."</p>
+<p>"Ah, indeed, it is a rare book, a rare book. I have read it many
+times." There was no need for that little fabrication, and it
+nearly brought Dorothy into trouble.</p>
+<p>"What part of the 'Chronicle' do you best like?" asked<a name=
+"Page_176" id="Page_176"></a> Aunt Dorothy, perhaps for lack of
+anything else to say. Here was trouble already for Malcolm No.
+2.</p>
+<p>"That is hard for me to say. I so well like it all.
+Perhaps&mdash;ah&mdash;perhaps I prefer the&mdash;the ah&mdash;the
+middle portion."</p>
+<p>"Ah, you like that part which tells the story of Mary of
+Burgundy," returned Aunt Dorothy. "Oh, Malcolm, I know upon what
+theme you are always thinking&mdash;the ladies, the ladies."</p>
+<p>"Can the fair Lady Crawford chide me for that?" my second self
+responded in a gallant style of which I was really proud. "She who
+has caused so much of that sort of thought surely must know that a
+gentleman's mind cannot be better employed than&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, you are incorrigible. But it is well for a gentleman
+to keep in practice in such matters, even though he have but an old
+lady to practise on."</p>
+<p>"They like it, even if it be only practice, don't they?" said
+Dorothy, full of the spirit of mischief.</p>
+<p>"I thank you for nothing, Sir Malcolm Vernon," retorted Aunt
+Dorothy with a toss of her head. "I surely don't value your
+practice, as you call it, one little farthing's worth."</p>
+<p>But Malcolm No. 2, though mischievously inclined, was much
+quicker of wit than Malcolm No. 1, and she easily extricated
+herself.</p>
+<p>"I meant that gentlemen like it, Lady Crawford."</p>
+<p>"Oh!" replied Lady Crawford, again taking up her book. "I have
+been reading Sir Philip's account of the death of your fair Mary of
+Burgundy. Do you remember the cause of her death?"</p>
+<p>Malcolm No. 2, who had read Sir Philip so many times, was
+compelled to admit that he did not remember the cause of Mary's
+death.</p>
+<p>"You did not read the book with attention," replied Lady<a name=
+"Page_177" id="Page_177"></a> Crawford. "Sir Philip says that Mary
+of Burgundy died from an excess of modesty."</p>
+<p>"That disease will never depopulate England," was the answer
+that came from my garments, much to my chagrin.</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm," exclaimed the old lady, "I never before heard so
+ungallant a speech from your lips."&mdash;"And," thought I, "she
+never will hear its like from me."</p>
+<p>"Modesty," continued Lady Crawford, "may not be valued so highly
+by young women nowadays as it was in the time of my youth,
+but&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I am sure it is not," interrupted Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"But," continued Lady Crawford, "the young women of England are
+modest and seemly in their conduct, and they do not deserve to be
+spoken of in ungallant jest."</p>
+<p>I trembled lest Dorothy should ruin my reputation for
+gallantry.</p>
+<p>"Do you not," said Lady Crawford, "consider Dorothy and Madge to
+be modest, well-behaved maidens?"</p>
+<p>"Madge! Ah, surely she is all that a maiden should be. She is a
+saint, but as to Dorothy&mdash;well, my dear Lady Crawford, I
+predict another end for her than death from modesty. I thank Heaven
+the disease in its mild form does not kill. Dorothy has it mildly,"
+then under her breath, "if at all."</p>
+<p>The girl's sense of humor had vanquished her caution, and for
+the moment it caused her to forget even the reason for her
+disguise.</p>
+<p>"You do not speak fairly of your cousin Dorothy," retorted Lady
+Crawford. "She is a modest girl, and I love her deeply."</p>
+<p>"Her father would not agree with you," replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Perhaps not," responded the aunt. "Her father's conduct causes
+me great pain and grief."</p>
+<p>"It also causes me pain," said Dorothy, sighing.</p>
+<p>"But, Malcolm," continued the old lady, putting down <a name=
+"Page_178" id="Page_178"></a>her book and turning with quickened
+interest toward my other self, "who, suppose you, is the man with
+whom Dorothy has become so strangely entangled?"</p>
+<p>"I cannot tell for the life of me," answered Malcolm No. 2.
+"Surely a modest girl would not act as she does."</p>
+<p>"Surely a modest girl would," replied Aunt Dorothy, testily.
+"Malcolm, you know nothing of women."</p>
+<p>"Spoken with truth," thought I.</p>
+<p>The old lady continued: "Modesty and love have nothing whatever
+to do with each other. When love comes in at the door, modesty
+flies out at the window. I do pity my niece with all my heart, and
+in good truth I wish I could help her, though of course I would not
+have her know my feeling. I feign severity toward her, but I do not
+hesitate to tell you that I am greatly interested in her romance.
+She surely is deeply in love."</p>
+<p>"That is a true word, Aunt Dorothy," said the lovelorn young
+woman. "I am sure she is fathoms deep in love."</p>
+<p>"Nothing," said Lady Crawford, "but a great passion would have
+impelled her to act as she did. Why, even Mary of Burgundy, with
+all her modesty, won the husband she wanted, ay, and had him at the
+cost of half her rich domain."</p>
+<p>"I wonder if Dorothy will ever have the man she wants?" said
+Malcolm, sighing in a manner entirely new to him.</p>
+<p>"No," answered the old lady, "I fear there is no hope for
+Dorothy. I wonder who he is? Her father intends that she shall soon
+marry Lord Stanley. Sir George told me as much this morning when he
+started for Derby-town to arrange for the signing of the marriage
+contract within a day or two. He had a talk yesterday with Dorothy.
+She, I believe, has surrendered to the inevitable, and again there
+is good feeling between her and my brother."</p>
+<p>Dorothy tossed her head expressively.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a>It is a good match,"
+continued Lady Crawford, "a good match, Malcolm. I pity Dorothy;
+but it is my duty to guard her, and I shall do it faithfully."</p>
+<p>"My dear Lady Crawford," said my hat and cloak, "your words and
+feelings do great credit to your heart. But have you ever thought
+that your niece is a very wilful girl, and that she is full of
+disturbing expedients? Now I am willing to wager my beard that she
+will, sooner than you suspect, see her lover. And I am also willing
+to lay a wager that she will marry the man of her choice despite
+all the watchfulness of her father and yourself. Keep close guard
+over her, my lady, or she will escape."</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford laughed. "She shall not escape. Have no fear of
+that, Malcolm. The key to the door is always safely locked in my
+reticule. No girl can outwit me. I am too old to be caught unawares
+by a mere child like Dorothy. It makes me laugh,
+Malcolm&mdash;although I am sore at heart for Dorothy's
+sake&mdash;it makes me laugh, with a touch of tears, when I think
+of poor simple Dorothy's many little artifices to gain possession
+of this key. They are amusing and pathetic. Poor child! But I am
+too old to be duped by a girl, Malcolm, I am too old. She has no
+chance to escape."</p>
+<p>I said to myself: "No one has ever become too old to be duped by
+a girl who is in love. Her wits grow keen as the otter's fur grows
+thick for the winter's need. I do not know your niece's plan; but
+if I mistake not, Aunt Dorothy, you will in one respect, at least,
+soon be rejuvenated."</p>
+<p>"I am sure Lady Crawford is right in what she says," spoke my
+other self, "and Sir George is fortunate in having for his daughter
+a guardian who cannot be hoodwinked and who is true to a
+distasteful trust. I would the trouble were over and that Dorothy
+were well married."</p>
+<p>"So wish I, Malcolm, with all my heart," replied Aunt
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a>After a brief pause in the
+conversation Malcolm No. 2 said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I must now take my leave. Will you kindly unlock the door and
+permit me to say good night?"</p>
+<p>"If you must go," answered my lady, glad enough to be left alone
+with her beloved Sir Philip. Then she unlocked the door.</p>
+<p>"Keep good watch, my dear aunt," said Malcolm. "I greatly fear
+that Dorothy&mdash;" but the door closed on the remainder of the
+sentence and on Dorothy Vernon.</p>
+<p>"Nonsense!" ejaculated the old lady somewhat impatiently. "Why
+should he fear for Dorothy? I hope I shall not again be disturbed."
+And soon she was deep in the pages of her book.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><a name="Page_181" id=
+"Page_181"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h2>A TRYST AT BOWLING GREEN GATE</h2>
+<p>I was at a loss what course to pursue, and I remained for a
+moment in puzzling thought. I went back to Madge, and after closing
+the door, told her of all I had seen. She could not advise me, and
+of course she was deeply troubled and concerned. After
+deliberating, I determined to speak to Aunt Dorothy that she might
+know what had happened. So I opened the door and walked into Lady
+Crawford's presence. After viewing my lady's back for a short time,
+I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I cannot find my hat, cloak, and sword. I left them in
+Dorothy's bedroom. Has any one been here since I entered?"</p>
+<p>The old lady turned quickly upon me, "Since you entered?" she
+cried in wonderment and consternation. "Since you left, you mean.
+Did you not leave this room a few minutes ago? What means this? How
+found you entrance without the key?"</p>
+<p>"I did not leave this room, Aunt Dorothy; you see I am here," I
+responded.</p>
+<p>"Who did leave? Your wraith? Some one&mdash;Dorothy!" screamed
+the old lady in terror. "That girl!!&mdash;Holy Virgin! where is
+she?"</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford hastened to Dorothy's room and returned to me in
+great agitation.</p>
+<p>"Were you in the plot?" she demanded angrily.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a>No more than were you,
+Lady Crawford," I replied, telling the exact truth. If I were
+accessory to Dorothy's crime, it was only as a witness and Aunt
+Dorothy had seen as much as I.</p>
+<p>I continued: "Dorothy left Lady Madge and me at the window,
+saying she wished to make a change in her garments. I was watching
+the sunset and talking with Lady Madge."</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford, being full of concern about the main
+event,&mdash;Dorothy's escape,&mdash;was easily satisfied that I
+was not accessory before the fact.</p>
+<p>"What shall I do, Malcolm? What shall I do? Help me, quickly. My
+brother will return in the morning&mdash;perhaps he will return
+to-night&mdash;and he will not believe that I have not
+intentionally permitted Dorothy to leave the Hall. I have of late
+said so much to him on behalf of the girl that he suspects me
+already of being in sympathy with her. He will not believe me when
+I tell him that I have been duped. The ungrateful, selfish girl!
+How could she so unkindly return my affection!"</p>
+<p>The old lady began to weep.</p>
+<p>I did not believe that Dorothy intended to leave Haddon Hall
+permanently. I felt confident she had gone out only to meet John,
+and was sure she would soon return. On the strength of that opinion
+I said: "If you fear that Sir George will not believe you&mdash;he
+certainly will blame you&mdash;would it not be better to admit
+Dorothy quietly when she returns and say nothing to any one
+concerning the escapade? I will remain here in these rooms, and
+when she returns I will depart, and the guards will never suspect
+that Dorothy has left the Hall."</p>
+<p>"If she will but return," wailed Aunt Dorothy, "I shall be only
+too glad to admit her and to keep silent."</p>
+<p>"I am sure she will," I answered. "Leave orders with the guard
+at Sir George's door to admit me at any time <a name="Page_183" id=
+"Page_183"></a>during the night, and Dorothy will come in without
+being recognized. Her disguise must be very complete if she could
+deceive you."</p>
+<p>"Indeed, her disguise is complete," replied the tearful old
+lady.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's disguise was so complete and her resemblance to me had
+been so well contrived that she met with no opposition from the
+guards in the retainer's room nor from the porter. She walked out
+upon the terrace where she strolled for a short time. Then she
+climbed over the wall at the stile back of the terrace and took her
+way up Bowling Green Hill toward the gate. She sauntered leisurely
+until she was out of sight of the Hall. Then gathering up her cloak
+and sword she sped along the steep path to the hill crest and
+thence to the gate.</p>
+<p>Soon after the first day of her imprisonment she had sent a
+letter to John by the hand of Jennie Faxton, acquainting him with
+the details of all that had happened. In her letter, among much
+else, she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My true love, I beg you to haunt with your presence Bowling
+Green Gate each day at the hour of sunset. I cannot tell you when I
+shall be there to meet you, or surely I would do so now. But be
+there I will. Let no doubt of that disturb your mind. It does not
+lie in the power of man to keep me from you. That is, it lies in
+the power of but one man, you, my love and my lord, and I fear not
+that you will use your power to that end. So it is that I beg you
+to wait for me at sunset hour each day near by Bowling Green Gate.
+You may be caused to wait for me a long weary time; but one day,
+sooner or later, I shall go to you, and then&mdash;ah, then, if it
+be in my power to reward your patience, you shall have no cause for
+complaint."</p>
+<p>When Dorothy reached the gate she found it securely locked. She
+peered eagerly through the bars, hoping to <a name="Page_184" id=
+"Page_184"></a>see John. She tried to shake the heavy iron
+structure to assure herself that it could not be opened.</p>
+<p>"Ah, well," she sighed, "I suppose the reason love laughs at
+locksmiths is because he&mdash;or she&mdash;can climb."</p>
+<p>Then she climbed the gate and sprang to the ground on the
+Devonshire side of the wall.</p>
+<p>"What will John think when he sees me in this attire?" she said
+half aloud. "Malcolm's cloak serves but poorly to cover me, and I
+shall instead be covered with shame and confusion when John comes.
+I fear he will think I have disgraced myself." Then, with a sigh,
+"But necessity knows no raiment."</p>
+<p>She strode about near the gate for a few minutes, wishing that
+she were indeed a man, save for one fact: if she were not a woman,
+John would not love her, and, above all, she could not love John.
+The fact that she could and did love John appealed to Dorothy as
+the highest, sweetest privilege that Heaven or earth could offer to
+a human being.</p>
+<p>The sun had sunk in the west, and his faint parting glory was
+but dimly to be seen upon a few small clouds that floated above
+Overhaddon Hill. The moon was past its half; and the stars, still
+yellow and pale from the lingering glare of day, waited eagerly to
+give their twinkling help in lighting the night. The forest near
+the gate was dense, and withal the fading light of the sun and the
+dawning beams of the moon and stars, deep shadow enveloped Dorothy
+and all the scene about her. The girl was disappointed when she did
+not see Manners, but she was not vexed. There was but one person in
+all the world toward whom she held a patient, humble
+attitude&mdash;John. If he, in his greatness, goodness, and
+condescension, deigned to come and meet so poor a person as Dorothy
+Vernon, she would be thankful and happy; if he did not come, she
+would be sorrowful. His will was her will, and she would <a name=
+"Page_185" id="Page_185"></a>come again and again until she should
+find him waiting for her, and he should stoop to lift her into
+heaven.</p>
+<p>If there is a place in all the earth where red warm blood counts
+for its full value, it is in a pure woman's veins. Through
+self-fear it brings to her a proud reserve toward all mankind till
+the right one comes. Toward him it brings an eager humbleness that
+is the essence and the life of Heaven and of love. Poets may praise
+snowy women as they will, but the compelling woman is she of the
+warm blood. The snowy woman is the lifeless seed, the rainless
+cloud, the unmagnetic lodestone, the drossful iron. The great laws
+of nature affect her but passively. If there is aught in the saying
+of the ancients, "The best only in nature can survive," the day of
+her extermination will come. Fire is as chaste as snow, and
+infinitely more comforting.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's patience was not to be tried for long. Five minutes
+after she had climbed the gate she beheld John riding toward her
+from the direction of Rowsley, and her heart beat with thrill upon
+thrill of joy. She felt that the crowning moment of her life was at
+hand. By the help of a subtle sense&mdash;familiar spirit to her
+love perhaps&mdash;she knew that John would ask her to go with him
+and to be his wife, despite all the Rutlands and Vernons dead,
+living, or to be born. The thought of refusing him never entered
+her mind. Queen Nature was on the throne in the fulness of power,
+and Dorothy, in perfect attune with her great sovereign, was
+fulfilling her destiny in accordance with the laws to which her
+drossless being was entirely amenable.</p>
+<p>Many times had the fear come to her that Sir John Manners, who
+was heir to the great earldom of Rutland,&mdash;he who was so
+great, so good, and so beautiful,&mdash;might feel that his duty to
+his house past, present, and future, and the obligations of his
+position among the grand nobles <a name="Page_186" id=
+"Page_186"></a>of the realm, should deter him from a marriage
+against which so many good reasons could be urged. But this evening
+her familiar spirit whispered to her that she need not fear, and
+her heart was filled with joy and certainty. John dismounted and
+tethered his horse at a short distance from the gate. He approached
+Dorothy, but halted when he beheld a man instead of the girl whom
+he longed to meet. His hesitancy surprised Dorothy, who, in her
+eagerness, had forgotten her male attire. She soon saw, however,
+that he did not recognize her, and she determined, in a spirit of
+mischief, to maintain her incognito till he should penetrate her
+disguise.</p>
+<p>She turned her back on John and sauntered leisurely about,
+whistling softly. She pretended to be unconscious of his presence,
+and John, who felt that the field was his by the divine right of
+love, walked to the gate and looked through the bars toward Bowling
+Green. He stood at the gate for a short time with indifference in
+his manner and irritation in his heart. He, too, tried to hum a
+tune, but failed. Then he tried to whistle, but his musical efforts
+were abortive. There was no music in him. A moment before his heart
+had been full of harmony; but when he found a man instead of his
+sweetheart, the harmony quickly turned to rasping discord.</p>
+<p>John was not a patient man, and his impatience was apt to take
+the form of words and actions. A little aimless stalking about at
+the gate was more than enough for him, so he stepped toward the
+intruder and lifted his hat.</p>
+<p>"I beg your pardon," he said, "I thought when first I saw you
+that you were Sir Malcolm Vernon. I fancied you bore resemblance to
+him. I see that I was in error."</p>
+<p>"Yes, in error," answered my beard.</p>
+<p>Again the two gentlemen walked around each other with great
+amusement on the part of one, and with ever increasing vexation on
+the part of the other.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a>Soon John said, "May I ask
+whom have I the honor to address?"</p>
+<p>"Certainly, you may ask," was the response.</p>
+<p>A silence ensued during which Dorothy again turned her back on
+John and walked a few paces away from him. John's patience was
+rapidly oozing, and when the unknown intruder again turned in his
+direction, John said with all the gentleness then at his
+command:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Well, sir, I do ask."</p>
+<p>"Your curiosity is flattering," said the girl.</p>
+<p>"Pardon me, sir," returned John. "My curiosity is not intended
+to be flattering. I&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I hope it is not intended to be insulting, sir?" asked my hat
+and cloak.</p>
+<p>"That, sir, all depends upon yourself," retorted John, warmly.
+Then after an instant of thought, he continued in tones of
+conciliation:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I have an engagement of a private nature at this place. In
+short, I hope to meet a&mdash;a friend here within a few minutes
+and I feel sure that under the circumstances so gallant a gentleman
+as yourself will act with due consideration for the feelings of
+another. I hope and believe that you will do as you would be done
+by."</p>
+<p>"Certainly, certainly," responded the gallant. "I find no fault
+at all with your presence. Please take no account whatever of me. I
+assure you I shall not be in the least disturbed."</p>
+<p>John was somewhat disconcerted.</p>
+<p>"Perhaps you will not be disturbed," replied John, struggling to
+keep down his temper, "but I fear you do not understand me. I hope
+to meet a&mdash;a lady and&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I hope also to meet a&mdash;a friend," the fellow said; "but I
+assure you we shall in no way conflict."</p>
+<p>"May I ask," queried John, "if you expect to meet a gentleman or
+a lady?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a>Certainly you may ask,"
+was the girl's irritating reply.</p>
+<p>"Well, well, sir, I do ask," said John. "Furthermore, I demand
+to know whom you expect to meet at this place."</p>
+<p>"That, of course, sir, is no business of yours."</p>
+<p>"But I shall make it my affair. I expect to meet a lady here, my
+sweetheart." The girl's heart jumped with joy. "And if you have any
+of the feelings of a gentleman, you must know that your presence
+will be intolerable to me."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps it will be, my dear sir, but I have as good a right
+here as you or any other. If you must know all about my affairs, I
+tell you I, too, hope to meet my sweetheart at this place. In fact,
+I know I shall meet my sweetheart, and, my good fellow, I beg to
+inform you that a stranger's presence would be very annoying to
+me."</p>
+<p>John was at his wit's end. He must quickly do or say something
+to persuade this stubborn fellow to leave. If Dorothy should come
+and see two persons at the gate she, of course, would return to the
+Hall. Jennie Faxton, who knew that the garments were finished, had
+told Sir John that he might reasonably expect to see Dorothy at the
+gate on that evening, for Sir George had gone to Derby-town,
+presumably to remain over night.</p>
+<p>In sheer desperation John said, "I was here first, and I claim
+the ground."</p>
+<p>"That is not true," replied the other. "I have been waiting here
+for you&mdash;I mean for the person I am to meet&mdash;" Dorothy
+thought she had betrayed herself, and that John would surely
+recognize her. "I had been waiting full five minutes before you
+arrived."</p>
+<p>John's blindness in failing to recognize Dorothy is past my
+understanding. He explained it to me afterward by saying that his
+eagerness to see Dorothy, and his fear, nay almost certainty, that
+she could not come, coupled with the hope which Jennie Faxton had
+given him, had so completely <a name="Page_189" id=
+"Page_189"></a>occupied his mind that other subjects received but
+slight consideration.</p>
+<p>"But I&mdash;I have been here before this night to
+meet&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"And I have been here to meet&mdash;quite as often as you, I
+hope," retorted Dorothy.</p>
+<p>They say that love blinds a man. It must also have deafened
+John, since he did not recognize his sweetheart's voice.</p>
+<p>"It may be true that you have been here before this evening,"
+retorted John, angrily; "but you shall not remain here now. If you
+wish to save yourself trouble, leave at once. If you stalk about in
+the forest, I will run you through and leave you for the crows to
+pick."</p>
+<p>"I have no intention of leaving, and if I were to do so you
+would regret it; by my beard, you would regret it," answered the
+girl, pleased to see John in his overbearing, commanding mood. His
+stupidity was past comprehension.</p>
+<p>"Defend yourself," said John, drawing his sword.</p>
+<p>"Now he will surely know the truth," thought Dorothy, but she
+said: "I am much younger than you, and am not so large and strong.
+I am unskilled in the use of a sword, and therefore am I no match
+for Sir John Manners than whom, I have heard, there is no better
+swordsman, stronger arm, nor braver heart in England."</p>
+<p>"You flatter me, my friend," returned John, forced into a good
+humor against his will; "but you must leave. He who cannot defend
+himself must yield; it is the law of nature and of men."</p>
+<p>John advanced toward Dorothy, who retreated stepping backward,
+holding her arm over her face.</p>
+<p>"I am ready to yield if you wish. In fact, I am eager to
+yield&mdash;more eager than you can know," she cried.</p>
+<p>"It is well," answered John, putting his sword in sheath.</p>
+<p>"But," continued Dorothy, "I will not go away."</p>
+<p>"Then you must fight," said John.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a>I tell you again I am
+willing, nay, eager to yield to you, but I also tell you I cannot
+fight in the way you would have me. In other ways perhaps I can
+fight quite as well as anybody. But really, I am ashamed to draw my
+sword, since to do so would show you how poorly I am equipped to
+defend myself under your great laws of nature and of man. Again, I
+wish to assure you that I am more than eager to yield; but I cannot
+fight you, and I will not go away."</p>
+<p>The wonder never ceases that John did not recognize her. She
+took no pains to hide her identity, and after a few moments of
+concealment she was anxious that John should discover her under my
+garments.</p>
+<p>"I would know his voice," she thought, "did he wear all the
+petticoats in Derbyshire."</p>
+<p>"What shall I do with you?" cried John, amused and irritated. "I
+cannot strike you."</p>
+<p>"No, of course you would not murder me in cold blood," answered
+Dorothy, laughing heartily. She was sure her laughter would open
+John's eyes.</p>
+<p>"I cannot carry you away," said John.</p>
+<p>"I would come back again, if you did," answered the
+irrepressible fellow.</p>
+<p>"I suppose you would," returned John, sullenly. "In the devil's
+name, tell me what you will do. Can I not beg you to go?"</p>
+<p>"Now, Sir John, you have touched me. I make you this offer: you
+expect Mistress Vernon to come from the Hall&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"What do you know about Mistress Vernon?" cried John. "By God, I
+will&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Now don't grow angry, Sir John, and please don't swear in my
+presence. You expect her, I say, to come from the Hall. What I
+propose is this: you shall stand by the gate and watch for
+Doll&mdash;oh, I mean Mistress<a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a>
+Vernon&mdash;and I will stand here behind the wall where she cannot
+see me. When she comes in sight&mdash;though in truth I don't think
+she will come, and I believe were she under your very nose you
+would not see her&mdash;you shall tell me and I will leave at once;
+that is, if you wish me to leave. After you see Dorothy Vernon if
+you still wish me to go, I pledge my faith no power can keep me.
+Now is not that fair? I like you very much, and I want to remain
+here, if you will permit me, and talk to you for a little
+time&mdash;till you see Doll Vernon."</p>
+<p>"Doll Vernon, fellow? How dare you so speak of her?" demanded
+John, hotly.</p>
+<p>"Your pardon and her pardon, I beg; Mistress Vernon, soon to be
+Countess of Derbyshire. By the way, I wager you a gold pound
+sterling that by the time you see Doll Vernon&mdash;Mistress
+Vernon, I pray your pardon&mdash;you will have grown so fond of me
+that you will not permit me to leave you." She thought after that
+speech he could not help but know her; but John's skull was like an
+oaken board that night. Nothing could penetrate it. He began to
+fancy that his companion was a simple witless person who had
+escaped from his keepers.</p>
+<p>"Will you take the wager?" asked Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Nonsense!" was the only reply John deigned to give to so
+foolish a proposition.</p>
+<p>"Then will you agree that I shall remain at the gate till
+Doll&mdash;Mistress Vernon comes?"</p>
+<p>"I suppose I shall have to make the best terms possible with
+you," he returned. "You are an amusing fellow and as perverse as a
+woman."</p>
+<p>"I knew you would soon learn to like me," she responded. "The
+first step toward a man's affection is to amuse him. That old saw
+which says the road to a man's heart is through his stomach, is a
+sad mistake. Amusement is the highway to a man's affections."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a>It is better that one
+laugh with us than at us. There is a vast difference in the two
+methods," answered John, contemptuously.</p>
+<p>"You dare to laugh at me," cried Dorothy, grasping the hilt of
+her sword, and pretending to be angry. John waved her off with his
+hand, and laughingly said, "Little you know concerning the way to a
+man's heart, and no doubt less of the way to a woman's."</p>
+<p>"I, perhaps, know more about it than you would believe,"
+returned Malcolm No. 2.</p>
+<p>"If you know aught of the latter subject, it is more than I
+would suppose," said John. "It is absurd to say that a woman can
+love a man who is unable to defend himself."</p>
+<p>"A vain man thinks that women care only for men of his own
+pattern," retorted Dorothy. "Women love a strong arm, it is true,
+but they also love a strong heart, and you see I am not at all
+afraid of you, even though you have twice my strength. There are as
+many sorts of bravery, Sir John, as&mdash;as there are hairs in my
+beard."</p>
+<p>"That is not many," interrupted John.</p>
+<p>"And," continued the girl, "I believe, John,&mdash;Sir
+John,&mdash;you possess all the kinds of bravery that are
+good."</p>
+<p>"You flatter me," said John.</p>
+<p>"Yes," returned Dorothy, "that was my intent."</p>
+<p>After that unflattering remark there came a pause. Then the girl
+continued somewhat hesitatingly: "Doubtless many women, Sir John,
+have seen your virtues more clearly than even I see them. Women
+have a keener perception of masculine virtues than&mdash;than we
+have."</p>
+<p>Dorothy paused, and her heart beat with a quickened throb while
+she awaited his reply. A new field of discovery was opening up to
+her and a new use for her disguise.</p>
+<p>John made no reply, but the persistent girl pursued her new line
+of attack.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a>Surely Sir John Manners
+has had many sweethearts," said Dorothy, in flattering tones. There
+were rocks and shoals ahead for John's love barge. "Many, many, I
+am sure," the girl persisted.</p>
+<p>"Ah, a few, a few, I admit," John like a fool replied. Dorothy
+was accumulating disagreeable information rapidly.</p>
+<p>"While you were at London court," said she, "the fine ladies
+must have sought you in great numbers&mdash;I am sure they
+did."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps, oh, perhaps," returned John. "One cannot always
+remember such affairs." His craft was headed for the rocks. Had he
+observed Dorothy's face, he would have seen the storm
+a-brewing.</p>
+<p>"To how many women, Sir John, have you lost your heart, and at
+various times how many have lost their hearts to you?" asked the
+persistent girl.&mdash;"What a senseless question," returned John.
+"A dozen times or more; perhaps a score or two score times. I
+cannot tell the exact number. I did not keep an account."</p>
+<p>Dorothy did not know whether she wanted to weep or be angry.
+Pique and a flash of temper, however, saved her from tears, and she
+said, "You are so brave and handsome that you must have found it a
+very easy task&mdash;much easier than it would be for me&mdash;to
+convince those confiding ones of your affection?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," replied John, plunging full sail upon the breakers, "I
+admit that usually they have been quite easy to convince. I am
+naturally bold, and I suppose that perhaps&mdash;that is, I may
+possibly have a persuasive trick about me."</p>
+<p>Shades of good men who have blundered into ruin over the path of
+petty vanity, save this man! But no, Dorothy must drink the bitter
+cup of knowledge to the dregs.</p>
+<p>"And you have been false to all of these women? she said.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a>Ah, well, you
+know&mdash;the devil take it! A man can't be true to a score of
+women," replied John.</p>
+<p>"I am sure none of them wished you to be true," the girl
+answered, restraining her tears with great difficulty.</p>
+<p>At that point in the conversation John began to suspect from the
+manner and shapeliness of his companion that a woman had disguised
+herself in man's attire. Yet it did not once occur to him that
+Dorothy's fair form was concealed within the disguise. He attempted
+to lift my soft beaver hat, the broad rim of which hid Dorothy's
+face, but to that she made a decided objection, and John continued:
+"By my soul I believe you are a woman. Your walk"&mdash;Dorothy
+thought she had been swaggering like a veritable
+swash-buckler&mdash;"your voice, the curves of your form, all
+betray you." Dorothy gathered the cloak closely about her.</p>
+<p>"I would know more of you," said John, and he stepped toward the
+now interesting stranger. But she drew away from him, and told him
+to keep hands off.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I am right. You are a woman," said John.</p>
+<p>Dorothy had maintained the disguise longer than she wished, and
+was willing that John should discover her identity. At first it had
+been rare sport to dupe him; but the latter part of her
+conversation had given her no pleasure. She was angry, jealous, and
+hurt by what she had learned.</p>
+<p>"Yes," she answered, "I admit that I am a&mdash;a woman. Now I
+must go."</p>
+<p>"Stay but one moment," pleaded John, whose curiosity and
+gallantry were aroused. "I will watch for Mistress Vernon, and when
+she appears, then you may go."</p>
+<p>"I told you that you would want me to remain," said the girl
+with a sigh. She was almost ready to weep. Then she thought: "I
+little dreamed I was coming here for this. I will carry the
+disguise a little farther, and will, perhaps, learn enough
+to&mdash;to break my heart."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a>She was soon to learn all
+she wanted to know and a great deal more.</p>
+<p>"Come sit by me on this stone," said John, coaxingly. The girl
+complied, and drew the cloak over her knees.</p>
+<p>"Tell me why you are here," he asked.</p>
+<p>"To meet a gentleman," she replied, with low-bent face.</p>
+<p>"Tell me your name," John asked, as he drew my glove from her
+passive hand. John held the hand in his, and after examining it in
+the dim light saw that it was a great deal more than good to look
+upon. Then he lifted it to his lips and said:</p>
+<p>"Since our sweethearts have disappointed us, may we not console
+ourselves with each other?" He placed his arm around the girl's
+waist and drew her yielding form toward him. Dorothy, unobserved by
+John, removed the false beard and moustachio, and when John put his
+arm about her waist and leaned forward to kiss the fair
+accommodating neighbor she could restrain her tears no longer and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"That would be no consolation for me, John; that would be no
+consolation for me. How can you? How can you?"</p>
+<p>She rose to her feet and covered her face with her hands in a
+paroxysm of weeping. John, too, sprang to his feet, you may be
+sure. "Dorothy! God help me! I am the king of fools. Curse this
+hour in which I have thrown away my heaven. You must hate and
+despise me, fool, fool that I am."</p>
+<p>John knew that it were worse than useless for him to attempt an
+explanation. The first thought that flashed through his mind was,
+to tell the girl that he had only pretended not to know her. He
+thought he would try to make her believe that he had been turning
+her trick upon herself; but he was wise in his day and generation,
+and did not seek refuge in that falsehood.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a>The girl would never have
+forgiven him for that.</p>
+<p>"The only amends I can make," he said, in very dolefulness, "is
+that I may never let you see my face again."</p>
+<p>"That will not help matters," sobbed Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I know it will not," returned John. "Nothing can help me. I can
+remain here no longer. I must leave you. I cannot even ask you to
+say farewell. Mistress Vernon, you do not despise me half so
+bitterly as I despise myself."</p>
+<p>Dorothy was one of those rare natures to whom love comes but
+once. It had come to her and had engulfed her whole being. To part
+with it would be like parting with life itself. It was her tyrant,
+her master. It was her ego. She could no more throw it off than she
+could expel herself from her own existence. All this she knew full
+well, for she had analyzed her conditions, and her reason had
+joined with all her other faculties in giving her a clear concept
+of the truth. She knew she belonged to John Manners for life and
+for eternity. She also knew that the chance of seeing him soon
+again was very slight, and to part from him now in aught but
+kindness would almost kill her.</p>
+<p>Before John had recognized Dorothy he certainly had acted like a
+fool, but with the shock of recognition came wisdom. All the
+learning of the ancients and all the cunning of the prince of
+darkness could not have taught him a wiser word with which to make
+his peace, "I may never let you see my face again." That was more
+to be feared by Dorothy than even John's inconstancy.</p>
+<p>Her heart was full of trouble. "I do not know what I wish," she
+said simply. "Give me a little time to think."</p>
+<p>John's heart leaped with joy, but he remained silent.</p>
+<p>Dorothy continued: "Oh, that I had remained at home. I would to
+God I had never seen Derby-town nor you."</p>
+<p>John in the fulness of his wisdom did not interrupt her.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a>To think that I have thus
+made a fool of myself about a man who has given his heart to a
+score of women."</p>
+<p>"This is torture," moaned John, in real pain.</p>
+<p>"But," continued Dorothy, "I could not remain away from this
+place when I had the opportunity to come to you. I felt that I must
+come. I felt that I should die if I did not. And you are so false.
+I wish I were dead. A moment ago, had I been another woman, you
+would have kissed her. You thought I was another woman."</p>
+<p>John's wisdom stood by him nobly. He knew he could neither
+explain successfully nor beg forgiveness. He simply said: "I cannot
+remain and look you in the face. If I dare make any request, it is
+that despite all you have heard from my lips you will still believe
+that I love you, and that in all my life I have never loved any one
+so dearly. There is no other woman for me."</p>
+<p>"You doubtless spoke the same false words to the other two score
+women," said Dorothy. Tears and sobs were playing sad havoc with
+her powers of speech.</p>
+<p>"Farewell, Mistress Vernon," replied John. "I should be
+shameless if I dared ask you to believe any word I can utter.
+Forget, if possible, that I ever existed; forget me that you may
+not despise me. I am unworthy to dwell even in the smallest of your
+thoughts. I am altogether base and contemptible."</p>
+<p>"N-o-o," sighed Dorothy, poutingly, while she bent low her head
+and toyed with the gold lace of my cloak.</p>
+<p>"Farewell," said John. He took a step or two backward from
+her.</p>
+<p>"You are over-eager to leave, it seems to me," said the girl in
+an injured tone. "I wonder that you came at all." John's heart was
+singing hosanna. He, however, maintained his voice at a mournful
+pitch and said: "I must go. I can no longer endure to remain."
+While he spoke he moved toward his horse, and his head was bowed
+with <a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a>real shame as he thought
+of the pitiable fool he had made of himself. Dorothy saw him going
+from her, and she called to him softly and reluctantly, "John."</p>
+<p>He did not hear her, or perhaps he thought best to pretend that
+he did not hear, and as he moved from her the girl became
+desperate. Modesty, resentment, insulted womanhood and injured
+pride were all swept away by the stream of her mighty love, and she
+cried again, this time without hesitancy or reluctance, "John,
+John." She started to run toward him, but my cloak was in her way,
+and the sword tripped her feet. In her fear lest John might leave
+her, she unclasped the sword-belt from her waist and snatched the
+cloak from her shoulders. Freed from these hindrances, she ran
+toward John.</p>
+<p>"John, do not leave me. Do not leave me." As she spoke, she
+reached an open space among the trees and John turned toward her.
+Her hat had fallen off, and the red golden threads of her hair,
+freed from their fastenings, streamed behind her. Never before had
+a vision of such exquisite loveliness sped through the moonbeams.
+So entrancing was her beauty to John that he stood motionless in
+admiration. He did not go to meet her as he should have done, and
+perhaps as he would have done had his senses not been wrapped in
+benumbing wonderment. His eyes were unable to interpret to his
+brain all her marvellous beauty, and his other senses abandoning
+their proper functions had hastened to the assistance of his sight
+He saw, he heard, he felt her loveliness. Thus occupied he did not
+move, so Dorothy ran to him and fell upon his breast.</p>
+<p>"You did not come to meet me," she sobbed. "You made me come all
+the way, to forgive you. Cruel, cruel!"</p>
+<p>John held the girl in his arms, but he did not dare to kiss her,
+and his self-denial soon brought its reward. He had not expected
+that she would come a beggar to him.<a name="Page_199" id=
+"Page_199"></a> The most he had dared to hope was that she would
+listen to his prayer for forgiveness. With all his worldly wisdom
+John had not learned the fact that inconstancy does not destroy
+love in the one who suffers by reason of it; nor did he know of the
+exquisite pain-touched happiness which comes to a gentle,
+passionate heart such as Dorothy's from the mere act of
+forgiving.</p>
+<p>"Is it possible you can forgive me for the miserable lies I have
+uttered?" asked John, almost unconscious of the words he was
+speaking. "Is it possible you can forgive me for uttering those
+lies, Dorothy?" he repeated.</p>
+<p>She laid her head upon his breast, and softly passing her hand
+over the lace of his doublet, whispered:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If I could believe they were lies, I could easily forgive you,"
+she answered between low sobs and soft sighs. Though she was a
+woman, the sweet essence of childhood was in her heart.</p>
+<p>"But you cannot believe me, even when I tell you that I spoke
+not the truth," answered John, with growing faith in his system of
+passive repentance. Again came the sighs, and a few struggling,
+childish sobs.</p>
+<p>"It is easy for us to believe that which we long to believe,"
+she said. Then she turned her face upward to him, and John's reward
+was altogether disproportioned to the self-denial he had exercised
+a few minutes before. She rewarded him far beyond his deserts; and
+after a pause she said mischievously:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You told me that you were a bold man with women, and I know
+that at least that part of what you said was untrue, for you are a
+bashful man, John, you are downright bashful. It is I who have been
+bold. You were too timid to woo me, and I so longed for you that
+I&mdash;I&mdash;was not timid."</p>
+<p>"For God's sake, Dorothy, I beg you to have pity and to make no
+jest of me. Your kindness almost kills me, and your
+ridicule&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a>There, there, John,"
+whispered the girl, "I will never again make a jest of you if it
+gives you pain. Tell me, John, tell me truly, was it all
+false&mdash;that which you told me about the other women?"</p>
+<p>There had been more truth in John's bragging than he cared to
+confess. He feared and loathed a lie; so he said evasively, but
+with perfect truth:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You must know, my goddess. If you do not know without the
+telling that I love you with all my being; if you do not know that
+there is for me and ever will be no woman but you in all the world;
+if you do not know that you have stolen my soul and that I live
+only in your presence, all that I can say will avail nothing toward
+convincing you. I am almost crazed with love for you, and with pain
+and torture. For the love of God let me leave you that I may hide
+my face."</p>
+<p>"Never," cried the girl, clasping her hands about his neck and
+pressing her lips gently upon his. "Never. There, that will soothe
+you, won't it, John?"</p>
+<p>It did soothe him, and in the next moment, John, almost frenzied
+with joy, hurt the girl by the violence of his embraces; but she,
+woman-like, found her heaven in the pain.</p>
+<p>They went back to the stone bench beside the gate, and after a
+little time Dorothy said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"But tell me, John, would you have kissed the other woman? Would
+you really have done it?"</p>
+<p>John's honesty certainly was good policy in that instance. The
+adroit girl had set a trap for him.</p>
+<p>"I suppose I would," answered John, with a groan.</p>
+<p>"It hurts me to hear the fact," said Dorothy, sighing; "but it
+pleases me to hear the truth. I know all else you tell me is true.
+I was trying you when I asked the question, for I certainly knew
+what you intended to do. A woman instinctively knows when a man is
+going to&mdash;to&mdash;when anything of that sort is about to
+happen."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a>How does she know?" asked
+John.</p>
+<p>Rocks and breakers ahead for Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I cannot tell you," replied the girl, na&iuml;vely, "but she
+knows."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps it is the awakened desire in her own heart which
+forewarns her," said John, stealthily seeking from Dorothy a truth
+that would pain him should he learn it.</p>
+<p>"I suppose that is partly the source of her knowledge," replied
+the knowing one, with a great show of innocence in her manner. John
+was in no position to ask impertinent questions, nor had he any
+right to grow angry at unpleasant discoveries; but he did both,
+although for a time he suppressed the latter.</p>
+<p>"You believe she is sure to know, do you?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"Usually," she replied. "Of course there are times
+when&mdash;when it happens so suddenly that&mdash;"</p>
+<p>John angrily sprang to his feet, took a few hurried steps in
+front of Dorothy, who remained demurely seated with her eyes cast
+down, and then again he took his place beside her on the stone
+bench. He was trembling with anger and jealousy. The devil was in
+the girl that night for mischief.</p>
+<p>"I suppose you speak from the fulness of your experience,"
+demanded John, in tones that would have been insulting had they not
+been pleasing to the girl. She had seen the drift of John's
+questions at an early stage of the conversation, and his easily
+aroused jealousy was good proof to her of his affection. After all,
+she was in no danger from rocks and breakers. She well knew the
+currents, eddies, rocks, and shoals of the sea she was navigating,
+although she had never before sailed it. Her fore-mothers, all the
+way back to Eve, had been making charts of those particular waters
+for her especial benefit. Why do we, a slow-moving, cumbersome army
+of men, continue to do battle with the foe at whose hands defeat is
+always our portion?</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a>Experience?" queried
+Dorothy, her head turned to one side in a half-contemplative
+attitude. "Experience? Of course that is the only way we learn
+anything."</p>
+<p>John again sprang to his feet, and again he sat down beside the
+girl. He had so recently received forgiveness for his own sins that
+he dared not be unforgiving toward Dorothy. He did not speak, and
+she remained silent, willing to allow time for the situation to
+take its full effect. The wisdom of the serpent is black ignorance
+compared with the cunning of a girl in Dorothy's situation. God
+gives her wit for the occasion as He gives the cat soft paws, sharp
+claws, and nimbleness. She was teaching John a lesson he would
+never forget. She was binding him to her with hoops of steel.</p>
+<p>"I know that I have not the right to ask," said John,
+suppressing his emotions, "but may I know merely as a matter of
+trivial information&mdash;may I know the name of&mdash;of the
+person&mdash;this fellow with whom you have had so full an
+experience? God curse him! Tell me his name." He caught the girl
+violently by both arms as if he would shake the truth out of her.
+He was unconsciously making full amends for the faults he had
+committed earlier in the evening. The girl made no answer. John's
+powers of self-restraint, which were not of the strongest order,
+were exhausted, and he again sprang to his feet and stood towering
+before her in a passion. "Tell me his name," he said hoarsely. "I
+demand it. I will not rest till I kill him."</p>
+<p>"If you would kill him, I surely will not tell you his name. In
+truth, I admit I am very fond of him."</p>
+<p>"Speak not another word to me till you tell me his name,"
+stormed John. I feel sorry for John when I think of the part he
+played in this interview; but every man knows well his
+condition.</p>
+<p>"I care not," continued John, "in what manner I have <a name=
+"Page_203" id="Page_203"></a>offended you, nor does my debt of
+gratitude to you for your generosity in forgiving my sins weigh one
+scruple against this you have told me. No man, unless he were a
+poor clown, would endure it; and I tell you now, with all my love
+for you, I will not&mdash;I will not!"</p>
+<p>Dorothy was beginning to fear him. She of course did not fear
+personal violence; but after all, while he was slower than she, he
+was much stronger every way, and when aroused, his strength imposed
+itself upon her and she feared to play him any farther.</p>
+<p>"Sit beside me, John, and I will tell you his name," said the
+girl, looking up to him, and then casting down her eyes. A dimpling
+smile was playing about her lips.</p>
+<p>"No, I will not sit by you," replied John, angrily. She partly
+rose, and taking him by the arm drew him to her side.</p>
+<p>"Tell me his name," again demanded John, sitting rigidly by
+Dorothy. "Tell me his name."</p>
+<p>"Will you kill him?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"That I will," he answered. "Of that you may rest assured."</p>
+<p>"If you kill him, John, it will break my heart; for to do so,
+you must commit suicide. There is no other man but you, John. With
+you I had my first, last, and only experience."</p>
+<p>John, of course, was speechless. He had received only what he
+deserved. I freely admit he played the part of a fool during this
+entire interview with Dorothy, and he was more fully convinced of
+the fact than either you or I can be. I do not like to have a fool
+for the hero of my history; but this being a history and not a
+romance, I must tell you of events just as they happened, and of
+persons exactly as they were, else my conscience will smite me for
+untruthfulness. Dorothy's last assault was too much for John. He
+could neither parry nor thrust.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a>Her heart was full of mirth
+and gladness.</p>
+<p>"None other but you, John," she repeated, leaning forward in
+front of him, and looking up into his eyes. A ray of moonlight
+stealing its way between the forest boughs fell upon her upturned
+face and caused it to glow with a goddess-like radiance.</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v204" id="v204"></a> <img src=
+"images/v204.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>"None but you, John. There never has been and there never shall
+be another."</p>
+<p>When John's consciousness returned he said, "Dorothy, can you
+love such a fool as I?"</p>
+<p>"That I can and that I do with all my heart," she returned.</p>
+<p>"And can you forgive me for this last fault&mdash;for doubting
+you?"</p>
+<p>"That is easily done," she answered softly, "because doubt is
+the child of love."</p>
+<p>"But you do not doubt me?" he replied.</p>
+<p>"N-o-o," she answered somewhat haltingly; "but I&mdash;I am a
+woman."</p>
+<p>"And a woman's heart is the home of faith," said John,
+reverentially.</p>
+<p>"Y-e-s," she responded, still not quite sure of her ground.
+"Sometimes it is the home of too much faith, but faith, like
+virtue, is its own reward. Few persons are false to one who gives a
+blind, unquestioning faith. Even a poor degree of honor responds to
+it in kind."</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, I am so unworthy of you that I stand abashed in your
+presence," replied John.</p>
+<p>"No, you are not unworthy of me. We don't look for unmixed good
+in men," said the girl with a mischievous little laugh. Then
+seriously: "Those virtues you have are so great and so strong,
+John, that my poor little virtues, while they perhaps are more
+numerous than yours, are but weak things by comparison. In truth,
+there are some faults in men which we women do not&mdash;do not
+altogether <a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a>dislike. They cause
+us&mdash;they make us&mdash;oh, I cannot express exactly what I
+mean. They make us more eager perhaps. A too constant man is like
+an overstrong sweet: he cloys us. The faults I speak of hurt us;
+but we thrive on them. Women enjoy pain now and then. Malcolm was
+telling me the other day that the wise people of the East have a
+saying: 'Without shadow there can be no light; without death there
+can be no life; without suffering there can be no joy.' Surely is
+that saying true of women. She who suffers naught enjoys naught.
+When a woman becomes passive, John, she is but a clod. Pain gives
+us a vent&mdash;a vent for something, I know not what it is; but
+this I know, we are happier for it."</p>
+<p>"I fear, Dorothy, that I have given you too much 'vent,' as you
+call it," said John.</p>
+<p>"No, no," she replied. "That was nothing. My great vent is that
+I can pour out my love upon you, John, without stint. Now that I
+know you are mine, I have some one whom I can deluge with it. Do
+you know, John, I believe that when God made me He collected
+together the requisite portions of reason, imagination, and
+will,&mdash;there was a great plenty of will, John,&mdash;and all
+the other ingredients that go to make a human being. But after He
+had gotten them all together there was still a great space left to
+be filled, and He just threw in an immensity of love with which to
+complete me. Therefore, John, am I not in true proportion. There is
+too much love in me, and it wells up at times and overflows my
+heart. How thankful I should be that I may pour it upon you and
+that it will not be wasted. How good you are to give me the sweet
+privilege."</p>
+<p>"How thankful should I be, Dorothy. I have never known you till
+this night. I am unworthy&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Not another word of that sort, John," she interrupted, covering
+his mouth with her hand.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a>They stood for a long time
+talking a deal of celestial nonsense which I shall not give you. I
+fear I have already given you too much of what John and Dorothy did
+and said in this very sentimental interview. But in no other way
+can I so well make you to know the persons of whom I write. I might
+have said Dorothy was so and so, and John was such and such. I
+might have analyzed them in long, dull pages of minute description;
+but it is that which persons do and say that gives us true concept
+of their characters; what others say about them is little else than
+a mere statement that black is black and white is white. But to my
+story again.</p>
+<p>Dorothy by her beauty had won John's admiration when first he
+beheld her. When he met her afterward, her charms of mind and her
+thousand winsome ways moved him deeply. But upon the evening of
+which I am now telling you he beheld for the first time her grand
+burning soul, and he saw her pure heart filled to overflowing with
+its dangerous burden of love, right from the hands of God Himself,
+as the girl had said. John was of a coarser fibre than she who had
+put him up for her idol; but his sensibilities were keen, and at
+their awakening he saw clearly the worth of the priceless treasure
+which propitious fate had given him in the love of Dorothy, and he
+sat humbly at her feet. Yet she knew it not, but sat humbly at
+John's feet the happiest woman in all the world because of her
+great good fortune in having a demi-god upon whom she could lavish
+the untold wealth of her heart. If you are a woman, pray God that
+He may touch your eyes with Dorothy's blessed blindness. There is a
+heaven in the dark for you, if you can find it.</p>
+<p>I must leave the scene, though I am loath to do so. Seldom do we
+catch a glimpse of a human soul, and more seldom still does it show
+itself like a gust of God's breath upon the deep of eternity as it
+did that night in Dorothy.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a>After a time John said: "I
+have your promise to be my wife. Do you still wish to keep it?"</p>
+<p>"What an absurd question, John," replied the girl, laughing
+softly and contentedly. "Why else am I here? Tell me, think you,
+John, should I be here if I were not willing and eager to&mdash;to
+keep that promise?"</p>
+<p>"Will you go with me notwithstanding your father's hatred of my
+house?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"Ah, truly that I will, John," she answered; "surely you know I
+will go with you."</p>
+<p>"Let us go at once. Let us lose not a moment. We have already
+delayed too long," cried John in eager ecstasy.</p>
+<p>"Not to-night, John; I cannot go to-night," she pleaded. "Think
+of my attire," and she drew my cloak more closely about her. "I
+cannot go with you this time. My father is angry with me because of
+you, although he does not know who you are. Is it not famous to
+have a lover in secret of whom nobody knows? Father is angry with
+me, and as I told you in my letter, he keeps me a prisoner in my
+rooms. Aunt Dorothy stands guard over me. The dear, simple old
+soul! She told me, thinking I was Malcolm, that she was too old to
+be duped by a girl! Oh, it was too comical!" And she threw back her
+head and gave forth a peal of laughter that John was reluctantly
+compelled to silence. "I would so delight to tell you of the scene
+when I was in Aunt Dorothy's room impersonating Malcolm; but I have
+so much else to say of more importance that I know I shall not tell
+the half. When you have left me, I shall remember what I most
+wished to say but forgot."</p>
+<p>"No, John," she continued seriously, "my father has been cruel
+to me, and I try to make myself think I do not love him; but I
+fail, for I do love him." Tears were welling up in her eyes and
+stifling her voice. In a moment <a name="Page_208" id=
+"Page_208"></a>she continued: "It would kill him, John, were I to
+go with you now. I <i>will</i> go with you soon,&mdash;I give you
+my solemn promise to that&mdash;but I cannot go now,&mdash;not now.
+I cannot leave him and the others. With all his cruelty to me, I
+love him, John, next to you. He will not come to see me nor will he
+speak to me. Think of that." The tears that had welled up to her
+eyes fell in a piteous stream over her cheeks. "Aunt Dorothy and
+Madge," she continued, "are so dear to me that the thought of
+leaving them is torture. But I will go with you some day, John,
+some day soon, I promise you. They have always been kind and gentle
+to me, and I love them and my father and my dear home where I was
+born and where my sweet mother died&mdash;and Dolcy&mdash;I love
+them all so dearly that I must prepare myself to leave them, John,
+even to go with you. The heart strings of my whole life bind me to
+them. Forgive me, John, forgive me. You must think of the grief and
+pain I shall yet pass through to go to you. It is as I told you: we
+women reach heaven only through purgatory. I must forsake all else
+I love when I go to you. All, all! All that has been dear to me in
+life I must forsake for&mdash;for that which is dearer to me than
+life itself. I promise, John, to go with you, but&mdash;but forgive
+me. I cannot go to-night."</p>
+<p>"Nor can I ask it of you, Dorothy," said John. "The sacrifice
+would be all on one side. I should forego nothing, and I should
+receive all. You would forego everything, and God help me, you
+would receive nothing worth having. I am unworthy&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Not that word, John," cried Dorothy, again covering his mouth
+with&mdash;well, not with her hand. "I shall give up a great deal,"
+she continued, "and I know I shall suffer. I suffer even now when I
+think of it, for you must remember that I am rooted to my home and
+to the dear ones it shelters; but I will soon make the
+exchange,<a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a> John; I shall make
+it gladly when the time comes, because&mdash;because I feel that I
+could not live if I did not make it."</p>
+<p>"My father has already consented to our marriage," said John. "I
+told him to-day all that had passed between you and me. He, of
+course, was greatly pained at first; but when I told him of your
+perfections, he said that if you and I were dear to each other, he
+would offer no opposition, but would welcome you to his heart."</p>
+<p>"Is your father that&mdash;that sort of a man?" asked Dorothy,
+half in revery. "I have always heard&mdash;" and she hesitated.</p>
+<p>"I know," replied John, "that you have heard much evil of my
+father, but&mdash;let us not talk on that theme. You will know him
+some day, and you may judge him for yourself. When will you go with
+me, Dorothy?"</p>
+<p>"Soon, very soon, John," she answered. "You know father intends
+that I shall marry Lord Stanley. <i>I</i> intend otherwise. The
+more father hurries this marriage with my beautiful cousin the
+sooner I shall be&mdash;be your&mdash;that is, you know, the sooner
+I shall go with you."</p>
+<p>"You will not allow your father to force you to marry Lord
+Stanley?" asked John, frightened by the thought.</p>
+<p>"Ah," cried the girl, softly, "you know I told you that God had
+put into me a great plenty of will. Father calls it wilfulness; but
+whichever it is, it stands me in good hand now. You don't know how
+much I have of it! You never will know until I am
+your&mdash;your&mdash;wife." The last word was spoken in a soft,
+hesitating whisper, and her head sought shamefaced refuge on John's
+breast. Of course the magic word "wife" on Dorothy's lips aroused
+John to action, and&mdash;but a cloud at that moment passed over
+the moon and kindly obscured the scene.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a>You do not blame me,
+John," said Dorothy, "because I cannot go with you to-night? You do
+not blame me?"</p>
+<p>"Indeed I do not, my goddess," answered John. "You will soon be
+mine. I shall await your pleasure and your own time, and when you
+choose to come to me&mdash;ah, then&mdash;" And the kindly cloud
+came back to the moon.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><a name="Page_211" id=
+"Page_211"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h2>THOMAS THE MAN SERVANT</h2>
+<p>After a great effort of self-denial John told Dorothy it was
+time for her to return to the Hall, and he walked with her down
+Bowling Green Hill to the wall back of the terrace garden.</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood for a moment on the stile at the old stone wall,
+and John, clasping her hand, said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You will perhaps see me sooner than you expect," and then the
+cloud considerately floated over the moon again, and John hurried
+away up Bowling Green Hill.</p>
+<p>Dorothy crossed the terrace garden, going toward the door since
+known as "Dorothy's Postern." She had reached the top of the
+postern steps when she heard her father's voice, beyond the north
+wall of the terrace garden well up toward Bowling Green Hill. John,
+she knew, was at that moment climbing the hill. Immediately
+following the sound of her father's voice she heard another
+voice&mdash;that of her father's retainer, Sir John Guild. Then
+came the word "Halt!" quickly followed by the report of a fusil,
+and the sharp clinking of swords upon the hillside. She ran back to
+the wall, and saw the dimly outlined forms of four men. One of them
+was John, who was retreating up the hill. The others were following
+him. Sir George and Sir John Guild had unexpectedly returned from
+Derby. They had left their horses with the stable boys and were
+walking toward the kitchen door when Sir George noticed <a name=
+"Page_212" id="Page_212"></a>a man pass from behind the corner of
+the terrace garden wall and proceed up Bowling Green Hill. The man
+of course was John. Immediately Sir George and Guild, accompanied
+by a servant who was with them, started in pursuit of the intruder,
+and a moment afterward Dorothy heard her father's voice and the
+discharge of the fusil. She climbed to the top of the stile, filled
+with an agony of fear. Sir George was fifteen or twenty yards in
+advance of his companion, and when John saw that his pursuers were
+attacking him singly, he turned and quickly ran back to meet the
+warlike King of the Peak. By a few adroit turns with his sword John
+disarmed his antagonist, and rushing in upon him easily threw him
+to the ground by a wrestler's trick. Guild and the servant by that
+time were within six yards of Sir George and John.</p>
+<p>"Stop!" cried Manners, "your master is on the ground at my feet.
+My sword point is at his heart. Make but one step toward me and Sir
+George Vernon will be a dead man."</p>
+<p>Guild and the servant halted instantly.</p>
+<p>"What are your terms?" cried Guild, speaking with the haste
+which he well knew was necessary if he would save his master's
+life.</p>
+<p>"My terms are easy," answered John. "All I ask is that you allow
+me to depart in peace. I am here on no harmful errand, and I demand
+that I may depart and that I be not followed nor spied upon by any
+one."</p>
+<p>"You may depart in peace," said Guild. "No one will follow you;
+no one will spy upon you. To this I pledge my knightly word in the
+name of Christ my Saviour."</p>
+<p>John at once took his way unmolested up the hill and rode home
+with his heart full of fear lest his tryst with Dorothy had been
+discovered.</p>
+<p>Guild and the servant assisted Sir George to rise, and the three
+started down the hill toward the stile where Dorothy <a name=
+"Page_213" id="Page_213"></a>was standing. She was hidden from
+them, however, by the wall. Jennie Faxton, who had been on guard
+while John and Dorothy were at the gate, at Dorothy's suggestion
+stood on top of the stile where she could easily be seen by Sir
+George when he approached.</p>
+<p>"When my father comes here and questions you," said Dorothy to
+Jennie Faxton, "tell him that the man whom he attacked was your
+sweetheart."</p>
+<p>"Never fear, mistress," responded Jennie. "I will have a fine
+story for the master."</p>
+<p>Dorothy crouched inside the wall under the shadow of a bush, and
+Jennie waited on the top of the stile. Sir George, thinking the
+girl was Dorothy, lost no time in approaching her. He caught her
+roughly by the arm and turned her around that he might see her
+face.</p>
+<p>"By God, Guild," he muttered, "I have made a mistake. I thought
+the girl was Doll."</p>
+<p>He left instantly and followed Guild and the servant to the
+kitchen door. When Sir George left the stile, Dorothy hastened back
+to the postern of which she had the key, and hurried toward her
+room. She reached the door of her father's room just in time to see
+Sir George and Guild enter it. They saw her, and supposed her to be
+myself. If she hesitated, she was lost. But Dorothy never
+hesitated. To think, with her, was to act. She did not of course
+know that I was still in her apartments. She took the chance,
+however, and boldly followed Sir John Guild into her father's room.
+There she paused for a moment that she might not appear to be in
+too great haste, and then entered Aunt Dorothy's room where I was
+seated, waiting for her.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, my dear child," exclaimed Lady Crawford, clasping her
+arms about Dorothy's neck.</p>
+<p>"There is no time to waste in sentiment, Aunt Dorothy,"
+responded the girl. "Here are your sword and cloak, Mal<a name=
+"Page_214" id="Page_214"></a>colm. I thank you for their use. Don
+them quickly." I did so, and walked into Sir George's room, where
+that worthy old gentleman was dressing a slight wound in the hand.
+I stopped to speak with him; but he seemed disinclined to talk, and
+I left the room. He soon went to the upper court, and I presently
+followed him.</p>
+<p>Dorothy changed her garments, and she, Lady Crawford, and Madge
+also came to the upper court. The braziers in the courtyard had
+been lighted and cast a glare over two score half-clothed men and
+women who had been aroused from their beds by the commotion of the
+conflict on the hillside. Upon the upper steps of the courtyard
+stood Sir George and Jennie Faxton.</p>
+<p>"Who was the man you were with?" roughly demanded Sir George of
+the trembling Jennie. Jennie's trembling was assumed for the
+occasion.</p>
+<p>"I will not tell you his name," she replied with tears. "He is
+my sweetheart, and I will never come to the Hall again. Matters
+have come to a pretty pass when a maiden cannot speak with her
+sweetheart at the stile without he is set upon and beaten as if he
+were a hedgehog. My father is your leal henchman, and his daughter
+deserves better treatment at your hands than you have given
+me."</p>
+<p>"There, there!" said Sir George, placing his hand upon her head.
+"I was in the wrong. I did not know you had a sweetheart who wore a
+sword. When I saw you at the stile, I was sure you were another. I
+am glad I was wrong." So was Dorothy glad.</p>
+<p>"Everybody be off to bed," said Sir George. "Ben Shaw, see that
+the braziers are all blackened."</p>
+<p>Dorothy, Madge, and Lady Crawford returned to the latter's room,
+and Sir George and I entered after them. He was evidently softened
+in heart by the night's adventures and by the mistake he supposed
+he had made.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a>A selfish man grows hard
+toward those whom he injures. A generous heart grows tender. Sir
+George was generous, and the injustice he thought he had done to
+Dorothy made him eager to offer amends. The active evil in all Sir
+George's wrong-doing was the fact that he conscientiously thought
+he was in the right. Many a man has gone to hell
+backward&mdash;with his face honestly toward heaven. Sir George had
+not spoken to Dorothy since the scene wherein the key to Bowling
+Green Gate played so important a part.</p>
+<p>"Doll," said Sir George, "I thought you were at the stile with a
+man. I was mistaken. It was the Faxton girl. I beg your pardon, my
+daughter. I did you wrong."</p>
+<p>"You do me wrong in many matters, father," replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Perhaps I do," her father returned, "perhaps I do, but I mean
+for the best. I seek your happiness."</p>
+<p>"You take strange measures at times, father, to bring about my
+happiness," she replied.</p>
+<p>"Whom God loveth He chasteneth," replied Sir George,
+dolefully.</p>
+<p>"That manner of loving may be well enough for God," retorted
+Dorothy with no thought of irreverence, "but for man it is
+dangerous. Whom man loves he should cherish. A man who has a good,
+obedient daughter&mdash;one who loves him&mdash;will not imprison
+her, and, above all, he will not refuse to speak to her, nor will
+he cause her to suffer and to weep for lack of that love which is
+her right. A man has no right to bring a girl into this world and
+then cause her to suffer as you&mdash;as you&mdash;"</p>
+<p>She ceased speaking and sought refuge in silent feminine
+eloquence&mdash;tears. One would have sworn she had been grievously
+injured that night.</p>
+<p>"But I am older than you, Doll, and I know what is best for your
+happiness," said Sir George.</p>
+<p>"There are some things, father, which a girl knows with <a name=
+"Page_216" id="Page_216"></a>better, surer knowledge than the
+oldest man living. Solomon was wise because he had so many wives
+from whom he could absorb wisdom."</p>
+<p>"Ah, well!" answered Sir George, smiling in spite of himself,
+"you will have the last word."</p>
+<p>"Confess, father," she retorted quickly, "that you want the last
+word yourself."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps I do want it, but I'll never have it," returned Sir
+George; "kiss me, Doll, and be my child again."</p>
+<p>"That I will right gladly," she answered, throwing her arms
+about her father's neck and kissing him with real affection. Then
+Sir George said good night and started to leave. At the door he
+stopped, and stood for a little time in thought.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy," said he, speaking to Lady Crawford, "I relieve you of
+your duty as a guard over Doll. She may go and come when she
+chooses."</p>
+<p>"I thank you, George," said Aunt Dorothy. "The task has been
+painful to me."</p>
+<p>Dorothy went to her father and kissed him again, and Sir George
+departed.</p>
+<p>When the door was closed, Lady Crawford breathed a great sigh
+and said: "I thank Heaven, Dorothy, he does not know that you have
+been out of your room. How could you treat me so cruelly? How could
+you deceive me?"</p>
+<p>"That, Aunt Dorothy," replied the niece, "is because you are not
+old enough yet to be a match for a girl who is&mdash;who is in
+love."</p>
+<p>"Shame upon you, Dorothy!" said Lady Crawford. "Shame upon you,
+to act as you did, and now to speak so plainly about being in love!
+Malcolm said you were not a modest girl, and I am beginning to
+believe him."</p>
+<p>"Did Malcolm speak so ill of me?" asked Dorothy, turning toward
+me with a smile in her eyes.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a>My lady aunt," said I,
+turning to Lady Crawford, "when did I say that Dorothy was an
+immodest girl?"</p>
+<p>"You did not say it," the old lady admitted. "Dorothy herself
+said it, and she proves her words to be true by speaking so boldly
+of her feelings toward this&mdash;this strange man. And she speaks
+before Madge, too."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps Madge is in the same sort of trouble. Who knows?" cried
+Dorothy, laughing heartily. Madge blushed painfully. "But,"
+continued Dorothy, seriously, "I am not ashamed of it; I am proud
+of it. For what else, my dear aunt, was I created but to be in
+love? Tell me, dear aunt, for what else was I created?"</p>
+<p>"Perhaps you are right," returned the old lady, who in fact was
+sentimentally inclined.</p>
+<p>"The chief end of woman, after all, is to love," said Dorothy.
+"What would become of the human race if it were not?"</p>
+<p>"Child, child," cried the aunt, "where learned you such
+things?"</p>
+<p>"They were written upon my mother's breast," continued Dorothy,
+"and I learned them when I took in my life with her milk. I pray
+they may be written upon my breast some day, if God in His goodness
+shall ever bless me with a baby girl. A man child could not read
+the words."</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, Dorothy!" cried Lady Crawford, "you shock me. You pain
+me."</p>
+<p>"Again I ask," responded Dorothy, "for what else was I created?
+I tell you, Aunt Dorothy, the world decrees that women shall remain
+in ignorance, or in pretended ignorance&mdash;in silence at
+least&mdash;regarding the things concerning which they have the
+greatest need to be wise and talkative."</p>
+<p>"At your age, Dorothy, I did not have half your wisdom on the
+subject," answered Lady Crawford.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a>Tell me, my sweet Aunt
+Dorothy, were you really in a state of ignorance such as you would
+have me believe?"</p>
+<p>"Well," responded the old lady, hesitatingly, "I did not speak
+of such matters."</p>
+<p>"Why, aunt, did you not?" asked Dorothy. "Were you ashamed of
+what God had done? Were you ashamed of His great purpose in
+creating you a woman, and in creating your mother and your mother's
+mother before you?"</p>
+<p>"No, no, child; no, no. But I cannot argue with you. Perhaps you
+are right," said Aunt Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Then tell me, dear aunt, that I am not immodest and bold when I
+speak concerning that of which my heart is full to overflowing. God
+put it there, aunt, not I. Surely I am not immodest by reason of
+His act."</p>
+<p>"No, no, my sweet child," returned Aunt Dorothy, beginning to
+weep softly. "No, no, you are not immodest. You are worth a
+thousand weak fools such as I was at your age."</p>
+<p>Poor Aunt Dorothy had been forced into a marriage which had
+wrecked her life. Dorothy's words opened her aunt's eyes to the
+fact that the girl whom she so dearly loved was being thrust by Sir
+George into the same wretched fate through which she had dragged
+her own suffering heart for so many years. From that hour she was
+Dorothy's ally.</p>
+<p>"Good night, Malcolm," said Lady Crawford, offering me her hand.
+I kissed it tenderly; then I kissed the sweet old lady's cheek and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I love you with all my heart, Aunt Dorothy."</p>
+<p>"I thank you, Malcolm," she returned.</p>
+<p>I took my leave, and soon Madge went to her room, leaving
+Dorothy and Lady Crawford together.</p>
+<p>When Madge had gone the two Dorothys, one at each end of life,
+spanned the long years that separated them, <a name="Page_219" id=
+"Page_219"></a>and became one in heart by reason of a heartache
+common to both.</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford seated herself and Dorothy knelt by her chair.</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Dorothy," said the old lady, "tell me, do you love
+this man so tenderly, so passionately that you cannot give him
+up?"</p>
+<p>"Ah, my dear aunt," the girl responded, "words cannot tell. You
+cannot know what I feel."</p>
+<p>"Alas! I know only too well, my child. I, too, loved a man when
+I was your age, and none but God knows what I suffered when I was
+forced by my parents and the priests to give him up, and to wed one
+whom&mdash;God help me&mdash;I loathed."</p>
+<p>"Oh, my sweet aunt!" cried Dorothy softly, throwing her arms
+about the old lady's neck and kissing her cheek. "How terribly you
+must have suffered!"</p>
+<p>"Yes," responded Lady Crawford, "and I am resolved you shall not
+endure the same fate. I hope the man who has won your love is
+worthy of you. Do not tell me his name, for I do not wish to
+practise greater deception toward your father than I must. But you
+may tell me of his station in life, and of his person, that I may
+know he is not unworthy of you."</p>
+<p>"His station in life," answered Dorothy, "is far better than
+mine. In person he is handsome beyond any woman's wildest dream of
+manly beauty. In character he is noble, generous, and good. He is
+far beyond my deserts, Aunt Dorothy."</p>
+<p>"Then why does he not seek your hand from your father?" asked
+the aunt.</p>
+<p>"That I may not tell you, Aunt Dorothy," returned the girl,
+"unless you would have me tell you his name, and that I dare not
+do. Although he is vastly my superior in station, in blood, and in
+character, still my father would <a name="Page_220" id=
+"Page_220"></a>kill me before he would permit me to marry this man
+of my choice; and I, dear aunt, fear I shall die if I have him
+not."</p>
+<p>Light slowly dawned upon Aunt Dorothy's mind, and she exclaimed
+in a terrified whisper:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My God, child, is it he?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," responded the girl, "yes, it is he."</p>
+<p>"Do not speak his name, Dorothy," the old lady said. "Do not
+speak his name. So long as you do not tell me, I cannot know with
+certainty who he is." After a pause Aunt Dorothy continued,
+"Perhaps, child, it was his father whom I loved and was compelled
+to give up."</p>
+<p>"May the blessed Virgin pity us, sweet aunt," cried Dorothy,
+caressingly.</p>
+<p>"And help us," returned Lady Crawford. "I, too, shall help you,"
+she continued. "It will be through no fault of mine if your life is
+wasted as mine has been."</p>
+<p>Dorothy kissed her aunt and retired.</p>
+<p>Next morning when Dorothy arose a song came from her heart as it
+comes from the skylark when it sees the sun at dawn&mdash;because
+it cannot help singing. It awakened Aunt Dorothy, and she began to
+live her life anew, in brightness, as she steeped her soul in the
+youth and joyousness of Dorothy Vernon's song.</p>
+<p>I have spoken before in this chronicle of Will Dawson. He was a
+Conformer. Possibly it was by reason of his religious faith that he
+did not share the general enmity that existed in Haddon Hall
+against the house of Rutland. He did not, at the time of which I
+speak, know Sir John Manners, and he did not suspect that the heir
+to Rutland was the man who had of late been causing so much trouble
+to the house of Vernon. At least, if he did suspect it, no one knew
+of his suspicions.</p>
+<p>Sir George made a great effort to learn who the mysterious
+interloper was, but he wholly failed to obtain any clew <a name=
+"Page_221" id="Page_221"></a>to his identity. He had jumped to the
+conclusion that Dorothy's mysterious lover was a man of low degree.
+He had taken for granted that he was an adventurer whose station
+and person precluded him from openly wooing his daughter. He did
+not know that the heir to Rutland was in the Derbyshire country;
+for John, after his first meeting with Dorothy, had carefully
+concealed his presence from everybody save the inmates of Rutland.
+In fact, his mission to Rutland required secrecy, and the Rutland
+servants and retainers were given to understand as much. Even had
+Sir George known of John's presence at Rutland, the old gentleman's
+mind could not have compassed the thought that Dorothy, who, he
+believed, hated the race of Manners with an intensity equalled only
+by his own feelings, could be induced to exchange a word with a
+member of the house. His uncertainty was not the least of his
+troubles; and although Dorothy had full liberty to come and go at
+will, her father kept constant watch over her. As a matter of fact,
+Sir George had given Dorothy liberty partly for the purpose of
+watching her, and he hoped to discover thereby and, if possible, to
+capture the man who had brought trouble to his household. Sir
+George had once hanged a man to a tree on Bowling Green Hill by no
+other authority than his own desire. That execution was the last in
+England under the old Saxon law of Infangthef and Outfangthef. Sir
+George had been summoned before Parliament for the deed; but the
+writ had issued against the King of the Peak, and that being only a
+sobriquet, was neither Sir George's name nor his title. So the writ
+was quashed, and the high-handed act of personal justice was not
+farther investigated by the authorities. Should my cousin capture
+his daughter's lover, there would certainly be another execution
+under the old Saxon law. So you see that my friend Manners was
+tickling death with a straw for Dorothy's sake.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a>One day Dawson approached
+Sir George and told him that a man sought employment in the
+household of Haddon Hall. Sir George placed great confidence in his
+forester; so he told Dawson to employ the man if his services were
+needed. The new servant proved to be a fine, strong fellow, having
+a great shock of carrot-colored hair and a bushy beard of rusty
+red.</p>
+<p>Dawson engaged the newcomer, and assigned to him the duty of
+kindling the fires in the family apartments of the Hall. The name
+of the new servant was Thomas Thompson, a name that Dorothy soon
+abbreviated to Tom-Tom.</p>
+<p>One day she said to him, by way of opening the acquaintance,
+"Thomas, you and I should be good friends; we have so much in
+common."</p>
+<p>"Thank you, my lady," responded Thomas, greatly pleased. "I hope
+we shall be good friends; indeed, indeed I do, but I cannot tell
+wherein I am so fortunate as to have anything in common with your
+Ladyship. What is it, may I ask, of which we have so much in
+common?"</p>
+<p>"So much hair," responded Dorothy, laughing.</p>
+<p>"It were blasphemy, lady, to compare my hair with yours,"
+returned Thomas. "Your hair, I make sure, is such as the blessed
+Virgin had. I ask your pardon for speaking so plainly; but your
+words put the thought into my mind, and perhaps they gave me
+license to speak."</p>
+<p>Thomas was on his knees, placing wood upon the fire.</p>
+<p>"Thomas," returned Dorothy, "you need never apologize to a lady
+for making so fine a speech. I declare a courtier could not have
+made a better one."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps I have lived among courtiers, lady," said Thomas.</p>
+<p>"I doubt not," replied Dorothy, derisively. "You would have me
+believe you are above your station. It is the way <a name=
+"Page_223" id="Page_223"></a>with all new servants. I suppose you
+have seen fine company and better days."</p>
+<p>"I have never seen finer company than now, and I have never
+known better days than this," responded courtier Thomas. Dorothy
+thought he was presuming on her condescension, and was about to
+tell him so when he continued: "The servants at Haddon Hall are
+gentlefolk compared with servants at other places where I have
+worked, and I desire nothing more than to find favor in Sir
+George's eyes. I would do anything to achieve that end."</p>
+<p>Dorothy was not entirely reassured by Thomas's closing words;
+but even if they were presumptuous, she admired his wit in giving
+them an inoffensive turn. From that day forth the acquaintance grew
+between the servant and mistress until it reached the point of
+familiarity at which Dorothy dubbed him Tom-Tom.</p>
+<p>Frequently Dorothy was startled by remarks made by Thomas,
+having in them a strong dash of familiarity; but he always gave to
+his words a harmless turn before she could resent them. At times,
+however, she was not quite sure of his intention.</p>
+<p>Within a week after Thomas's advent to the hall, Dorothy began
+to suspect that the new servant looked upon her with eyes of great
+favor. She frequently caught him watching her, and at such times
+his eyes, which Dorothy thought were really very fine, would glow
+with an ardor all too evident. His manner was cause for amusement
+rather than concern, and since she felt kindly toward the new
+servant, she thought to create a faithful ally by treating him
+graciously. She might, she thought, need Thomas's help when the
+time should come for her to leave Haddon Hall with John, if that
+happy time should ever come. She did not realize that the most
+dangerous, watchful enemy to her cherished scheme would be a
+<a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a>man who was himself in love
+with her, even though he were a servant, and she looked on Thomas's
+evident infatuation with a smile. She did not once think that in
+the end it might cause her great trouble, so she accepted his mute
+admiration, and thought to make use of it later on. To Tom,
+therefore, Dorothy was gracious.</p>
+<p>John had sent word to Dorothy, by Jennie Faxton, that he had
+gone to London, and would be there for a fortnight or more.</p>
+<p>Sir George had given permission to his daughter to ride out
+whenever she wished to do so, but he had ordered that Dawson or I
+should follow in the capacity of spy, and Dorothy knew of the
+censorship, though she pretended ignorance of it. So long as John
+was in London she did not care who followed her; but I well knew
+that when Manners should return, Dorothy would again begin
+manoeuvring, and that by some cunning trick she would see him.</p>
+<p>One afternoon I was temporarily absent from the Hall and Dorothy
+wished to ride. Dawson was engaged, and when Dorothy had departed,
+he ordered Tom to ride after his mistress at a respectful distance.
+Nearly a fortnight had passed since John had gone to London, and
+when Dorothy rode forth that afternoon she was beginning to hope he
+might have returned, and that by some delightful possibility he
+might then be loitering about the old trysting-place at Bowling
+Green Gate. There was a half-unconscious conviction in her heart
+that he would be there. She determined therefore, to ride toward
+Rowsley, to cross the Wye at her former fording-place, and to go up
+to Bowling Green Gate on the Devonshire side of the Haddon wall.
+She had no reason, other than the feeling born of her wishes, to
+believe that John would be there; but she loved the spot for the
+sake of the memories which hovered about it. She well knew that
+some one would follow her from the Hall; but she felt sure that in
+case the spy<a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a> proved to be
+Dawson or myself, she could easily arrange matters to her
+satisfaction, if by good fortune she should find her lover at the
+gate.</p>
+<p>Tom rode so far behind his mistress that she could not determine
+who was following her. Whenever she brought Dolcy to a walk,
+Tom-Tom also walked his horse. When Dorothy galloped, he galloped;
+but after Dorothy had crossed the Wye and had taken the wall over
+into the Devonshire lands, Tom also crossed the river and wall and
+quickly rode to her side. He uncovered and bowed low with a
+familiarity of manner that startled her. The act of riding up to
+her and the manner in which he took his place by her side were
+presumptuous to the point of insolence, and his attitude, although
+not openly offensive, was slightly alarming. She put Dolcy to a
+gallop; but the servant who, she thought, was presuming on her
+former graciousness, kept close at Dolcy's heels. The man was a
+stranger, and she knew nothing of his character. She was alone in
+the forest with him, and she did not know to what length his absurd
+passion for her might lead him. She was alarmed, but she despised
+cowardice, although she knew herself to be a coward, and she
+determined to ride to the gate, which was but a short distance
+ahead of her. She resolved that if the insolent fellow continued
+his familiarity, she would teach him a lesson he would never
+forget. When she was within a short distance of the gate she sprang
+from Dolcy and handed her rein to her servant. John was not there,
+but she went to the gate in the hope that a letter might be hidden
+beneath the stone bench where Jennie was wont to find them in times
+past. Dorothy found no letter, but she could not resist the
+temptation to sit down upon the bench where he and she had sat, and
+to dream over the happy moments she had spent there. Tom, instead
+of holding the horses, hitched them, and walked toward Dorothy.
+That act on <a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a>the part of her
+servant was effrontery of the most insolent sort. Will Dawson
+himself would not have dared do such a thing. It filled her with
+alarm, and as Tom approached she was trying to determine in what
+manner she would crush him. But when the audacious Thomas, having
+reached the gate, seated himself beside his mistress on the stone
+bench, the girl sprang to her feet in fright and indignation. She
+began to realize the extent of her foolhardiness in going to that
+secluded spot with a stranger.</p>
+<p>"How dare you approach me in this insolent fashion?" cried
+Dorothy, breathless with fear.</p>
+<p>"Mistress Vernon," responded Thomas, looking boldly up into her
+pale face, "I wager you a gold pound sterling that if you permit me
+to remain here by your side ten minutes you will be
+unwilling&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"John, John!" cried the girl, exultantly. Tom snatched the red
+beard from his face, and Dorothy, after one fleeting, luminous look
+into his eyes, fell upon her knees and buried her face in her
+hands. She wept, and John, bending over the kneeling girl, kissed
+her sunlit hair.</p>
+<p>"Cruel, cruel," sobbed Dorothy. Then she lifted her head and
+clasped her hands about his neck. "Is it not strange," she
+continued, "that I should have felt so sure of seeing you? My
+reason kept telling me that my hopes were absurd, but a stronger
+feeling full of the breath of certainty seemed to assure me that
+you would be here. It impelled me to come, though I feared you
+after we crossed the wall. But reason, fear, and caution were
+powerless to keep me away."</p>
+<p>"You did not know my voice," said John, "nor did you penetrate
+my disguise. You once said that you would recognize me though I
+wore all the petticoats in Derbyshire."</p>
+<p>"Please don't jest with me now," pleaded Dorothy. "I cannot bear
+it. Great joy is harder to endure than great grief. Why did you not
+reveal yourself to me at the Hall?" she asked plaintively.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a>I found no opportunity,"
+returned John, "others were always present."</p>
+<p>I shall tell you nothing that followed. It is no affair of yours
+nor of mine.</p>
+<p>They were overjoyed in being together once more. Neither of them
+seemed to realize that John, while living under Sir George's roof,
+was facing death every moment. To Dorothy, the fact that John, who
+was heir to one of England's noblest houses, was willing for her
+sake to become a servant, to do a servant's work, and to receive
+the indignities constantly put upon a servant, appealed most
+powerfully. It added to her feeling for him a tenderness which is
+not necessarily a part of passionate love.</p>
+<p>It is needless for me to tell you that while John performed
+faithfully the duty of keeping bright the fires in Haddon Hall, he
+did not neglect the other flame&mdash;the one in Dorothy's
+heart&mdash;for the sake of whose warmth he had assumed the
+leathern garb of servitude and had placed his head in the lion's
+mouth.</p>
+<p>At first he and Dorothy used great caution in exchanging words
+and glances, but familiarity with danger breeds contempt for it. So
+they utilized every opportunity that niggard chance offered, and
+blinded by their great longing soon began to make opportunities for
+speech with each other, thereby bringing trouble to Dorothy and
+deadly peril to John. Of that I shall soon tell you.</p>
+<p>During the period of John's service in Haddon Hall negotiations
+for Dorothy's marriage with Lord Stanley were progressing slowly
+but surely. Arrangements for the marriage settlement by the
+Stanleys, and for Dorothy's dower to be given by Sir George, were
+matters that the King of the Peak approached boldly as he would
+have met any other affair of business. But the Earl of Derby, whose
+mind moved slowly, desiring that a generous portion of the Vernon
+wealth should be transferred with Dorothy <a name="Page_228" id=
+"Page_228"></a>to the Stanley holdings without the delay incident
+to Sir George's death, put off signing the articles of marriage in
+his effort to augment the cash payment. In truth, the great wealth
+which Dorothy would bring to the house of Stanley was the earl's
+real reason for desiring her marriage with his son. The earl was
+heavily in debt, and his estate stood in dire need of help.</p>
+<p>Sir George, though attracted by the high nobility of the house
+of Stanley, did not relish the thought that the wealth he had
+accumulated by his own efforts, and the Vernon estates which had
+come down to him through centuries, should go to pay Lord Derby's
+debts. He therefore insisted that Dorothy's dower should be her
+separate estate, and demanded that it should remain untouched and
+untouchable by either of the Stanleys. That arrangement did not
+suit my lord earl, and although the son since he had seen Dorothy
+at Derby-town was eager to possess the beautiful girl, his father
+did not share his ardor. Lawyers were called in who looked
+expensively wise, but they accomplished the purpose for which they
+were employed. An agreement of marriage was made and was drawn up
+on an imposing piece of parchment, brave with ribbons, pompous with
+seals, and fair in clerkly penmanship.</p>
+<p>One day Sir George showed me the copy of the contract which had
+been prepared for him. That evening at the cost of much labor he
+and I went over the indenture word for word, and when we had
+finished Sir George thought it was very good indeed. He seemed to
+think that all difficulties in the way of the marriage were
+overcome when the agreement that lay before us on the table had
+been achieved between him and the earl. I knew Sir George's
+troubles had only begun; for I was aware of a fact which it seemed
+impossible for him to learn, though of late Dorothy had given him
+much teaching thereto. I knew that he had transmitted to his
+daughter a large portion of his own <a name="Page_229" id=
+"Page_229"></a>fierce, stubborn, unbreakable will, and that in her
+it existed in its most deadly form&mdash;the feminine. To me after
+supper that night was assigned the task of reading and rereading
+many times to Sir George the contents of the beautiful parchment.
+When I would read a clause that particularly pleased my cousin, he
+insisted on celebrating the event by drinking a mug of liquor drawn
+from a huge leather stoup which sat upon the table between us. By
+the time I had made several readings of the interesting document
+the characters began to mingle in a way that did not impart ease
+and clearness to my style. Some of the strange combinations which I
+and the liquor extracted from amid the seals and ribbons puzzled
+Sir George not a little. But with each new libation he found new
+clauses and fresh causes for self-congratulation, though to speak
+exact truth I more than once married Sir George to the Earl of
+Derby, and in my profanity gave Lord James Stanley to the devil to
+have and to hold.</p>
+<p>Sir George was rapidly falling before his mighty enemy, drink,
+and I was not far behind him, though I admit the fault with shame.
+My cousin for a while was mightily pleased with the contract; but
+when the liquor had brought him to a point where he was entirely
+candid with himself, he let slip the fact that after all there was
+regret at the bottom of the goblet, metaphorically and actually.
+Before his final surrender to drink he dropped the immediate
+consideration of the contract and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, I have in my time known many fools, but if you will
+permit an old man, who loves you dearly, to make a plain statement
+of his conviction&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Certainly," I interrupted.</p>
+<p>"It would be a great relief to me," he continued, "to say that I
+believe you to be the greatest fool the good God ever permitted to
+live."</p>
+<p>"I am sure, Sir George, that your condescending flattery is very
+pleasing," I said.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a>Sir George, unmindful of my
+remark, continued, "Your disease is not usually a deadly malady, as
+a look about you will easily show; but, Malcolm, if you were one
+whit more of a fool, you certainly would perish."</p>
+<p>I was not offended, for I knew that my cousin meant no
+offence.</p>
+<p>"Then, Sir George, if the time ever comes when I wish to commit
+suicide, I have always at hand an easy, painless mode of death. I
+shall become only a little more of a fool." I laughingly said, "I
+will do my utmost to absorb a little wisdom now and then as a
+preventive."</p>
+<p>"Never a bit of wisdom will you ever absorb. A man who would
+refuse a girl whose wealth and beauty are as great as Dorothy's, is
+past all hope. I often awaken in the dark corners of the night when
+a man's troubles stalk about his bed like livid demons; and when I
+think that all of this evil which has come up between Dorothy and
+me, and all of this cursed estrangement which is eating out my
+heart could have been averted if you had consented to marry her, I
+cannot but feel&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"But, Sir George," I interrupted, "it was Dorothy, not I, who
+refused. She could never have been brought to marry me."</p>
+<p>"Don't tell me, Malcolm; don't tell me," cried the old man,
+angrily. Drink had made Sir George sullen and violent. It made me
+happy at first; but with liquor in excess there always came to me a
+sort of frenzy.</p>
+<p>"Don't tell me," continued Sir George. "There never lived a
+Vernon who couldn't win a woman if he would try. But put all that
+aside. She would have obeyed me. I would have forced her to marry
+you, and she would have thanked me afterward."</p>
+<p>"You could never have forced her to marry me," I replied.</p>
+<p>"But that I could and that I would have done," said Sir George.
+"The like is done every day. Girls in these <a name="Page_231" id=
+"Page_231"></a>modern times are all perverse, but they are made to
+yield. Take the cases of Sir Thomas Mobley, Sir Grant Rhodas, and
+William Kimm. Their daughters all refused to marry the men chosen
+for them, but the wenches were made to yield. If I had a daughter
+who refused to obey me, I would break her; I would break her. Yes,
+by God, I would break her if I had to kill her," and the old man
+brought his clenched hand down upon the oak table with a crash. His
+eyes glared frightfully, and his face bore a forbidding expression
+which boded no good for Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"She will make trouble in this matter," Sir George continued,
+tapping the parchment with his middle finger.</p>
+<p>"She will make trouble about this; but, by God, Malcolm, she
+shall obey me."</p>
+<p>He struck the oaken table another great blow with his fist, and
+glared fiercely across at me.</p>
+<p>"Lord Wyatt had trouble with his daughter when he made the
+marriage with Devonshire," continued Sir George.</p>
+<p>"A damned good match it was, too, for the girl. But she had her
+heart set on young Gillman, and she refused to obey her father. She
+refused, by God, point blank, to obey her father. She refused to
+obey the man who had given her life. What did Wyatt do? He was a
+man who knew what a child owes to its father, and, by God, Malcolm,
+after trying every other means to bring the wench to her senses,
+after he had tried persuasion, after having in two priests and a
+bishop to show her how badly she was acting, and after he had tried
+to reason with her, he whipped her; yes, he whipped her till she
+bled&mdash;till she bled, Malcolm, I tell you. Ah, Wyatt knew what
+is due from a child to its parents. The whipping failed to bring
+the perverse huzzy to obedience, so Wyatt threw her into a dungeon
+and starved her till&mdash;till&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Till she died," I interrupted.</p>
+<p>"Yes, till she died," mumbled Sir George, sullenly, "till she
+died, and it served her right, by God, served her right."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a>The old man was growing
+very drunk, and everything was beginning to appear distorted to me.
+Sir George rose to his feet, leaned toward me with glaring eyes,
+struck the table a terrible blow with his fist, and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"By the blood of God I swear that if Doll refuses to marry
+Stanley, and persists in her refusal, I'll whip her. Wyatt is a man
+after my own heart. I'll starve her. I'll kill her. Ay, if I loved
+her ten thousand times more than I do, I would kill her or she
+should obey me."</p>
+<p>Then dawned upon me a vision of terrible possibilities. I was
+sure Sir George could not force Dorothy to marry against her will;
+but I feared lest he might kill her in his effort to "break her." I
+do not mean that I feared he would kill her by a direct act, unless
+he should do so in a moment of frenzy induced by drink and passion,
+but I did fear for the results of the breaking process. The like
+had often happened. It had happened in the case of Wyatt's
+daughter. Dorothy under the intoxicating influence of her passion
+might become so possessed by the spirit of a martyr that she could
+calmly take a flogging, but my belief was that should matters
+proceed to that extreme, should Sir George flog his daughter, the
+chords of her highly strung nature would snap under the tension,
+and she would die. I loved Dorothy for the sake of her fierce,
+passionate, tender heart, and because she loved me; and even in my
+sober, reflective moments I had resolved that my life, ay, and Sir
+George's life also, should stand between the girl and the lash. If
+in calmness I could deliberately form such a resolution, imagine
+the effect on my liquor-crazed brain of Sir George's words and the
+vista of horrors they disclosed. I was intoxicated. I was drunk. I
+say it with shame; and on hearing Sir George's threat my
+half-frenzied imagination ran riot into the foreboding future.</p>
+<p>All the candles, save one tottering wick, were dead in their
+sockets, and the room was filled with lowering phan<a name=
+"Page_233" id="Page_233"></a>tom-like shadows from oaken floor to
+grimy vaulted roof beams. Sir George, hardly conscious of what he
+did and said, all his evil passions quickened with drink, leaned
+his hands upon the table and glared across at me. He seemed to be
+the incarnation of rage and ferocity, to so great a pitch had he
+wrought himself. The sputtering candle feebly flickered, and seemed
+to give its dim light only that the darksome shadows might flit and
+hover about us like vampires on the scent of blood. A cold
+perspiration induced by a nameless fear came upon me, and in that
+dark future to which my heated imagination travelled I saw, as if
+revealed by black magic, fair, sweet, generous Dorothy, standing
+piteously upon Bowling Green hillside. Over her drooping form there
+hung in air a monster cloudlike image of her father holding in its
+hand a deadly bludgeon. So black, so horrid was this shadow-demon
+that I sprang from my chair with a frightful oath, and
+shrieked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Hell is made for man because of his cruelty to woman."</p>
+<p>Sir George had sunk into his chair. Liquor had finished its
+work, and the old man, resting his head upon his folded arms,
+leaned forward on the table. He was drunk&mdash;dead to the world.
+How long I stood in frenzied stupor gazing at shadow-stricken
+Dorothy upon the hillside I do not know. It must have been several
+minutes. Blood of Christ, how vividly I remember the vision! The
+sunny radiance of the girl's hair was darkened and dead. Her
+bending attitude was one of abject grief. Her hands covered her
+face, and she was the image of woe. Suddenly she lifted her head
+with the quick impulsive movement so familiar in her, and with a
+cry eloquent as a child's wail for its mother called, "John," and
+held out her arms imploringly toward the dim shadowy form of her
+lover standing upon the hill crest. Then John's form began to fade,
+and as its shadowy essence grew dim, <a name="Page_234" id=
+"Page_234"></a>despair slowly stole like a mask of death over
+Dorothy's face. She stood for a moment gazing vacantly into space.
+Then she fell to the ground, the shadow of her father hovering over
+her prostrate form, and the words, "Dead, dead, dead," came to me
+in horrifying whispers from every dancing shadow-demon in the
+room.</p>
+<p>In trying to locate the whispers as they reverberated from floor
+to oaken rafters, I turned and saw Sir George. He looked as if he
+were dead.</p>
+<p>"Why should you not be dead in fact?" I cried. "You would kill
+your daughter. Why should I not kill you? That will solve the whole
+question."</p>
+<p>I revelled in the thought; I drank it in; I nursed it; I cuddled
+it; I kissed it. Nature's brutish love for murder had deluged my
+soul. I put my hand to my side for the purpose of drawing my sword
+or my knife. I had neither with me. Then I remember staggering
+toward the fireplace to get one of the fire-irons with which to
+kill my cousin. I remember that when I grasped the fire-iron, by
+the strange working of habit I employed it for the moment in its
+proper use; and as I began to stir the embers on the hearth, my
+original purpose was forgotten. That moment of habit-wrought
+forgetfulness saved me and saved Sir George's life. I remember that
+I sank into the chair in front of the fireplace, holding the iron,
+and I thank God that I remember nothing more.</p>
+<p>During the night the servants aroused me, and I staggered up the
+stone stairway of Eagle Tower and clambered into my room.</p>
+<p>The next morning I awakened feeling ill. There was a taste in my
+mouth as If I had been chewing a piece of the devil's boot over
+night. I wanted no breakfast, so I climbed to the top of the tower,
+hoping the fresh morning breeze might cool my head and cleanse my
+mouth. For a moment or two I stood on the tower roof bareheaded and
+open-<a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a>mouthed while I drank in
+the fresh, purifying air. The sweet draught helped me physically;
+but all the winds of Boreas could not have blown out of my head the
+vision of the previous night. The question, "Was it prophetic?"
+kept ringing in my ears, answerless save by a superstitious feeling
+of fear. Then the horrid thought that I had only by a mere chance
+missed becoming a murderer came upon me, and again was crowded from
+my mind by the memory of Dorothy and the hovering spectre which had
+hung over her head on Bowling Green hillside.</p>
+<p>I walked to the north side of the tower and on looking down the
+first person I saw was our new servant, Thomas, holding two horses
+at the mounting stand. One of them was Dolcy, and I, feeling that a
+brisk ride with Dorothy would help me to throw off my wretchedness,
+quickly descended the tower stairs, stopped at my room for my hat
+and cloak, and walked around to the mounting block. Dorothy was
+going to ride, and I supposed she would prefer me to the new
+servant as a companion.</p>
+<p>I asked Thomas if his mistress were going out for a ride, and he
+replied affirmatively.</p>
+<p>"Who is to accompany her?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"She gave orders for me to go with her," he answered.</p>
+<p>"Very well," I responded, "take your horse back to the stable
+and fetch mine." The man hesitated, and twice he began to make
+reply, but finally he said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Very well, Sir Malcolm."</p>
+<p>He hitched Dolcy to the ring in the mounting block and started
+back toward the stable leading his own horse. At that moment
+Dorothy came out of the tower gate, dressed for the ride. Surely no
+woman was ever more beautiful than she that morning.</p>
+<p>"Tom-Tom, where are you taking the horse?" she cried.</p>
+<p>"To the stable, Mistress," answered the servant. "Sir Malcolm
+says he will go with you."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a>Dorothy's joyousness
+vanished. From radiant brightness her expression changed in the
+twinkling of an eye to a look of disappointment so sorrowful that I
+at once knew there was some great reason why she did not wish me to
+ride with her. I could not divine the reason, neither did I try. I
+quickly said to Thomas:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Do not bring my horse. If Mistress Vernon will excuse me, I
+shall not ride with her this morning. I forgot for the moment that
+I had not breakfasted."</p>
+<p>Again came to Dorothy's face the radiant look of joy as if to
+affirm what it had already told me. I looked toward Thomas, and his
+eyes, too, were alight. I could make nothing of it. Thomas was a
+fine-looking fellow, notwithstanding his preposterous hair and
+beard; but I felt sure there could be no understanding between the
+man and his mistress.</p>
+<p>When Thomas and Dorothy had mounted, she timidly ventured to
+say:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"We are sorry, Cousin Malcolm, that you cannot ride with
+us."</p>
+<p>She did not give me an opportunity to change my mind, but struck
+Dolcy a sharp blow with her whip that sent the spirited mare
+galloping toward the dove-cote, and Thomas quickly followed at a
+respectful distance. From the dove-cote Dorothy took the path down
+the Wye toward Rowsley. I, of course, connected her strange conduct
+with John. When a young woman who is well balanced physically,
+mentally, and morally acts in a strange, unusual manner, you may
+depend on it there is a man somewhere behind her motive.</p>
+<p>I knew that John was in London. Only the night before I had
+received word from Rutland Castle that he had not returned, and
+that he was not expected home for many days.</p>
+<p>So I concluded that John could not be behind my fair <a name=
+"Page_237" id="Page_237"></a>cousin's motive. I tried to stop
+guessing at the riddle Dorothy had set me, but my effort was
+useless. I wondered and thought and guessed, but I brought to
+myself only the answer, "Great is the mystery of womanhood."</p>
+<p>After Dorothy had ridden away I again climbed to the top of
+Eagle Tower and saw the riders cross the Wye at Dorothy's former
+fording-place, and take the wall. I then did a thing that fills me
+with shame when I think of it. For the only time in my whole life I
+acted the part of a spy. I hurried to Bowling Green Gate, and
+horror upon horror, there I beheld my cousin Dorothy in the arms of
+Thomas, the man-servant. I do not know why the truth of Thomas's
+identity did not dawn upon me, but it did not, and I stole away
+from the gate, thinking that Dorothy, after all, was no better than
+the other women I had known at various times in my life, and I
+resolved to tell John what I had seen. You must remember that the
+women I had known were of the courts of Mary Stuart and of Guise,
+and the less we say about them the better. God pity them! Prior to
+my acquaintance with Dorothy and Madge I had always considered a
+man to be a fool who would put his faith in womankind. To me women
+were as good as men,&mdash;no better, no worse. But with my
+knowledge of those two girls there had grown up in me a faith in
+woman's virtue which in my opinion is man's greatest comforter; the
+lack of it his greatest torment.</p>
+<p>I went back to Eagle Tower and stood at my window looking down
+the Wye, hoping soon to see Dorothy returning home. I did not feel
+jealousy in the sense that a lover would feel it; but there was a
+pain in my heart, a mingling of grief, anger, and resentment
+because Dorothy had destroyed not only my faith in her, but, alas!
+my sweet, new-born faith in womankind. Through her fault I had
+fallen again to my old, black belief that virtue was only another
+name for the lack of opportunity. It is easy for a man <a name=
+"Page_238" id="Page_238"></a>who has never known virtue in woman to
+bear and forbear the lack of it; but when once he has known the
+priceless treasure, doubt becomes excruciating pain.</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v238" id="v238"></a> <img src=
+"images/v238.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>After an hour or two Dorothy and her servant appeared at the
+ford and took the path up the Wye toward Haddon. Thomas was riding
+a short distance behind his accommodating mistress, and as they
+approached the Hall, I recognized something familiar in his figure.
+At first, the feeling of recognition was indistinct, but when the
+riders drew near, something about the man&mdash;his poise on the
+horse, a trick with the rein or a turn with his stirrup, I could
+not tell what it was&mdash;startled me like a flash in the dark,
+and the word "John!" sprang to my lips. The wonder of the thing
+drove out of my mind all power to think. I could only feel happy,
+so I lay down upon my bed and soon dropped off to sleep.</p>
+<p>When I awakened I was rapt in peace, for I had again found my
+treasured faith in womankind. I had hardly dared include Madge in
+my backsliding, but I had come perilously near doing it, and the
+thought of my narrow escape from such perfidy frightened me. I have
+never taken the risk since that day. I would not believe the
+testimony of my own eyes against the evidence of my faith in
+Madge.</p>
+<p>I knew that Thomas was Sir John Manners, and yet I did not know
+it certainly. I determined, if possible, to remain in partial
+ignorance, hoping that I might with some small show of truth be
+able to plead ignorance should Sir George accuse me of bad faith in
+having failed to tell him of John's presence in Haddon Hall. That
+Sir George would sooner or later discover Thomas's identity I had
+little doubt. That he would kill him should he once have him in his
+power, I had no doubt at all. Hence, although I had awakened in
+peace concerning Dorothy, you may understand that I awakened to
+trouble concerning John.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><a name="Page_239" id=
+"Page_239"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<h2>THE COST MARK OF JOY</h2>
+<p>Peace had been restored between Dorothy and her father. At least
+an armistice had been tacitly declared. But, owing to Dorothy's
+knowledge of her father's intention that she should marry Lord
+Stanley, and because of Sir George's feeling that Dorothy had
+determined to do nothing of the sort, the belligerent powers
+maintained a defensive attitude which rendered an absolute
+reconciliation impossible. They were ready for war at a moment's
+notice.</p>
+<p>The strangest part of their relation was the failure of each to
+comprehend and fully to realize the full strength of the other's
+purpose. Dorothy could not bring herself to believe that her
+father, who had until within the last few weeks, been kind and
+indulgent to her, seriously intended to force her into marriage
+with a creature so despicable as Stanley. In fact, she did not
+believe that her father could offer lasting resistance to her
+ardent desire in any matter. Such an untoward happening had never
+befallen her. Dorothy had learned to believe from agreeable
+experience that it was a crime in any one, bordering on treason, to
+thwart her ardent desires. It is true she had in certain events,
+been compelled to coax and even to weep gently. On a few extreme
+occasions she had been forced to do a little storming in order to
+have her own way; but that any presumptuous individuals should
+resist her will after the storming had <a name="Page_240" id=
+"Page_240"></a>been resorted to was an event of such recent
+happening in her life that she had not grown familiar with the
+thought of it. Therefore, while she felt that her father might
+seriously annoy her with the Stanley project, and while she
+realized that she might be compelled to resort to the storming
+process in a degree thitherto uncalled for, she believed that the
+storm she would raise would blow her father entirely out of his
+absurd and utterly untenable position. On the other hand, while Sir
+George anticipated trouble with Dorothy, he had never been able to
+believe that she would absolutely refuse to obey him. In those
+olden times&mdash;now nearly half a century past&mdash;filial
+disobedience was rare. The refusal of a child to obey a parent, and
+especially the refusal of a daughter to obey her father in the
+matter of marriage, was then looked upon as a crime and was
+frequently punished in a way which amounted to barbarous ferocity.
+Sons, being of the privileged side of humanity, might occasionally
+disobey with impunity, but woe to the poor girl who dared set up a
+will of her own. A man who could not compel obedience from his
+daughter was looked upon as a poor weakling, and contempt was his
+portion in the eyes of his fellow-men&mdash;in the eyes of his
+fellow-brutes, I should like to say.</p>
+<p>Growing out of such conditions was the firm belief on the part
+of Sir George that Dorothy would in the end obey him; but if by any
+hard chance she should be guilty of the high crime of
+disobedience&mdash;Well! Sir George intended to prevent the crime.
+Perhaps mere stubborness and fear of the contempt in which he would
+be held by his friends in case he were defeated by his own daughter
+were no small parts of Sir George's desire to carry through the
+enterprise in which he had embarked with the Stanleys. Although
+there was no doubt in Sir George's mind that he would eventually
+conquer in the conflict with Dorothy, he had a profound respect for
+the power of his antagonist <a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a>to
+do temporary battle, and he did not care to enter into actual
+hostilities until hostilities should become actually necessary.</p>
+<p>Therefore, upon the second day after I had read the beribboned,
+besealed contract to Sir George, he sent an advance guard toward
+the enemy's line. He placed the ornamental piece of parchment in
+Lady Crawford's hands and directed her to give it to Dorothy.</p>
+<p>But before I tell you of the parchment I must relate a scene
+that occurred in Aunt Dorothy's room a few hours after I recognized
+John as he rode up the Wye with Dorothy. It was late in the
+afternoon of the day after I read the contract to Sir George and
+saw the horrid vision on Bowling Green.</p>
+<p>I was sitting with Madge at the west window of Dorothy's parlor.
+We were watching the sun as it sank in splendor beneath Overhaddon
+Hill.</p>
+<p>I should like first to tell you a few words&mdash;only a few, I
+pray you&mdash;concerning Madge and myself. I will.</p>
+<p>I have just said that Madge and I were watching the sun at the
+west window, and I told you but the truth, for Madge had learned to
+see with my eyes. Gladly would I have given them to her outright,
+and willingly would I have lived in darkness could I have given
+light to her. She gave light to me&mdash;the light of truth, of
+purity, and of exalted motive. There had been no words spoken by
+Madge nor me to any one concerning the strange and holy chain that
+was welding itself about us, save the partial confession which she
+had whispered to Dorothy. But notwithstanding our silence, our
+friends in the Hall understood that Madge and I were very dear to
+each other. I, of course, saw a great deal of her; but it was the
+evening hour at the west window to which I longingly looked forward
+all the day. I am no poet, nor do my words and thoughts come with
+the rhythmic flow and eloquent <a name="Page_242" id=
+"Page_242"></a>imagery of one to whom the talent of poesy is given.
+But during those evening hours it seemed that with the soft touch
+of Madge's hand there ran through me a current of infectious
+dreaming which kindled my soul till thoughts of beauty came to my
+mind and words of music sprang to my lips such as I had always
+considered not to be in me. It was not I who spoke; it was Madge
+who saw with my eyes and spoke with my voice. To my vision, swayed
+by Madge's subtle influence, the landscape became a thing of moving
+beauty and of life, and the floating clouds became a panorama of
+ever shifting pictures. I, inspired by her, described so eloquently
+the wonders I saw that she, too, could see them. Now a flock of
+white-winged angels rested on the low-hung azure of the sky,
+watching the glory of Ph&oelig;bus as he drove his fiery steeds
+over the western edge of the world. Again, Mount Olympus would grow
+before my eyes, and I would plainly see Jove sitting upon his
+burnished throne, while gods and goddesses floated at his feet and
+revelled on the fleecy mountain sides. Then would mountain, gods,
+and goddesses dissolve,&mdash;as in fact they did dissolve ages ago
+before the eyes of millions who had thought them real,&mdash;and in
+their places perhaps would come a procession of golden-maned lions,
+at the description of which would Madge take pretended fright.
+Again, would I see Madge herself in flowing white robes made of the
+stuff from which fleecy clouds are wrought. All these wonders would
+I describe, and when I would come to tell her of the fair cloud
+image of herself I would seize the joyous chance to make her
+understand in some faint degree how altogether lovely in my eyes
+the vision was. Then would she smile and softly press my hand and
+say:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, it must be some one else you see in the cloud," though
+she was pleased.</p>
+<p>But when the hour was done then came the crowning <a name=
+"Page_243" id="Page_243"></a>moment of the day, for as I would rise
+to take my leave, if perchance we were alone, she would give
+herself to my arms for one fleeting instant and willingly would her
+lips await&mdash;but there are moments too sacred for aught save
+holy thought. The theme is sweet to me, but I must go back to
+Dorothy and tell you of the scene I have promised you.</p>
+<p>As I have already said, it was the evening following that upon
+which I had read the marriage contract to Sir George, and had seen
+the vision on the hillside. Madge and I were sitting at the west
+window. Dorothy, in kindness to us, was sitting alone by the
+fireside in Lady Crawford's chamber. Thomas entered the room with
+an armful of fagots, which he deposited in the fagot-holder. He was
+about to replenish the fire, but Dorothy thrust him aside, and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You shall kindle no more fires for me. At least you shall not
+do so when no one else is by. It pains me that you, at whose feet I
+am unworthy to kneel, should be my servant"</p>
+<p>Thereupon she took in her hands the fagot John had been holding.
+He offered to prevent her, but she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Please, John, let me do this."</p>
+<p>The doors were open, and we heard all that was said by Dorothy
+and Tom. Madge grasped my hand in surprise and fear.</p>
+<p>"Please, John," said Dorothy, "if it gives me pleasure to be
+your servant, you should not wish to deny me. There lives but one
+person whom I would serve. There, John, I will give you another,
+and you shall let me do as I will."</p>
+<p>Dorothy, still holding the fagot in her hands, pressed it
+against John's breast and gently pushed him backward toward a large
+armchair, in which she had been sitting by the west side of the
+fireplace.</p>
+<p>"You sit there, John, and we will make believe that this is our
+house, and that you have just come in very cold from <a name=
+"Page_244" id="Page_244"></a>a ride, and that I am making a fine
+fire to warm you. Isn't it pleasant, John? There, you sit and warm
+yourself&mdash;my&mdash;my&mdash;husband," she said laughingly. "It
+is fine sport even to play at. There is one fagot on the fire," she
+said, as she threw the wood upon the embers, causing them to fly in
+all directions. John started up to brush the scattered embers back
+into the fireplace, but Dorothy stopped him.</p>
+<p>"I will put them all back," she said. "You know you are cold and
+very tired. You have been overseeing the tenantry and have been
+hunting. Will you have a bowl of punch, my&mdash;my husband?" and
+she laughed again and kissed him as she passed to the holder for
+another fagot.</p>
+<p>"I much prefer that to punch," said John, laughing softly. "Have
+you more?"</p>
+<p>"Thousands of them, John, thousands of them." She rippled forth
+a little laugh and continued: "I occupy my time nowadays in making
+them that I may always have a great supply when we are&mdash;that
+is, you know, when you&mdash;when the time comes that you may
+require a great many to keep you in good humor." Again came the
+laugh, merry and clear as the tinkle of sterling silver.</p>
+<p>She laughed again within a minute or two; but when the second
+laugh came, it sounded like a knell.</p>
+<p>Dorothy delighted to be dressed in the latest fashion. Upon this
+occasion she wore a skirt vast in width, of a pattern then much in
+vogue. The sleeves also were preposterously large, in accordance
+with the custom of the times. About her neck a beautiful white
+linen ruff stood out at least the eighth part of an ell. The day
+had been damp and cold, and the room in which she had been sitting
+was chilly. For that reason, most fortunately, she had thrown over
+her shoulders a wide sable cloak broad enough to enfold her many
+times and long enough to reach nearly to her knees: Dorothy thus
+arrayed was <a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a>standing in front
+of John's chair. She had just spoken the words "good humor," when
+the door leading to her father's room opened and in walked Sir
+George. She and her ample skirts and broad sleeves were between
+John and the door. Not one brief instant did Dorothy waste in
+thought. Had she paused to put in motion the machinery of reason,
+John would have been lost. Thomas sitting in Lady Crawford's chair
+and Dorothy standing beside him would have told Sir George all he
+needed to know. He might not have discovered John's identity, but a
+rope and a tree in Bowling Green would quickly have closed the
+chapter of Dorothy's mysterious love affair. Dorothy, however, did
+not stop to reason nor to think. She simply acted without
+preliminary thought, as the rose unfolds or as the lightning
+strikes. She quietly sat down upon John's knees, leaned closely
+back against him, spread out the ample folds of her skirt, threw
+the lower parts of her broad cape over her shoulders and across the
+back of the chair, and Sir John Manners was invisible to mortal
+eyes.</p>
+<p>"Come in, father," said Dorothy, in dulcet tones that should
+have betrayed her.</p>
+<p>"I heard you laughing and talking," said Sir George, "and I
+wondered who was with you."</p>
+<p>"I was talking to Madge and Malcolm who are in the other room,"
+replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Did not Thomas come in with fagots?" asked Sir George.</p>
+<p>"I think he is replenishing the fire in the parlor, father, or
+he may have gone out. I did not notice. Do you want him?"</p>
+<p>"I do not especially want him," Sir George answered.</p>
+<p>"When he finishes in the parlor I will tell him that you want
+him," said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Very well," replied Sir George.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a>He returned to his room,
+but he did not close the door.</p>
+<p>The moment her father's back was turned Dorothy
+called:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Tom&mdash;Tom, father wants you," and instantly Thomas was
+standing deferentially by her side, and she was seated in the great
+chair. It was a rapid change, I assure you. But a man's life and
+his fortune for good or ill often hang upon a tiny peg&mdash;a
+second of time protruding from the wall of eternity. It serves him
+briefly; but if he be ready for the vital instant, it may serve him
+well.</p>
+<p>"Yes, mistress," said Thomas, "I go to him at once."</p>
+<p>John left the room and closed the door as he passed out. Then it
+was that Dorothy's laugh sounded like the chilling tones of a
+knell. It was the laugh of one almost distraught. She came to Madge
+and me laughing, but the laugh quickly changed to convulsive sobs.
+The strain of the brief moment during which her father had been in
+Lady Crawford's room had been too great for even her strong nerves
+to bear. She tottered and would have fallen had I not caught her. I
+carried her to the bed, and Madge called Lady Crawford. Dorothy had
+swooned.</p>
+<p>When she wakened she said dreamily:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I shall always keep this cloak and gown."</p>
+<p>Aunt Dorothy thought the words were but the incoherent
+utterances of a dimly conscious mind, but I knew they were the
+deliberate expression of a justly grateful heart.</p>
+<p>The following evening trouble came about over the matter of the
+marriage contract.</p>
+<p>You remember I told you that Sir George had sent Lady Crawford
+as an advance guard to place the parchment in the enemy's hands.
+But the advance guard feared the enemy and therefore did not
+deliver the contract directly to Dorothy. She placed it
+conspicuously upon the table, knowing well that her niece's
+curiosity would soon prompt an examination.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a>I was sitting before the
+fire in Aunt Dorothy's room, talking to Madge when Lady Crawford
+entered, placed the parchment on the table, and took a chair by my
+side. Soon Dorothy entered the room. The roll of parchment, brave
+with ribbons, was lying on the table. It attracted her attention at
+once, and she took it in her hands.</p>
+<p>"What is this?" she asked carelessly. Her action was prompted
+entirely by idle curiosity. That, by the way, was no small motive
+with Dorothy. She had the curiosity of a young doe. Receiving no
+answer, she untied the ribbons and unrolled the parchment to
+investigate its contents for herself. When the parchment was
+unrolled, she began to read:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"In the name of God, amen. This indenture of agreement, looking
+to union in the holy bonds of marriage between the Right Honorable
+Lord James Stanley of the first part, and Mistress Dorothy Vernon
+of Haddon of the second part&mdash;"</p>
+<p>She read no farther. She crumpled the beautiful parchment in her
+hands, walked over to the fire, and quietly placed the sacred
+instrument in the midst of the flames. Then she turned away with a
+sneer of contempt upon her face and&mdash;again I grieve to tell
+you this&mdash;said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"In the name of God, amen. May this indenture be damned."</p>
+<p>"Dorothy!" exclaimed Lady Crawford, horrified at her niece's
+profanity. "I feel shame for your impious words."</p>
+<p>"I don't care what you feel, aunt," retorted Dorothy, with a
+dangerous glint in her eyes. "Feel as you wish, I meant what I
+said, and I will say it again if you would like to hear it. I will
+say it to father when I see him. Now, Aunt Dorothy, I love you and
+I love my father, but I give you fair warning there is trouble
+ahead for any one who crosses me in this matter."</p>
+<p>She certainly looked as if she spoke the truth. Then <a name=
+"Page_248" id="Page_248"></a>she hummed a tune under her
+breath&mdash;a dangerous signal in Dorothy at certain times. Soon
+the humming turned to whistling. Whistling in those olden days was
+looked upon as a species of crime in a girl.</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood by the window for a short time and then taking up
+an embroidery frame, drew a chair nearer to the light and began to
+work at her embroidery. In a moment or two she stopped whistling,
+and we could almost feel the silence in the room. Madge, of course,
+only partly knew what had happened, and her face wore an expression
+of expectant, anxious inquiry. Aunt Dorothy looked at me, and I
+looked at the fire. The parchment burned slowly. Lady Crawford,
+from a sense of duty to Sir George and perhaps from politic
+reasons, made two or three attempts to speak, and after five
+minutes of painful silence she brought herself to say:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, your father left the contract here for you to read. He
+will be angry when he learns what you have done. Such disobedience
+is sure to&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Not another word from you," screamed Dorothy, springing like a
+tigress from her chair. "Not another word from you or I
+will&mdash;I will scratch you. I will kill some one. Don't speak to
+me. Can't you see that I am trying to calm myself for an interview
+with father? An angry brain is full of blunders. I want to make
+none. I will settle this affair with father. No one else, not even
+you, Aunt Dorothy, shall interfere." The girl turned to the window,
+stood beating a tattoo upon the glass for a moment or two, then
+went over to Lady Crawford and knelt by her side. She put her arms
+about Aunt Dorothy's neck, softly kissed her, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Forgive me, dear aunt; forgive me. I am almost crazed with my
+troubles. I love you dearly indeed, indeed I do."</p>
+<p>Madge gropingly went to Dorothy's side and took her hand.
+Dorothy kissed Madge's hand and rose to her feet.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a>Where is my father?" asked
+Dorothy, to whom a repentant feeling toward Lady Crawford had
+brought partial calmness. "I will go to him immediately and will
+have this matter over. We might as well understand each other at
+once. Father seems very dull at understanding me. But he shall know
+me better before long."</p>
+<p>Sir George may have respected the strength of his adversary, but
+Dorothy had no respect for the strength of her foe. She was eager
+for the fray. When she had a disagreeable thing to do, she always
+wanted to do it quickly.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was saved the trouble of seeking her father, for at that
+moment he entered the room.</p>
+<p>"You are welcome, father," said Dorothy in cold, defiant tones.
+"You have come just in time to see the last flickering flame of
+your fine marriage contract." She led him to the fireplace. "Does
+it not make a beautiful smoke and blaze?"</p>
+<p>"Did you dare&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Ay, that I did," replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"You dared?" again asked her father, unable to believe the
+evidence of his eyes.</p>
+<p>"Ay, so I said; that I did," again said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"By the death of Christ&mdash;" began Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Now be careful, father, about your oaths," the girl
+interrupted. "You must not forget the last batch you made and
+broke."</p>
+<p>Dorothy's words and manner maddened Sir George. The expression
+of her whole person, from her feet to her hair, breathed defiance.
+The poise of her body and of her limbs, the wild glint in her eyes,
+and the turn of her head, all told eloquently that Sir George had
+no chance to win and that Dorothy was an unconquerable foe. It is a
+wonder he did not learn in that one moment that he could never
+bring his daughter to marry Lord Stanley.</p>
+<p>"I will imprison you," cried Sir George, gasping with rage.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a>Very well," responded
+Dorothy, smilingly. "You kept me prisoner for a fortnight. I did
+not ask you to liberate me. I am ready to go back to my
+apartments."</p>
+<p>"But now you shall go to the dungeon," her father said.</p>
+<p>"Ah, the dungeon!" cried the girl, as if she were delighted at
+the thought. "The dungeon! Very well, again. I am ready to go to
+the dungeon. You may keep me there the remainder of my natural
+life. I cannot prevent you from doing that, but you cannot force me
+to marry Lord Stanley."</p>
+<p>"I will starve you until you obey me!" retorted her father. "I
+will starve you!"</p>
+<p>"That, again, you may easily do, my dear father; but again I
+tell you I will never marry Stanley. If you think I fear to die,
+try to kill me. I do not fear death. You have it not in your power
+to make me fear you or anything you can do. You may kill me, but I
+thank God it requires my consent for my marriage to Stanley, and I
+swear before God that never shall be given."</p>
+<p>The girl's terrible will and calm determination staggered Sir
+George, and by its force beat down even his strong will. The
+infuriated old man wavered a moment and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Fool, I seek only your happiness in this marriage. Only your
+happiness. Why will you not consent to it?"</p>
+<p>I thought the battle was over, and that Dorothy was the victor.
+She thought so, too, but was not great enough to bear her triumph
+silently. She kept on talking and carried her attack too far.</p>
+<p>"And I refuse to obey because of my happiness. I refuse because
+I hate Lord Stanley, and because, as you already know, I love
+another man."</p>
+<p>When she spoke the words "because I love another man," the cold,
+defiant expression of her face changed to one of ecstasy.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a>I will have you to the
+dungeon this very hour, you brazen huzzy," cried Sir George.</p>
+<p>"How often, father, shall I repeat that I am ready to go to the
+dungeon? I am eager to obey you in all things save one."</p>
+<p>"You shall have your wish," returned Sir George. "Would that you
+had died ere you had disgraced your house with a low-bred dog whose
+name you are ashamed to utter."</p>
+<p>"Father, there has been no disgrace," Dorothy answered, and her
+words bore the ring of truth.</p>
+<p>"You have been meeting the fellow at secluded spots in the
+forest&mdash;how frequently you have met him God only
+knows&mdash;and you lied to me when you were discovered at Bowling
+Green Gate."</p>
+<p>"I would do it again gladly if I but had the chance," answered
+the girl, who by that time was reckless of consequences.</p>
+<p>"But the chance you shall not have," retorted Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Do not be too sure, father," replied Dorothy. She was unable to
+resist the temptation to mystify him. "I may see him before another
+hour. I will lay you this wager, father, if I do not within one
+hour see the man&mdash;the man whom I love&mdash;I will marry Lord
+Stanley. If I see him within that time you shall permit me to marry
+him. I have seen him two score times since the day you surprised me
+at the gate."</p>
+<p>That was a dangerous admission for the girl to make, and she
+soon regretted it with all her heart. Truly she was right. An angry
+brain is full of blunders.</p>
+<p>Of course Dorothy's words, which were so full of meaning to
+Madge and me, meant little to Sir George. He looked upon them only
+as irritating insolence on her part. A few minutes later, however,
+they became full of significance.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a>Sir George seemed to have
+forgotten the Stanley marriage and the burning of the contract in
+his quarrel with Dorothy over her unknown lover.</p>
+<p>Conceive, if you can, the situation in Haddon Hall at that time.
+There was love-drunk Dorothy, proud of the skill which had enabled
+her to outwit her wrathful father. There was Sir George, whose
+mental condition, inflamed by constant drinking, bordered on frenzy
+because he felt that his child, whom he had so tenderly loved from
+the day of her birth, had disgraced herself with a low-born wretch
+whom she refused to name. And there, under the same roof, lived the
+man who was the root and source of all the trouble. A pretty kettle
+of fish!</p>
+<p>"The wager, father, will you take it?" eagerly asked
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Sir George, who thought that her words were spoken only to anger
+him, waved her off with his hands and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I have reason to believe that I know the wretch for whose sake
+you have disgraced yourself. You may be sure that I shall soon know
+him with certainty. When I do, I will quickly have him in my power.
+Then I will hang him to a tree on Bowling Green, and you shall see
+the low-born dog die."</p>
+<p>"He is better born than any of our house," retorted Dorothy, who
+had lost all sense of caution. "Ay, he is better born than any with
+whom we claim kin."</p>
+<p>Sir George stood in open-eyed wonder, and Dorothy continued:
+"You cannot keep him from me. I shall see him, and I will have him
+despite you. I tell you again, I have seen him two score times
+since you tried to spy upon us at Bowling Green Gate, and I will
+see him whenever I choose, and I will wed him when I am ready to do
+so. You cannot prevent it. You can only be forsworn, oath upon
+oath; and if I were you, I would stop swearing."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>Sir George, as was usual
+with him in those sad times, was inflamed with drink, and Dorothy's
+conduct, I must admit, was maddening. In the midst of her taunting
+Thomas stepped into the room bearing an armful of fagots. Sir
+George turned to him and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Go and tell Welch to bring a set of manacles."</p>
+<p>"For Mistress Dorothy?" Thomas asked, surprised into the
+exclamation.</p>
+<p>"Curse you, do you mean to bandy words with me, you scum?" cried
+Sir George.</p>
+<p>He snatched a fagot from John and drew back his arm to strike
+him. John took one step back from Sir George and one step nearer to
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Yes, Thomas," said Dorothy, sneeringly, "bring Welch with the
+manacles for me. My dear father would put me in the dungeon out of
+the reach of other men, so that he may keep me safely for my
+unknown lover. Go, Thomas. Go, else father will again be forsworn
+before Christ and upon his knighthood."</p>
+<p>"This before a servant! I'll gag you, you hellish vixen," cried
+Sir George. Then I am sure he knew not what he did. "Curse you!" he
+cried, as he held the fagot upraised and rushed upon Dorothy. John,
+with his arms full of fagots, could not avert the blow which
+certainly would have killed the girl, but he could take it. He
+sprang between Dorothy and her father, the fagot fell upon his
+head, and he sank to the floor. In his fall John's wig dropped off,
+and when the blood began to flow from the wound Dorothy kneeled
+beside his prostrate form. She snatched the great bush of false
+beard from his face and fell to kissing his lips and his hands in a
+paroxysm of passionate love and grief. Her kisses she knew to be a
+panacea for all ills John could be heir to, and she thought they
+would heal even the wound her father had given, and stop the
+frightful outpouring of John's <a name="Page_254" id=
+"Page_254"></a>life-blood. The poor girl, oblivious of all save her
+wounded lover, murmured piteously:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"John, John, speak to me; 'tis Dorothy." She placed her lips
+near his ear and whispered: "'Tis Dorothy, John. Speak to her." But
+she received no response. Then came a wild light to her eyes and
+she cried aloud: "John, 'tis Dorothy. Open your eyes. Speak to me,
+John! oh, for God's sake speak to me! Give some little sign that
+you live," but John was silent. "My God, my God! Help, help! Will
+no one help me save this man? See you not that his life is flowing
+away? This agony will kill me. John, my lover, my lord, speak to
+me. Ah, his heart, his heart! I will know." She tore from his
+breast the leathern doublet and placed her ear over his heart.
+"Thank God, it beats!" she cried in a frenzied whisper, as she
+kissed his breast and turned her ear again to hear his heart's
+welcome throbbing. Then she tried to lift him in her arms and
+succeeded in placing his head in her lap. It was a piteous scene.
+God save me from witnessing another like it.</p>
+<p>After Dorothy lifted John's head to her lap he began to breathe
+perceptibly, and the girl's agitation passed away as she gently
+stroked his hair and kissed him over and over again, softly
+whispering her love to his unresponsive ear in a gentle frenzy of
+ineffable tenderness such as was never before seen in this world, I
+do believe. I wish with all my heart that I were a maker of
+pictures so that I might draw for you the scene which is as clear
+and vivid in every detail to my eyes now as it was upon that awful
+day in Haddon Hall. There lay John upon the floor and by his side
+knelt Dorothy. His head was resting in her lap. Over them stood Sir
+George with the murderous fagot raised, as if he intended again to
+strike. I had sprung to his side and was standing by him, intending
+to fell him to the floor should he attempt to repeat the blow
+<a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a>upon either Dorothy or John.
+Across from Sir George and me, that is, upon the opposite side of
+Dorothy and John, stood Lady Crawford and Madge, who clung to each
+other in terror. The silence was heavy, save when broken by
+Dorothy's sobs and whispered ejaculations to John. Sir George's
+terrible deed had deprived all of us, including himself, of the
+power to speak. I feared to move from his side lest he should
+strike again. After a long agony of silence he angrily threw the
+fagot away from him and asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Who is this fellow? Can any one tell me?"</p>
+<p>Only Madge, Dorothy, and I could have given him true answer. By
+some strange power of divination Madge had learned all that had
+happened, and she knew as well as I the name of the man who lay
+upon the floor battling with death. Neither Madge nor I
+answered.</p>
+<p>"Who is this fellow?" again demanded Sir George.</p>
+<p>Dorothy lifted her face toward her father.</p>
+<p>"He is the man whom you seek, father," she answered, in a low,
+tearful voice. "He is my lover; he is my life; he is my soul, and
+if you have murdered him in your attempt to kill your own child,
+all England shall hear of it and you shall hang. He is worth more
+in the eyes of the queen than we and all our kindred. You know not
+whom you have killed."</p>
+<p>Sir George's act had sobered him.</p>
+<p>"I did not intend to kill him&mdash;in that manner," said Sir
+George, dropping his words absent-mindedly. "I hoped to hang him.
+Where is Dawson? Some one fetch Dawson."</p>
+<p>Several of the servants had gathered about the open door in the
+next room, and in obedience to Sir George's command one of them
+went to seek the forester. I feared that John would die from the
+effects of the blow; but I also knew from experience that a man's
+head may receive very hard knocks and life still remain. Should
+John re<a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a>cover and should Sir
+George learn his name, I was sure that my violent cousin would
+again attempt the personal administration of justice and would hang
+him, under the old Saxon law. In that event Parliament would not be
+so easily pacified as upon the occasion of the former hanging at
+Haddon; and I knew that if John should die by my cousin's hand, Sir
+George would pay for the act with his life and his estates. Fearing
+that Sir George might learn through Dawson of John's identity, I
+started out in search of Will to have a word with him before he
+could see his master. I felt sure that for many reasons Will would
+be inclined to save John; but to what extent his fidelity to the
+cause of his master might counteract his resentment of Sir George's
+act, I did not know. I suspected that Dawson was privy to John's
+presence in Haddon Hall, but I was not sure of it, so I wished to
+prepare the forester for his interview with Sir George and to give
+him a hint of my plans for securing John's safety, in the event he
+should not die in Aunt Dorothy's room.</p>
+<p>When I opened the door in the Northwest Tower I saw Dawson
+coming toward the Hall from the dove-cote, and I hastened forward
+to meet him. It was pitiful that so good a man as Sir George Vernon
+was, should have been surrounded in his own house by real friends
+who were also traitors. That was the condition of affairs in Haddon
+Hall, and I felt that I was the chief offender. The evil, however,
+was all of Sir George's making. Tyranny is the father of
+treason.</p>
+<p>When I met Dawson I said: "Will, do you know who Tom-Tom
+is?"</p>
+<p>The forester hesitated for a moment, and said, "Well, Sir
+Malcolm, I suppose he is Thomas&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"No, no, Will, tell me the truth. Do you know that he
+is&mdash;or perhaps by this time I should say he was&mdash;Sir John
+Manners?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a>Was?" cried Will. "Great
+God! Has Sir George discovered&mdash;is he dead? If he is dead, it
+will be a sad day for Sir George and for Haddon Hall. Tell me
+quickly."</p>
+<p>I at once knew Will Dawson was in the secret. I
+answered:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I hope he is not dead. Sir George attempted to strike Dorothy
+with a fagot, but Thomas stepped in front of her and received the
+blow. He is lying almost, if not quite, dead in Lady Crawford's
+room. Sir George knows nothing about him, save that he is Dorothy's
+lover. But should Thomas revive I feel sure my cousin will hang him
+in the morning unless steps are taken to prevent the deed."</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm, if you will stand by me," said Dawson, "Sir George
+will not hang him."</p>
+<p>"I certainly will stand by you, Dawson. Have no doubt on that
+score. Sir George intends to cast John into the dungeon, and should
+he do so I want you to send Jennie Faxton to Rutland and have her
+tell the Rutlanders to rescue John to-night. To-morrow morning I
+fear will be too late. Be on your guard, Will. Do not allow Sir
+George to discover that you have any feeling in this matter. Above
+all, lead him from the possibility of learning that Thomas is Sir
+John Manners. I will contrive to admit the Rutland men at
+midnight."</p>
+<p>I hastened with Dawson back to the Hall, where we found the
+situation as I had left it. John's head was lying on Dorothy's lap,
+and she was trying to dress his wound with pieces of linen torn
+from her clothing. Sir George was pacing to and fro across the
+room, breaking forth at times in curses against Dorothy because of
+her relations with a servant.</p>
+<p>When Dawson and I entered the room, Sir George spoke angrily to
+Will:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Who is this fellow? You employed him. Who is he?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a>He gave me his name as
+Thomas Thompson," returned Will, "and he brought me a favorable
+letter of recommendation from Danford."</p>
+<p>Danford was forester to the Duke of Devonshire, and lived at
+Chatsworth.</p>
+<p>"There was naught in the letter save that he was a good servant
+and an honest man. That is all we can ask of any man."</p>
+<p>"But who is he?" again demanded Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Your worship may perhaps learn from Danford more than I can
+tell you," replied the forester, adroitly avoiding a lie.</p>
+<p>"Think of it, Malcolm," said Sir George, speaking to me. "Think
+of it. My daughter, my only child, seeks for her husband this
+low-born serving man. I have always been sure that the fellow would
+prove to be such." Then he turned to Dawson: "Throw the fellow into
+the dungeon. If he lives till morning, I will have him hanged. To
+the dungeon with him."</p>
+<p>Sir George waved his hand toward Dawson and Tom Welch, and then
+stepped aside. Will made an effort to hide his feelings, and
+without a word or gesture that could betray him, he and Welch
+lifted John to carry him away. Then it was piteous to see Dorothy.
+She clung to John and begged that he might be left with her. Sir
+George violently thrust her away from John's side, but she, still
+upon her knees, grasped her father's hand and cried out in
+agony:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Father, let me remain with him. If you have ever felt love for
+me, and if my love for you has ever touched one tender spot in your
+heart, pity me now and leave this man with me, or let me go with
+him. I beg you, father; I plead; I implore. He may be dying. We
+know not. In this hour of my agony be merciful to me."</p>
+<p>But Sir George rudely repulsed her and left the room, <a name=
+"Page_259" id="Page_259"></a>following Welch and Dawson, who bore
+John's unconscious form between them. Dorothy rose to her feet
+screaming and tried to follow John. I, fearing that in her frenzy
+of grief she might divulge John's name, caught her in my arms and
+detained her by force. She turned upon me savagely and struck me in
+her effort to escape. She called me traitor, villain, dog, but I
+lifted her in my arms and carried her struggling to her bedroom. I
+wanted to tell her of the plans which Dawson and I had made, but I
+feared to do so, lest she might in some way betray them, so I left
+her in the room with Lady Crawford and Madge. I told Lady Crawford
+to detain Dorothy at all hazards, and I whispered to Madge asking
+her to tell Dorothy that I would look to John's comfort and safety.
+I then hastily followed Sir George, Dawson, and Welch, and in a few
+moments I saw them leave John, bleeding and senseless, upon the
+dungeon floor. When Sir George's back was turned, Dawson by my
+orders brought the surgeon from the stable where he had been
+working with the horses. The surgeon bound up the wound in John's
+head and told me, to my great joy, that it was not fatal. Then he
+administered a reviving potion and soon consciousness returned. I
+whispered to John that Dawson and I would not forsake him, and,
+fearing discovery by Sir George, hurriedly left the dungeon.</p>
+<p>I believe there is a certain amount of grief and sorrow which
+comes with every great joy to give it a cost mark whereby we may
+always know its value. The love between Dorothy and John indeed was
+marked in plain figures of high denominations.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><a name="Page_260"
+id="Page_260"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<h2>THE LEICESTER POSSIBILITY</h2>
+<p>On leaving the dungeon I sought Madge, and after I had whispered
+a word to her from my heart I asked her to tell Dorothy the
+encouraging words of the surgeon, and also to tell her that she
+should not be angry with me until she was sure she had good cause.
+I dared not send a more explicit message, and I dared not go to
+Dorothy, for Sir George was in a suspicious mood and I feared ruin
+not only for myself but for John, should my violent cousin suspect
+me of sympathy with his daughter and her lover.</p>
+<p>I also sought Aunt Dorothy and whispered a word to her of which
+you shall hear more presently.</p>
+<p>"Ah, I cannot do it," cried the trembling old lady in response
+to my whispered request. "I cannot do it."</p>
+<p>"But you must, Aunt Dorothy," I responded. "Upon it depend three
+lives: Sir George's, Dorothy's, and her lover's. You must do
+it."</p>
+<p>"I will try," she replied.</p>
+<p>"That assurance will not suit me," I responded. "You must
+promise upon your salvation that you will not fail me."</p>
+<p>"I promise upon my salvation," replied Aunt Dorothy.</p>
+<p>That evening of course we did not see the ladies at supper. Sir
+George and I ate in silence until my cousin became talkative from
+drink. Then he spoke bitterly of Dorothy's conduct, and bore with
+emphasis upon the fact <a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a>that
+the lover to whom Dorothy had stooped was a low-born serving
+man.</p>
+<p>"But Dorothy declares he is noble," I responded.</p>
+<p>"She has lied to me so often that I do not believe a word she
+says," returned Sir George.</p>
+<p>He swore oath upon oath that the wretch should hang in the
+morning, and for the purpose of carrying into effect his intention
+he called in Joe the butcher and told him to make all things ready
+for the execution.</p>
+<p>I did not attempt to thwart his purpose by word or gesture,
+knowing it would be useless, but hoped that John would be out of
+his reach long ere the cock would crow his first greeting to the
+morrow's sun.</p>
+<p>After Sir George had drunk far into the night the servants
+helped him to bed, and he carried with him the key to the dungeon
+together with the keys to all the outer doors and gates of Haddon
+Hall, as was his custom. The keys were in a bunch, held together by
+an iron ring, and Sir George always kept them under his pillow at
+night.</p>
+<p>I sought my bed in Eagle Tower and lay down in my clothes to
+rest and wait. The window of my room was open.</p>
+<p>Within an hour after midnight I heard the hooting of an owl. The
+doleful sound came up to me from the direction of the stone
+footbridge at the southwest corner of the Hall below the chapel. I
+went to my window and looked out over the courts and terrace.
+Haddon Hall and all things in and about it were wrapped in
+slumbrous silence. I waited, and again I heard the hooting of the
+owl. Noiselessly leaving my room I descended the stone steps to an
+unused apartment in the tower from which a window opened upon the
+roof of the north wing of the Hall. Along that roof I crept with
+bared feet, till I reached another roof, the battlements of which
+at the lowest point were not more than twenty feet from the ground.
+Thence I clambered down to a window cornice five or six feet
+<a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a>lower, and jumped, at the risk
+of my limbs, the remaining distance of fifteen or sixteen feet to
+the soft sod beneath. I ran with all haste, took my stand under
+Aunt Dorothy's window, and whistled softly. The window casing
+opened and I heard the great bunch of keys jingling and clinking
+against the stone wall as Aunt Dorothy paid them out to me by means
+of a cord. After I had secured the keys I called in a whisper to
+Lady Crawford and directed her to leave the cord hanging from the
+window. I also told her to remain in readiness to draw up the keys
+when they should have served their purpose. Then I took them and
+ran to the stone footbridge where I found four Rutland men who had
+come in response to the message Dawson had sent by Jennie Faxton.
+Two of the men went with me, and we entered the lower garden by the
+southwest postern. Thence we crept noiselessly to the terrace and
+made our entrance into the Hall by "Dorothy's Postern." I had in my
+life engaged in many questionable and dangerous enterprises, but
+this was my first attempt at house-breaking. To say that I was
+nervous would but poorly define the state of my feelings. Since
+that day I have respected the high calling of burglary and regard
+with favor the daring knights of the skeleton key. I was
+frightened. I, who would feel no fear had I to fight a dozen men,
+trembled with fright during this adventure. The deathlike silence
+and the darkness in familiar places seemed uncanny to me. The very
+chairs and tables appeared to be sleeping, and I was fearful lest
+they should awaken. I cannot describe to you how I was affected.
+Whether it was fear or awe or a smiting conscience I cannot say,
+but my teeth chattered as if they were in the mouth of a fool, and
+my knees quaked as if they supported a coward. Still I knew I was
+doing my duty, though one's conscience sometimes smites him when
+his reason tells him he is acting righteously. It is more
+dan<a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a>gerous to possess a
+sensitive conscience which cannot be made to hear reason than to
+have none at all. But I will make short my account of that night's
+doings. The two Rutland men and I groped our way to the dungeon and
+carried forth John, who was weak from loss of blood. I told them to
+lock the door of the Hall as they passed out and to attach the keys
+to the cord hanging from Lady Crawford's window. Then I climbed to
+my room again, feeling in conscience like a criminal because I had
+done the best act of my life.</p>
+<p>Early next morning I was awakened by a great noise in the upper
+court. When I looked out at my window I beheld Sir George. He was
+half dressed and was angrily questioning the servants and
+retainers. I knew that he had discovered John's escape, but I did
+not know all, nor did I know the worst. I dressed and went to the
+kitchen, where I bathed my hands and face. There I learned that the
+keys to the hall had been stolen from under Sir George's pillow,
+and that the prisoner had escaped from the dungeon. Old Bess, the
+cook, nodded her head wisely and whispered to me the words, "Good
+for Mistress Doll."</p>
+<p>Bess's unsought confidence alarmed me. I did not relish the
+thought that Bess nor any one else should believe me to be in
+sympathy with Dorothy, and I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If Mistress Vernon had aught to do with last night's affairs,
+she should be full of shame. I will not believe that she knew of it
+at all. My opinion is that one of the servants was bribed by some
+person interested in Tom-Tom's escape."</p>
+<p>"Believe nothing of the sort," retorted Bess. "It is the
+mistress and not the servant who stole the keys and liberated
+Tom-Tom. But the question is, who may Tom-Tom be? and the servants'
+hall is full of it. We are not uncertain as to the manner of his
+escape. Some of the servants do say that the Earl of Leicester be
+now visiting the Duke <a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a>of
+Devonshire; and some also do say that his Lordship be fond of
+disguises in his gallantry. They do also say that the queen is in
+love with him, and that he must disguise himself when he woos
+elsewhere, or she be's famously jealous. It would be a pretty mess
+the master has brought us all into should Tom-Tom prove to be my
+lord Earl of Leicester. We'd all hang and to hell."</p>
+<p>"Bess, that tongue of yours will cost you your head one of these
+good times," I remarked, while I rubbed my face with the towel.</p>
+<p>"I would sooner lose my head," retorted Bess, "than have my
+mouth shut by fear. I know, Sir Malcolm, that I'll not die till my
+time comes; but please the good God when my time does come I will
+try to die talking."</p>
+<p>"That you will," said I.</p>
+<p>"True word, Sir Malcolm," she answered, and I left her in
+possession of the field.</p>
+<p>I went into the courtyard, and when Sir George saw me he said,
+"Malcolm, come with me to my room; I want a word with you."</p>
+<p>We went to his room.</p>
+<p>"I suppose you know of the fellow's escape last night?" he
+said.</p>
+<p>"Yes," I replied, "Bess told me about it in the kitchen."</p>
+<p>It seemed to me that my words said, "I did it."</p>
+<p>"Not only was the fellow liberated," said my cousin, "but the
+keys to all the outer gates and doors of the Hall have been stolen
+and carried away. Can you help me unravel this affair?"</p>
+<p>"Do you suspect any one of having stolen the keys?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"I know, of course, that Dorothy did it. Who her accomplices
+were, if any she had, I do not know. I have catechized the
+servants, but the question is bottomless to me."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a>Have you spoken to Dorothy
+on the subject?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"No," he replied, "but I have sent word to her by the Faxton
+girl that I am going to see her at once. Come with me."</p>
+<p>We went into Lady Crawford's room. She was ill and in bed. I did
+not wonder that she was ill after the experiences of the previous
+night. Sir George asked her if she had heard or seen Dorothy pass
+through her room during the night. She said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Dorothy did not pass through this room last night. I did not
+once close my eyes in sleep, and I should have seen her had she
+been here at all."</p>
+<p>Sir George entered Dorothy's bedroom, and Lady Crawford beckoned
+me to go to her side.</p>
+<p>"I waited till sunrise," she said, "that I might draw up the
+keys."</p>
+<p>"Hush!" said I, "the cord?"</p>
+<p>"I burned it," she replied.</p>
+<p>Then I followed Sir George into Dorothy's room. Madge was
+dressed for the day, and Dorothy, who had been helping her, was
+making her own toilet. Her hair hung loose and fell like a cataract
+of sunshine over her bare shoulders. But no words that I can write
+would give you a conception of her wondrous beauty, and I shall not
+waste them in the attempt. When we entered the room she was
+standing at the mirror. She turned, comb in hand, toward Sir George
+and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I suppose, father, you will accuse me of liberating
+Thomas."</p>
+<p>"You must know that I will accuse you," replied Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Then, father, for once you will accuse me falsely. I am
+overjoyed that he has escaped, and I certainly should have tried to
+liberate him had I thought it possible to do so.<a name="Page_266"
+id="Page_266"></a> But I did not do it, though to tell you the
+truth I am sorry I did not."</p>
+<p>"I do not believe you," her father replied.</p>
+<p>"I knew you would not believe me," answered Dorothy. "Had I
+liberated him I should probably have lied to you about it;
+therefore, I wonder not that you should disbelieve me. But I tell
+you again upon my salvation that I know nothing of the stealing of
+the keys nor of Tom-Tom's escape. Believe me or not, I shall deny
+it no more."</p>
+<p>Madge gropingly went to Sir George's side, and he tenderly put
+his arms about her, saying:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I would that you were my daughter." Madge took his hand
+caressingly.</p>
+<p>"Uncle, I want to tell you that Dorothy speaks the truth," she
+said. "I have been with her every moment since the terrible scene
+of yesterday evening. Neither Dorothy nor I closed our eyes in
+sleep all night long. She lay through the dark hours moaning, and I
+tried to comfort her. Our door was locked, and it was opened only
+by your messenger who brought the good news of Tom-Tom's escape. I
+say good news, uncle, because his escape has saved you from the
+stain of murder. You are too brave a man to do murder, uncle."</p>
+<p>"How dare you," said Sir George, taking his arm from Madge's
+waist, "how dare you defend&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Now, uncle, I beg you pause and take a moment's thought," said
+Madge, interrupting him. "You have never spoken unkindly to
+me."</p>
+<p>"Nor will I, Madge, so long as I live. I know there is not a lie
+in you, and I am sure you believe to be true all you tell me, but
+Dorothy has deceived you by some adroit trick."</p>
+<p>"If she deceived me, she is a witch," retorted Madge, laughing
+softly.</p>
+<p>"That I am almost ready to believe is the case," said
+Sir<a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a> George. Dorothy, who was
+combing her hair at the mirror, laughed softly and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My broomstick is under the bed, father."</p>
+<p>Sir George went into Lady Crawford's room and shut the door,
+leaving me with the girls.</p>
+<p>When her father had left, Dorothy turned upon me with fire in
+her eyes:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm Vernon, if you ever lay hands upon me again as you did
+last night, I will&mdash;I will scratch you. You pretended to be
+his friend and mine, but for a cowardly fear of my father you came
+between us and you carried me to this room by force. Then you
+locked the door and&mdash;and"&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Did not Madge give you my message?" I asked, interrupting
+her.</p>
+<p>"Yes, but did you not force me away from him when, through my
+fault, he was almost at death's door?"</p>
+<p>"Have your own way, Dorothy," I said. "There lives not, I hope,
+another woman in the world so unreasoning and perverse as you."</p>
+<p>She tossed her head contemptuously and continued to comb her
+hair.</p>
+<p>"How, suppose you," I asked, addressing Dorothy's back, as if I
+were seeking information, "how, suppose you, the Rutland people
+learned that John was confined in the Haddon dungeon, and how did
+they come by the keys?"</p>
+<p>The girl turned for a moment, and a light came to her
+anger-clouded face as the rainbow steals across the blackened
+sky.</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, Malcolm," she cried, and she ran to me with her bare
+arms outstretched.</p>
+<p>"Did you liberate him?" she asked. "How did you get the
+keys?"</p>
+<p>"I know nothing of it, Dorothy, nothing," I replied.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a>Swear it, Malcolm, swear
+it," she said.</p>
+<p>"I will swear to nothing," I said, unclasping her arms from my
+neck.</p>
+<p>"Then I will kiss you," she answered, "for you are my dear good
+brother, and never so long as I live will I again doubt you."</p>
+<p>But she did before long doubt me again, and with good cause.</p>
+<p>Dorothy being in a gentle humor; I took advantage of the
+opportunity to warn her against betraying John's name to her
+father. I also told her to ask her father's forgiveness, and
+advised her to feign consent to the Stanley marriage. Matters had
+reached a point where some remedy, however desperate, must be
+applied.</p>
+<p>Many persons, I fear, will condemn me for advising Dorothy to
+deceive her father; but what would you have had me do? Should I
+have told her to marry Stanley? Certainly not. Had I done so, my
+advice would have availed nothing. Should I have advised her to
+antagonize her father, thereby keeping alive his wrath, bringing
+trouble to herself and bitter regret to him? Certainly not. The
+only course left for me to advise was the least of three
+evils&mdash;a lie. Three evils must be very great indeed when a lie
+is the least of them. In the vast army of evils with which this
+world swarms the lie usually occupies a proud position in the front
+rank. But at times conditions arise when, coward-like, he slinks to
+the rear and evils greater than he take precedence. In such sad
+case I found Dorothy, and I sought help from my old enemy, the lie.
+Dorothy agreed with me and consented to do all in her power to
+deceive her father, and what she could not do to that end was not
+worth doing.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was anxious about John's condition, and sent Jennie
+Faxton to Bowling Green, hoping a letter would be there for her.
+Jennie soon returned with a letter, and <a name="Page_269" id=
+"Page_269"></a>Dorothy once more was full of song, for John's
+letter told her that he was fairly well and that he would by some
+means see her soon again despite all opposition.</p>
+<p>"At our next meeting, my fair mistress," John said in the
+letter, "you must be ready to come with me. I will wait no longer
+for you. In fairness to me and to yourself you shall not ask me to
+wait. I will accept no more excuses. You must come with me when
+next we meet."</p>
+<p>"Ah, well," said Dorothy to Madge, "if I must go with him, I
+must. Why did he not talk in that fashion when we rode out together
+the last time? I like to be made to do what I want to do. He was
+foolish not to make me consent, or better still would it have been
+had he taken the reins of my horse and ridden off with me, with or
+against my will. I might have screamed, and I might have fought
+him, but I could not have hurt him, and he would have had his way,
+and&mdash;and," with a sigh, "I should have had my way."</p>
+<p>After a brief pause devoted to thought, she
+continued:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If I were a man and were wooing a woman, I would first learn
+what she wanted to do and then&mdash;and then, by my word, I would
+make her do it."</p>
+<p>I went from Dorothy's room to breakfast, where I found Sir
+George. I took my seat at the table and he said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Who, in God's name, suppose you, could have taken the keys from
+my pillow?"</p>
+<p>"Is there any one whom you suspect?" I asked for lack of
+anything else to say.</p>
+<p>"I at first thought, of course, that Dorothy had taken them," he
+answered. "But Madge would not lie, neither would my sister.
+Dorothy would not hesitate to lie herself blue in the face, but for
+some reason I believed her when she told me she knew nothing of the
+affair. Her words sounded like truth for once."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a>I think, Sir George," said
+I, "you should have left off 'for once.' Dorothy is not a liar. She
+has spoken falsely to you only because she fears you. I am sure
+that a lie is hateful to her."</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, I wish I could have your faith," he responded. "By the
+way, Malcolm, have you ever seen the Earl of Leicester?"</p>
+<p>"I saw him only once. He visited Scotland during the ceremonies
+at Queen Mary's return from France. I saw him once, and then but
+briefly. Why do you ask?"</p>
+<p>"It is whispered among the servants," said Sir George, "that
+Leicester is at Chatsworth in disguise."</p>
+<p>Chatsworth was the home of the Duke of Devonshire, and was but a
+short distance from Haddon. After Sir George spoke, I remembered
+the words of old Bess.</p>
+<p>"Still, I do not know why you ask." I said.</p>
+<p>"My reason is this," replied Sir George; "Dorothy declared the
+fellow was of noble blood. It is said that Leicester loves gallant
+adventure incognito. He fears her Majesty's jealousy if in such
+matters he acts openly. You remember the sad case of Mistress
+Robsart. I wonder what became of the girl? He made way with her in
+some murderous fashion, I am sure." Sir George remained in revery
+for a moment, and then the poor old man cried in tones of distress:
+"Malcolm, if that fellow whom I struck last night was Leicester,
+and if he has been trying his hellish tricks on my Doll I&mdash;I
+should pity her; I should not abuse her. I may have been wrong. If
+he has wronged Doll&mdash;if he has wronged my girl, I will pursue
+him to the ends of the earth for vengeance. That is why I ask if
+you have ever seen the Earl of Leicester. Was the man who lay upon
+the floor last night Robert Dudley? If it were he, and if I had
+known it, I would have beaten him to death then and there. Poor
+Doll!"</p>
+<p>Any one hearing the old man speak would easily have <a name=
+"Page_271" id="Page_271"></a>known that Doll was all that life held
+for him to love.</p>
+<p>"I do not distinctly remember Leicester's face," I answered,
+"but since you speak of it, I believe there is a resemblance
+between him and the man we called Thomas. But even were it he, Sir
+George, you need have no fear for Dorothy. She of all women is able
+and willing to protect herself."</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v271" id="v271"></a> <img src=
+"images/v271.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>"I will go to Dorothy and ask her to tell me the truth. Come
+with me."</p>
+<p>We again went to Dorothy's room. She had, since I last saw her,
+received the letter from John of which I have spoken, and when we
+entered her parlor where she and Madge were eating breakfast we
+found her very happy. As a result she was willing and eager to act
+upon my advice.</p>
+<p>She rose and turned toward her father.</p>
+<p>"You told me, Doll, that the fellow was of noble blood. Did you
+speak the truth?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, father, I spoke the truth. There is no nobler blood in
+England than his, save that of our royal queen. In that you may
+believe me, father, for I speak the truth."</p>
+<p>Sir George remained silent for a moment and then
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If the man is he whom I believe him to be he can have no true
+purpose with you. Tell me, my child&mdash;the truth will bring no
+reproaches from me&mdash;tell me, has he misused you in any
+way?"</p>
+<p>"No, father, before God, he has been a true gentleman to
+me."</p>
+<p>The poor old man struggled for a moment with his emotions; then
+tears came to his eyes and he covered his face with his hands as he
+started to leave the room.</p>
+<p>Dorothy ran to him and clasped her arms about his <a name=
+"Page_272" id="Page_272"></a>neck. Those two, father and child,
+were surely of one blood as shown in the storms of violence and
+tenderness by which their natures were alternately swept.</p>
+<p>"Father, you may believe me; you do believe me," said Dorothy.
+"Furthermore, I tell you that this man has treated me with all
+courtesy, nay, more: he has treated me with all the reverence he
+would have shown our queen."</p>
+<p>"He can have no true purpose with you, Doll," said Sir George,
+who felt sure that Leicester was the man.</p>
+<p>"But he has, father, a true purpose with me. He would make me
+his wife to-day would I consent."</p>
+<p>"Why then does he not seek you openly?"</p>
+<p>"That he cannot do," Dorothy responded hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Doll, who is the man?" asked Sir George.</p>
+<p>I was standing behind him and Dorothy's face was turned toward
+me. She hesitated, and I knew by her expression that she was about
+to tell all. Sir George, I believe, would have killed her had she
+done so. I placed my finger on my lips and shook my head.</p>
+<p>Dorothy said: "That I cannot tell you, father. You are wasting
+words in asking me."</p>
+<p>"Is it because of his wish that you refuse to tell me his name?"
+asked Sir George. I nodded my head.</p>
+<p>"Yes, father," softly responded Dorothy in the old dangerous,
+dulcet tones.</p>
+<p>"That is enough; I know who the man is."</p>
+<p>Dorothy kissed her father. He returned the caress, much to my
+surprise, and left the room.</p>
+<p>When I turned to follow Sir George I glanced toward Dorothy. Her
+eyes were like two moons, so full were they of wonderment and
+inquiry.</p>
+<p>I stopped with Sir George in his room. He was meditative and
+sad.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a>I believe my Doll has told
+me the truth," he said.</p>
+<p>"Have no doubt of it, Sir George," I replied.</p>
+<p>"But what good intent can Leicester have toward my girl?" he
+asked.</p>
+<p>"Of that I cannot say," I replied; "but my dear cousin, of this
+fact be sure: if he have evil intent toward Dorothy, he will
+fail."</p>
+<p>"But there was the Robsart girl," he replied.</p>
+<p>"Ay," said I, "but Dorothy Vernon is not Amy Robsart. Have no
+fear of your daughter. She is proof against both villany and craft.
+Had she been in Mistress Robsart's place, Leicester would not have
+deserted her. Dorothy is the sort of woman men do not desert. What
+say you to the fact that Leicester might wish to make her his
+wife?"</p>
+<p>"He may purpose to do so secretly, as in the case of the Robsart
+girl," returned Sir George. "Go, Malcolm, and ask her if he is
+willing to make her his wife before the world."</p>
+<p>I was glad of an opportunity for a word with Dorothy, so I
+hastily went to her. I told her of the Leicester phase of the
+situation, and I also told her that her father had asked me if the
+man whom she loved was willing to make her his wife before the
+world.</p>
+<p>"Tell my father," said she, "that I will be no man's wife save
+before all the world. A man who will not acknowledge me never shall
+possess me."</p>
+<p>I went back to Sir George and delivered the message word for
+word.</p>
+<p>"She is a strange, strong girl, isn't she, Malcolm?" said her
+father.</p>
+<p>"She is her father's child," I replied.</p>
+<p>"By my spurs she is. She should have been a man," said Sir
+George, with a twinkle of admiration in his eyes. He admired a good
+fight even though he were beaten in it.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a>It is easy to be good when
+we are happy. Dorothy, the great disturber, was both. Therefore,
+peace reigned once more in Haddon Hall.</p>
+<p>Letters frequently passed between John and Dorothy by the hand
+of Jennie Faxton, but John made no attempt to meet his sweetheart.
+He and Dorothy were biding their time.</p>
+<p>A fortnight passed during which Cupid confined his operations to
+Madge and myself. For her sweet sake he was gracious and strewed
+our path with roses. I should delight to tell you of our wooing.
+She a fair young creature of eighteen, I a palpitating youth of
+thirty-five. I should love to tell you of Madge's promise to be my
+wife, and of the announcement in the Hall of our betrothal; but
+there was little of interest in it to any one save ourselves, and I
+fear lest you should find it very sentimental and dull indeed. I
+should love to tell you also of the delightful walks which Madge
+and I took together along the sweet old Wye and upon the crest of
+Bowling Green; but above all would I love to tell you of the
+delicate rose tints that came to her cheek, and how most curiously
+at times, when my sweetheart's health was bounding, the blessed
+light of day would penetrate the darkened windows of her eyes, and
+how upon such occasions she would cry out joyously, "Oh, Malcolm, I
+can dimly see." I say I should love to tell you about all those
+joyous happenings, but after all I fear I should shrink from doing
+so in detail, for the feelings and sayings of our own hearts are
+sacred to us. It is much easier to tell of the love affairs of
+others.</p>
+<p>A fortnight or three weeks passed quietly in Haddon Hall. Sir
+George had the notion firmly fixed in his head that the man whom
+Dorothy had been meeting held honorable intentions toward the girl.
+He did her the justice to believe that by reason of her strength
+and purity she would tolerate none other. At times he felt sure
+that the <a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a>man was Leicester,
+and again he flouted the thought as impossible. If it were
+Leicester, and if he wished to marry Dorothy, Sir George thought
+the match certainly would be illustrious. Halting between the
+questions, "Is he Leicester?" and "Is he not Leicester?" Sir George
+did not press the Stanley nuptials, nor did he insist upon the
+signing of the contract. Dorothy received from her father full
+permission to go where and when she wished. But her father's
+willingness to give her liberty excited her suspicions. She knew he
+would permit her to leave the Hall only that he might watch her,
+and, if possible, entrap her and John. Therefore, she rode out only
+with Madge and me, and sought no opportunity to see her lover. It
+may be that her passiveness was partly due to the fact that she
+knew her next meeting with John would mean farewell to Haddon Hall.
+She well knew she was void of resistance when in John's hands. And
+his letter had told her frankly what he would expect from her when
+next they should meet. She was eager to go to him; but the old
+habit of love for home and its sweet associations and her returning
+affection for her father, now that he was kind to her, were strong
+cords entwining her tender heart, which she could not break
+suddenly even for the sake of the greater joy.</p>
+<p>One day Dorothy received from John a letter telling her he would
+on the following morning start for the Scottish border with the
+purpose of meeting the queen of Scotland. A plan had been formed
+among Mary's friends in Scotland to rescue her from Lochleven
+Castle, where she was a prisoner, and to bring her incognito to
+Rutland. John had been chosen to escort her from the English border
+to his father's castle. From thence, when the opportunity should
+arise, she was to escape to France, or make her peace with
+Elizabeth. The adventure was full of peril both for her Scottish
+and English friends. The Scottish regent Murray <a name="Page_276"
+id="Page_276"></a>surely would hang all the conspirators whom he
+might capture, and Elizabeth would probably inflict summary
+punishment upon any of her subjects whom she could convict of
+complicity in the plot.</p>
+<p>In connection with this scheme to rescue Mary it was said there
+was also another conspiracy. There appeared to be a plot within a
+plot which had for its end the enthronement of Mary in Elizabeth's
+stead.</p>
+<p>The Rutlands knew nothing of this subplot.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth had once or twice expressed sympathy with her Scottish
+cousin. She had said in John's presence that while she could not
+for reasons of state <i>invite</i> Mary to seek refuge in England,
+still if Mary would come uninvited she would be welcomed.
+Therefore, John thought he was acting in accord with the English
+queen's secret wish when he went to Rutland with the purpose of
+being in readiness to meet Mary at the Scottish border.</p>
+<p>There were two elements in Elizabeth's character on which John
+had not counted. One was her royal prerogative to speak words she
+did not mean; and the other was the universal feminine privilege to
+change her mind. Our queen did not want Mary to visit England, nor
+had she any knowledge of the plot to induce that event. She did,
+however, fear that Mary's unwise friends among the Catholics
+cherished the purpose of making Mary queen of England. Although
+John had heard faint rumors of such a plot, he had been given to
+understand that Mary had no share in it, and he believed that the
+adventure in which he was about to embark had for its only purpose
+her liberation from a cruel and unjust imprisonment. Her cause
+appealed to John's chivalrous nature as it appealed to so many
+other good though mistaken men who sought to give help to the
+Scottish queen, and brought only grief to her and ruin to
+themselves.</p>
+<p>Dorothy had heard at various times just enough of these <a name=
+"Page_277" id="Page_277"></a>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.</p>
+<p>"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?"</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p>My reply certainly was not comforting.</p>
+<p>"Ah, then, I am lost," she responded, with a tremulous sigh.
+"Is&mdash;is she prone to smile on men and&mdash;and&mdash;to grow
+fond of them?"</p>
+<p>"I should say, Dorothy, that both the smiling and the fondness
+have become a habit with her."</p>
+<p>"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&mdash;to&mdash;O God! I wish he had not gone to fetch her."</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p>"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.</p>
+<p>"You are already a vain girl, Dorothy, and I shall not tell you
+who that one woman is," I answered laughingly.</p>
+<p>"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 <a name="Page_278" id=
+"Page_278"></a>beautiful, more fascinating, and more attractive
+than she&mdash;than any woman living&mdash;only because I long to
+hold John&mdash;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.</p>
+<p>"He is all yours, Dorothy," I answered, "all yours, as surely as
+that death will some day come to all of us. Promise me, Dorothy,
+that you will never again allow a jealous thought to enter your
+heart. You have no cause for jealousy, nor will you ever have. If
+you permit that hateful passion to take possession of you, it will
+bring ruin in its wake."</p>
+<p>"It was, indeed, foolish in me," cried Dorothy, springing to her
+feet and clasping her hands tightly; "and I promise never again to
+feel jealousy. Malcolm, its faintest touch tears and gnaws at my
+heart and racks me with agony. But I will drive it out of me. Under
+its influence I am not responsible for my acts. It would quickly
+turn me mad. I promise, oh, I swear, that I never will allow it to
+come to me again."</p>
+<p>Poor Dorothy's time of madness was not far distant nor was the
+evil that was to follow in its wake.</p>
+<p>John in writing to Dorothy concerning his journey to Scotland
+had unhesitatingly intrusted to her keeping his honor, and,
+unwittingly, his life. It did not once occur to him that she could,
+under any conditions, betray him. I <a name="Page_279" id=
+"Page_279"></a>trusted her as John did until I saw her vivid flash
+of burning jealousy. But by the light of that flash I saw that
+should the girl, with or without reason, become convinced that Mary
+Stuart was her rival, she would quickly make Derbyshire the warmest
+locality in Christendom, and John's life might pay the cost of her
+folly. Dorothy would brook no rival&mdash;no, not for a single
+hour. Should she become jealous she would at once be swept beyond
+the influence of reason or the care for consequences. It were safer
+to arouse a sleeping devil than Dorothy Vernon's jealousy. Now
+about the time of John's journey to the Scottish border, two
+matters of importance arose at Haddon Hall. One bore directly upon
+Dorothy, namely, the renewal by the Stanleys of their suit for her
+hand. The other was the announcement by the queen that she would
+soon do Sir George Vernon the honor of spending a fortnight under
+the roof of Haddon Hall. Each event was of great importance to the
+King of the Peak. He had concluded that Thomas, the man-servant,
+was not the Earl of Leicester in disguise, and when the Earl of
+Derby again came forward with his marriage project, Sir George fell
+back into his old hardness toward Dorothy, and she prepared her
+armament, offensive and defensive, for instant use if need should
+arise. I again began my machinations, since I can call my double
+dealing by no other name. I induced Dorothy to agree to meet the
+earl and his son James. Without promising positively to marry Lord
+Stanley, she, at my suggestion, led her father to believe she was
+ready to yield to his wishes. By this course she gained time and
+liberty, and kept peace with her father. Since you have seen the
+evils that war brought to Haddon, you well know how desirable peace
+was. In time of war all Haddon was a field of carnage and unrest.
+In time of peace the dear old Hall was an ideal home. I persuaded
+Sir George not to insist on a positive promise from Dorothy,
+<a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a>and I advised him to allow her
+yielding mood to grow upon her. I assured him evasively that she
+would eventually succumb to his paternal authority and love.</p>
+<p>What an inherent love we all have for meddling in the affairs of
+others, and what a delicious zest we find in faithfully applying
+our surplus energies to business that is not strictly our own! I
+had become a part of the Sir George-Dorothy-John affair, and I was
+like the man who caught the bear: I could not loose my hold.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><a name="Page_281"
+id="Page_281"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<h2>PROUD DAYS FOR THE OLD HALL</h2>
+<p>Of course the queen's approaching visit threw Haddon Hall into a
+frenzy of scrubbing and furbishing. Aunt Dorothy was the busiest
+woman in England. Floors were newly polished. Draperies were taken
+down and were carefully washed with mysterious concoctions
+warranted to remove dirt without injury to color. Superfine wax was
+bought in great boxes, and candles were made for all the
+chandeliers and candelabra in the house. Perfumed oil was purchased
+for the lamp in the state bedroom. Elizabeth, by the way, when she
+came, did not like the odor of the oil, and with an oath tossed
+both the oil and the lamp out of the window. The fattest sheep,
+kine, and hogs were chosen from the flocks and were brought in to
+be stall-fed in such numbers that one might have supposed we were
+expecting an ogress who could eat an ox at a meal. Pipers and
+dancers were engaged, and a merry fool was brought down from
+London. At last the eventful day came and with it came our queen.
+She brought with her a hundred yeomen of her guard and a score of
+ladies and gentlemen. Among the latter was the Earl of Leicester,
+who was the queen's prime favorite.</p>
+<p>Prior to the queen's announcement of her intention to visit
+Haddon Sir George had, with Dorothy's tacit consent, fixed a day
+upon which the Earl of Derby and his son, Lord James, should be
+received at the Hall for the <a name="Page_282" id=
+"Page_282"></a>purpose of signing the marriage contract. Dorothy,
+of course, had no intention of signing the contract, but she put
+off the evil hour of refusal as far as possible, hoping something
+might occur in the meantime to help her out of the dilemma.
+Something did occur at the last moment. I am eager to tell you
+about it, but it must wait its turn. Truly would the story of this
+ingenious girl's life make a romance if it were written by a poet.
+In her Guinevere and Elaine were moulded into one person with the
+tenderness, purity, and fierceness of each.</p>
+<p>To postpone further the time of the Stanley visit, Dorothy
+suggested that the betrothal should take place in the presence of
+the queen. Sir George acquiesced, and in his heart grew less eager
+for the Stanley match as Dorothy apparently became more tractable.
+He was, however, engaged with the earl to an extent that forbade
+withdrawal, even had he been sure that he wished to withdraw.</p>
+<p>At the time of which I speak the Earl of Leicester was the most
+exalted subject of the realm. He was ardently devoted to the cause
+of the ladies, and, although he had fixed his hope on Elizabeth and
+longed for a seat beside her on the throne, his inflammable heart
+was constantly catching fire from other eyes. He, of course, made
+desperate efforts to conceal these manifold conflagrations from the
+queen, but the inflammable tow of his heart was always bringing him
+into trouble with his fiery mistress.</p>
+<p>The earl's first glance toward Dorothy was full of admiration.
+The second glance was full of conflagration. The second day of the
+queen's residence in Haddon I was astonished, grieved, and angered
+to see that our girl had turned her powerful batteries upon the
+earl with the evident purpose of conquest. At times her long lashes
+would fall before him, and again her great luminous eyes would open
+wide, shedding a soft radiance which no man could withstand. Once I
+saw her walking alone with him upon <a name="Page_283" id=
+"Page_283"></a>the terrace. Her head was drooped shamelessly, and
+the earl was ardent though restless, being fearful of the queen. I
+boiled with rage against Dorothy, but by a strong effort I did not
+boil over until I had better cause. The better cause came
+later.</p>
+<p>I failed to tell you of a brief conversation which occurred
+between Sir George and me after my cousin first saw the Earl of
+Leicester. Sir George had gallantly led the queen to her
+apartments, and I had conducted Leicester and several of the
+gentlemen to their various rooms. Sir George and I met at the
+staircase after we had quitted our guests.</p>
+<p>He said: "Malcolm, that fellow Thomas whom I knocked in the head
+looked no more like Leicester than I do. Why did you tell me there
+was resemblance?"</p>
+<p>"I do not know," I answered. "Perhaps your words suggested the
+thought of a resemblance. Perhaps I had lost all memory of
+Leicester's features. I cannot answer your question."</p>
+<p>Then an expression of anger came to Sir George's face, and he
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I believe Dorothy lied to me when she said that the fellow
+Thomas was of noble blood."</p>
+<p>The next day a servant reported that Thomas had been seen
+loitering near Bowling Green Gate, and Sir George ordered Dorothy
+not to leave the Hall without his permission.</p>
+<p>Dorothy replied to her father's command, "I shall obey you,
+father."</p>
+<p>To me there was a note of danger in her voice. Such docile
+submissiveness was not natural to the girl. Of course all
+appearance of harshness toward Dorothy was suppressed by Sir George
+during the queen's visit to the Hall. In truth, he had no reason to
+be harsh, for Dorothy was a meek, submissive, and obedient
+daughter.<a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a> Her meekness,
+however, as you may well surmise, was but the forerunner of dire
+rebellion.</p>
+<p>The fourth day of the queen's presence at Haddon Hall was the
+one appointed for the visit of the Stanleys, and Sir George thought
+to make a great event of the betrothal by having the queen act as a
+witness to the marriage contract. As the day approached Sir George
+became thoughtful, while Dorothy grew gleeful. The girl was
+frequently seen with Leicester, and Sir George could not help
+noticing that nobleman's pronounced admiration for his daughter.
+These exhibitions of gallantry were never made in the presence of
+the queen. The morning of the day when the Stanleys were expected
+Sir George called me to his room for a private consultation. The
+old gentleman was in a state of excitement, not unmixed with
+perplexity and trouble.</p>
+<p>He said, "I have great and good news to impart to you, Malcolm;
+yet I am in a dilemma growing out of it."</p>
+<p>"Tell me the good news first, Sir George," I replied. "The
+dilemma may wait."</p>
+<p>"Is Doll a very beautiful girl?" he asked eagerly.</p>
+<p>"I believe she is the most beautiful woman in the world," I
+answered.</p>
+<p>"Good, good," he replied, rubbing his hands. "Is she so
+fascinating, brilliant, and attractive, think you&mdash;of course I
+speak in jest&mdash;but think you she might vie with the court
+ladies for beauty, and think you she might attract&mdash;for the
+sake of illustration I will say&mdash;might she attract a man like
+Leicester?"</p>
+<p>"Unless I am much mistaken," I answered, "Leicester is over his
+ears in love with the girl now."</p>
+<p>"Ah, do you believe so, Malcolm?" replied Sir George, laughing
+and slapping his thigh, as he walked to and fro across the room.
+"You have seen so much of that sort of <a name="Page_285" id=
+"Page_285"></a>thing that you should know it when it comes under
+your nose. Eh, Malcolm, eh?"</p>
+<p>"I should suppose that any one, however inexperienced in such
+matters, could easily see Leicester's infatuation for Dorothy. If
+you wish me to tell you what I really believe&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I do, I do," interrupted Sir George.</p>
+<p>"I should say," I continued, "that Dorothy has deliberately gone
+in for conquest. Leave the girl to herself, Sir George. She can
+conduct the campaign without help from any one. She understands the
+art of such warfare as well as if she were a veteran."</p>
+<p>"Gad, but she does, but she does. I believe she could give Venus
+herself some good points in the matter. But let me tell you,
+Malcolm,"&mdash;the old man dropped his voice to a
+whisper,&mdash;"I questioned Doll this morning, and she confessed
+that Leicester had spoken words of love to her. Would it not be a
+great match for our house?"</p>
+<p>He said "our house," mind you, not "our Doll." I might call his
+condition of mind patrimonial selfishness. Simple old man! He did
+not know that words of love are not necessarily words of
+marriage.</p>
+<p>"Has Leicester spoken to you?" I asked in alarm for John's
+sake.</p>
+<p>"No, no, he has not spoken," returned my cousin; "for that, of
+course, he must have the queen's consent. But he will speak, I am
+sure, all in good time, Malcolm, all in good time."</p>
+<p>"How about the Stanleys?" I asked. "They will be here this
+afternoon."</p>
+<p>"That's the devil's finger in the matter," cried Sir George.
+"That's where my dilemma lies. How shall I put them off, and still
+retain them in case nothing should come from Leicester? Besides, I
+am in honor bound to the earl."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a>I have a plan," I replied.
+"You carry out your part of the agreement with the earl, but let
+Dorothy, at the last moment, refuse to give her consent. Let her
+ask for more time, on the plea that she does not know her mind. I
+will suggest to her, if you wish, the part she is to play; but I
+will conceal from her the fact that you are a party to it."</p>
+<p>"No," said the old man, "that would be bad faith toward the
+earl." After a pause he continued doubtingly: "No, do not speak to
+Doll. I believe she needs no suggestions in the matter. I fear that
+mischief is in her mind already. Her easy acquiescence in my wishes
+have of late had a suspicious appearance. No, don't speak to her,
+Malcolm. If ever there lived a girl who could be perverse and
+wilful on her own account, without help from any one, it is my girl
+Doll. God bless you, man, if she but knew that I wanted her to
+reject Stanley, she would have him in spite of hell itself. I
+wonder what she means by her docility and obedience? No, don't
+speak a word to her on the subject. Let her believe I am serious
+regarding this marriage, and she will have some plan of her own to
+raise the devil. I have been expecting signs of it every day. I had
+determined not to bear with her perversity, but now that the
+Leicester possibility has come up we'll leave Doll to work out her
+own salvation, Malcolm. Don't interfere. No man living can teach
+that girl a new trick in deviltry. Gods, Malcolm! I am curious to
+know what she will be doing, for she certainly will be doing
+something rather than sign that contract of betrothal."</p>
+<p>"But suppose out of obedience to you she should sign the
+contract?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, you don't know Doll," he replied. Then, after a pause,
+"Neither do I. I wish she were well married."</p>
+<p>When I left Sir George, I found Dorothy in close con<a name=
+"Page_287" id="Page_287"></a>sultation with the queen and two of
+her ladies. I heard the name of Lord James Stanley spoken amid
+suppressed laughter, and I suspected Dorothy had on foot some prank
+touching that young man, to which her Majesty was a party.</p>
+<p>After dinner the Stanleys came a-wooing. The party consisted of
+father, son, and four retainers, who looked as if they had been
+preserved in alcohol for the occasion, so red were their faces.</p>
+<p>The Earl of Derby was a fine old gentleman of the rural type.
+His noble son was an uncouth rustic, who had no thought above a
+stable boy or tavern maid, nor any ambition above horse trading.
+His attire was a wonder to behold. He wore a ruff of stupendous
+proportions. His trunks were so puffed out and preposterous in size
+that they looked like a great painted knot on a tree; and the
+many-colored splendors of his sleeves, his hat, his hose, and his
+shoes were dazzling to the eye. Add to this wondrous raiment feet
+and hands that could not be satisfactorily disposed of, and an
+unrest of manner painful to behold, and you may possibly conceive
+the grandiose absurdity of Dorothy's wooer. The sight of him almost
+made Sir George ill; and his entrance into the long gallery, where
+the queen was seated with her ladies and gentlemen, and Sir George
+and his friends standing about her, was a signal for laughter in
+which her Majesty openly joined.</p>
+<p>I shall not lead you through the tedious ceremony of
+presentation and introduction, nor shall I tell you of the pompous
+manner in which one of the earl's retinue, a lawyer, read the
+marriage contract. The fact that the contract was read without the
+presence of Dorothy, whom it so nearly concerned, was significant
+of the small consideration which at that time was given to a girl's
+consent. When all was ready for the signing, Dorothy was
+summoned.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a>Sir George stood beside the
+Stanleys, and his nervousness was painfully apparent. Two servants
+opened the great doors at the end of the long gallery, and Dorothy,
+holding up the skirt of her gown, bounded into the room. She
+kneeled to the queen, and turned toward her uncle Stanley and her
+lover-cousin with a low bow. Then she courtesied and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Good even, uncle, and how do you do, cousin. Have you come to
+inspect me, and, perchance, to buy?"</p>
+<p>Sir George's face bore an expression of mingled shame, wonder,
+and alarm, and the queen and her suite laughed behind their
+fans.</p>
+<p>"It is well," continued Dorothy. "Here am I, ready for
+inspection." Thereupon she began to disrobe herself before the
+entire company. Leicester laughed outright, and the queen and her
+ladies suppressed their merriment for a moment, and then sent forth
+peals of laughter without restraint. Sir George stepped toward the
+girl and raised his hand warningly, but the queen
+interposed:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Silence, Sir George, I command you;" and Sir George retreated
+to his former place beside the Earl of Derby. Dorothy first removed
+her bodice, showing her shoulders and a part of her arms, clothed
+in the fashion of a tavern maid.</p>
+<p>Leicester, who stood by me, whispered, "God never made anything
+more beautiful than Mistress Vernon's arms."</p>
+<p>Sir George again spoke angrily, "Doll, what are you doing?" But
+the queen by a wave of her hand commanded silence. Then the girl
+put her hands behind her, and loosened the belt which held her
+skirt in place. The skirt fell to the floor, and out of it bounded
+Dorothy in the short gown of a maid.</p>
+<p>"You will be better able to judge of me in this costume,
+cousin," said Dorothy. "It will be more familiar to you than the
+gowns which ladies wear."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a>I will retract," said
+Leicester, whispering to me, and gazing ardently at Dorothy's
+ankles. "God has made something more beautiful than Mistress
+Vernon's arms. By Venus! I suppose that in His omnipotence He might
+be able to create something more beautiful than her ankles, but up
+to this time He has not vouchsafed to me a vision of it. Ah! did
+any one ever behold such strength, such perfect symmetry,
+such&mdash;St. George! the gypsy doesn't live who can dance like
+that."</p>
+<p>Sure enough, Dorothy was dancing. The pipers in the balcony had
+burst forth in a ribald jig of a tune, and the girl was whirling in
+a wild, weird, and wondrous dance before her lover-cousin. Sir
+George ordered the pipers to cease playing; but again Elizabeth,
+who was filled with mirth, interrupted, and the music pealed forth
+in wanton volumes which flooded the gallery. Dorothy danced like an
+elfin gypsy to the inspiring strains. Soon her dance changed to
+wondrous imitations of the movements of a horse. She walked
+sedately around in an ever increasing circle; she trotted and
+paced; she gave the single foot and racked; she galloped, slowly
+for a while, and then the gallop merged into a furious run which
+sent the blood of her audience thrilling through their veins with
+delight. The wondrous ease and grace, and the marvellous strength
+and quickness of her movements, cannot be described. I had never
+before thought the human body capable of such grace and agility as
+she displayed.</p>
+<p>After her dance was finished she stepped in front of her cousin
+and delivered herself as follows:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I am sound from ear tip to fetlock. There is not a blemish in
+me."</p>
+<p>"No, by my faith, I will swear there is not!" cried the Earl of
+Leicester.</p>
+<p>"I have good wind," continued Dorothy, "two good eyes. By night
+or by day I can see everything within <a name="Page_290" id=
+"Page_290"></a>the range of my vision, and a great deal that is
+not. I shy, at times, when an uncouth object suddenly comes upon
+me. I am warranted gentle if properly handled, but otherwise it is
+unsafe to curry my heels."</p>
+<p>Sir George could no longer restrain himself, and again tried to
+prevent Dorothy from proceeding with her terrible insult to the
+Stanleys. The queen, however, was determined to see the end of the
+frolic, and she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Proceed, Mistress Vernon, proceed."</p>
+<p>Dorothy, nothing loath, continued: "As for my disposition, it
+might be better. It probably will improve with age, if it doesn't
+grow worse. I have all the gaits a horse should have. I am four
+years old, I have never been trained to work double, and I think I
+never shall be. What think you? Now what have you to offer in
+exchange? Step out and let me see you move."</p>
+<p>She took the poor youth by the hand and led him to the middle of
+the floor.</p>
+<p>"How old are you? Show me your teeth," she said. The heir to
+Derby smiled uneasily, and drew his hand across his nose.</p>
+<p>"Ah, you have a touch of the distemper, I see. Are you subject
+to it?"</p>
+<p>Stanley smiled, and the earl said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Sir George, this insult has gone far enough."</p>
+<p>"Stand back, my Lord Derby," said the queen. "Do not interfere
+with this interesting barter."</p>
+<p>The earl reluctantly lapsed into silence. He remembered the
+insult of her Majesty's words all his life.</p>
+<p>"Now step off," said Dorothy to Lord James.</p>
+<p>The young man stood in helpless confusion. Dorothy took a step
+backward from him, and after watching Stanley a moment
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"What! You can neither trot, pace, nor gallop? I don't believe
+you can even walk alone." Then she turned <a name="Page_291" id=
+"Page_291"></a>toward Sir George. A smile was on her lips, but a
+look from hell was in her eyes as she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Father, take a lesson from this day. I gave you fair warning.
+Bring me no more scurvy cobs for barter nor trade." Then she turned
+to the Earl of Derby and to her cousin Lord James, made a deep
+courtesy, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You can have no barter with me. Good day."</p>
+<p>She ran from the room, and a great peal of laughter from all
+save Sir George and the Stanleys followed her as she passed out
+through the double door. When the laughter had subsided, the Earl
+of Derby turned to Sir George and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Sir George, this insult is unbearable, and I shall expect
+satisfaction for it." Then he turned to the queen: "I beg that your
+Majesty will give me leave to depart with my son."</p>
+<p>"Granted," answered Elizabeth, and father and son started to
+leave the room, moving backward toward the great doors. Sir George
+asked the earl and Lord Stanley to remain, and in the presence of
+the company who had witnessed the insult, he in the humblest manner
+made abject apology for the treatment his distinguished guests had
+received at the hands of his daughter. He very honestly and in all
+truth disclaimed any sympathy with Dorothy's conduct, and offered,
+as the only reparation he could make, to punish her in some way
+befitting the offence. Then he conducted the guests to the mounting
+block near the entrance tower and saw them depart. Dorothy had
+solved her father's dilemma with a vengeance.</p>
+<p>Sir George was not sure that he wanted to be angry at Dorothy,
+though he felt it was a duty he owed to himself and to the
+Stanleys. He had wished that the girl would in some manner defer
+the signing of the contract, but he had not wanted her to refuse
+young Stanley's hand in a manner so insulting that the match would
+be broken off altogether.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a>As the day progressed, and
+as Sir George pondered over Dorothy's conduct, he grew more
+inclined to anger; but during the afternoon she kept well under the
+queen's wing, and he found no opportunity to give vent to his
+ill-temper.</p>
+<p>Late that night he called me to his room. He had been drinking
+during the evening and was poised between good-humored hilarity and
+ill-tempered ferocity. The latter condition was usually the result
+of his libations. When I entered the room it was evident he was
+amused.</p>
+<p>"Did you ever hear or see such brazen effrontery?" he asked,
+referring to Dorothy's treatment of the Stanleys. "Is there another
+girl on earth who would have conceived the absurd thought, or,
+having conceived it, would have dared to carry it out?"</p>
+<p>I took a chair and replied, "I think there is not another."</p>
+<p>"I hope not," continued Sir George. He sat in thought for a
+moment, and then broke forth into a great laugh. When he had
+finished laughing he said: "I admit it was laughable and&mdash;and
+pretty&mdash;beautiful. Damme, I didn't know the girl could do it,
+Malcolm! I didn't know she had it in her. There is not another girl
+living could have carried the frolic through." Then he spoke
+seriously, "But I will make her smart for it when the queen leaves
+Haddon."</p>
+<p>"Sir George, if you will allow me to suggest what I feel on the
+subject, I would say that you have no reason whatever for desiring
+to make Dorothy smart. She may have deeper designs than we can
+see."</p>
+<p>"What designs do you suppose she can have? Tell me, Malcolm,"
+asked Sir George.</p>
+<p>I remained silent for a moment, hardly knowing how to express my
+thought. "Certainly she could not have appeared to a better
+advantage than in her tavern maid's costume," I said.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a>That is true," answered
+Sir George. "Though she is my own daughter, I must admit that I
+have never seen any woman so beautiful as she." The old gentleman
+laughed softly for a moment and said: "But wasn't it brazen? Wasn't
+it shameless? I have always given the girl credit for modesty,
+but&mdash;damme, damme&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Her beauty in the tavern maid's costume fired Leicester's heart
+as nothing else could have done," I said. "He stood by my side, and
+was in raptures over her charms."</p>
+<p>Sir George mused a moment and said something about the
+"Leicester possibility," which I knew to be an impossibility, and
+before I left him he had determined to allow the matter to drop for
+the present. "I am making a damned pretty mess of the whole affair,
+I fear, Malcolm," he said.</p>
+<p>"You don't seem to be clearing it up, Sir George," I
+responded.</p>
+<p>After talking over some arrangements for the queen's
+entertainment, I said good night, and left my cousin brooding over
+as complicated a problem as man ever tried to solve.</p>
+<p>The next morning I told Dorothy how her father felt with respect
+to the "Leicester possibility." She laughed and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I will encourage father in that matter, and," with a saucy
+twinkle in her eye, "incidentally I will not discourage my proud
+lord of Leicester. I will make the most of the situation, fear not,
+Malcolm."</p>
+<p>"I do not fear," said I, emphatically.</p>
+<p>There it was: the full-blown spirit of conquest, strong even in
+a love-full heart. God breathed into Adam the breath of life; but
+into Eve he breathed the love of conquest, and it has been growing
+stronger in the hearts of her daughters with each recurring
+generation.</p>
+<p>"How about John?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a>Oh, John?" she answered,
+throwing her head contemplatively to one side. "He is amply able to
+protect his own interests. I could not be really untrue to him if I
+wished to be. It is I who am troubled on the score of infidelity.
+John will be with the most beautiful queen&mdash;" She broke off in
+the midst of her sentence, and her face became clouded with an
+expression of anger and hatred. "God curse her! I wish she were
+dead, dead, dead. There! you know how I feel toward your
+English-French-Scottish beauty. Curse the mongrel&mdash;" She
+halted before the ugly word she was about to use; but her eyes were
+like glowing embers, and her cheeks were flushed by the heat of
+anger.</p>
+<p>"Did you not promise me, Dorothy, that you would not again allow
+yourself to become jealous of Queen Mary?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I promised, but I cannot prevent the jealousy, and I do
+not intend to try. I hate her, and I love to hate her."</p>
+<p>"Why should you hate her?" I asked. "If John remains true to
+you, there is certainly no cause for you to hate any one. If he
+should be untrue to you, you should hate him."</p>
+<p>"Hate him?" she exclaimed. "That, indeed, is pretty reasoning.
+If he should be untrue to me, I should of course hate her. I could
+not hate him. I did not make myself love him. I would never have
+been so great a fool as to bring that pain upon myself
+intentionally. I suppose no girl would deliberately make herself
+love a man and bring into her heart so great an agony. I feel
+toward John as I do, because I must; and I hate your Scottish
+mongrel because I must. I tell you, Malcolm, when she comes to
+Rutland, if I hear of her trying any of her wanton tricks on John
+there will be trouble&mdash;mark my words!"</p>
+<p>"I ask you to promise me this, Dorothy: that you will <a name=
+"Page_295" id="Page_295"></a>do nothing concerning John and Queen
+Mary without first speaking to me."</p>
+<p>She paced across the room angrily. "I promise you nothing,
+Malcolm, save that I shall not allow that woman to come between
+John and me. That I promise you, on my oath."</p>
+<p>Dorothy continued to shed her luminous smiles on Leicester,
+though she was careful not to shine in the queen's presence. My
+lord was dazzled by the smiles, and continually sought
+opportunities to bask in their dangerous light. As a result of this
+smiling and basking the great London heart-breaker was soon
+helplessly caught in the toils of Doll, the country maiden. She
+played him as an angler plays a trout. The most experienced court
+coquette could not have done the part better than did this girl,
+whose knowledge of the subject was wholly intuitive, for her life
+had all been spent amid the green hills and groves of Derbyshire.
+She so managed the affair that her father should see enough of
+Leicester's preference to keep alive in Sir George's mind the hope
+for the "Leicester possibility." Those words had become with her a
+phrase slyly to play upon.</p>
+<p>One afternoon when the sun was graciously warm and bright, I
+induced Madge to walk with me upon the terrace, that I might for a
+few moments feel the touch of her hand and hear her whispered
+words. We took a seat by a large holly bush, which effectually
+concealed us from view. We had been there but a few moments when we
+heard footsteps approaching. Looking between the branches of the
+holly bush I saw Dorothy and Leicester coming toward us from the
+north end of the terrace. Dorothy's eyes were cast down demurely,
+and her head hung in the attitude of a shy, modest girl, who
+listens timidly to words that are music in her ears. Never have I
+seen an attitude more indicative of the receptive mood than that
+which Dorothy assumed toward Leicester.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a>Ah," thought I, "poor John
+has given his heart and has risked his life for the sake of Doll,
+and Doll is a miserable coquette."</p>
+<p>But there was conduct still more objectionable to come from
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Unconscious of our presence, Leicester said, "My fair beauty, my
+Venus, here is a settle under this holly bush, well hidden from
+prying eyes. It invites us. Will you sit here with me for one happy
+moment, and give me a taste of Paradise?"</p>
+<p>"I fear I should not sit with you, my lord, however much
+I&mdash;may&mdash;may wish to do so. My father or the queen might
+observe us." The black lashes fell upon the fair cheek, and the red
+golden head with its crown of glory hung forward convincingly.</p>
+<p>"You false jade," thought I.</p>
+<p>"I ask for but one moment," pleaded Leicester. "The queen sleeps
+at this time after dinner, and perhaps your father would not object
+if you were to grant this little favor to the first nobleman of the
+realm."</p>
+<p>"You do not know my father, my lord. He is very strict regarding
+my conduct," murmured the drooping head.</p>
+<p>"I ask for but one little moment," continued the earl, "in which
+to tell you that you have filled my heart with adoration and
+love."</p>
+<p>"I should not listen to you, my lord. Were I mindful of my
+happiness, I should return to the Hall at once," said the drooping
+lashes and hanging head.</p>
+<p>"You lying wench," thought I. By that time I was thoroughly
+angered.</p>
+<p>"Only one little moment on the settle," pleaded Leicester, "that
+I may speak to you that which I wish so ardently to say."</p>
+<p>"Can you not speak while we walk, my lord?" asked Dorothy.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a>I felt a bitter desire to
+curse the girl.</p>
+<p>"It is difficult for me to speak while we walk," said Leicester,
+cautiously taking the girl's hand; so she permitted him to lead her
+to the settle under the holly bush, on the opposite side of which
+Madge and I were sitting.</p>
+<p>The earl retained the hand for a moment after he and Dorothy
+were seated, but she gently drew it away and moved a little
+distance from his Lordship. Still, her eyes were drooped, her head
+hung low, and her bosom actually heaved as if with emotion.</p>
+<p>"I will tell John of your shamelessness," I said to myself. "He
+shall feel no more heartaches for you&mdash;you wanton huzzy."</p>
+<p>Then Leicester poured forth his passion most eloquently. Poesy,
+verse, and rhetoric all came to help him in his wooing. Now and
+then the girl would respond to his ardor with "Please, my lord," or
+"I pray you, my lord," and when he would try to take her hand she
+would say, "I beg you, my lord, do not." But Leicester evidently
+thought that the "do not" meant "do," for soon he began to steal
+his arm about her waist, and she was so slow in stopping him that I
+thought she was going to submit. She, however, arose gently to her
+feet and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My lord, I must return to the Hall. I may not longer remain
+here with you."</p>
+<p>The earl caught her hand and endeavored to kiss it, but she
+adroitly prevented him, and stepping out into the path, started
+slowly toward the Hall. She turned her head slightly toward
+Leicester in a mute but eloquent invitation, and he quickly
+followed her.</p>
+<p>I watched the pair walk up the terrace. They descended the steps
+to the garden, and from thence they entered the Hall by way of the
+porch.</p>
+<p>"Was it not very wicked in Dorothy to listen to such <a name=
+"Page_298" id="Page_298"></a>words from Leicester?" asked Madge. "I
+do not at all understand her."</p>
+<p>Madge, of course, knew only a part of what had happened, and a
+very small part at that, for she had not seen Dorothy. Madge and I
+returned to the Hall, and we went at once to Dorothy's room, hoping
+to see her, and intending to tell her our opinion of the shameless
+manner in which she had acted.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was in her room alone when we entered. She clapped her
+hands, ran to the door, bolted it, and bounded back toward us.</p>
+<p>"I have the greatest news to tell you," she cried
+laughingly,&mdash;"the greatest news and the greatest sport of
+which you ever heard. My lord Leicester is in love with me."</p>
+<p>"Indeed, that is very fine," I responded; but my irony met its
+usual fate. She did not see it.</p>
+<p>"Yes," continued Dorothy, brimming over with mirth, "you should
+have heard him pleading with me a few moments since upon the
+terrace."</p>
+<p>"We did hear him," said Madge.</p>
+<p>"You heard him? Where? How?" Her eyes were wide with wonder.</p>
+<p>"We were on the opposite side of the holly bush from you," I
+answered. "We heard him and we saw you."</p>
+<p>"Did you? Good. I am glad of it," said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Yes, we saw and we heard all, and we think that your conduct
+was shameless," I responded severely.</p>
+<p>"Shameless?" demanded Dorothy. "Now pray tell me what I did or
+said that was shameless.".</p>
+<p>I was at a loss to define the wrong in her conduct, for it had
+been of an intangible quality which in itself was nothing, but
+notwithstanding meant a great deal.</p>
+<p>"You permitted him to hold your hand," I said, trying to fix on
+something real with which to accuse her.</p>
+<p>"I did nothing of the sort," said Dorothy, laughingly.<a name=
+"Page_299" id="Page_299"></a> "He caught my hand several times, but
+I withdrew it from him"</p>
+<p>I knew she spoke the truth regarding her hand, so I tried
+again.</p>
+<p>"You&mdash;you hung your head and kept your eyes cast down, and
+you looked&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Oh, I hung my head, I cast down my eyes, and I looked?" she
+answered, laughing heartily. "Pray let me ask you, Master
+Fault-finder, for what use else are heads and eyes made?"</p>
+<p>I was not prepared to say that the uses to which Dorothy had put
+her head and eyes were not some of the purposes for which they were
+created. They are good purposes, too, I admit, although I would not
+have conceded as much to Dorothy. I knew the girl would soon
+wheedle me into her way of thinking, so I took a bold stand and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"It is my intention to tell John about your conduct with
+Leicester, and I shall learn for what purpose he thinks eyes and
+heads are created."</p>
+<p>"Tell John?" cried Dorothy. "Of course you may tell John. He
+well knows the purposes of heads and eyes, and their proper uses.
+He has told me many times his opinion on the subject." She laughed
+for a moment, and then continued: "I, too, shall tell John all that
+happened or shall happen between Lord Leicester and me. I wish I
+could tell him now. How I wish I could tell him now." A soft light
+came to her eyes, and she repeated huskily: "If I might tell him
+now; if I might tell him now. Why, Malcolm, I despise Leicester. He
+is a poor, weak fool. He has no more force nor strength than I
+have. He is not a man. He is no more attractive than a woman. He
+wanted to kiss me. He begged me to give him but one. It is but a
+poor kiss which a man gets by begging. Think you I would give him
+one? Had he but touched my lips, think you I would ever allow John
+to soil himself again by kissing them? Fear not, Malcolm.<a name=
+"Page_300" id="Page_300"></a> Fear not for John nor for me. No man
+will ever receive from me a favor, the granting of which would make
+me unfit to be John's&mdash;John's wife. I have paid too dearly for
+him to throw him away for a penny whistle that I do not want." Then
+she grew earnest, with a touch of anger: "Leicester! What reason,
+suppose you, Malcolm, have I for treating him as I do? Think you I
+act from sheer wantonness? If there were one little spot of that
+fault upon my soul, I would tear myself from John, though I should
+die for it."</p>
+<p>Her laughing mood had passed away, and I feared to say that I
+could see no reason other than coquetry for her conduct, I feared
+the red-haired tigress would scratch my eyes out.</p>
+<p>"I have wanted to see you," she continued, "that I might tell
+you of my plans and of the way they are working out, but now since
+you have spoken to me in this manner, Sir Malcolm Fran&ccedil;ois
+de Lorraine Vernon, I shall tell you nothing. You suspect me.
+Therefore, you shall wait with the rest of the world to learn my
+purposes. You may tell John all you have seen and heard. I care not
+how quickly you do it." Then with a sigh: "I pray God it may be
+very soon. He will wish for no explanation, and he shall one day
+have in me a rich reward for his faith."</p>
+<p>"Do you trust him as he trusts you?" I asked, "and would you
+demand an explanation were he to act toward Mary Stuart as you have
+acted toward Leicester?"</p>
+<p>"He could not act toward her as I did toward Lord Leicester,"
+she said thoughtfully. Then after a moment she laughingly
+continued: "John can't&mdash;he can't hang his head and&mdash;droop
+his eyes and look."</p>
+<p>"But if&mdash;" I began.</p>
+<p>"I want no more of your hellish 'ifs,'" cried the girl in sudden
+fury. "If John were to&mdash;to look at that Scottish mongrel as I
+looked at Leicester, I would&mdash;I would kill the royal wanton. I
+would kill her if it cost my life.<a name="Page_301" id=
+"Page_301"></a> Now, for God's sake, leave me. You see the state
+into which you have wrought me." I left Madge with Dorothy and
+walked out upon Bowling Green to ponder on the events that were
+passing before me.</p>
+<p>From the time we learned that John had gone to fetch the
+Scottish queen I had fears lest Dorothy's inflammable jealousy
+might cause trouble, and now those fears were rapidly transforming
+themselves into a feeling of certainty. There is nothing in life so
+sweet and so dangerous as the love of a hot-blooded woman.</p>
+<p>I soon saw Dorothy again. "Tell me," said I, in conciliation,
+"tell me, please, what is your reason for acting as you do toward
+Leicester, and why should you look differently upon similar conduct
+on John's part?"</p>
+<p>"I will not tell you my plans," she responded,&mdash;"not now,
+at least. Perhaps I shall do so when I have recovered from my
+ill-temper. It is hard for me to give my reasons for feeling
+differently about like conduct on John's part. Perhaps I feel as I
+do because&mdash;because&mdash;It is this way: While I might do
+little things&mdash;mere nothings&mdash;such as I have
+done&mdash;it would be impossible for me to do any act of
+unfaithfulness to John. Oh, it could not be. But with him,
+he&mdash;he&mdash;well, he is a man and&mdash;and&mdash;oh, don't
+talk to me! Don't talk to me! You are driving me mad. Out of my
+sight! Out of my room! Holy Virgin! I shall die before I have him;
+I know I shall."</p>
+<p>There it was again. The thought of Mary Stuart drove her wild.
+Dorothy threw herself on her face upon the bed, and Madge went over
+and sat by her side to soothe her. I, with a feeling of guilt, so
+adroit had been Dorothy's defence, left the girls and went to my
+room in the tower to unravel, by the help of my pipe, the tangled
+web of woman's incomprehensibility. I failed, as many another man
+had failed before me, and as men will continue to fail to the end
+of time.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><a name="Page_302"
+id="Page_302"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<h2>MARY STUART</h2>
+<p>And now I come to an event in this history which I find
+difficult to place before you in its true light. For Dorothy's sake
+I wish I might omit it altogether. But in true justice to her and
+for the purpose of making you see clearly the enormity of her fault
+and the palliating excuses therefor, if any there were, I shall
+pause briefly to show the condition of affairs at the time of which
+I am about to write&mdash;a time when Dorothy's madness brought us
+to the most terrible straits and plunged us into deepest
+tribulations.</p>
+<p>Although I have been unable to show you as much of John as I
+have wished you to see, you nevertheless must know that he, whose
+nature was not like the shallow brook but was rather of the quality
+of a deep, slow-moving river, had caught from Dorothy an infection
+of love from which he would never recover. His soul was steeped in
+the delicious essence of the girl. I would also call your attention
+to the conditions under which his passion for Dorothy had arisen.
+It is true he received the shaft when first he saw her at the Royal
+Arms in Derby-town, but the shaft had come from Dorothy's eyes.
+Afterward she certainly had done her full part in the wooing. It
+was for her sake, after she had drawn him on to love her, that he
+became a servant in Haddon Hall. For her sake he faced death at the
+hands of her father. And it was through her mad <a name="Page_303"
+id="Page_303"></a>fault that the evil came upon him of which I
+shall now tell you. That she paid for her fault in suffering does
+not excuse her, since pain is but the latter half of evil.</p>
+<p>During the term of Elizabeth's residence in Haddon Hall John
+returned to Rutland with Queen Mary Stuart, whose escape from
+Lochleven had excited all England. The country was full of rumors
+that Mary was coming to England not so much for sanctuary as to be
+on the ground ready to accept the English crown when her
+opportunity to do so should occur. The Catholics, a large and
+powerful party, flushed with their triumphs under the "Bloody
+Queen," were believed to sympathize with Mary's cause. Although
+Elizabeth said little on the subject, she felt deeply, and she
+feared trouble should the Scottish queen enter her dominion.
+Another cause of annoyance to Elizabeth was the memory that
+Leicester had once been deeply impressed with Mary's charms, and
+had sought her hand in marriage. Elizabeth's prohibition alone had
+prevented the match. That thought rankled in Elizabeth's heart, and
+she hated Mary, although her hatred, as in all other cases, was
+tempered with justice and mercy. This great queen had the brain of
+a man with its motives, and the heart of a woman with its
+emotions.</p>
+<p>When news of Mary's escape reached London, Cecil came in great
+haste to Haddon. During a consultation with Elizabeth he advised
+her to seize Mary, should she enter England, and to check the plots
+made in Mary's behalf by executing the principal friends of the
+Scottish queen. He insistently demanded that Elizabeth should keep
+Mary under lock and key, should she be so fortunate as to obtain
+possession of her person, and that the men who were instrumental in
+bringing her into England should be arraigned for high treason.</p>
+<p>John certainly had been instrumental in bringing her into
+England, and if Cecil's advice were taken by the <a name="Page_304"
+id="Page_304"></a>queen, John's head would pay the forfeit for his
+chivalric help to Mary.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth was loath to act on this advice, but Cecil worked upon
+her fears and jealousies until her mind and her heart were in
+accord, and she gave secret orders that his advice should be
+carried out. Troops were sent to the Scottish border to watch for
+the coming of the fugitive queen. But Mary was already ensconced,
+safely, as she thought, in Rutland Castle under the assumed name of
+Lady Blanche. Her presence at Rutland was, of course, guarded as a
+great secret.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's mind dwelt frequently upon the fact that John and the
+beautiful young Scottish queen lived under the same roof, for John
+had written to Dorothy immediately after his return. Nothing so
+propagates itself as jealousy. There were in Haddon Hall two hearts
+in which this self-propagating process was rapidly
+progressing&mdash;Elizabeth's and Dorothy's. Each had for the cause
+of her jealousy the same woman.</p>
+<p>One night, soon after Cecil had obtained from Elizabeth the
+order for Mary's arrest, Dorothy, on retiring to her room at a late
+hour found Jennie Faxton waiting for her with a precious letter
+from John. Dorothy drank in the tenderness of John's letter as the
+thirsty earth absorbs the rain; but her joy was neutralized by
+frequent references to the woman who she feared might become her
+rival. One-half of what she feared, she was sure had been
+accomplished: that is, Mary's half. She knew in her heart that the
+young queen would certainly grow fond of John. That was a foregone
+conclusion. No woman could be with him and escape that fate,
+thought Dorothy. Her hope as to the other half&mdash;John's part&mdash;rested
+solely upon her faith in John, which was really great, and her
+confidence in her own charms and in her own power to hold him,
+which in truth, and with good reason, was not small,<a name=
+"Page_305" id="Page_305"></a> Dorothy went to bed, and Jennie,
+following her usual custom, when at Haddon, lay upon the floor in
+the same room. John's letter, with all its tenderness, had thrown
+Dorothy into an inquisitive frame of mind. After an hour or two of
+restless tossing upon the bed she fell asleep, but soon after
+midnight she awakened, and in her drowsy condition the devil
+himself played upon the strings of her dream-charged imagination.
+After a time she sprang from the bed, lighted a candle at the rush
+light, and read John's letter in a tremor of dream-wrought fear.
+Then she aroused Jennie Faxton and asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"When were you at Rutland?"</p>
+<p>"I spent yesterday and to-day there, mistress," answered
+Jennie.</p>
+<p>"Did you see a strange lady?" asked Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Oh, yes, mistress, I did see her three or four times," answered
+Jennie. "Lady Blanche is her name, and she be a cousin of Sir
+John's. She do come, they say, from France, and do speak only in
+the tongue of that country."</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I suppose that this&mdash;this Lady Blanche
+and&mdash;and Sir John are very good friends? Did you&mdash;did
+you&mdash;often see them together?" asked Dorothy. She felt guilty
+in questioning Jennie for the purpose of spying upon her lover. She
+knew that John would not pry into her conduct.</p>
+<p>"Indeed, yes, mistress," returned Jennie, who admired John
+greatly from her lowly sphere, and who for her own sake as well as
+Dorothy's was jealous of Queen Mary. "They do walk together a great
+deal on the ramparts, and the white snaky lady do look up into Sir
+John's face like this"&mdash;here Jennie assumed a lovelorn
+expression. "And&mdash;and once, mistress, I thought&mdash;I
+thought&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes, Jesu!" hissed Dorothy, clutching Jennie by the arm,
+"you thought, you thought. Tell me! Tell me! What in hell's name
+did you think? Speak quickly, wench."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a>I be not sure, mistress,
+but I thought I saw his arm about her waist one evening on the
+ramparts. It was dark, and for sure I could not tell,
+but&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"God's curse upon the white huzzy!" screamed Dorothy. "God's
+curse upon her! She is stealing him from me, and I am
+helpless."</p>
+<p>She clasped her hands over the top of her head and ran to and
+fro across the room uttering inarticulate cries of agony. Then she
+sat upon the bedside and threw herself into Madge's arms, crying
+under her breath: "My God! My God! Think of it, Madge. I have given
+him my heart, my soul, O merciful God, my love&mdash;all that I
+have worth giving, and now comes this white wretch, and because she
+is a queen and was sired in hell she tries to steal him from me and
+coaxes him to put his arm around her waist."</p>
+<p>"Don't feel that way about it, Dorothy," said Madge, soothingly.
+"I know Sir John can explain it all to you when you see him. He is
+true to you, I am sure."</p>
+<p>"True to me, Madge! How can he be true to me if she coaxes him
+to woo her and if he puts his arm&mdash;I am losing him; I know it.
+I&mdash;I&mdash;O God, Madge, I am smothering; I am strangling!
+Holy Virgin! I believe I am about to die." She threw herself upon
+the bed by Madge's side, clutching her throat and breast, and her
+grand woman's form tossed and struggled as if she were in
+convulsions.</p>
+<p>"Holy mother!" she cried, "take this frightful agony from my
+breast. Snatch this terrible love from my heart. God! If you have
+pity, give it now. Help me! Help me! Ah, how deeply I love. I never
+loved him so much as I do at this awful moment. Save me from doing
+that which is in my heart. If I could have him for only one little
+portion of a minute. But that is denied me whose right it is, and
+is given to her who has <a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a>no
+right. Ah, God is not just. If he were he would strike her dead. I
+hate her and I hate&mdash;hate him."</p>
+<p>She arose to a sitting posture on the edge of the bed and held
+out her arms toward Madge.</p>
+<p>"Madge," she continued, frenzied by the thought, "his arm was
+around her waist. That was early in the evening. Holy Virgin! What
+may be happening now?"</p>
+<p>Dorothy sprang from the bed and staggered about the room with
+her hands upon her throbbing temples.</p>
+<p>"I cannot bear this agony. God give me strength." Soon she began
+to gasp for breath. "I can&mdash;see&mdash;them now&mdash;together,
+together. I hate her; I hate him. My love has turned bitter. What
+can I do? What can I do? I will do it. I will. I will disturb their
+sweet rest. If I cannot have him, she shall not. I'll tell the
+queen, I'll tell the queen."</p>
+<p>Dorothy acted on her resolution the moment it was taken, and at
+once began to unbolt the door.</p>
+<p>"Stay, Dorothy, stay!" cried Madge. "Think on what you are about
+to do. It will cost John his life. Come to me for one moment,
+Dorothy, I pray you." Madge arose from the bed and began groping
+her way toward Dorothy, who was unbolting the door.</p>
+<p>Madge could have calmed the tempest-tossed sea as easily as she
+could have induced Dorothy to pause in her mad frenzy. Jennie
+Faxton, almost paralyzed by fear of the storm she had raised, stood
+in the corner of the room trembling and speechless. Dorothy was out
+of the room before poor blind Madge could reach her. The frenzied
+girl was dressed only in her night robes and her glorious hair hung
+dishevelled down to her waist. She ran through the rooms of Lady
+Crawford and those occupied by her father and the retainers. Then
+she sped down the long gallery and up the steps to Elizabeth's
+apartment.</p>
+<p>She knocked violently at the queen's door.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a>Who comes?" demanded one
+of her Majesty's ladies.</p>
+<p>"I, Dorothy," was the response. "I wish to speak to her Majesty
+at once upon a matter of great importance to her."</p>
+<p>Elizabeth ordered her ladies to admit Dorothy, and the girl ran
+to the queen, who had half arisen in her bed.</p>
+<p>"You must have affairs of great moment, indeed," cried
+Elizabeth, testily, "if they induce you to disturb me in this
+manner."</p>
+<p>"Of great moment, indeed, your Majesty," replied Dorothy,
+endeavoring to be calm, "of moment to you and to me. Mary Stuart is
+in England at this instant trying to steal your crown and my lover.
+She is now sleeping within five leagues of this place. God only
+knows what she is doing. Let us waste no time, your Majesty."</p>
+<p>The girl was growing wilder every second.</p>
+<p>"Let us go&mdash;you and I&mdash;and seize this wanton creature.
+You to save your crown; I to save my lover and&mdash;my life."</p>
+<p>"Where is she?" demanded Elizabeth, sharply. "Cease prattling
+about your lover. She would steal both my lover and my crown if she
+could. Where is she?"</p>
+<p>"She is at Rutland Castle, your Majesty," answered Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Ah, the Duke of Rutland and his son John," said Elizabeth. "I
+have been warned of them. Send for my Lord Cecil and Sir William
+St. Loe."</p>
+<p>Sir William was in command of the yeoman guards.</p>
+<p>"Is Sir John Manners your lover?" asked Elizabeth, turning to
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Yes," answered the girl.</p>
+<p>"You may soon seek another," replied the queen,
+significantly.</p>
+<p>Her Majesty's words seemed to awaken Dorothy from her stupor of
+frenzy, and she foresaw the result of her act. Then came upon her a
+reaction worse than death.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_309" id="Page_309"></a>You may depart," said the
+queen to Dorothy, and the girl went back to her room hardly
+conscious that she was moving.</p>
+<p>At times we cannot help feeling that love came to the human
+breast through a drop of venom shot from the serpent's tongue into
+the heart of Eve. Again we believe it to be a spark from God's own
+soul. Who will solve me this riddle?</p>
+<p>Soon the hard, cold ringing of arms, and the tramp of mailed
+feet resounded through Haddon Hall, and the doom-like din reached
+Dorothy's room in the tones of a clanging knell. There seemed to be
+a frightful rhythm in the chaos of sounds which repeated over and
+over again the words: "John will die, John will die," though the
+full import of her act and its results did nor for a little time
+entirely penetrate her consciousness. She remembered the queen's
+words, "You may soon seek another." Elizabeth plainly meant that
+John was a traitor, and that John would die for his treason. The
+clanking words, "John will die, John will die," bore upon the
+girl's ears in ever increasing volume until the agony she suffered
+deadened her power to think. She wandered aimlessly about the room,
+trying to collect her senses, but her mind was a blank. After a few
+minutes she ran back to the queen, having an undefined purpose of
+doing something to avert the consequences of her mad act. She at
+first thought to tell the queen that the information she had given
+concerning Mary Stuart's presence in Rutland was false, but she
+well knew that a lie seldom succeeds; and in this case, even
+through her clouded mentality, she could see that a lie would
+surely fail. She determined to beg the queen to spare John's life.
+She did not know exactly what she would do, but she hoped by the
+time she should reach the queen's room to hit upon some plan that
+would save him. When she knocked at Elizabeth's door it was locked
+against her. Her Majesty <a name="Page_310" id="Page_310"></a>was
+in consultation with Cecil, Sir William St. Loe, and a few other
+gentlemen, among whom was Sir George Vernon.</p>
+<p>Dorothy well knew there was no help for John if her father were
+of the queen's council. She insisted upon seeing the queen, but was
+rudely repulsed. By the time she again reached her room full
+consciousness had returned, and agony such as she had never before
+dreamed of overwhelmed her soul. Many of us have felt the same sort
+of pain when awakened suddenly to the fact that words we have
+spoken easily may not, by our utmost efforts, be recalled, though
+we would gladly give our life itself to have them back. If
+suffering can atone for sin, Dorothy bought her indulgence within
+one hour after sinning. But suffering cannot atone for sin; it is
+only a part of it&mdash;the result.</p>
+<p>"Arise, Madge, and dress," said Dorothy, gently. "I have made a
+terrible mistake. I have committed a frightful crime. I have
+betrayed John to death. Ah, help me, Madge, if you can. Pray God to
+help me. He will listen to you. I fear to pray to Him. He would
+turn my prayers to curses. I am lost." She fell for a moment upon
+the bed and placed her head on Madge's breast murmuring, "If I
+could but die."</p>
+<p>"All may turn out better than it now appears," said Madge.
+"Quiet yourself and let us consider what may be done to arrest the
+evil of your&mdash;your act."</p>
+<p>"Nothing can be done, nothing," wailed Dorothy, as she arose
+from the bed and began to dress. "Please arise, Madge, and dress
+yourself. Here are your garments and your gown."</p>
+<p>They hastily dressed without speaking, and Dorothy began again
+to pace the floor.</p>
+<p>"He will die hating me," said Dorothy. "If he could live I
+willingly would give him to the&mdash;the Scottish <a name=
+"Page_311" id="Page_311"></a>woman. Then I could die and my
+suffering would cease. I must have been mad when I went to the
+queen. He trusted me with his honor and his life, and I, traitress
+that I am, have betrayed both. Ah, well, when he dies I also shall
+die. There is comfort at least in that thought. How helpless I
+am."</p>
+<p>She could not weep. It seemed as if there were not a tear in
+her. All was hard, dry, burning agony. She again fell upon the bed
+and moaned piteously for a little time, wringing her hands and
+uttering frantic ejaculatory prayers for help.</p>
+<p>"My mind seems to have forsaken me," she said hoarsely to Madge.
+"I cannot think. What noise is that?"</p>
+<p>She paused and listened for a moment. Then she went to the north
+window and opened the casement.</p>
+<p>"The yeoman guards from Bakewell are coming," she said. "I
+recognize them by the light of their flambeaux. They are entering
+the gate at the dove-cote."</p>
+<p>A part of the queen's guard had been quartered in the village of
+Bakewell.</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood at the window for a moment and said: "The other
+guards are here under our window and are ready to march to Rutland.
+There is Lord Cecil, and Sir William St. Loe, and Malcolm, and
+there is my father. Now they are off to meet the other yeomen at
+the dove-cote. The stable boys are lighting their torches and
+flambeaux. They are going to murder John, and I have sent
+them."</p>
+<p>Dorothy covered her face with her hands and slowly walked to and
+fro across the room.</p>
+<p>"Call Malcolm," said Madge. "Perhaps he can help us. Lead me to
+the window, Dorothy, and I will call him." Dorothy led Madge to the
+window, and above the din of arms I heard her soft voice calling,
+"Malcolm, Malcolm."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312"></a>The order to march had been
+given before Madge called, but I sought Sir William and told him I
+would return to the Hall to get another sword and would soon
+overtake him on the road to Rutland.</p>
+<p>I then hastened to Dorothy's room. I was ignorant of the means
+whereby Elizabeth had learned of Mary's presence at Rutland. The
+queen had told no one how the information reached her. The fact
+that Mary was in England was all sufficient for Cecil, and he
+proceeded to execute the order Elizabeth had given for Mary's
+arrest, without asking or desiring any explanation. I, of course,
+was in great distress for John's sake, since I knew that he would
+be attainted of treason. I had sought in vain some plan whereby I
+might help him, but found none. I, myself, being a Scottish
+refugee, occupied no safe position, and my slightest act toward
+helping John or Mary would be construed against me.</p>
+<p>When I entered Dorothy's room, she ran to me and said: "Can you
+help me, Malcolm? Can you help me save him from this terrible evil
+which I have brought upon him?"</p>
+<p>"How did you bring the evil upon him?" I asked, in astonishment.
+"It was not your fault that he brought Mary Stuart to&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"No, no," she answered; "but I told the queen she was at
+Rutland."</p>
+<p>"You told the queen?" I exclaimed, unwilling to believe my ears.
+"You told&mdash;How&mdash;why&mdash;why did you tell her?"</p>
+<p>"I do not know why I told her," she replied. "I was mad
+with&mdash;with jealousy. You warned me against it, but I did not
+heed you. Jennie Faxton told me that she saw John and&mdash;but all
+that does not matter now. I will tell you hereafter if I live. What
+we must now do is to save him&mdash;to save him if we can. Try to
+devise some plan. Think&mdash;think, Malcolm."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313"></a>My first thought was to
+ride to Rutland Castle and give the alarm. Sir George would lead
+the yeomen thither by the shortest route&mdash;the road by way of
+Rowsley. There was another route leading up the Lathkil through the
+dale, and thence by a road turning southward to Rutland. That road
+was longer by a league than the one Sir George would take, but I
+could put my horse to his greatest speed, and I might be able to
+reach the castle in time to enable John and Mary to escape. I
+considered the question a moment. My own life certainly would pay
+the forfeit in case of failure; but my love for John and, I confess
+it with shame, the memory of my old tenderness for Mary impelled me
+to take the risk. I explained the plan upon which I was thinking,
+and told them of my determination. When I did so, Madge grasped me
+by the arm to detain me, and Dorothy fell upon her knees and kissed
+my hand.</p>
+<p>I said, "I must start at once; for, ride as I may, I fear the
+yeomen will reach Rutland gates before I can get there."</p>
+<p>"But If the guards should be at the gates when you arrive, or if
+you should be missed by Cecil, you, a Scottish refugee and a friend
+of Queen Mary, would be suspected of treason, and you would lose
+your life," said Madge, who was filled with alarm for my sake.</p>
+<p>"That is true," I replied; "but I can think of no other way
+whereby John can possibly be saved."</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood for a moment in deep thought, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I will ride to Rutland by way of Lathkil Dale&mdash;I will ride
+in place of you, Malcolm. It is my duty and my privilege to do this
+if I can."</p>
+<p>I saw the truth of her words, and felt that since Dorothy had
+wrought the evil, it was clearly her duty to remedy it if she
+could. If she should fail, no evil consequences would fall upon
+her. If I should fail, it would cost me my <a name="Page_314" id=
+"Page_314"></a>life; and while I desired to save John, still I
+wished to save myself. Though my conduct may not have been
+chivalric, still I was willing that Dorothy should go in my place,
+and I told her so. I offered to ride with her as far as a certain
+cross-road a league distant from Rutland Castle. There I would
+leave her, and go across the country to meet the yeomen on the road
+they had taken. I could join them before they reached Rutland, and
+my absence during the earlier portion of the march would not be
+remarked, or if noticed it could easily be explained.</p>
+<p>This plan was agreed upon, and after the guards had passed out
+at Dove-cote Gate and were well down toward Rowsley, I rode out
+from the Hall, and waited for Dorothy at an appointed spot near
+Overhaddon.</p>
+<p>Immediately after my departure Dolcy was saddled, and soon
+Dorothy rode furiously up to me. Away we sped, Dorothy and I, by
+Yulegrave church, down into the dale, and up the river. Never shall
+I forget that mad ride. Heavy rains had recently fallen, and the
+road in places was almost impassable. The rivers were in flood, but
+when Dorothy and I reached the ford, the girl did not stop to
+consider the danger ahead of her. I heard her whisper, "On, Dolcy,
+on," and I heard the sharp "whisp" of the whip as she struck the
+trembling, fearful mare, and urged her into the dark flood. Dolcy
+hesitated, but Dorothy struck her again and again with the whip and
+softly cried, "On, Dolcy, on." Then mare and rider plunged into the
+swollen river, and I, of course, followed them. The water was so
+deep that our horses were compelled to swim, and when we reached
+the opposite side of the river we had drifted with the current a
+distance of at least three hundred yards below the road. We climbed
+the cliff by a sheep path. How Dorothy did it I do not know; and
+how I succeeded in following her I know even less. When we reached
+the top of the cliff, Dorothy started off at full <a name=
+"Page_315" id="Page_315"></a>gallop, leading the way, and again I
+followed. The sheep path leading up the river to the road followed
+close the edge of the cliff, where a false step by the horse would
+mean death to both horse and rider. But Dorothy feared not, or knew
+not, the danger, and I caught her ever whispered cry,&mdash;"On,
+Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy, on." Ashamed to fall behind, yet fearing to
+ride at such a pace on such a path, I urged my horse forward. He
+was a fine, strong, mettlesome brute, and I succeeded in keeping
+the girl's dim form in sight. The moon, which was rapidly sinking
+westward, still gave us light through rifts in the black bank of
+floating clouds, else that ride over the sheep path by the cliff
+would have been our last journey in the flesh.</p>
+<p>Soon we reached the main road turning southward. It was a series
+of rough rocks and mudholes, and Dorothy and Dolcy shot forward
+upon it with the speed of the tempest, to undo, if possible, the
+evil which a dozen words, untimely spoken, had wrought. I urged my
+horse until his head was close by Dolcy's tail, and ever and anon
+could I hear the whispered cry,&mdash;"On, Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy,
+sweet Dolcy, good Dolcy; on, my pet, on."</p>
+<p>No word was spoken between Dorothy and me; but I could hear
+Dolcy panting with her mighty effort, and amid the noise of
+splashing water and the thud, thud, thud of our horses' hoofs came
+always back to me from Dorothy's lips the sad, sad cry, full of
+agony and longing,&mdash;"On, Dolcy, on; on Dolcy, on."</p>
+<p>The road we took led us over steep hills and down through dark,
+shadow-crowded ravines; but up hill, down hill, and on the level
+the terrible girl before me plunged forward with unabated headlong
+fury until I thought surely the flesh of horse, man, and woman
+could endure the strain not one moment longer. But the horses, the
+woman, and&mdash;though I say it who should not&mdash;the man were
+of God's best handiwork, and the cords of our lives did not
+<a name="Page_316" id="Page_316"></a>snap. One thought, and only
+one, held possession of the girl, and the matter of her own life or
+death had no place in her mind.</p>
+<p>When we reached the cross-road where I was to leave her, we
+halted while I instructed Dorothy concerning the road she should
+follow from that point to Rutland, and directed her how to proceed
+when she should arrive at the castle gate. She eagerly listened for
+a moment or two, then grew impatient, and told me to hasten in my
+speech, since there was no time to lose. Then she fearlessly dashed
+away alone into the black night; and as I watched her fair form
+fade into the shadows, the haunting cry came faintly back to
+me,&mdash;"On, Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy on," and I was sick at heart. I
+was loath to leave her thus in the inky gloom. The moon had sunk
+for the night, and the clouds had banked up without a rift against
+the hidden stars; but I could give her no further help, and my life
+would pay the forfeit should I accompany her. She had brought the
+evil upon herself. She was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the
+rain. She was fulfilling her destiny. She was doing that which she
+must do: nothing more, nothing less. She was filling her little
+niche in the universal moment. She was a part of the infinite
+kaleidoscope&mdash;a fate-charged, fate-moved, fragile piece of
+glass which might be crushed to atoms in the twinkling of an eye,
+in the sounding of a trump.</p>
+<p>After leaving Dorothy I rode across the country and soon
+overtook the yeoman guard whom I joined unobserved. Then I marched
+with them, all too rapidly to suit me, to Rutland. The little army
+had travelled with greater speed than I had expected, and I soon
+began to fear that Dorothy would not reach Rutland Castle in time
+to enable its inmates to escape.</p>
+<p>Within half an hour from the time I joined the yeomen we saw the
+dim outlines of the castle, and Sir William<a name="Page_317" id=
+"Page_317"></a> St. Loe gave the command to hurry forward. Cecil,
+Sir William, Sir George, and myself rode in advance of the column.
+As we approached the castle by the road leading directly to the
+gate from the north, I saw for a moment upon the top of the hill
+west of the castle gate the forms of Dorothy and Dolcy in dim
+silhouette against the sky. Then I saw them plunge madly down the
+hill toward the gate. I fancied I could hear the girl whispering in
+frenzied hoarseness,&mdash;"On, Dolcy, on," and I thought I could
+catch the panting of the mare. At the foot of the hill, less than
+one hundred yards from the gate, poor Dolcy, unable to take another
+step, dropped to the ground. Dolcy had gone on to her death. She
+had filled her little niche in the universe and had died at her
+post Dorothy plunged forward over the mare's head, and a cry of
+alarm came from my lips despite me. I was sure the girl had been
+killed. She, however, instantly sprang to her feet. Her hair was
+flying behind her and she ran toward the gate crying: "John, John,
+fly for your life!" And then she fell prone upon the ground and did
+not rise.</p>
+<p>We had all seen the mare fall, and had seen the girl run forward
+toward the gates and fall before reaching them. Cecil and Sir
+William rode to the spot where Dorothy lay, and dismounted.</p>
+<p>In a moment Sir William called to Sir George:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"The lady is your daughter, Mistress Dorothy."</p>
+<p>"What in hell's name brings her here?" cried Sir George,
+hurriedly riding forward, "and how came she?"</p>
+<p>I followed speedily, and the piteous sight filled my eyes with
+tears. I cannot describe it adequately to you, though I shall see
+it vividly to the end of my days. Dorothy had received a slight
+wound upon the temple, and blood was trickling down her face upon
+her neck and ruff. Her hair had fallen from its fastenings. She had
+lost her hat, and her gown was torn in shreds and covered with
+mud.<a name="Page_318" id="Page_318"></a> I lifted the
+half-conscious girl to her feet and supported her; then with my
+kerchief I bound up the wound upon her temple.</p>
+<p>"Poor Dolcy," she said, almost incoherently, "I have killed her
+and I have failed&mdash;I have failed. Now I am ready to die. Would
+that I had died with Dolcy. Let me lie down here,
+Malcolm,&mdash;let me lie down."</p>
+<p>I still held her in my arms and supported her half-fainting
+form.</p>
+<p>"Why are you here?" demanded Sir George.</p>
+<p>"To die," responded Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"To die? Damned nonsense!" returned her father.</p>
+<p>"How came you here, you fool?"</p>
+<p>"On Dolcy. She is dead," returned Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Were you not at Haddon when we left there?" asked her
+father.</p>
+<p>"Yes," she replied.</p>
+<p>"Did you pass us on the road?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"How came you here?" Sir George insisted.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I flew hither. I am a witch. Don't question me, father. I
+am in no temper to listen to you. I warn you once and for all, keep
+away from me; beware of me. I have a dagger in my bosom. Go and do
+the work you came to do; but remember this, father, if harm comes
+to him I will take my own life, and my blood shall be upon your
+soul."</p>
+<p>"My God, Malcolm, what does she mean?" asked Sir George, touched
+with fear by the strength of his daughter's threat. "Has she lost
+her wits?"</p>
+<p>"No," the girl quickly responded, "I have only just found
+them."</p>
+<p>Sir George continued to question Dorothy, but he received no
+further response from her. She simply held up the palm of her hand
+warningly toward him, and the ges<a name="Page_319" id=
+"Page_319"></a>ture was as eloquent as an oration. She leaned
+against me, and covered her face with her hands, while her form
+shook and trembled as if with a palsy.</p>
+<p>Cecil and Sir William St. Loe then went toward the gate, and Sir
+George said to me:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I must go with them. You remain with Doll, and see that she is
+taken home. Procure a horse for her. If she is unable to ride, make
+a litter, or perhaps there is a coach in the castle; if so, take
+possession of it. Take her home by some means when we return. What,
+think you, could have brought her here?"</p>
+<p>I evaded the question by replying, "I will probably be able to
+get a coach in the castle, Sir George. Leave Dorothy with me."</p>
+<p>Soon, by the command of Sir William, the yeomen rode to the
+right and to the left for the purpose of surrounding the castle,
+and then I heard Cecil at the gates demanding:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Open in the name of the queen."</p>
+<p>"Let us go to the gates," said Dorothy, "that we may hear what
+they say and see what they do. Will they kill him here, think you?"
+she asked, looking wildly into my face.</p>
+<p>The flambeaux on the castle gate and those which the link-boys
+had brought with them from Haddon were lighted, and the scene in
+front of the gate was all aglow.</p>
+<p>"No, no, my sweet one," I answered, "perhaps they will not kill
+him at all. Certainly they will not kill him now. They must try him
+first."</p>
+<p>I tried to dissuade her from going to the gates, but she
+insisted, and I helped her to walk forward.</p>
+<p>When Dorothy and I reached the gates, we found that Cecil and
+Lord Rutland were holding a consultation through the parley-window.
+The portcullis was still down, <a name="Page_320" id=
+"Page_320"></a>and the gates were closed; but soon the portcullis
+was raised, a postern was opened from within, and Sir William
+entered the castle with two score of the yeomen guards.</p>
+<p>Sir George approached and again plied Dorothy with questions,
+but she would not speak. One would have thought from her attitude
+that she was deaf and dumb. She seemed unconscious of her father's
+presence.</p>
+<p>"She has lost her mind," said Sir George, in tones of deep
+trouble, "and I know not what to do."</p>
+<p>"Leave her with me for a time, cousin. I am sure she will be
+better if we do not question her now."</p>
+<p>Then Dorothy seemed to awaken. "Malcolm is right, father. Leave
+me for a time, I pray you."</p>
+<p>Sir George left us, and waited with a party of yeomen a short
+distance from the gate for the return of Sir William with his
+prisoners.</p>
+<p>Dorothy and I sat upon a stone bench, near the postern through
+which Sir William and the guardsmen had entered, but neither of us
+spoke.</p>
+<p>After a long, weary time of waiting Sir William came out of the
+castle through the postern, and with him came Mary Stuart. My heart
+jumped when I saw her in the glare of the flambeaux, and the spirit
+of my dead love for her came begging admission to my heart. I
+cannot describe my sensations when I beheld her, but this I knew,
+that my love for her was dead past resurrection.</p>
+<p>Following Mary came Lord Rutland, and immediately following his
+Lordship walked John. When he stepped through the postern, Dorothy
+sprang to her feet and ran to him with a cry, "John, John!"</p>
+<p>He looked at her in surprise, and stepped toward her with
+evident intent to embrace her. His act was probably the result of
+an involuntary impulse, for he stopped before he reached the
+girl.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></a>Sir George had gone at Sir
+William's request to arrange the guards for the return march.</p>
+<p>Dorothy and John were standing within two yards of each
+other.</p>
+<p>"Do not touch me," cried Dorothy, "save to strike me If you
+will. The evil which has come upon you is of my doing. I betrayed
+you to the queen."</p>
+<p>I saw Mary turn quickly toward the girl when she uttered those
+words.</p>
+<p>"I was insane when I did it," continued Dorothy. "They will take
+your life, John. But when you die I also shall die. It is a poor
+reparation, I know, but it is the only one I can make."</p>
+<p>"I do not understand you, Dorothy," said John. "Why should you
+betray me?"</p>
+<p>"I cannot tell you," she answered. "All I know is that I did
+betray you and I hardly know how I did it. It all seems like a
+dream&mdash;like a fearful monster of the night. There is no need
+for me to explain. I betrayed you and now I suffer for it, more a
+thousand-fold than you can possibly suffer. I offer no excuse. I
+have none. I simply betrayed you, and ask only that I may die with
+you."</p>
+<p>Then was manifest in John's heart the noblest quality which God
+has given to man&mdash;charity, strengthened by reason. His face glowed
+with a light that seemed saintlike, and a grand look of ineffable
+love and pity came to his eyes. He seemed as if by inspiration to
+understand all that Dorothy had felt and done, and he knew that if
+she had betrayed him she had done it at a time when she was not
+responsible for her acts. He stepped quickly to the girl's side,
+and caring naught that we all should see him, caught her to his
+breast. He held her in his arms, and the light of the flambeaux
+fell upon her upturned face.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy," he said, "it matters not what you have done; you are
+my only love. I ask no explanation. If <a name="Page_322" id=
+"Page_322"></a>you have betrayed me to death, though I hope it will
+not come to that evil, you did not do it because you did not love
+me."</p>
+<p>"No, no, John, you know that," sobbed the girl.</p>
+<p>"I do know it, Dorothy; I know all that I wish to know. You
+would not intentionally bring evil upon me while you love me."</p>
+<p>"Ah, that I do, John; only God knows how deeply, how
+desperately. My love was the cause&mdash;my love was my
+curse&mdash;it was your curse."</p>
+<p>"Do not weep, Dorothy," said John, interrupting her. "I would
+that I could take all your suffering upon myself. Do not weep."</p>
+<p>Dorothy buried her face upon his breast and tears came to her
+relief. She was not alone in her weeping, for there stood I like a
+very woman, and by my side stood rough old Sir William. Tears were
+coursing down the bronzed cheek of the grand old warrior like drops
+of glistening dew upon the harrowed face of a mountain rock. When I
+saw Sir William's tears, I could no longer restrain my emotions,
+and I frankly tell you that I made a spectacle of myself in full
+view of the queen's yeoman guard.</p>
+<p>Sir George approached our little group, and when he saw Dorothy
+in John's arms, he broke forth into oaths and stepped toward her
+intending to force her away. But John held up the palm of his free
+hand warningly toward Sir George, and drawing the girl's drooping
+form close to his breast he spoke calmly:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Old man, if you but lay a finger on this girl, I will kill you
+where you stand. No power on earth can save you."</p>
+<p>There was a tone in John's voice that forced even Sir George to
+pause. Then Sir George turned to me.</p>
+<p>"This is the man who was in my house. He is the man who called
+himself Thomas. Do you know him?"</p>
+<p><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323"></a>Dorothy saved me from the
+humiliation of an answer.</p>
+<p>She took one step from John's side and held him by the hand
+while she spoke.</p>
+<p>"Father," she said, "this man is Sir John Manners. Now you may
+understand why he could not seek my hand openly, and you also know
+why I could not tell you his name." She again turned to John, and
+he put his arm about her. You can imagine much better that I can
+describe Sir George's fury. He snatched a halberd from the hands of
+a yeoman who was standing near by and started toward John and
+Dorothy. Thereupon the hard old warrior, Sir William St. Loe, whose
+heart one would surely say was the last place where sentiment could
+dwell, performed a little act of virtue which will balance many a
+page on the debtor side of his ledger of life. He lifted his sword
+and scabbard and struck Sir George's outstretched hand, causing the
+halberd to fall to the ground.</p>
+<p>"Don't touch the girl," cried Sir William, hoarsely.</p>
+<p>"She is my daughter," retorted Sir George, who was stunned
+mentally as well as physically by Sir William's blow.</p>
+<p>"I care not whose daughter she is," returned Sir William. "You
+shall not touch her. If you make but one other attempt, I will use
+my blade upon you."</p>
+<p>Sir William and John had been warm friends at London court, and
+the old captain of the guards quickly guessed the true situation
+when he saw Dorothy run to John's arms.</p>
+<p>"Sir, you shall answer for this," said Sir George, angrily, to
+Sir William.</p>
+<p>"With pleasure," returned Sir William. "I will give you
+satisfaction whenever you wish it, save this present time. I am too
+busy now."</p>
+<p>Blessed old Sir William! You have been dead these many winters;
+and were I a priest, I would say a mass for your soul gratis every
+day in the year.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_324" id="Page_324"></a>Did the girl betray us?"
+asked Queen Mary.</p>
+<p>No one answered her question. Then she turned toward Sir John
+and touched him upon the shoulder. He turned his face toward her,
+signifying that he was listening.</p>
+<p>"Who is this girl?" Mary demanded.</p>
+<p>"My sweetheart, my affianced wife," John answered.</p>
+<p>"She says she betrayed us," the queen responded.</p>
+<p>"Yes," said John.</p>
+<p>"Did you trust her with knowledge of our presence in Rutland?"
+Mary demanded angrily.</p>
+<p>"I did," he answered.</p>
+<p>"You were a fool," said Mary.</p>
+<p>"I know it," responded John.</p>
+<p>"You certainly bear her no resentment for her treason," said
+Mary.</p>
+<p>"I certainly do not," quietly answered John. "Her suffering is
+greater than mine. Can you not see that it is?"</p>
+<p>"It is your privilege," said Mary, scornfully, "to intrust your
+own secrets to whomsoever you may choose for your confidant, and it
+is quite saintlike in you to forgive this person for betraying you;
+but what think you of the hard case in which her treason and your
+folly have placed me?"</p>
+<p>"That is my greatest grief, save for Dorothy," answered John,
+softly. Lived there ever a man possessed of broader charity or
+deeper love than John? God surely made him of gold dust, not of
+common clay.</p>
+<p>Queen Mary stepped away from John in disgust, and when she
+turned she saw me for the first time. She started and was about to
+speak, but I placed my fingers warningly upon my lips and she
+remained silent.</p>
+<p>"Where do you take us, Sir William?" asked John.</p>
+<p>"To Haddon Hall. There you will await the commands of the
+queen."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_325" id="Page_325"></a>How came you here?" John
+asked gently of Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I rode Dolcy," she whispered. "She dropped dead at the foot of
+the hill. Yonder she lies. I came up the Lathkil by the long road,
+and I hoped that I might reach you in time to give warning. When
+the guard left Haddon I realized the evil that would come upon you
+by reason of my base betrayal." Here she broke down and for a
+moment could not proceed in the narrative. She soon recovered and
+continued: "Then I mounted Dolcy, and tried to reach here by way of
+the long road. Poor Dolcy seemed to understand my trouble and my
+despair, and she brought me with all the speed that a horse could
+make; but the road was too long and too rough; and she failed, and
+I failed. Would that I could have died in her place. She gave her
+life in trying to remedy my fault."</p>
+<p>Dorothy again began to weep, and John tenderly
+whispered:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"All will yet come right" Then he kissed her before us all, and
+handed her to me saying, "Care for her, I pray you, sir."</p>
+<p>John spoke a few words to Sir William, and in a moment they both
+went back to the castle.</p>
+<p>In a short time the gates were opened, and the Rutland coach
+drawn by four horses emerged from the castle grounds. Sir William
+then directed Mary and Dorothy to enter the coach and requested me
+to ride with them to Haddon Hall.</p>
+<p>The yeoman guards were in marching order, and I took my seat in
+the coach. The fates surely were in a humorous mood when they threw
+Dorothy, Queen Mary, and myself together. Pause for a moment and
+consider the situation. You know all the facts and you can analyze
+it as well as I. I could not help laughing at the fantastic trick
+of destiny.</p>
+<p>Soon after I entered the coach Sir William gave the <a name=
+"Page_326" id="Page_326"></a>word, and the yeomen with Lord Rutland
+and John moved forward on the road to Haddon.</p>
+<p>The coach at once followed the guard and a score of yeomen
+followed us.</p>
+<p>Queen Mary occupied the back seat of the coach, and Dorothy and
+I sat upon the front seat facing her.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was exhausted, and her head lay upon my shoulder. Now
+and again she would softly moan and sob, but she said nothing.
+After a few minutes of silence Queen Mary spoke:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Why did you betray me, you miserable wretch? Why did you betray
+me?"</p>
+<p>Dorothy did not answer. Mary continued:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Have I ever injured you in any manner? Have I ever harmed you
+by thought, word, or deed?"</p>
+<p>Dorothy's only answer was a sob.</p>
+<p>"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?"</p>
+<p>"No, no, madam," I said, "that was not the reason."</p>
+<p>"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.</p>
+<p>I told Mary that I did not know Dorothy's reasons, and she
+continued:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, you were not a party to my betrayal for the sake of
+revenging yourself on me?"</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327"></a>My admission soon brought
+me into trouble.</p>
+<p>"I alone am to blame," said Dorothy, faintly.</p>
+<p>"I can easily believe you," said Mary, sharply. "Did you expect
+to injure me?"</p>
+<p>No answer came from Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"If you expect to injure me," Mary continued, "you will be
+disappointed. I am a queen, and my Cousin Elizabeth would not dare
+to harm me, even though she might wish to do so. We are of the same
+blood, and she will not wish to do me injury. Your doting lover
+will probably lose his head for bringing me to England without his
+queen's consent. He is her subject. I am not. I wish you joy of the
+trouble you have brought upon him and upon yourself."</p>
+<p>"Upon him!" cried Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Yes, upon him," continued Mary, relishing the torture she was
+inflicting. "You will enjoy seeing him beheaded, will you not, you
+fool, you huzzy, you wretch? I hope his death will haunt you till
+the end of your days."</p>
+<p>Poor Dorothy, leaning against me, said faintly:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"It will&mdash;it will. You&mdash;you devil."</p>
+<p>The girl was almost dead from exhaustion and anguish, but she
+would have been dead indeed had she lacked the power to strike
+back. I believe had it not been for Dorothy's physical weakness she
+would have silenced Mary with her hands.</p>
+<p>After a little time Dorothy's heavy breathing indicated that she
+had fallen asleep. Her head rested upon my shoulder, and the
+delicious perfume of her hair and the sweet warm breath from her
+lips were almost intoxicating even to me, though I was not in love
+with her. How great must their effect have been coming upon John
+hot from her intense young soul!</p>
+<p>As the link-boys passed the coach some and some with their
+flambeaux I could see Dorothy's sweet pale face, <a name="Page_328"
+id="Page_328"></a>almost hidden in the tangled golden red hair
+which fell in floods about her. The perfect oval of her cheek, the
+long wet lashes, the arched eyebrows, the low broad forehead, the
+straight nose, the saucy chin&mdash;all presented a picture of
+beauty and pathos sufficient to soften a heart of stone. Mary had
+no heart of any sort, therefore she was not moved to pity. That
+emotion, I am sure, she never felt from the first to the last day
+of her life. She continued to probe Dorothy's wound until I told
+her the girl was asleep. I changed Dorothy's position and placed
+her head against the corner cushion of the coach that she might
+rest more comfortably. She did not awaken when I moved her. She
+slept and looked like a child. For a little time after I had
+changed Dorothy's position Mary and I sat in silence. She was the
+first to speak. She leaned forward and placing her hands upon mine,
+whispered my name:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm!"</p>
+<p>After a brief silence I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"What would you, your Majesty?"</p>
+<p>"Not 'your Majesty'" said Mary, softly, "but Mary, as of
+old."</p>
+<p>She remained for a moment with her hand upon my knee, and then
+whispered:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Will you not sit by me, Malcolm?"</p>
+<p>I believe that Mary Stuart's voice was the charm wherewith she
+fascinated men. I resisted to my utmost strength, but that seemed
+to be little more than utter weakness; so I took a seat by her
+side, and she gently placed her hand in mine. The warm touch of her
+strong, delicate fingers gave me a familiar thrill. She asked me to
+tell her of my wanderings since I had left Scotland, and I briefly
+related all my adventures. I told her of my home at Haddon Hall and
+of the welcome given me by my cousin, Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, have you forgotten?" she whispered, leaning <a name=
+"Page_329" id="Page_329"></a>gently against me. "Have you forgotten
+our old-time vows and love? Have you forgotten all that passed
+between us in the dear old ch&acirc;teau, when I gave to you my
+virgin love, fresh from my virgin heart?" I sighed and tried to
+harden my heart to her blandishments, for I knew she wished to use
+me and was tempting me to that end. She continued, "I was then only
+fourteen years old&mdash;ten years ago. You said that you loved me
+and I believed you. You could not doubt, after the proof I gave to
+you, that my heart was all yours. We were happy, oh, so happy. Do
+you remember, Malcolm?"</p>
+<p>She brought her face close to mine while she spoke, and pressed
+my hand upon her breast.</p>
+<p>My reason told me that it was but the song of the siren she was
+singing to my ears. My memory told me that she had been false to me
+twice two score times, and I knew full well she would again be
+false to me, or to any other man whom she could use for her
+purposes, and that she cared not the price at which she purchased
+him. Bear in mind, you who would blame me for my fall, that this
+woman not only was transcendently beautiful and fatally
+fascinating, but she was a queen and had held undisputed sway over
+my heart for more years than I could accurately number. As I said,
+added to all her beauty, she was a queen. If you have never known
+royalty, you cannot understand its enthralling power.</p>
+<p>"I remember it all, madam," I replied, trying to hold myself
+away from her. "It is fresh to me as if it all had happened
+yesterday." The queen drew my arm closely to her side and nestled
+her cheek for an instant upon my shoulder.</p>
+<p>"I remember also," I continued, "your marriage with Darnley when
+I had your promise that you would marry me; and, shame upon shame,
+I remember your marriage with Darnley's murderer, Bothwell."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_330" id="Page_330"></a>Cruel, cruel, Malcolm,"
+she said. "You well know the overpowering reasons of state which
+impelled me to sacrifice my own happiness by marrying Darnley. I
+told you at the time that I hated the marriage more than I dreaded
+death. But I longed to quiet the factions in Scotland, and I hoped
+to save my poor bleeding people from the evils of war. You know I
+hated Darnley. You know I loved you. You knew then and you know now
+that you are the only man who has ever possessed my heart. You know
+that my words are true. You know that you, alone, have had my love
+since the time when I was a child."</p>
+<p>"And Rizzio?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Ah, Malcolm," she answered tearfully, "I hope you, of all men,
+do not believe that I ever gave a thought of love to Rizzio. He was
+to me like my pet monkey or my favorite falcon. He was a beautiful,
+gentle, harmless soul. I loved him for his music. He worshipped me
+as did my spaniel."</p>
+<p>Still I was determined that her blandishments should not move
+me.</p>
+<p>"And Bothwell?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"That is past endurance from you, Malcolm," she said, beginning
+to weep. "You know I was brutally abducted and was forced into
+marriage with him. He was an outlaw, an outcast. He was an uncouth
+brute whom any woman would loathe. I was in his power, and I
+feigned acquiescence only that I might escape and achieve vengeance
+upon him. Tell me, Malcolm, tell me," continued Mary, placing her
+arms about my neck and clinging to me, "tell me, you, to whom I
+gave my maiden's love, you who have my woman's heart, tell me, do
+you believe that I could willingly have married Bothwell, even
+though my heart had not been filled with the image of you, who are
+strong, gentle, and beautiful?"</p>
+<p><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331"></a>You, if you are a man, may
+think that in my place you would have resisted the attack of this
+beautiful queen, but if so you think&mdash;pardon me, my
+friend&mdash;you are a fool. Under the spell of her magic influence
+I wavered in the conviction which had long since come upon me, that
+I had for years been her fool and her dupe. I forgot the former
+lessons I had learned from her perfidy. I forgot my manhood. I
+forgot all of good that had of late grown up in me. God help me, I
+forgot even Madge.</p>
+<p>"If I could only believe you, Mary," I answered, growing insane
+under the influence of her fascinations, "If I could only believe
+you."</p>
+<p>"Give me your lips, Malcolm," she whispered, "give me your
+lips.&mdash;Again, my Malcolm.&mdash;Ah, now you believe me."</p>
+<p>The lying logic of a wanton kiss is irresistible. I was drunk
+and, alas! I was convinced. When I think of that time, Samson is my
+only comfort&mdash;Samson and a few hundred million other fools,
+who like Samson and me have been wheedled, kissed, and duped into
+misery and ruin.</p>
+<p>I said: "I do believe you, Mary. I beg you to forgive me for
+having doubted you. You have been traduced and brutally
+misused."</p>
+<p>"It is sweet to hear you speak those words. But it is better to
+think that at last we have come together with nothing to part us
+save that I am a prisoner in the hands of my vindictive, jealous
+cousin. I thank God that my kingdom of Scotland has been taken from
+me. I ever hated the Scots. They are an ignorant, unkempt,
+wry-necked, stubborn, filthy race. But, above all, my crown stood
+between you and me. I may now be a woman, and were it not for
+Elizabeth, you and I could yet find solace in each other for all
+our past sufferings. Malcolm, I have a sweet thought. If I could
+escape to fair, beautiful France, all would be happiness for us.
+You could claim your mother's estates in the balmy south, and we
+might <a name="Page_332" id="Page_332"></a>live upon them. Help me,
+my Malcolm, to escape, and your reward shall be greater and sweeter
+than man ever before received from woman."</p>
+<p>I struggled against her blandishments for a moment, but I was
+lost.</p>
+<p>"You shall escape and I will go with you," said I. Man needs to
+make but one little prayer to God, "Lead me not into temptation."
+That prayer answered, all else of good will follow.</p>
+<p>The morning sun had just begun to rise over Bowling Green Hill
+and the shadows of the night were fleeing before his lances, when
+our cavalcade entered the grounds of Haddon at the dove-cote. If
+there were two suns revolving about the earth, one to shine upon us
+by night and one by day, much evil would be averted. Men do evil in
+the dark because others cannot see them; they think evil in the
+dark because they cannot see themselves.</p>
+<p>With the first faint gray of dawn there came to me thoughts of
+Madge. I had forgotten her, but her familiar spirit, the light,
+brought me back to its fair mistress.</p>
+<p>When our coach reached the stone bridge I looked up to the Hall
+and saw Madge standing at the open casement of the tower window.
+She had been watching there all night, I learned, hoping for our
+speedy and safe return, and had been warned of our approach by the
+noise of the tramping guard. I drew back from the coach window,
+feeling that I was an evil shade slinking away before the spirit of
+light.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a><a name="Page_333" id=
+"Page_333"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+<h2>LIGHT</h2>
+<p>Dorothy had awakened while we were entering Rowsley, and I was
+glad that Mary could not touch me again.</p>
+<p>When our coach reached the stone steps of the entrance tower we
+found Sir George, Lady Crawford, and Madge waiting to receive us.
+The steps and the path leading to them had been carpeted with soft
+rugs, and Mary, although a prisoner, was received with ceremonies
+befitting her rank. It was a proud day for Sir George when the roof
+of his beautiful Hall sheltered the two most famous queens of
+christendom.</p>
+<p>Sir George assisted Mary from the coach most graciously, and in
+knightly fashion led her to Lady Crawford and Madge, who were
+standing at the foot of the tower steps. Due presentations were
+made, and the ladies of Haddon having kissed the queen's hand, Mary
+went into the Hall upon the arm of his Majesty, the King of the
+Peak, who stepped forward most proudly.</p>
+<p>His resentment against Dorothy was for the moment neutralized by
+the great honor of which his house and himself were the
+recipients.</p>
+<p>John and Lord Rutland were taken to the dungeon.</p>
+<p>I assisted Dorothy from the coach and led her to Madge, who was
+waiting for us upon the lowest of the steps leading to the entrance
+tower doorway. Dorothy took Madge's <a name="Page_334" id=
+"Page_334"></a>outstretched hand; but Madge, by some strange
+instinct, knowing of my presence, turned her face toward me. I
+could not lift my eyes to her face, nor could I endure to remain in
+her presence. While we were ascending the steps she held out her
+hand to me and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Is all well with you, Malcolm?" Her voice was full of tender
+concern, and it pained me to the heart to hear her speak kindly to
+me, who was so unworthy of her smallest thought.</p>
+<p>"Yes, Lady&mdash;yes, Madge," I responded; but she knew from the
+tones of my voice that all was not right with me.</p>
+<p>"I fear, Malcolm, that you do not tell me the truth. You will
+come to me soon?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"I may not be able to go to you soon," I answered, "but I will
+do so at the first opportunity."</p>
+<p>The torture of her kindness was almost unbearable to me. One
+touch of her hand, one tone of her rare voice, had made me loathe
+myself. The powers of evil cannot stand for one moment in a fair
+conflict with the powers of good. I felt that I, alone, was to
+blame for my treason to Madge; but despite my effort at
+self-condemnation there was an under-consciousness that Mary Stuart
+was to blame, and I hated her accordingly. Although Madge's
+presence hurt me, it was not because I wished to conceal my conduct
+from her. I knew that I could be happy again only after I had
+confessed to her and had received forgiveness.</p>
+<p>Madge, who was blind of sight, led Dorothy, who was piteously
+blind of soul, and the two girls went to their apartments.</p>
+<p>Curiosity is not foreign even to the royal female breast, and
+while Mary Stuart was entering Haddon Hall, I saw the luminous head
+of the Virgin Queen peeked out at a casement on the second floor
+watching her rival with all <a name="Page_335" id=
+"Page_335"></a>the curiosity of a Dutch woman sitting by her window
+mirror.</p>
+<p>I went to my room in Eagle Tower, fell upon my bed, and
+abandoned myself to an anguish of soul which was almost luxurious.
+I shall not tease you with the details of my mental and moral
+processes. I hung in the balance a long time undetermined what
+course I should pursue. The difference between the influence of
+Mary and the effect wrought by Madge was the difference between the
+intoxication and the exhilaration of wine. Following the
+intoxication of Mary's presence ever came a torturing reaction,
+while the exhilarating influence of Madge gave health and strength.
+I chose the latter. I have always been glad I reached that
+determination without the aid of any impulse outside of myself; for
+events soon happened which again drove all faith in Mary from my
+heart forever. Those events would have forced me to abandon my
+trust in her; but mind you, I took my good resolve from inclination
+rather than necessity before I learned of Mary's perfidy.</p>
+<p>The events of the night had exhausted Dorothy, and she was
+confined to her bed by illness for the first time in her life. She
+believed that she was dying, and she did not want to live. I did
+not go to her apartments. Madge remained with her, and I,
+coward-like, feared to face the girl to whom I had been untrue.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's one and only desire, of course, was to see John, but
+that desire for a time seemed impossible of accomplishment.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth, Cecil, Leicester, and Sir William St. Loe were in
+secret consultation many times during three or four days and
+nights. Occasionally Sir George was called into their councils, and
+that flattering attention so wrought upon the old man's pride that
+he was a slave to the queen's slightest wish, and was more
+tyrannical <a name="Page_336" id="Page_336"></a>and dictatorial
+than ever before to all the rest of mankind. There were, however,
+two persons besides the queen before whom Sir George was gracious:
+one of these was Mary Stuart, whose powers of fascination had been
+brought to bear upon the King of the Peak most effectively. The
+other was Leicester, to whom, as my cousin expressed it, he hoped
+to dispose of that troublesome and disturbing body&mdash;Dorothy.
+These influences, together with the fact that his enemies of
+Rutland were in the Haddon dungeon, had given Sir George a
+spleen-vent, and Dorothy, even in the face of her father's
+discovery that Manners was her mysterious lover, had for once a
+respite from Sir George's just and mighty wrath.</p>
+<p>The purpose of Elizabeth's many councils of war was to devise
+some means of obtaining from John and his father, information
+concerning the plot, which had resulted in bringing Mary Stuart
+into England. The ultimate purpose of Mary's visit, Elizabeth's
+counsellors firmly believed to be the dethronement of the English
+queen and the enthronement of her Scottish cousin. Elizabeth, in
+her heart, felt confident that John and his father were not parties
+to the treasonable plot, although she had been warned against each
+of them. Cecil and Sir William St. Loe also secretly held to that
+opinion, though neither of them expressed it, Elizabeth was
+conscious of having given to John while at London court an
+intimation that she would be willing that Mary should visit
+England. Of such intimation Cecil and Sir William had no knowledge,
+though they, together with many persons of the Court, believed that
+Elizabeth was not entirely averse to Mary's presence.</p>
+<p>Lord Rutland and John were questioned by Cecil in the hope of
+obtaining some hints which might lead to the detection of those
+concerned in the chief plot, provided such plot existed. But Lord
+Rutland knew nothing of the affair <a name="Page_337" id=
+"Page_337"></a>except that John had brought the Scottish queen from
+Scotland, and John persisted in the statement that he had no
+confederate and that he knew nothing of any plot to place Mary upon
+the English throne.</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v337" id="v337"></a> <img src=
+"images/v337.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>John said: "I received from Queen Mary's friends in Scotland
+letters asking me to meet her on the border, and requesting me to
+conduct her to my father's castle. Those letters mentioned no
+Englishman but myself, and they stated that Queen Mary's flight to
+England was to be undertaken with the tacit consent of our gracious
+queen. That fact, the letters told me, our queen wished should not
+be known. There were reasons of state, the letters said, which made
+it impolitic for our queen openly to invite Queen Mary to seek
+sanctuary in England. I received those letters before I left
+Westminster. Upon the day when I received them, I heard our
+gracious queen say that she would gladly invite Queen Mary to
+England, were it not for the fact that such an invitation would
+cause trouble between her and the regent, Murray. Her Majesty at
+the same time intimated that she would be glad if Mary Stuart
+should come to England uninvited." John turned to Elizabeth, "I beg
+your Majesty, in justice, to ratify my words." Elizabeth hesitated
+for a moment after John's appeal; but her love of justice came to
+her rescue and she hung her head as she said, "You are right, Sir
+John." Then she looked her counsellors in the face and said, "I
+well remember that I so expressed myself."</p>
+<p>"In truth," said John, "I having only an hour before received
+the letter from Scotland, believed that your Majesty's words were
+meant for my ear. I felt that your Majesty knew of the letters, and
+I thought that I should be carrying out your royal wishes should I
+bring Queen Mary into England without your knowledge."</p>
+<p>The queen responded: "I then felt that I wished Queen<a name=
+"Page_338" id="Page_338"></a> Mary to seek refuge in my kingdom,
+but so many untoward events have transpired since I spoke on the
+subject at Westminster that I have good cause to change my mind,
+though I easily understand how you might have been misled by my
+words."</p>
+<p>"I am sure," replied John, "that your Majesty has had good cause
+to change your mind; but I protest in all sincerity that I
+considered the Scottish letters to be a command from my queen."</p>
+<p>Elizabeth was a strange combination of paradoxes. No one could
+be truer than she to a fixed determination once taken. No one could
+be swayed by doubt so easily as she to change her mind sixty times
+in the space of a minute. During one moment she was minded to
+liberate John and Lord Rutland; in the next she determined to hold
+them in prison, hoping to learn from them some substantial fact
+concerning the plot which, since Mary's arrival in England, had
+become a nightmare to her. But, with all her vagaries the Virgin
+Queen surely loved justice. That quality, alone, makes a sovereign
+great. Elizabeth, like her mother, Anne Boleyn, had great faith in
+her personal beauty; like her father, she had unbounded confidence
+in her powers of mind. She took great pride in the ease with which
+she controlled persons. She believed that no one was so adroit as
+Elizabeth Tudor in extracting secrets from others, and in
+unravelling mysterious situations, nor so cunning in hunting out
+plots and in running down plotters. In all such matters she
+delighted to act secretly and alone.</p>
+<p>During the numerous councils held at Haddon, Elizabeth allowed
+Cecil to question John to his heart's content; but while she
+listened she formulated a plan of her own which she was sure would
+be effective in extracting all the truth from John, if all the
+truth had not already been extracted. Elizabeth kept her cherished
+plan to herself. It was this:&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339"></a>She would visit Dorothy,
+whom she knew to be ill, and would by her subtle art steal from
+John's sweetheart all that the girl knew of the case. If John had
+told Dorothy part of the affair concerning Mary Stuart, he had
+probably told her all, and Elizabeth felt confident that she could
+easily pump the girl dry. She did not know Dorothy. Accordingly our
+queen, Elizabeth, the adroit, went to Dorothy's room under the
+pretence of paying the girl a gracious visit. Dorothy wished to
+arise and receive her royal guest, but Elizabeth said
+gently:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Do not arise, Dorothy; rest quietly, and I will sit here beside
+you on the bed. I have come to tell you that you must recover your
+health at once. We miss you greatly in the Hall."</p>
+<p>No one could be more gracious than Elizabeth when the humor was
+upon her; though, in truth, the humor was often lacking.</p>
+<p>"Let us send all save you and me from the room," said the queen,
+"that we may have a quiet little chat together."</p>
+<p>All who were in the room save Dorothy and Elizabeth of course
+departed at once.</p>
+<p>When the door was closed, the queen said: "I wish to thank you
+for telling me of the presence of her Scottish Majesty at Rutland.
+You know there is a plot on foot to steal my throne from me."</p>
+<p>"God forbid that there should be such a plot," replied Dorothy,
+resting upon her elbow in the bed.</p>
+<p>"I fear it is only too true that there is such a plot," returned
+Elizabeth, "and I owe you a great debt of gratitude for warning me
+of the Scottish queen's presence in my kingdom."</p>
+<p>"I hope the danger will be averted from your Majesty," said
+Dorothy; "but that which I did will cause my death&mdash;it will
+kill me. No human being ever before has lived <a name="Page_340"
+id="Page_340"></a>through the agony I have suffered since that
+terrible night. I was a traitress. I betrayed the man who is dearer
+to me than my immortal soul. He says that he forgives me, but your
+Majesty knows that my fault is beyond forgiveness."</p>
+<p>"Sir John is a noble gentleman, child," said the queen. "I hope
+that he is loyal to me, but I fear&mdash;I fear."</p>
+<p>"Do not doubt, do not fear, my queen," returned Dorothy,
+eagerly; "there is nothing false in him."</p>
+<p>"Do you love him deeply, little one?" asked the queen.</p>
+<p>"No words can tell you my love for him," answered the girl. "I
+feel shame to say that he has taken even the holy God's place in my
+heart. Perhaps it is for that sin that God now punishes me."</p>
+<p>"Fear not on that score, Dorothy," replied the queen. "God will
+not punish you for feeling the love which He Himself has put into
+your heart. I would willingly give my crown could I feel such love
+for a worthy man who would in return love me for myself. But I
+cannot feel, nor can I have faith. Self-interest, which is so
+dominant in all men, frightens me, and I doubt their vows."</p>
+<p>"Surely, any man would love you for your own sake," said
+Dorothy, tenderly.</p>
+<p>"It may be that you speak truly, child; but I cannot know when
+men's vows are true nor when they are false. The real trouble is
+within myself. If I could but feel truly, I could interpret
+truthfully."</p>
+<p>"Ah, your Majesty," interrupted Dorothy, "you do not know the
+thing for which you are wishing; it is a torture worse than death;
+it is an ecstasy sweeter than heaven. It is killing me. I pity you,
+though you are a queen, if you have never felt it."</p>
+<p>"Would you do anything I might ask of you, if you could thereby
+save Sir John's life?" asked the queen.</p>
+<p>"Ah, I would gladly give my soul to save him," responded<a name=
+"Page_341" id="Page_341"></a> Dorothy, with tears in her eyes and
+eagerness in her voice. "Oh, my queen, do not lead me to hope, and
+then plunge me again into despair. Give me no encouragement unless
+you mean to free him. As for my part, take my life and spare
+John's. Kill me by torture, burn me at the stake, stretch me upon
+the rack till my joints are severed and my flesh is torn asunder.
+Let me die by inches, my queen; but spare him, oh, spare him, and
+do with me as you will. Ask from me what you wish. Gladly will I do
+all that you may demand; gladly will I welcome death and call it
+sweet, if I can thereby save him. The faint hope your Majesty's
+words hold out makes me strong again. Come, come, take my life;
+take all that I can give. Give me him."</p>
+<p>"Do you believe that I am an ogress thirsting for blood,
+Dorothy, that you offer me your life for his? You can purchase Sir
+John's life at a much smaller cost." Dorothy rose to the queen with
+a cry, and put her arms about her neck. "You may purchase his
+freedom," continued the queen, "and you may serve your loving queen
+at one and the same time, if you wish to do so."</p>
+<p>Dorothy had sunk back into the bed, and Elizabeth was sitting
+close by her side; but when the queen spoke she turned her head on
+the pillow and kissed the royal hand which was resting upon the
+coverlid.</p>
+<p>"Ah, you are so good, so true, and so beautiful," said
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Her familiarity toward the queen was sweet to the woman, to whom
+it was new.</p>
+<p>Dorothy did not thank the queen for her graciousness. She did
+not reply directly to her offer. She simply said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"John has told me many times that he was first attracted to me
+because I resembled you."</p>
+<p>The girl had ample faith in her own beauty, and knew full well
+the subtle flattery which lay in her words. "He <a name="Page_342"
+id="Page_342"></a>said," she continued, "that my hair in some faint
+degree resembled yours, but he said it was not of so beautiful a
+hue. I have loved my hair ever since the day he told me that it
+resembled your Majesty's." The girl leaned forward toward the queen
+and gently kissed the royal locks. They no more resembled Dorothy's
+hair than brick dust resembles the sheen of gold.</p>
+<p>The queen glanced at the reflection of her hair in the mirror
+and it flatly contradicted Dorothy. But the girl's words were
+backed by Elizabeth's vanity, and the adroit flattery went
+home.</p>
+<p>"Ah, my child," exclaimed her Majesty softly, as she leaned
+forward and kissed Dorothy's fair cheek.</p>
+<p>Dorothy wept gently for a moment and familiarly rested her face
+upon the queen's breast. Then she entwined her white arms about
+Elizabeth's neck and turned her glorious eyes up to the queen's
+face that her Majesty might behold their wondrous beauty and feel
+the flattery of the words she was about to utter.</p>
+<p>"He said also," continued Dorothy, "that my eyes in some slight
+degree resembled your Majesty's, but he qualified his compliment by
+telling me&mdash;he did not exactly tell me that my eyes were not
+so large and brilliant as your Majesty's, for he was making love to
+me, and of course he would not have dared to say that my eyes were
+not the most perfect on earth; but he did say that&mdash;at least I
+know that he meant&mdash;that my eyes, while they resembled yours,
+were hardly so glorious, and&mdash;and I am very jealous of your
+Majesty. John will be leaving me to worship at your feet."</p>
+<p>Elizabeth's eyes were good enough. The French called them
+"marcassin," that is, wild boar's eyes. They were little and
+sparkling; they were not luminous and large like Dorothy's, and the
+girl's flattery was rank. Elizabeth, however, saw Dorothy's eyes
+and believed her words rather <a name="Page_343" id=
+"Page_343"></a>than the reply of the lying mirror, and her
+Majesty's heart was soft from the girl's kneading. Consider, I pray
+you, the serpent-like wisdom displayed by Dorothy's method of
+attack upon the queen. She did not ask for John's liberty. She did
+not seek it. She sought only to place John softly on Elizabeth's
+heart. Some natures absorb flattery as the desert sands absorb the
+unfrequent rain, and Elizabeth&mdash;but I will speak no ill of
+her. She is the greatest and the best sovereign England has ever
+had. May God send to my beloved country others like her. She had
+many small shortcomings; but I have noticed that those persons who
+spend their evil energies in little faults have less force left for
+greater ones. I will show you a mystery: Little faults are
+personally more disagreeable and rasping to us than great ones.
+Like flying grains of sand upon a windy day, they vex us
+constantly. Great faults come like an avalanche, but they come less
+frequently, and we often admire their possessor, who sooner or
+later is apt to become our destroyer.</p>
+<p>"I can hardly tell you," said Dorothy in response to a question
+by Elizabeth, "I can hardly tell you why I informed your Majesty of
+Queen Mary's presence at Rutland. I did it partly for love of your
+Majesty and partly because I was jealous of that white, plain woman
+from Scotland."</p>
+<p>"She is not a plain woman, is she?" said Elizabeth, delighted to
+hear Mary of Scotland so spoken of for once. One way to flatter
+some women is to berate those whom they despise or fear. Elizabeth
+loved Dorothy better for the hatred which the girl bore to Mary.
+Both stood upon a broad plane of mutual sympathy-jealousy of the
+same woman. It united the queen and the maiden in a common
+heart-touching cause.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's confidence grew apace. "She is plain," replied
+Dorothy, poutingly. "She appears plain, colorless, and repulsive by
+the side of your Majesty."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_344" id="Page_344"></a>No, no, Dorothy, that
+cannot be," returned Queen Elizabeth, gently patting. Dorothy's
+cheek and glancing stealthily at the reflection of her own face in
+the mirror. At this point Dorothy considered that the time had come
+for a direct attack.</p>
+<p>"Your Majesty need have no fear of a plot to place Queen Mary
+upon your throne. The English people would not endure her wicked
+pale face for a moment."</p>
+<p>"But there is such a plot in existence," said Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>"What you say may be true," returned Dorothy; "but, your
+Majesty, John is not in the plot, and he knows nothing of it."</p>
+<p>"I hope&mdash;I believe&mdash;he is not in the plot," said
+Elizabeth, "but I fear&mdash;"</p>
+<p>The girl kissed the sleeve of Elizabeth's gown, and then she
+drew the queen closer to her and kissed her hair and her face.</p>
+<p>"Ah, my beauteous queen," said Dorothy, "I thank you for those
+words. You must know that John loves you, and is your loyal
+subject. Take pity upon me. Help me. Hold out your gracious hand
+and lift me from my despair."</p>
+<p>Dorothy slipped from the bed and fell on her knees, burying her
+face in the queen's lap.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth was touched by the girl's appeal, and caressingly
+stroked her hair, as she said: "I believe he is innocent, but I
+fear he knows or suspects others who harbor treasonable designs.
+Tell me, Dorothy, do you know of any such persons? If you can tell
+me their names, you will serve your queen, and will save your
+lover. No harm shall come to Sir John, and no one save myself shall
+have knowledge of any word that you may speak. If I do not learn
+the names of the traitors through you or through Sir John, I may be
+compelled to hold him a prisoner until I discover them. If through
+you I learn them, Sir John shall go free at once."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_345" id="Page_345"></a>Gladly, for your Majesty's
+sake alone would I tell you the names of such traitorous men, did I
+know them;" replied Dorothy, "and thrice gladly would I do so if I
+might thereby liberate John. Your Majesty must see that these
+motives are strong enough to induce me to speak if I knew aught to
+tell you. I would betray the whole world to save him, of that you
+may be sure. But alas! I know no man whom I can betray. John told
+me nothing of his expedition to the Scottish border save what was
+in two letters which he sent to me. One of these I received before
+he left Rutland, and the other after his return."</p>
+<p>She fetched the letters to the queen, who read them
+carefully.</p>
+<p>"Perhaps if I were to see him, he might, upon my importunity,
+tell me all he knows concerning the affair and those connected with
+it if he knows anything more than he has already told," said
+Dorothy, by a great effort suppressing her eagerness. "I am sure,
+your Majesty, he would tell me all Should he tell me the names of
+any persons connected with any treasonable plot, I will certainly
+tell you. It would be base in me again to betray John's confidence;
+but your Majesty has promised me his life and liberty, and to
+obtain those I would do anything, however evil it might be. If I
+may see John, I promise to learn all that he knows, if he knows
+anything; and I also promise to tell you word for word all that he
+says."</p>
+<p>The girl felt safe in making these promises, since she was sure
+that John knew nothing of a treasonable character.</p>
+<p>The queen, thinking that she had adroitly led Dorothy up to
+making the offer, said, "I accept the conditions. Be in readiness
+to visit Sir John, upon my command."</p>
+<p>Thus the compact was sealed, and the queen, who thought herself
+wise, was used by the girl, who thought herself simple.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346"></a>For the purpose of hiding
+her exultation, Dorothy appeared to be ill, but when the queen
+passed out at the door and closed it behind her, the girl sprang
+from the bed and danced around the room as if she were a
+bear-baiter. From the depths of despair she flew to the pinnacle of
+hope. She knew, however, that she must conceal her happiness;
+therefore she went back to bed and waited impatiently the summons
+of Elizabeth requiring her to go to John.</p>
+<p>But now I must pause to tell you of my troubles which followed
+so swiftly upon the heels of my fault that I was fairly stunned by
+them. My narrative will be brief, and I shall soon bring you back
+again to Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Queen Mary had no sooner arrived at Haddon Hall than she opened
+an attack upon Leicester, somewhat after the same plan, I suppose,
+which she had followed with me in the coach. She could no more
+easily resist inviting homage from men than a swallow can refrain
+from flying. Thus, from inclination and policy, she sought
+Leicester and endeavored by the pleasant paths of her blandishments
+to lead him to her cause. There can be no doubt concerning
+Leicester's wishes in the premises. Had Mary's cause held elements
+of success, he would have joined her; but he feared Elizabeth, and
+he hoped some day to share her throne. He would, however, prefer to
+share the throne with Mary.</p>
+<p>Mary told him of her plans and hopes. She told him that I had
+ridden with Dorothy for the purpose of rescuing John and herself,
+and that I had promised to help her to escape to France. She told
+him she would use me for her tool in making her escape, and would
+discard me when once she should be safe out of England. Then would
+come Leicester's turn. Then should my lord have his recompense, and
+together they would regain the Scottish crown.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347"></a>How deeply Leicester became
+engaged in the plot I cannot say, but this I know: through fear of
+Elizabeth, or for the purpose of winning her favor, he unfolded to
+our queen all the details of Mary's scheme, together with the full
+story of my ride with Dorothy to Rutland, and my return with
+Dorothy and Mary in the coach. Thereupon Mary was placed under
+strict guard. The story spread quickly through the Hall, and Dawson
+brought it to me. On hearing it, my first thought was of Madge. I
+knew it would soon reach her. Therefore I determined to go to her
+at once and make a clean breast of all my perfidy. Had I done so
+sooner, I should at least have had the benefit of an honest,
+voluntary confession; but my conscience had made a coward of me,
+and the woman who had been my curse for years had so completely
+disturbed my mind that I should have been quite as well off without
+any at all. It led me from one mistake into another.</p>
+<p>After Dawson told me that my miserable story was known
+throughout the Hall, I sought Madge, and found her with Aunt
+Dorothy. She was weeping, and I at once knew that I was too late
+with my confession. I spoke her name, "Madge," and stood by her
+side awaiting her reply.</p>
+<p>"Is it true, Malcolm?" she asked. "I cannot believe it till I
+hear it from your lips."</p>
+<p>"It was true," I responded. "I promised to help Queen Mary
+escape, and I promised to go with her; but within one hour of the
+time when I gave my word I regretted it as I have never regretted
+anything else in all my life. I resolved that, while I should,
+according to my promise, help the Scottish queen escape, I would
+not go with her. I resolved to wait here at Haddon to tell all to
+you and to our queen, and then I would patiently take my just
+punishment from each. My doom from the queen, I believed, would
+probably be death; but I feared more your&mdash;God help me! It is
+useless for me to speak." Here I broke <a name="Page_348" id=
+"Page_348"></a>down and fell upon my knees, crying, "Madge, Madge,
+pity me, pity me! Forgive me if you can, and, if our queen decrees
+it, I shall die happy."</p>
+<p>In my desperation I caught the girl's hand, but she drew it
+quickly from me, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Do not touch me!"</p>
+<p>She arose to her feet, and groped her way to her bedroom. We
+were in Aunt Dorothy's room. I watched Madge as she sought with her
+outstretched hand the doorway; and when she passed slowly through
+it, the sun of my life seemed to turn black. Just as Madge passed
+from the room, Sir William St. Loe, with two yeomen, entered by Sir
+George's door and placed irons upon my wrist and ankles. I was led
+by Sir William to the dungeon, and no word was spoken by either of
+us.</p>
+<p>I had never in my life feared death, and now I felt that I would
+welcome it. When a man is convinced that his life is useless,
+through the dire disaster that he is a fool, he values it little,
+and is even more than willing to lose it.</p>
+<p>Then there were three of us in the dungeon,&mdash;John, Lord
+Rutland, and myself; and we were all there because we had meddled
+in the affairs of others, and because Dorothy had inherited from
+Eve a capacity for insane, unreasoning jealousy.</p>
+<p>Lord Rutland was sitting on the ground in a corner of the
+dungeon. John, by the help of a projecting stone in the masonry,
+had climbed to the small grated opening which served to admit a few
+straggling rays of light into the dungeon's gloom. He was gazing
+out upon the fair day, whose beauty he feared would soon fade away
+from him forever.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth's coldness had given him no hope. It had taken all
+hope from his father.</p>
+<p>The opening of the door attracted John's attention, and he
+turned his face toward me when I entered. He had <a name="Page_349"
+id="Page_349"></a>been looking toward the light, and his eyes,
+unaccustomed for the moment to the darkness, failed at first to
+recognize of me. When the dungeon door had closed behind me, he
+sprang down from his perch by the window, and came toward me with
+outstretched hands. He said sorrowfully:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, have I brought you here, too? Why are you in irons? It
+seems that I am destined to bring calamity upon all whom I
+love."</p>
+<p>"It is a long story," I replied laughingly. "I will tell it to
+you when the time begins to drag; but I tell you now it is through
+no fault of yours that I am here. No one is to blame for my
+misfortune but myself." Then I continued bitterly, "Unless it be
+the good God who created me a fool."</p>
+<p>John went to his father's side and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm is here, father. Will you not rise and greet
+him?"</p>
+<p>John's voice aroused his father, and the old lord came to the
+little patch of light in which I was standing and said: "A terrible
+evil has fallen upon us, Sir Malcolm, and without our fault. I
+grieve to learn that you also are entangled in the web. The future
+looks very dark."</p>
+<p>"Cheer up, father," said John, taking the old man's hand. "Light
+will soon come; I am sure it will."</p>
+<p>"I have tried all my life to be a just man," said Lord Rutland.
+"I have failed at times, I fear, but I have tried. That is all any
+man can do. I pray that God in His mercy will soon send light to
+you, John, whatever of darkness there may be in store for me."</p>
+<p>I thought, "He will surely answer this just man's prayer," and
+almost before the thought was completed the dungeon door turned
+upon its hinges and a great light came with glorious refulgence
+through the open portal&mdash;Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"John!"</p>
+<p>Never before did one word express so much of mingled <a name=
+"Page_350" id="Page_350"></a>joy and grief. Fear and confidence,
+and, greater than all, love unutterable were blended in its
+eloquent tones. She sprang to John as the lightning leaps from
+cloud to cloud, and he caught her to his heart. He gently kissed
+her hair, her face being hidden in the folds of his doublet.</p>
+<p>"Let me kneel, John, let me kneel," she murmured.</p>
+<p>"No, Dorothy, no," he responded, holding her closely in his
+arms.</p>
+<p>"But one moment, John," she pleased.</p>
+<p>"No, no; let me see your eyes, sweet one," said John, trying to
+turn her face upward toward his own.</p>
+<p>"I cannot yet, John, I cannot. Please let me kneel for one
+little moment at your feet."</p>
+<p>John saw that the girl would find relief in self-abasement, so
+he relaxed his arms, and she sank to her knees upon the dungeon
+floor. She wept softly for a moment, and then throwing back her
+head with her old impulsive manner looked up into his face.</p>
+<p>"Oh, forgive me, John! Forgive me! Not that I deserve your
+forgiveness, but because you pity me."</p>
+<p>"I forgave you long ago, Dorothy. You had my full forgiveness
+before you asked it."</p>
+<p>He lifted the weeping girl to her feet and the two clung
+together in silence. After a pause Dorothy spoke:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You have not asked me, John, why I betrayed you."</p>
+<p>"I want to know nothing, Dorothy, save that you love me."</p>
+<p>"That you already know. But you cannot know how much I love you.
+I myself don't know. John, I seem to have turned all to love.
+'However much there is of me, that much there is of love for you.
+As the salt is in every drop of the sea, so love is in every part
+of my being; but John," she continued, drooping her head and
+speaking regretfully, "the salt in the sea is not unmixed with many
+<a name="Page_351" id="Page_351"></a>things hurtful." Her face
+blushed with shame and she continued limpingly: "And my love is
+not&mdash;is not without evil. Oh, John, I feel deep shame in
+telling you, but my love is terribly jealous. At times a jealousy
+comes over me so fierce and so distracting that under its influence
+I am mad, John, mad. I then see nothing in its true light; my eyes
+seem filled with&mdash;with blood, and all things appear red or
+black and&mdash;and&mdash;oh! John, I pray you never again cause me
+jealousy. It makes a demon of me."</p>
+<p>You may well know that John was nonplussed.</p>
+<p>"I cause you jealousy?" he asked in surprise. "When did
+I&mdash;" But Dorothy interrupted him, her eyes flashing darkly and
+a note of fierceness in her voice. He saw for himself the effects
+of jealousy upon her.</p>
+<p>"That white&mdash;white Scottish wanton! God's curse be upon
+her! She tried to steal you from me."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps she did," replied John, smilingly, "of that I do not
+know. But this I do know, and you, Dorothy, must know it too
+henceforth and for all time to come. No woman can steal my love
+from you. Since I gave you my troth I have been true to you; I have
+not been false even in one little thought."</p>
+<p>"I feel sure, John, that you have not been untrue to me," said
+the girl with a faint smile playing about her lips; "but&mdash;but
+you remember the strange woman at Bowling Green Gate whom you would
+have&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, I hope you have not come to my dungeon for the purpose
+of making me more wretched than I already am?"</p>
+<p>"No, no, John, forgive me," she cried softly; "but John, I hate
+her, I hate her! and I want you to promise that you too will hate
+her."</p>
+<p>"I promise," said John, "though, you have had no cause for
+jealousy of Queen Mary."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps&mdash;not," she replied hesitatingly. "I have <a name=
+"Page_352" id="Page_352"></a>never thought," the girl continued
+poutingly, "that you did anything of which I should be jealous; but
+she&mdash;she&mdash;oh, I hate her! Let us not talk about her.
+Jennie Faxton told me&mdash;I will talk about her, and you shall
+not stop me&mdash;Jennie Faxton told me that the white woman made
+love to you and caused you to put your arm about her waist one
+evening on the battlements and-"</p>
+<p>"Jennie told you a lie," said John.</p>
+<p>"Now don't interrupt me," the girl cried nervously, almost ready
+for tears, "and I will try to tell you all. Jennie told me
+the&mdash;the white woman looked up to you this fashion," and the
+languishing look she gave John in imitation of Queen Mary was so
+beautiful and comical that he could do nothing but laugh and cover
+her face with kisses, then laugh again and love the girl more
+deeply and yet more deeply with each new breath he drew. Dorothy
+was not sure whether she wanted to laugh or to cry, so she did
+both.</p>
+<p>"Jennie told me in the middle of the night," continued Dorothy,
+"when all things seem so vivid and appear so distorted
+and&mdash;and that terrible blinding jealousy of which I told you
+came upon me and drove me mad. I really thought, John, that I
+should die of the agony. Oh, John, if you could know the anguish I
+suffered that night you would pity me; you would not blame me."</p>
+<p>"I do not blame you, Dorothy."</p>
+<p>"No, no, there-" she kissed him softly, and quickly continued:
+"I felt that I must separate her from you at all cost. I would have
+done murder to accomplish my purpose. Some demon whispered to me,
+'Tell Queen Elizabeth,' and&mdash;and oh, John, let me kneel
+again."</p>
+<p>"No, no, Dorothy, let us talk of something else," said John,
+soothingly.</p>
+<p>"In one moment, John. I thought only of the evil that would come
+to her&mdash;her of Scotland. I did not think of <a name="Page_353"
+id="Page_353"></a>the trouble I would bring to you, John, until the
+queen, after asking me if you were my lover, said angrily: 'You may
+soon seek another.' Then, John, I knew that I had also brought evil
+upon you. Then I <i>did</i> suffer. I tried to reach Rutland, and
+you know all else that happened on that terrible night. Now John,
+you know all&mdash;all. I have withheld nothing. I have, confessed
+all, and I feel that a great weight is taken from my heart. You
+will not hate me, will you, John?"</p>
+<p>He caught the girl to his breast and tried to turn her face
+toward his.</p>
+<p>"I could not hate you if I would," he replied, with quick-coming
+breath, "and God knows I would not. To love you is the sweetest joy
+in life," and he softly kissed the great lustrous eyes till they
+closed as if in sleep. Then he fiercely sought the rich red lips,
+waiting soft and passive for his caresses, while the fair head fell
+back upon the bend of his elbow in a languorous, half-conscious
+sweet surrender to his will. Lord Rutland and I had turned our
+backs on the shameless pair, and were busily discussing the
+prospect for the coming season's crops.</p>
+<p>Remember, please, that Dorothy spoke to John of Jennie Faxton.
+Her doing so soon bore bitter fruit for me.</p>
+<p>Dorothy had been too busy with John to notice any one else, but
+he soon presented her to his father. After the old lord had
+gallantly kissed her hand, she turned scornfully to me and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"So you fell a victim to her wanton wiles? If it were not for
+Madge's sake, I could wish you might hang."</p>
+<p>"You need not balk your kindly desire for Madge's sake," I
+answered. "She cares little about my fate. I fear she will never
+forgive me."</p>
+<p>"One cannot tell what a woman will do," Dorothy replied. "She is
+apt to make a great fool of herself when it comes to forgiving the
+man she loves."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_354" id="Page_354"></a>Men at times have
+something to forgive," I retorted, looking with a smile toward
+John. The girl made no reply, but took John's hand and looked at
+him as if to say, "John, please don't let this horrid man abuse
+me."</p>
+<p>"But Madge no longer cares for me," I continued, wishing to talk
+upon the theme, "and your words do not apply to her."</p>
+<p>The girl turned her back disdainfully on me and said, "You seem
+to be quite as easily duped by the woman who loves you and says she
+doesn't as by the one who does not care for you but says she
+does."</p>
+<p>"Damn that girl's tongue!" thought I; but her words, though
+biting, carried joy to my heart and light to my soul.</p>
+<p>After exchanging a few words with Lord Rutland, Dorothy turned
+to John and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Tell me upon your knightly honor, John, do you know aught of a
+wicked, treasonable plot to put the Scottish woman on the English
+throne?"</p>
+<p>I quickly placed my finger on my lips and touched my ear to
+indicate that their words would be overheard; for a listening-tube
+connected the dungeon with Sir George's closet.</p>
+<p>"Before the holy God, upon my knighthood, by the sacred love we
+bear each other, I swear I know of no such plot," answered John. "I
+would be the first to tell our good queen did I suspect its
+existence."</p>
+<p>Dorothy and John continued talking upon the subject of the plot,
+but were soon interrupted by a warning knock upon the dungeon
+door.</p>
+<p>Lord Rutland, whose heart was like twenty-two carat gold, soft,
+pure, and precious, kissed Dorothy's hand when she was about to
+leave, and said: "Dear lady, grieve not for our sake. I can easily
+see that more pain has come to you than to us. I thank you for the
+great fearless love <a name="Page_355" id="Page_355"></a>you bear
+my son. It has brought him trouble, but it is worth its cost. You
+have my forgiveness freely, and I pray God's choicest benediction
+may be with you." She kissed the old lord and said, "I hope some
+day to make you love me."</p>
+<p>"That will be an easy task," said his Lordship, gallantly.
+Dorothy was about to leave. Just at the doorway she remembered the
+chief purpose of her visit; so she ran back to John, put her hand
+over his mouth to insure silence, and whispered in his ear.</p>
+<p>On hearing Dorothy's whispered words, signs of joy were so
+apparent in John's face that they could not be mistaken. He said
+nothing, but kissed her hand and she hurriedly left the
+dungeon.</p>
+<p>After the dungeon door closed upon Dorothy, John went to his
+father and whispered a few words to him. Then he came to me, and in
+the same secretive manner said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"The queen has promised Dorothy our liberty." I was not at all
+sure that "our liberty" included me,&mdash;I greatly doubted
+it,&mdash;but I was glad for the sake of my friends, and, in truth,
+cared little for myself.</p>
+<p>Dorothy went from our dungeon to the queen, and that afternoon,
+according to promise, Elizabeth gave orders for the release of John
+and his father. Sir George, of course, was greatly chagrined when
+his enemies slipped from his grasp; but he dared not show his ill
+humor in the presence of the queen nor to any one who would be apt
+to enlighten her Majesty on the subject.</p>
+<p>Dorothy did not know the hour when her lover would leave Haddon;
+but she sat patiently at her window till at last John and Lord
+Rutland appeared. She called to Madge, telling her of the joyous
+event, and Madge, asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Is Malcolm with them?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_356" id="Page_356"></a>No," replied Dorothy, "he
+has been left in the dungeon, where he deserves to remain."</p>
+<p>After a short pause, Madge said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If John had acted toward the Scottish queen as Malcolm did,
+would you forgive him?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, of course. I would forgive him anything."</p>
+<p>"Then why shall we not forgive Malcolm?" asked Madge.</p>
+<p>"Because he is not John," was the absurd reply.</p>
+<p>"No," said Madge, promptly; "but he is 'John' to me."</p>
+<p>"That is true," responded Dorothy, "and I will forgive him if
+you will."</p>
+<p>"I don't believe it makes much difference to Malcolm whether or
+not you forgive him," said Madge, who was provoked at Dorothy's
+condescending offer. "My forgiveness, I hope, is what he
+desires."</p>
+<p>"That is true, Madge," replied Dorothy, laughingly; "but may not
+I, also, forgive him?"</p>
+<p>"If you choose," responded Madge, quietly; "as for me, I know
+not what I wish to do."</p>
+<p>You remember that Dorothy during her visit to the dungeon spoke
+of Jennie Faxton. The girl's name reached Sir George's ear through
+the listening-tube and she was at once brought in and put to the
+question.</p>
+<p>Jennie, contrary to her wont, became frightened and told all she
+knew concerning John and Dorothy, including my part in their
+affairs. In Sir George's mind, my bad faith to him was a greater
+crime than my treason to Elizabeth, and he at once went to the
+queen with his tale of woe.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth, the most sentimental of women, had heard from Dorothy
+the story of her tempestuous love, and also of mine, and the queen
+was greatly interested in the situation.</p>
+<p>I will try to be brief.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357"></a>Through the influence of
+Dorothy and Madge, as I afterward learned, and by the help of a
+good word from Cecil, the queen was induced to order my liberation
+on condition that I should thenceforth reside in France. So one
+morning, three days after John's departure from Haddon, I was
+overjoyed to hear the words, "You are free."</p>
+<p>I did not know that Jennie Faxton had given Sir George her large
+stock of disturbing information concerning my connection with the
+affairs of Dorothy and John. So when I left the dungeon, I,
+supposing that my stormy cousin would be glad to forgive me if
+Queen Elizabeth would, sought and found him in Aunt Dorothy's room.
+Lady Crawford and Sir George were sitting near the fire and Madge
+was standing near the door in the next room beyond. When I entered,
+Sir George sprang to his feet and cried out angrily:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You traitorous dog, the queen has seen fit to liberate you, and
+I cannot interfere with her orders; but if you do not leave my Hall
+at once I shall set the hounds on you. Your effects will be sent to
+The Peacock, and the sooner you quit England the safer you will
+be." There was of course nothing for me to do but to go.</p>
+<p>"You once told me, Sir George&mdash;you remember our interview
+at The Peacock&mdash;that if you should ever again order me to
+leave Haddon, I should tell you to go to the devil. I now take
+advantage of your kind permission, and will also say farewell."</p>
+<p>I kissed Aunt Dorothy's cheek, took my leave, and sought Cecil,
+from whom I obtained a passport to France. Then I asked Dawson to
+fetch my horse.</p>
+<p>I longed to see Madge before I left Haddon, but I knew that my
+desire could not be gratified; so I determined to stop at Rowsley
+and send back a letter to her which Dawson undertook to deliver. In
+my letter I would ask Madge's permission to return for her from
+France <a name="Page_358" id="Page_358"></a>and to take her home
+with me as my wife. After I had despatched my letter I would wait
+at The Peacock for an answer.</p>
+<p>Sore at heart, I bade good-by to Dawson, mounted my horse, and
+turned his head toward the Dove-cote Gate. As I rode under
+Dorothy's window she was sitting there. The casement was open, for
+the day was mild, although the season was little past midwinter. I
+heard her call to Madge, and then she called to me:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Farewell, Malcolm! Forgive me for what I said to you in the
+dungeon. I was wrong, as usual. Forgive me, and God bless you.
+Farewell!"</p>
+<p>While Dorothy was speaking, and before I replied, Madge came to
+the open casement and called:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Wait for me, Malcolm, I am going down to you."</p>
+<p>Great joy is a wonderful purifier, and Madge's cry finished the
+work of the past few months and made a good man of me, who all my
+life before had known little else than evil.</p>
+<p>Soon Madge's horse was led by a groom to the mounting block, and
+in a few minutes she emerged gropingly from the great door of
+Entrance Tower. Dorothy was again a prisoner in her rooms and could
+not come down to bid me farewell. Madge mounted, and the groom led
+her horse to me and placed the reins in my hands.</p>
+<p>"Is it you, Malcolm?" asked Madge.</p>
+<p>"Yes," I responded, in a voice husky with emotion. "I cannot
+thank you enough for coming to say farewell. You have forgiven
+me?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," responded Madge, almost in tears, "but I have not come to
+say farewell."</p>
+<p>I did not understand her meaning.</p>
+<p>"Are you going to ride part of the way with me&mdash;perhaps to
+Rowsley?" I asked, hardly daring to hope for so much.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_359" id="Page_359"></a>To France, Malcolm, if you
+wish to take me," she responded murmuringly.</p>
+<p>For a little time I could not feel the happiness that had come
+upon me in so great a flood. But when I had collected my scattered
+senses, I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I thank God that He has turned your heart again to me. May I
+feel His righteous anger if ever I give you cause to regret the
+step you are taking."</p>
+<p>"I shall never regret it, Malcolm," she answered softly, as she
+held out her hand to me.</p>
+<p>Then we rode by the dove-cote, out from Haddon Hall, never to
+see its walls again.</p>
+<p>We went to Rutland, whence after a fortnight we journeyed to
+France. There I received my mother's estates, and never for one
+moment, to my knowledge, has Madge regretted having intrusted her
+life and happiness to me. I need not speak for myself.</p>
+<p>Our home is among the warm, sunlit, vine-covered hills of
+southern France, and we care not for the joys of golden streets so
+long as God in His goodness vouchsafes to us our earthly paradise.
+Age, with the heart at peace, is the fairest season of life; and
+love, leavened of God, robs even approaching death of his sting and
+makes for us a broad flower-strewn path from the tempestuous sea of
+time to the calm, sweet ocean of eternity.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><a name="Page_360"
+id="Page_360"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+<h2>LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE</h2>
+<p>I shall now tell you of the happenings in Haddon Hall during the
+fortnight we spent at Rutland before our departure for France.</p>
+<p>We left Dorothy, you will remember, a prisoner in her rooms.</p>
+<p>After John had gone Sir George's wrath began to gather, and
+Dorothy was not permitted to depart from the Hall for even a walk
+upon the terrace, nor could she leave her own apartments save when
+the queen requested her presence.</p>
+<p>A few days after my departure from Haddon, Sir George sent
+Dawson out through the adjoining country to invite the nobility and
+gentry to a grand ball to be given at the Hall in honor of Queen
+Elizabeth. Queen Mary had been sent a prisoner to Chatsworth.</p>
+<p>Tom Shaw, the most famous piper of his times, and a choice
+company of musicians to play with him were hired for the occasion,
+and, in short, the event was so glorious that its wonders have been
+sung in minstrelsy throughout Derbyshire ever since.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's imprisonment saddened Leicester's heart, and he longed
+to see her, for her beauty had touched him nearly. Accordingly, the
+earl one day intimated to Sir George his wish in terms that almost
+bespoke an intention to ask for the girl's hand when upon proper
+oppor<a name="Page_361" id="Page_361"></a>tunity the queen's
+consent might be sought and perchance obtained. His equivocal words
+did not induce Sir George to grant a meeting by which Dorothy might
+be compromised; but a robust hope for the ultimate accomplishment
+of the "Leicester possibility" was aroused in the breast of the
+King of the Peak, and from hope he could, and soon did, easily step
+to faith. He saw that the earl was a handsome man, and he believed,
+at least he hoped, that the fascinating lord might, if he were
+given an opportunity, woo Dorothy's heart away from the hated scion
+of a hated race. Sir George, therefore, after several interviews
+with the earl, grew anxious to give his Lordship an opportunity to
+win her. But both Sir George and my lord feared Elizabeth's
+displeasure, and the meeting between Leicester and the girl seemed
+difficult to contrive. Sir George felt confident that Dorothy
+could, if she would, easily capture the great lord in a few private
+interviews; but would she? Dorothy gave her father no encouragement
+in the matter, and took pains to shun Leicester rather than to seek
+him.</p>
+<p>As Dorothy grew unwilling, Leicester and Sir George grew eager,
+until at length the latter felt that it was almost time to exert
+his parental authority. He told Aunt Dorothy his feeling on the
+subject, and she told her niece. It was impossible to know from
+what source Dorothy might draw inspiration for mischief. It came to
+her with her father's half-command regarding Leicester.</p>
+<p>Winter had again asserted itself. The weather was bitter cold
+and snow covered the ground to the depth of a horse's fetlock.</p>
+<p>The eventful night of the grand ball arrived, and Dorothy's
+heart throbbed till she thought surely it would burst.</p>
+<p>At nightfall guests began to arrive, and Sir George, hospitable
+soul that he was, grew boisterous with good humor and delight.</p>
+<p>The rare old battlements of Haddon were ablaze with <a name=
+"Page_362" id="Page_362"></a>flambeaux, and inside the rooms were
+alight with waxen tapers. The long gallery was brilliant with the
+smiles of bejewelled beauty, and laughter, song, and merriment
+filled the grand old Hall from terrace to Entrance Tower. Dorothy,
+of course, was brought down from her prison to grace the occasion
+with a beauty which none could rival. Her garments were of soft,
+clinging, bright-colored silks and snowy laces, and all who saw her
+agreed that a creature more radiant never greeted the eye of
+man.</p>
+<p>When the guests had all arrived, the pipers in the balcony burst
+forth in heart-swelling strains of music, and every foot in the
+room longed for the dance to begin.</p>
+<p>I should like to tell you how Elizabeth most graciously opened
+the ball with his Majesty, the King of the Peak, amid the plaudits
+of worshipping subjects, and I should enjoy describing the riotous
+glory which followed,&mdash;for although I was not there, I know
+intimately all that happened,&mdash;but I will balk my desire and
+tell you only of those things which touched Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Leicester, of course, danced with her, and during a pause in the
+figure, the girl in response to pleadings which she had adroitly
+incited, reluctantly promised to grant the earl the private
+interview he so much desired if he could suggest some means for
+bringing it about. Leicester was in raptures over her complaisance
+and glowed with triumph and delightful anticipation. But he could
+think of no satisfactory plan whereby his hopes might be brought to
+a happy fruition. He proposed several, but all seemed impracticable
+to the coy girl, and she rejected them. After many futile attempts
+he said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I can suggest no good plan, mistress. I pray you, gracious
+lady, therefore, make full to overflowing the measure of your
+generosity, and tell me how it may be accomplished."</p>
+<p>Dorothy hung her head as if in great shame and said:<a name=
+"Page_363" id="Page_363"></a> "I fear, my lord, we had better
+abandon the project for a time. Upon another occasion
+perhaps&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"No, no," interrupted the earl, pleadingly, "do not so
+grievously disappoint me. My heart yearns to have you to myself for
+one little moment where spying eyes cannot see nor prying ears
+hear. It is cruel in you to raise my hopes only to cast them down.
+I beg you, tell me if you know in what manner I may meet you
+privately."</p>
+<p>After a long pause, Dorothy with downcast eyes said, "I am full
+of shame, my lord, to consent to this meeting, and then find the
+way to it, but&mdash;but&mdash;" ("Yes, yes, my Venus, my gracious
+one," interrupted the earl)&mdash;"but if my father would permit me
+to&mdash;to leave the Hall for a few minutes, I might&mdash;oh, it
+is impossible, my lord. I must not think of it."</p>
+<p>"I pray you, I beg you," pleaded Leicester. "Tell me, at least,
+what you might do if your father would permit you to leave the
+Hall. I would gladly fall to my knees, were it not for the
+assembled company."</p>
+<p>With reluctance in her manner and gladness in her heart, the
+girl said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If my father would permit me to leave the Hall, I
+might&mdash;only for a moment, meet you at the stile, in the
+northeast corner of the garden back of the terrace half an hour
+hence. But he would not permit me, and&mdash;and, my lord, I ought
+not to go even should father consent."</p>
+<p>"I will ask your father's permission for you. I will seek him at
+once," said the eager earl.</p>
+<p>"No, no, my lord, I pray you, do not," murmured Dorothy, with
+distracting little troubled wrinkles in her forehead. Her trouble
+was more for fear lest he would not than for dread that he
+would.</p>
+<p>"I will, I will," cried his Lordship, softly; "I insist, and you
+shall not gainsay me."</p>
+<p>The girl's only assent was silence, but that was sufficient
+<a name="Page_364" id="Page_364"></a>for so enterprising a gallant
+as the noble Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. So he at once went
+to seek Sir George.</p>
+<p>The old gentleman, although anxious to give Leicester a chance
+to press his suit with Dorothy, at first refused, but Leicester
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My intentions are honorable, Sir George. If I can win your
+daughter's heart, it is my wish, if the queen's consent can be
+obtained, to ask Mistress Vernon's hand in marriage."</p>
+<p>Sir George's breast swelled with pride and satisfaction, for
+Leicester's words were as near an offer of marriage as it was in
+his power to make. So the earl received, for Dorothy, permission to
+leave the Hall, and eagerly carried it to her.</p>
+<p>"Your father consents gladly," said the earl. "Will you meet me
+half an hour hence at the stile?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," murmured the girl, with shamelessly cast down eyes and
+drooping head. Leicester bowed himself away, and fully fifteen
+minutes before the appointed time left the Hall to wait in the cold
+at the stile for Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Before the expiration of the tedious half hour our meek maiden
+went to her father and with deep modesty and affected shame
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Father, is it your wish that I go out of the Hall for a few
+minutes to meet&mdash;to meet&mdash;" She apparently could not
+finish the sentence, so modest and shame-faced was she.</p>
+<p>"Yes, Doll, I wish you to go on this condition: if Leicester
+asks you to marry him, you shall consent to be his wife."</p>
+<p>"I promise, father," replied the dutiful girl, "if Lord
+Leicester asks me this night, I will be his wife."</p>
+<p>"That is well, child, that is well. Once more you are my good,
+obedient daughter, and I love you. Wear your sable cloak, Doll; the
+weather is very cold out of doors."</p>
+<p>Her father's solicitude touched her nearly, and she <a name=
+"Page_365" id="Page_365"></a>gently led him to a secluded alcove
+near by, threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him
+passionately. The girl's affection was sweet to the old man who had
+been without it so long, and his eyes grew moist as he returned her
+caresses. Dorothy's eyes also were filled with tears. Her throat
+was choked with sobs, and her heart was sore with pain. Poor young
+heart! Poor old man!</p>
+<p>Soon after Dorothy had spoken with her father she left the Hall
+by Dorothy's Postern. She was wrapped in her sable cloak&mdash;the
+one that had saved John's life in Aunt Dorothy's room; but instead
+of going across the garden to the stile where Lord Leicester was
+waiting, which was north and east of the terrace, she sped
+southward down the terrace and did not stop till she reached the
+steps which led westward to the lower garden. She stood on the
+terrace till she saw a man running toward her from the postern in
+the southwest corner of the lower garden. Then down the steps she
+sped with winged feet, and outstretching her arms, fell upon the
+man's breast, whispering: "John, my love! John, my love!"</p>
+<p>As for the man&mdash;well, during the first minute or two he
+wasted no time in speech.</p>
+<p>When he spoke he said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"We must not tarry here. Horses are waiting at the south end of
+the footbridge. Let us hasten away at once."</p>
+<p>Then happened the strangest of all the strange things I have had
+to record of this strange, fierce, tender, and at time almost
+half-savage girl.</p>
+<p>Dorothy for months had longed for that moment. Her heart had
+almost burst with joy when a new-born hope for it was suggested by
+the opportunities of the ball and her father's desire touching my
+lord of Leicester. But now that the longed-for moment was at hand,
+the tender heart, which had so anxiously awaited it, failed, and
+the girl broke down weeping hysterically.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_366" id="Page_366"></a>Oh, John, you have
+forgiven so many faults in me," she said between sobs, "that I know
+you will forgive me when I tell you I cannot go with you to-night.
+I thought I could and I so intended when I came out here to meet
+you. But oh, John, my dearest love, I cannot go; I cannot go.
+Another time I will go with you, John. I promise that I will go
+with you soon, very soon, John; but I cannot go now, oh, I cannot.
+You will forgive me, won't you, John? You will forgive me?"</p>
+<p>"No," cried John in no uncertain tones, "I will not forgive you.
+I will take you. If you cry out, I will silence you." Thereupon he
+rudely took the girl in his arms and ran with her toward the garden
+gate near the north end of the stone footbridge.</p>
+<p>"John, John!" she cried in terror. But he placed his hand over
+her mouth and forced her to remain silent till they were past the
+south wall. Then he removed his hand and she screamed and struggled
+against him with all her might. Strong as she was, her strength was
+no match for John's, and her struggles were in vain.</p>
+<p>John, with his stolen bride, hurriedly crossed the footbridge
+and ran to the men who were holding the horses. There he placed
+Dorothy on her feet and said with a touch of anger:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Will you mount of your own will or shall I put you in the
+saddle?"</p>
+<p>"I'll mount of my own will, John," she replied submissively,
+"and John, I&mdash;I thank you, I thank you for&mdash;for&mdash;"
+she stopped speaking and toyed with the tufts of fur that hung from
+the edges of her cloak.</p>
+<p>"For what, my love? For what do you thank me?" asked John after
+a little pause.</p>
+<p>"For making&mdash;me&mdash;do&mdash;what I&mdash;I longed to do.
+My conscience would not let me do it of my own free will."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367"></a>Then tears came from her
+eyes in a great flood, and throwing her arms about John's neck she
+gave him herself and her heart to keep forever and forever.</p>
+<p>And Leicester was shivering at the stile! The girl had forgotten
+even the existence of the greatest lord in the realm.</p>
+<p>My wife, Lord Rutland, and I waited in the watch-room above the
+castle gates for the coming of Dorothy and John; and when they
+came&mdash;but I will not try to describe the scene. It were a vain
+effort. Tears and laughter well compounded make the sweetest joy;
+grief and joy the truest happiness; happiness and pain the grandest
+soul, and none of these may be described. We may analyze them, and
+may take them part from part; but, like love, they cannot be
+compounded. We may know all the component parts, but when we try to
+create these great emotions in description, we lack the subtle
+compounding flux to unite the ingredients, and after all is done,
+we have simply said that black is black and that white is
+white.</p>
+<p>Next day, in the morning, Madge and I started for our new home
+in France. We rode up the hill down which poor Dolcy took her last
+fatal plunge, and when we reached the crest, we paused to look
+back. Standing on the battlements, waving a kerchief in farewell to
+us, was the golden-crowned form of a girl. Soon she covered her
+face with her kerchief, and we knew she was weeping Then we, also,
+wept as we turned away from the fair picture; and since that
+far-off morning&mdash;forty long, long years ago&mdash;we have not
+seen the face nor heard the voice of our sweet, tender friend.
+Forty years! What an eternity it is if we tear it into minutes!</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="LENVOI" id="LENVOI"></a><a name="Page_368" id=
+"Page_368"></a>L'ENVOI</h2>
+<p>The fire ceases to burn; the flames are sucked back into the
+earth; the doe's blood has boiled away; the caldron cools, and my
+shadowy friends&mdash;so real to me&mdash;whom I love with a
+passionate tenderness beyond my power to express, have sunk into
+the dread black bank of the past, and my poor, weak wand is
+powerless to recall them for the space of even one fleeting moment.
+So I must say farewell to them; but all my life I shall carry a
+heart full of tender love and pain for the fairest, fiercest,
+gentlest, weakest, strongest of them all&mdash;Dorothy Vernon.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="MALCOLM_POSSIBLY_IN_ERROR" id=
+"MALCOLM_POSSIBLY_IN_ERROR"></a><a name="Page_369" id=
+"Page_369"></a>MALCOLM POSSIBLY IN ERROR</h2>
+<p>Malcolm Vernon is the only writer on the life of Dorothy Vernon
+who speaks of Rutland Castle. All others writing on the subject say
+that Belvoir Castle was the home of the Earl of Rutland.</p>
+<p>No other writer mentions the proposed marriage, spoken of by
+Malcolm, between Dorothy and Lord Derby's son. They do, however,
+say that Dorothy had an elder sister who married a Stanley, but
+died childless, leaving Dorothy sole heiress to Sir George Vernon's
+vast estate.</p>
+<p>All writers agree with Malcolm upon the main fact that brave
+Dorothy eloped with John Manners and brought to him the fair estate
+of Haddon, which their descendant, the present Duke of Rutland, now
+possesses.</p>
+<p>No other writer speaks of Mary Stuart having been at Haddon, and
+many chroniclers disagree with Malcolm as to the exact date of her
+imprisonment in Lochleven and her escape.</p>
+<p>In all other essential respects the history of Dorothy Vernon as
+told by Malcolm agrees with other accounts of her life.</p>
+<p>I do not pretend to reconcile the differences between these
+great historical authorities, but I confess to considerable faith
+in Malcolm.</p>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14671 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/14671-h/images/v001.jpg b/14671-h/images/v001.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fb41d99
--- /dev/null
+++ b/14671-h/images/v001.jpg
diff --git a/14671-h/images/v072.jpg b/14671-h/images/v072.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9798c68
--- /dev/null
+++ b/14671-h/images/v072.jpg
diff --git a/14671-h/images/v170.jpg b/14671-h/images/v170.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c0d7c3f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/14671-h/images/v170.jpg
diff --git a/14671-h/images/v204.jpg b/14671-h/images/v204.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cde9668
--- /dev/null
+++ b/14671-h/images/v204.jpg
diff --git a/14671-h/images/v238.jpg b/14671-h/images/v238.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..edcd2af
--- /dev/null
+++ b/14671-h/images/v238.jpg
diff --git a/14671-h/images/v271.jpg b/14671-h/images/v271.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5223b98
--- /dev/null
+++ b/14671-h/images/v271.jpg
diff --git a/14671-h/images/v337.jpg b/14671-h/images/v337.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6a2eaf0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/14671-h/images/v337.jpg
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..385fe05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #14671 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14671)
diff --git a/old/14671-8.txt b/old/14671-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..989e59b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,12989 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall, by Charles Major
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall
+
+Author: Charles Major
+
+Release Date: January 11, 2005 [EBook #14671]
+[Last updated: January 11, 2016]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Rick Niles, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+Mary Pickford Edition
+
+Dorothy Vernon of
+Haddon Hall
+
+BY
+
+CHARLES MAJOR
+
+AUTHOR OF
+WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER,
+YOLANDA, ETC.
+
+
+ILLUSTRATED WITH
+SCENES FROM THE PHOTOPLAY
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
+
+Made in the United States of America
+
+Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1908
+
+
+Printed in U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+To My Wife
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                     Page
+
+A TOUCH OF BLACK MAGIC                                  1
+
+CHAPTER
+   I. I RIDE DOWN TO HADDON                             3
+  II. THE IRON, THE SEED, THE CLOUD, AND THE RAIN      19
+ III. THE PITCHER GOES TO THE WELL                     35
+  IV. THE GOLDEN HEART                                 62
+   V. MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE                           91
+  VI. A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN                  108
+ VII. TRIBULATION IN HADDON                           130
+VIII. MALCOLM NO. 2                                   163
+  IX. A TRYST AT BOWLING GREEN GATE                   181
+   X. THOMAS THE MAN-SERVANT                          211
+  XI. THE COST MARK OF JOY                            239
+ XII. THE LEICESTER POSSIBILITY                       260
+XIII. PROUD DAYS FOR THE OLD HALL                     281
+ XIV. MARY STUART                                     302
+  XV. LIGHT                                           333
+ XVI. LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE                    360
+
+
+
+
+
+A TOUCH OF BLACK MAGIC
+
+
+I draw the wizard's circle upon the sands, and blue flames spring from its
+circumference. I describe an inner circle, and green flames come
+responsive to my words of magic. I touch the common centre of both with my
+wand, and red flames, like adders' tongues, leap from the earth. Over
+these flames I place my caldron filled with the blood of a new-killed doe,
+and as it boils I speak my incantations and make my mystic signs and
+passes, watching the blood-red mist as it rises to meet the spirits of
+Air. I chant my conjurations as I learned them from the Great Key of
+Solomon, and while I speak, the ruddy fumes take human forms. Out of the
+dark, fathomless Past--the Past of near four hundred years ago--comes a
+goodly company of simple, pompous folk all having a touch of childish
+savagery which shows itself in the fierceness of their love and of their
+hate.
+
+The fairest castle-château in all England's great domain, the walls and
+halls of which were builded in the depths of time, takes on again its
+olden form quick with quivering life, and from the gates of Eagle Tower
+issues my quaint and radiant company. Some are clad in gold lace, silks,
+and taffetas; some wear leather, buckram and clanking steel. While the
+caldron boils, their cloud-forms grow ever more distinct and definite,
+till at length I can trace their every feature. I see the color of their
+eyes. I discern the shades of their hair. Some heads are streaked with
+gray; others are glossy with the sheen of youth. As a climax to my
+conjurations I speak the word of all words magical, "Dorothy," and lo! as
+though God had said, "Let there be light," a fair, radiant girl steps from
+the portals of Haddon Hall and illumines all my ancient company so that I
+may see even the workings of their hearts.
+
+They, and the events of their lives, their joys and sorrows, their virtues
+and sins, their hatreds, jealousies, and loves--the seven numbers in the
+total sum of life--pass before me as in a panorama, moving when I bid them
+move, pausing when I bid them pause, speaking when I bid them speak, and
+alas! fading back into the dim gray limbo of the past long, long ere I
+would have them go.
+
+But hark! my radiant shades are about to speak. The play is about to
+begin.
+
+
+
+
+Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+I RIDE DOWN TO HADDON
+
+
+Since I play no mean part in the events of this chronicle, a few words
+concerning my own history previous to the opening of the story I am about
+to tell you will surely not be amiss, and they may help you to a better
+understanding of my narrative.
+
+To begin with an unimportant fact--unimportant, that is, to you--my name
+is Malcolm François de Lorraine Vernon. My father was cousin-german to Sir
+George Vernon, at and near whose home, Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, occurred
+the events which will furnish my theme.
+
+Of the ancient lineage of the house of Vernon I need not speak. You
+already know that the family is one of the oldest in England, and while it
+is not of the highest nobility, it is quite gentle and noble enough to
+please those who bear its honored name. My mother boasted nobler blood
+than that of the Vernons. She was of the princely French house of Guise--a
+niece and ward to the Great Duke, for whose sake I was named.
+
+My father, being a younger brother, sought adventure in the land of
+France, where his handsome person and engaging manner won the smiles of
+Dame Fortune and my mother at one and the same cast. In due time I was
+born, and upon the day following that great event my father died. On the
+day of his burial my poor mother, unable to find in me either compensation
+or consolation for the loss of her child's father, also died, of a broken
+heart, it was said. But God was right, as usual, in taking my parents; for
+I should have brought them no happiness, unless perchance they could have
+moulded my life to a better form than it has had--a doubtful chance, since
+our great virtues and our chief faults are born and die with us. My
+faults, alas! have been many and great. In my youth I knew but one virtue:
+to love my friend; and that was strong within me. How fortunate for us it
+would be if we could begin our life in wisdom and end it in simplicity,
+instead of the reverse which now obtains!
+
+I remained with my granduncle, the Great Duke, and was brought up amid the
+fighting, vice, and piety of his sumptuous court. I was trained to arms,
+and at an early age became Esquire in Waiting to his Grace of Guise. Most
+of my days between my fifteenth and twenty-fifth years were spent in the
+wars. At the age of twenty-five I returned to the château, there to reside
+as my uncle's representative, and to endure the ennui of peace. At the
+château I found a fair, tall girl, fifteen years of age: Mary Stuart,
+Queen of Scotland, soon afterward Queen of France and rightful heiress to
+the English throne. The ennui of peace, did I say? Soon I had no fear of
+its depressing effect, for Mary Stuart was one of those women near whose
+fascinations peace does not thrive. When I found her at the château, my
+martial ardor lost its warmth. Another sort of flame took up its home in
+my heart, and no power could have turned me to the wars again.
+
+Ah! what a gay, delightful life, tinctured with bitterness, we led in the
+grand old château, and looking back at it how heartless, godless, and
+empty it seems. Do not from these words conclude that I am a fanatic, nor
+that I shall pour into your ears a ranter's tale; for cant is more to be
+despised even than godlessness; but during the period of my life of which
+I shall write I learned--but what I learned I shall in due time tell you.
+
+While at the court of Guise I, like many another man, conceived for Mary
+Stuart a passion which lay heavy upon my heart for many years. Sweethearts
+I had by the scores, but she held my longings from all of them until I
+felt the touch of a pure woman's love, and then--but again I am going
+beyond my story.
+
+I did not doubt, nor do I hesitate to say, that my passion was returned by
+Mary with a fervor which she felt for no other lover; but she was a queen,
+and I, compared with her, was nobody. For this difference of rank I have
+since had good cause to be thankful. Great beauty is diffusive in its
+tendency. Like the sun, it cannot shine for one alone. Still, it burns and
+dazzles the one as if it shone for him and for no other; and he who basks
+in its rays need have no fear of the ennui of peace.
+
+The time came when I tasted the unutterable bitterness of Mary's marriage
+to a simpering fool, Francis II., whom she loathed, notwithstanding absurd
+stories of their sweet courtship and love.
+
+After her marriage to Francis, Mary became hard and callous of heart, and
+all the world knows her sad history. The stories of Darnley, Rizzio, and
+Bothwell will be rich morsels, I suppose, for the morbid minds of men and
+women so long as books are read and scandal is loved.
+
+Ah, well, that was long ago; so long ago that now as I write it seems but
+a shadow upon the horizon of time.
+
+And so it happened that Francis died, and when the queen went back to
+Scotland to ascend her native throne, I went with her, and mothlike
+hovered near the blaze that burned but did not warm me.
+
+Then in the course of time came the Darnley tragedy. I saw Rizzio killed.
+Gods! what a scene for hell was that! Then followed the Bothwell
+disgrace, the queen's imprisonment at Lochleven, and my own flight from
+Scotland to save my head.
+
+You will hear of Mary again in this history, and still clinging to her you
+will find that same strange fatality which during all her life brought
+evils upon her that were infectious to her friends and wrought their ruin.
+
+One evening, in the autumn of the year 1567, I was sitting moodily before
+my fire in the town of Dundee, brooding over Mary's disgraceful liaison
+with Bothwell. I had solemnly resolved that I would see her never again,
+and that I would turn my back upon the evil life I had led for so many
+years, and would seek to acquire that quiescence of nature which is
+necessary to an endurable old age. A tumultuous soul in the breast of an
+old man breeds torture, but age, with the heart at rest, I have found is
+the best season of life.
+
+In the midst of my gloomy thoughts and good resolves my friend, Sir Thomas
+Douglas, entered my room without warning and in great agitation.
+
+"Are you alone?" he asked hurriedly, in a low voice.
+
+"Save for your welcome presence, Sir Thomas," I answered, offering my
+hand.
+
+"The queen has been seized," he whispered, "and warrants for high treason
+have been issued against many of her friends--you among the number.
+Officers are now coming to serve the writ. I rode hither in all haste to
+warn you. Lose not a moment, but flee for your life. The Earl of Murray
+will be made regent to-morrow."
+
+"My servant? My horse?" I responded.
+
+"Do not wait. Go at once. I shall try to send a horse for you to Craig's
+ferry. If I fail, cross the firth without one. Here is a purse. The queen
+sends it to you. Go! Go!"
+
+I acted upon the advice, of Sir Thomas and hurried into the street,
+snatching up my hat, cloak, and sword as I went. Night had fallen, and
+darkness and rain, which at first I was inclined to curse, proved to be my
+friends. I sought the back streets and alleys and walked rapidly toward
+the west gates of the city. Upon arriving at the gates I found them
+closed. I aroused the warden, and with the artful argument of gold had
+almost persuaded him to let me pass. My evident eagerness was my undoing,
+for in the hope of obtaining more gold the warden delayed opening the
+gates till two men approached on horseback, and, dismounting, demanded my
+surrender.
+
+I laughed and said: "Two against one! Gentlemen, I am caught." I then drew
+my sword as if to offer it to them. My action threw the men off their
+guard, and when I said, "Here it is," I gave it to the one standing near
+me, but I gave it to him point first and in the heart.
+
+It was a terrible thing to do, and bordered so closely on a broken parole
+that I was troubled in conscience. I had not, however, given my parole,
+nor had I surrendered; and if I had done so--if a man may take another's
+life in self-defence, may he not lie to save himself?
+
+The other man shot at me with his fusil, but missed. He then drew his
+sword; but he was no match for me, and soon I left him sprawling on the
+ground, dead or alive, I knew not which.
+
+At the time of which I write I was thirty-five years of age, and since my
+fifteenth birthday my occupations had been arms and the ladies--two arts
+requiring constant use if one would remain expert in their practice.
+
+I escaped, and ran along the wall to a deep breach which had been left
+unrepaired. Over the sharp rocks I clambered, and at the risk of breaking
+my neck I jumped off the wall into the moat, which was almost dry. Dawn
+was breaking when I found a place to ascend from the moat, and I hastened
+to the fields and forests, where all day and all night long I wandered
+without food or drink. Two hours before sunrise next morning I reached
+Craig's Ferry. The horse sent by Douglas awaited me, but the ferry-master
+had been prohibited from carrying passengers across the firth, and I could
+not take the horse in a small boat. In truth, I was in great alarm lest I
+should be unable to cross, but I walked up the Tay a short distance, and
+found a fisherman, who agreed to take me over in his frail craft. Hardly
+had we started when another boat put out from shore in pursuit of us. We
+made all sail, but our pursuers overtook us when we were within half a
+furlong of the south bank, and as there were four men in the other boat,
+all armed with fusils, I peaceably stepped into their craft and handed my
+sword to their captain.
+
+I seated myself on one of the thwarts well forward in the boat. By my side
+was a heavy iron boat-hook. I had noticed that all the occupants of the
+boat, except the fisherman who sailed her, wore armor; and when I saw the
+boat-hook, a diabolical thought entered my mind and I immediately acted
+upon its suggestion. Noiselessly I grasped the hook, and with its point
+pried loose a board in the bottom of the boat, first having removed my
+boots, cloak, and doublet. When the board was loosened I pressed my heel
+against it with all the force I could muster, and through an opening six
+inches broad and four feet long came a flood of water that swamped the
+boat before one could utter twenty words. I heard a cry from one of the
+men: "The dog has scuttled the boat. Shoot him!" At the same instant the
+blaze and noise of two fusils broke the still blackness of the night, but
+I was overboard and the powder and lead were wasted. The next moment the
+boat sank in ten fathoms of water, and with it went the men in armor. I
+hope the fisherman saved himself. I have often wondered if even the law of
+self-preservation justified my act. It is an awful thing to inflict death,
+but it is worse to endure it, and I feel sure that I am foolish to allow
+my conscience to trouble me for the sake of those who would have led me
+back to the scaffold.
+
+I fear you will think that six dead men in less than as many pages make a
+record of bloodshed giving promise of terrible things to come, but I am
+glad I can reassure you on that point. Although there may be some good
+fighting ahead of us, I believe the last man has been killed of whom I
+shall chronicle--the last, that is, in fight or battle.
+
+In truth, the history which you are about to read is not my own. It is the
+story of a beautiful, wilful girl, who was madly in love with the one man
+in all the world whom she should have avoided--as girls are wont to be.
+This perverse tendency, philosophers tell us, is owing to the fact that
+the unattainable is strangely alluring to womankind. I, being a man, shall
+not, of course, dwell upon the foibles of my own sex. It were a foolish
+candor.
+
+As I said, there will be some good fighting ahead of us, for love and
+battle usually go together. One must have warm, rich blood to do either
+well; and, save religion, there is no source more fruitful of quarrels and
+death than that passion which is the source of life.
+
+You, of course, know without the telling, that I reached land safely after
+I scuttled the boat, else I should not be writing this forty years
+afterwards.
+
+The sun had risen when I waded ashore. I was swordless, coatless, hatless,
+and bootless; but I carried a well-filled purse in my belt. Up to that
+time I had given no thought to my ultimate destination; but being for the
+moment safe, I pondered the question and determined to make my way to
+Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, where I was sure a warm welcome would await me
+from my cousin, Sir George Vernon. How I found a peasant's cottage,
+purchased a poor horse and a few coarse garments, and how in the disguise
+of a peasant I rode southward to the English border, avoiding the cities
+and the main highways, might interest you; but I am eager to come to my
+story, and I will not tell you of my perilous journey.
+
+One frosty morning, after many hairbreadth escapes, I found myself well
+within the English border, and turned my horse's head toward the city of
+Carlisle. There I purchased a fine charger. I bought clothing fit for a
+gentleman, a new sword, a hand-fusil, a breastplate, and a steel-lined
+cap, and feeling once again like a man rather than like a half-drowned
+rat, I turned southward for Derbyshire and Haddon Hall.
+
+When I left Scotland I had no fear of meeting danger in England; but at
+Carlisle I learned that Elizabeth held no favor toward Scottish refugees.
+I also learned that the direct road from Carlisle to Haddon, by way of
+Buxton, was infested with English spies who were on the watch for friends
+of the deposed Scottish queen. Several Scotchmen had been arrested, and it
+was the general opinion that upon one pretext or another they would be
+hanged. I therefore chose a circuitous road leading to the town of Derby,
+which lay south of Haddon at a distance of six or seven leagues. It would
+be safer for me to arrive at Haddon travelling from the south than from
+the north. Thus, after many days, I rode into Derby-town and stabled my
+horse at the Royal Arms.
+
+I called for supper, and while I was waiting for my joint of beef a
+stranger entered the room and gave his orders in a free, offhand manner
+that stamped him a person of quality.
+
+The night outside was cold. While the stranger and I sat before the fire
+we caught its infectious warmth, and when he showed a disposition to talk,
+I gladly fell in with his humor. Soon we were filling our glasses from the
+same bowl of punch, and we seemed to be on good terms with each other. But
+when God breathed into the human body a part of himself, by some
+mischance He permitted the devil to slip into the tongue and loosen it. My
+tongue, which ordinarily was fairly well behaved, upon this occasion
+quickly brought me into trouble.
+
+I told you that the stranger and I seemed to be upon good terms. And so we
+were until I, forgetting for the moment Elizabeth's hatred of Mary's
+friends, and hoping to learn the stranger's name and quality, said:--
+
+"My name is Vernon--Sir Malcolm Vernon, knight by the hand of Queen Mary
+of Scotland and of France." This remark, of course, required that my
+companion should in return make known his name and degree; but in place of
+so doing he at once drew away from me and sat in silence. I was older than
+he, and it had seemed to me quite proper and right that I should make the
+first advance. But instantly after I had spoken I regretted my words. I
+remembered not only my danger, being a Scottish refugee, but I also
+bethought me that I had betrayed myself. Aside from those causes of
+uneasiness, the stranger's conduct was an insult which I was in duty bound
+not to overlook. Neither was I inclined to do so, for I loved to fight. In
+truth, I loved all things evil.
+
+"I regret, sir," said I, after a moment or two of embarrassing silence,
+"having imparted information that seems to annoy you. The Vernons, whom
+you may not know, are your equals in blood, it matters not who you are."
+
+"I know of the Vernons," he replied coldly, "and I well know that they are
+of good blood and lineage. As for wealth, I am told Sir George could
+easily buy the estates of any six men in Derbyshire."
+
+"You know Sir George?" I asked despite myself.
+
+"I do not know him, I am glad to say," returned the stranger.
+
+"By God, sir, you shall answer-"
+
+"At your pleasure, Sir Malcolm."
+
+"My pleasure is now," I retorted eagerly.
+
+I threw off my doublet and pushed the table and chairs against the wall to
+make room for the fight; but the stranger, who had not drawn his sword,
+said:--
+
+"I have eaten nothing since morning, and I am as hungry as a wolf. I would
+prefer to fight after supper; but if you insist--"
+
+"I do insist," I replied. "Perhaps you will not care for supper when I
+have--"
+
+"That may be true," he interrupted; "but before we begin I think it right
+to tell you, without at all meaning to boast of my skill, that I can kill
+you if I wish to do so. Therefore you must see that the result of our
+fight will be disagreeable to you in any case. You will die, or you will
+owe me your life."
+
+His cool impertinence angered me beyond endurance. He to speak of killing
+me, one of the best swordsmen in France, where the art of sword-play is
+really an art! The English are but bunglers with a gentleman's blade, and
+should restrict themselves to pike and quarterstaff.
+
+"Results be damned!" I answered. "I can kill you if I wish." Then it
+occurred to me that I really did not wish to kill the handsome young
+fellow toward whom I felt an irresistible attraction.
+
+I continued: "But I prefer that you should owe me your life. I do not wish
+to kill you. Guard!"
+
+My opponent did not lift his sword, but smilingly said:--
+
+"Then why do you insist upon fighting? I certainly do not wish to kill
+you. In truth, I would be inclined to like you if you were not a Vernon."
+
+"Damn your insolence! Guard! or I will run you through where you stand," I
+answered angrily.
+
+"But why do we fight?" insisted the stubborn fellow, with a coolness that
+showed he was not one whit in fear of me.
+
+"You should know," I replied, dropping my sword-point to the floor, and
+forgetting for the moment the cause of our quarrel. "I--I do not."
+
+"Then let us not fight," he answered, "until we have discovered the matter
+of our disagreement."
+
+At this remark neither of us could resist smiling. I had not fought since
+months before, save for a moment at the gates of Dundee, and I was loath
+to miss the opportunity, so I remained in thought during the space of half
+a minute and remembered our cause of war.
+
+"Oh! I recall the reason for our fighting," I replied, "and a good one it
+was. You offered affront to the name of Sir George Vernon, and insultingly
+refused me the courtesy of your name after I had done you the honor to
+tell you mine."
+
+"I did not tell you my name," replied the stranger, "because I believed
+you would not care to hear it; and I said I was glad not to know Sir
+George Vernon because--because he is my father's enemy. I am Sir John
+Manners. My father is Lord Rutland."
+
+Then it was my turn to recede. "You certainly are right. I do not care to
+hear your name."
+
+I put my sword in its scabbard and drew the table back to its former
+place. Sir John stood in hesitation for a moment or two, and then said:--
+
+"Sir Malcolm, may we not declare a truce for to-night? There is nothing
+personal in the enmity between us."
+
+"Nothing," I answered, staring at the fire, half regretful that we bore
+each other enmity at all.
+
+"You hate me, or believe you do," said Manners, "because your father's
+cousin hates my father; and I try to make myself believe that I hate you
+because my father hates your father's cousin. Are we not both mistaken?"
+
+I was quick to anger and to fight, but no man's heart was more sensitive
+than mine to the fair touch of a kind word.
+
+"I am not mistaken, Sir John, when I say that I do not hate you," I
+answered.
+
+"Nor do I hate you, Sir Malcolm. Will you give me your hand?"
+
+"Gladly," I responded, and I offered my hand to the enemy of my house.
+
+"Landlord," I cried, "bring us two bottles of your best sack. The best in
+the house, mind you."
+
+After our amicable understanding, Sir John and myself were very
+comfortable together, and when the sack and roast beef, for which the
+Royal Arms was justly famous, were brought in, we sat down to an enjoyable
+meal.
+
+After supper Sir John lighted a small roll or stick made from the leaves
+of tobacco. The stick was called a cigarro, and I, proud not to be behind
+him in new-fashioned, gentlemanly accomplishments, called to the landlord
+for a pipe. Manners interrupted me when I gave the order and offered me a
+cigarro which I gladly accepted.
+
+Despite my effort to reassure myself, I could not quite throw off a
+feeling of uneasiness whenever I thought of the manner in which I had
+betrayed to Sir John the fact that I was a friend to Mary Stuart. I knew
+that treachery was not native to English blood, and my knowledge of
+mankind had told me that the vice could not live in Sir John Manners's
+heart. But he had told me of his residence at the court of Elizabeth, and
+I feared trouble might come to me from the possession of so dangerous a
+piece of knowledge by an enemy of my house.
+
+I did not speak my thoughts upon the matter, and we sat the evening
+through discussing many subjects. We warmed toward each other and became
+quite confidential. I feel ashamed when I admit that one of my many sins
+was an excessive indulgence in wine. While I was not a drunkard, I was
+given to my cups sometimes in a degree both dangerous and disgraceful; and
+during the evening of which I have just spoken I talked to Sir John with a
+freedom that afterward made me blush, although my indiscretion brought me
+no greater trouble.
+
+My outburst of confidence was prompted by Sir John's voluntary assurance
+that I need fear nothing from having told him that I was a friend of Queen
+Mary. The Scottish queen's name had been mentioned, and Sir John had
+said--
+
+"I take it, Sir Malcolm, that you are newly arrived in England, and I feel
+sure you will accept the advice I am about to offer in the kindly spirit
+in which it is meant. I deem it unsafe for you to speak of Queen Mary's
+friendship in the open manner you have used toward me. Her friends are not
+welcome visitors to England, and I fear evil will befall those who come to
+us as refugees. You need have no fear that I will betray you. Your secret
+is safe with me. I will give you hostage. I also am Queen Mary's friend. I
+would not, of course, favor her against the interest of our own queen. To
+Elizabeth I am and always shall be loyal; but the unfortunate Scottish
+queen has my sympathy in her troubles, and I should be glad to help her. I
+hear she is most beautiful and gentle in person."
+
+Thus you see the influence of Mary's beauty reached from Edinburgh to
+London. A few months only were to pass till this conversation was to be
+recalled by each of us, and the baneful influence of Mary's beauty upon
+all whom it touched was to be shown more fatally than had appeared even in
+my own case. In truth, my reason for speaking so fully concerning the,
+Scottish queen and myself will be apparent to you in good time.
+
+When we were about to part for the night, I asked Sir John, "What road do
+you travel to-morrow?"
+
+"I am going to Rutland Castle by way of Rowsley," he answered.
+
+"I, too, travel by Rowsley to Haddon Hall. Shall we not extend our truce
+over the morrow and ride together as far as Rowsley?" I asked.
+
+"I shall be glad to make the truce perpetual," he replied laughingly.
+
+"So shall I," was my response.
+
+Thus we sealed our compact and knitted out of the warp and woof of enmity
+a friendship which became a great joy and a sweet grief to each of us.
+
+That night I lay for hours thinking of the past and wondering about the
+future. I had tasted the sweets--all flavored with bitterness--of court
+life. Women, wine, gambling, and fighting had given me the best of all the
+evils they had to offer. Was I now to drop that valorous life, which men
+so ardently seek, and was I to take up a browsing, kinelike existence at
+Haddon Hall, there to drone away my remaining days in fat'ning, peace, and
+quietude? I could not answer my own question, but this I knew: that Sir
+George Vernon was held in high esteem by Elizabeth, and I felt that his
+house was, perhaps, the only spot in England where my head could safely
+lie. I also had other plans concerning Sir George and his household which
+I regret to say I imparted to Sir John in the sack-prompted outpouring of
+my confidence. The plans of which I shall now speak had been growing in
+favor with me for several months previous to my enforced departure from
+Scotland, and that event had almost determined me to adopt them. Almost, I
+say, for when I approached Haddon Hall I wavered in my resolution.
+
+At the time when I had last visited Sir George at Haddon, his daughter
+Dorothy--Sir George called her Doll--was a slipshod girl of twelve. She
+was exceedingly plain, and gave promise of always so remaining. Sir
+George, who had no son, was anxious that his vast estates should remain
+in the Vernon name. He had upon the occasion of my last visit intimated to
+me that when Doll should become old enough to marry, and I, perchance, had
+had my fill of knocking about the world, a marriage might be brought about
+between us which would enable him to leave his estates to his daughter and
+still to retain the much-loved Vernon name for his descendants.
+
+Owing to Doll's rusty red hair, slim shanks, and freckled face, the
+proposition had not struck me with favor, yet to please Sir George I had
+feigned acquiescence, and had said that when the time should come, we
+would talk it over. Before my flight from Scotland I had often thought of
+Sir George's proposition made six or seven years before. My love for Mary
+Stuart had dimmed the light of other beauties in my eyes, and I had never
+married. For many months before my flight, however, I had not been
+permitted to bask in the light of Mary's smiles to the extent of my
+wishes. Younger men, among them Darnley, who was but eighteen years of
+age, were preferred to me, and I had begun to consider the advisability of
+an orderly retreat from the Scottish court before my lustre should be
+entirely dimmed. It is said that a man is young so long as he is strong,
+and I was strong as in the days of my youth. My cheeks were fresh, my eyes
+were bright, and my hair was red as when I was twenty, and without a
+thread of gray. Still, my temperament was more exacting and serious, and
+the thought of becoming settled for life, or rather for old age and death,
+was growing in favor with me. With that thought came always a suggestion
+of slim, freckled Dorothy and Sir George's offer. She held out to me
+wealth and position, a peaceful home for my old age, and a grave with a
+pompous, pious epitaph at Bakewell church, in death.
+
+When I was compelled to leave Scotland, circumstances forced me to a
+decision, and my resolution was quickly taken. I would go to Derbyshire
+and would marry Dorothy. I did not expect ever again to feel great love
+for a woman. The fuse, I thought, had burned out when I loved Mary Stuart.
+One woman, I believed, was like another to me, and Dorothy would answer as
+well as any for my wife. I could and would be kind to her, and that alone
+in time would make me fond. It is true, my affection would be of a fashion
+more comfortable than exciting; but who, having passed his galloping
+youth, will contemn the joys that come from making others happy? I believe
+there is no person, past the age of forty, at all given to pondering the
+whys of life, who will gainsay that the joy we give to others is our chief
+source of happiness. Why, then, should not a wise man, through purely
+selfish motives, begin early to cultivate the gentle art of giving joy?
+
+But the fates were to work out the destinies of Dorothy and myself without
+our assistance. Self-willed, arrogant creatures are those same fates, but
+they save us a deal of trouble by assuming our responsibilities.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE IRON, THE SEED, THE CLOUD, AND THE RAIN
+
+
+The morning following my meeting with Manners, he and I made an early
+start. An hour before noon we rode into the town of Rowsley and halted at
+The Peacock for dinner.
+
+When we entered the courtyard of the inn we saw three ladies warmly
+wrapped in rich furs leave a ponderous coach and walk to the inn door,
+which they entered. One of them was an elderly lady whom I recognized as
+my cousin, Lady Dorothy Crawford, sister to Sir George Vernon. The second
+was a tall, beautiful girl, with an exquisite ivory-like complexion and a
+wonderful crown of fluffy red hair which encircled her head like a halo of
+sunlit glory. I could compare its wondrous lustre to no color save that of
+molten gold deeply alloyed with copper. But that comparison tells you
+nothing. I can find no simile with which to describe the beauties of its
+shades and tints. It was red, but it also was golden, as if the enamoured
+sun had gilded every hair with its radiance. In all my life I had never
+seen anything so beautiful as this tall girl's hair. Still, it was the
+Vernon red. My cousin, Sir George, and many Vernons had hair of the same
+color. Yet the girl's hair differed from all other I had ever seen. It had
+a light and a lustre of its own which was as distinct from the ordinary
+Vernon red, although that is very good and we are proud of it, as the
+sheen of gold is from the glitter of brass. I knew by the girl's hair
+that she was my cousin, Dorothy Vernon, whom I reluctantly had come to
+wed.
+
+I asked myself, "Can this be the plain, freckled girl I knew seven years
+ago?" Compared with her beauty even Mary Stuart's was pale as the vapid
+moon at dawn. The girl seemed to be the incarnated spirit of universal
+life and light, and I had condescendingly come to marry this goddess. I
+felt a dash of contemptuous pity for my complacent self.
+
+In my cogitations concerning marriage with Dorothy Vernon, I had not at
+all taken into consideration her personal inclination. A girl, after all,
+is but the chattel of her father, and must, perforce, if needs be, marry
+the man who is chosen for her. But leaving parental authority out of the
+question, a girl with brick-red hair and a multitude of freckles need not
+be considered when an agreeable, handsome man offers himself as a husband.
+She usually is willing to the point of eagerness. That is the manner in
+which I had thought about Dorothy Vernon, if I considered her at all. But
+when a man is about to offer himself to a goddess, he is apt to pause. In
+such a case there are always two sides to the question, and nine chances
+to one the goddess will coolly take possession of both. When I saw Dorothy
+in the courtyard of The Peacock, I instantly knew that she was a girl to
+be taken into account in all matters wherein she was personally concerned.
+Her every feature, every poise and gesture, unconsciously bore the stamp
+of "I will" or "I will not."
+
+Walking by Dorothy's side, holding her hand, was a fair young woman whose
+hair was black, and whose skin was of the white, clear complexion such as
+we see in the faces of nuns. She walked with a hesitating, cautious step,
+and clung to Dorothy, who was gentle and attentive to her. But of this
+fair, pale girl I have so much to say in the pages to come that I shall
+not further describe her here.
+
+When the ladies had entered the inn, my companion and I dismounted, and
+Manners exclaimed:--
+
+"Did you see the glorious girl who but now entered the inn door? Gods! I
+never before saw such beauty."
+
+"Yes," I replied, "I know her."
+
+"How fortunate I am," said Sir John. "Perhaps I may induce you to present
+me to her. At least you will tell me her name, that I may seek her
+acquaintance by the usual means. I am not susceptible, but by my faith,
+I--I--she looked at me from the door-steps, and when I caught her eyes it
+seemed--that is, I saw--or I felt a stream of burning life enter my soul,
+and--but you will think I am a fool. I know I am a fool. But I feel as if
+I were--as if I had been bewitched in one little second of time, and by a
+single glance from a pair of brown eyes. You certainly will think I am a
+fool, but you cannot understand--"
+
+"Why can't I understand?" I asked indignantly. "The thing you have seen
+and felt has been in this world long enough for every man to understand.
+Eve used it upon Adam. I can't understand? Damme, sir, do you think I am a
+clod? I have felt it fifty times."
+
+"Not--" began Sir John, hesitatingly.
+
+"Nonsense!" I replied. "You, too, will have the same experience fifty
+times again before you are my age."
+
+"But the lady," said Sir John, "tell me of her. Will you--can you present
+me to her? If not, will you tell me who she is?"
+
+I remained for a moment in thought, wondering if it were right for me to
+tell him that the girl whom he so much admired was the daughter of his
+father's enemy. I could see no way of keeping Dorothy's name from him, so
+I determined to tell him.
+
+"She is my cousin, Mistress Dorothy Vernon," I said. "The eldest is Lady
+Dorothy Crawford. The beautiful, pale girl I do not know."
+
+"I am sorry," returned Sir John; "she is the lady whom you have come to
+marry, is she not?"
+
+"Y-e-s," said I, hesitatingly.
+
+"You certainly are to be congratulated," returned Manners.
+
+"I doubt if I shall marry her," I replied.
+
+"Why?" asked Manners.
+
+"For many reasons, chief among which is her beauty."
+
+"That is an unusual reason for declining a woman," responded Sir John,
+with a low laugh.
+
+"I think it is quite usual," I replied, having in mind the difficulty with
+which great beauties are won. But I continued, "A woman of moderate beauty
+makes a safer wife, and in the long run is more comforting than one who is
+too attractive."
+
+"You are a philosopher, Sir Malcolm," said Manners, laughingly.
+
+"And a liar," I muttered to myself. I felt sure, however, that I should
+never marry Dorothy Vernon, and I do not mind telling you, even at this
+early stage in my history, that I was right in my premonition. I did not
+marry her.
+
+"I suppose I shall now be compelled to give you up to your relatives,"
+said Manners.
+
+"Yes," I returned, "we must say good-by for the present; but if we do not
+meet again, it shall not be for the lack of my wishing. Your father and
+Sir George would feel deeply injured, should they learn of our friendship,
+therefore--"
+
+"You are quite right," he interrupted. "It is better that no one should
+know of it. Nevertheless, between you and me let there be no feud."
+
+"The secrecy of our friendship will give it zest," said I. "That is true,
+but 'good wine needs no bush.' You will not mention my name to the
+ladies?"
+
+"No, if you wish that I shall not."
+
+"I do so wish."
+
+When the stable boys had taken our horses, I gave my hand to Sir John,
+after which we entered the inn and treated each other as strangers.
+
+Soon after I had washed the stains of travel from my hands and face, I
+sent the maid to my cousins, asking that I might be permitted to pay my
+devotions, and Dorothy came to the tap-room in response to my message.
+
+When she entered she ran to me with outstretched hands and a gleam of
+welcome in her eyes. We had been rare friends when she was a child.
+
+"Ah, Cousin Malcolm, what a fine surprise you have given us!" she
+exclaimed, clasping both my hands and offering me her cheek to kiss.
+"Father's delight will be beyond measure when he sees you."
+
+"As mine now is," I responded, gazing at her from head to foot and
+drinking in her beauty with my eyes. "Doll! Doll! What a splendid girl you
+have become. Who would have thought that--that--" I hesitated, realizing
+that I was rapidly getting myself into trouble.
+
+"Say it. Say it, cousin! I know what is in your mind. Rusty red hair,
+angular shoulders, sharp elbows, freckles thickly set as stars upon a
+clear night, and so large and brown that they fairly twinkled. Great
+staring green eyes. Awkward!--" And she threw up her hands in mimic horror
+at the remembrance. "No one could have supposed that such a girl would
+have become--that is, you know," she continued confusedly, "could have
+changed. I haven't a freckle now," and she lifted her face that I might
+prove the truth of her words by examination, and perhaps that I might also
+observe her beauty.
+
+Neither did I waste the opportunity. I dwelt longingly upon the wondrous
+red golden hair which fringed her low broad forehead, and upon the heavy
+black eyebrows, the pencilled points of whose curves almost touched
+across the nose. I saw the rose-tinted ivory of her skin and the long jet
+lashes curving in a great sweep from her full white lids, and I thought
+full sure that Venus herself was before me. My gaze halted for a moment at
+the long eyes which changed chameleon-like with the shifting light, and
+varied with her moods from deep fathomless green to violet, and from
+violet to soft voluptuous brown, but in all their tints beaming forth a
+lustre that would have stirred the soul of an anchorite. Then I noted the
+beauty of her clean-cut saucy nose and the red arch of her lips, slightly
+parted for the purpose of showing her teeth. But I could not stop long to
+dwell upon any one especial feature, for there were still to be seen her
+divine round chin, her large white throat, and the infinite grace in poise
+and curve of her strong young form. I dared not pause nor waste my time if
+I were to see it all, for such a girl as Dorothy waits no man's
+leisure--that is, unless she wishes to wait. In such case there is no
+moving her, and patience becomes to her a delightful virtue.
+
+After my prolonged scrutiny Dorothy lowered her face and said
+laughingly:--
+
+"Now come, cousin, tell me the truth. Who would have thought it possible?"
+
+"Not I, Doll, not I, if you will pardon me the frankness."
+
+"Oh, that is easily done." Then with a merry ripple of laughter, "It is
+much easier, I fancy, for a woman to speak of the time when she was plain
+than to refer to the time when--when she was beautiful. What an absurd
+speech that is for me to make," she said confusedly.
+
+"I certainly did not expect to find so great a change," said I. "Why,
+Doll, you are wondrous, glorious, beautiful. I can't find words--"
+
+"Then don't try, Cousin Malcolm," she said with a smile that fringed her
+mouth in dimples. "Don't try. You will make me vain."
+
+"You are that already, Doll," I answered, to tease her.
+
+"I fear I am, cousin--vain as a man. But don't call me Doll. I am tall
+enough to be called Dorothy."
+
+She straightened herself up to her full height, and stepping close to my
+side, said: "I am as tall as you. I will now try to make you vain. You
+look just as young and as handsome as when I last saw you and so ardently
+admired your waving black mustachio and your curling chin beard."
+
+"Did you admire them, Doll--Dorothy?" I asked, hoping, though with little
+faith, that the admiration might still continue.
+
+"Oh, prodigiously," she answered with unassuring candor. "Prodigiously.
+Now who is vain, Cousin Malcolm François de Lorraine Vernon?"
+
+"I," I responded, shrugging my shoulders and confessing by compulsion.
+
+"But you must remember," she continued provokingly, "that a girl of twelve
+is very immature in her judgment and will fall in love with any man who
+allows her to look upon him twice."
+
+"Then I am to believe that the fire begins very early to burn in the
+feminine heart," I responded.
+
+"With birth, my cousin, with birth," she replied; "but in my heart it
+burned itself out upon your curling beard at the mature age of twelve."
+
+"And you have never been in love since that time, Doll--Dorothy?" I asked
+with more earnestness in my heart than in my voice.
+
+"No, no; by the Virgin, no! Not even in the shadow of a thought. And by
+the help of the Virgin I hope I never shall be; for when it comes to me,
+mark my word, cousin, there will be trouble in Derbyshire."
+
+"By my soul, I believe you speak the truth," I answered, little dreaming
+how quickly our joint prophecy would come true.
+
+I then asked Dorothy to tell me about her father.
+
+"Father is well in health," she said. "In mind he has been much troubled
+and disturbed. Last month he lost the lawsuit against detestable old Lord
+Rutland. He was much angered by the loss, and has been moody and morose in
+brooding over it ever since. He tries, poor father, to find relief from
+his troubles, and--and I fear takes too much liquor. Rutland and his
+friends swore to one lie upon another, and father believes that the judge
+who tried the case was bribed. Father intends to appeal to Parliament, but
+even in Parliament he fears he cannot obtain justice. Lord Rutland's
+son--a disreputable fellow, who for many years has lived at court--is a
+favorite with the queen, and his acquaintance with her Majesty and with
+the lords will be to father's prejudice."
+
+"I have always believed that your father stood in the queen's good
+graces?" I said interrogatively.
+
+"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.
+
+After a little time she said: "Is it not cool here? Let us go over to the
+fireplace where it is warmer."
+
+I turned to go with her, and at once saw that it was not the fire in the
+fireplace which had attracted Dorothy, but quite a different sort of
+flame. In short, much to my consternation, I discovered that it was
+nothing less than my handsome new-found friend, Sir John Manners, toward
+whom Dorothy had been glancing.
+
+We walked over to the fireplace, and one of the fires, Sir John, moved
+away. But the girl turned her face that she might see him in his new
+position. The movement, I confess, looked bold to the point of brazenness;
+but if the movement was bold, what shall I say of her glances and the
+expression of her face? She seemed unable to take her eager eyes from the
+stranger, or to think of anything but him, and after a few moments she did
+not try. Soon she stopped talking entirely and did not even hear what I
+was saying. I, too, became silent, and after a long pause the girl
+asked:--
+
+"Cousin, who is the gentleman with whom you were travelling?"
+
+I was piqued by Dorothy's conduct, and answered rather curtly: "He is a
+stranger. I picked him up at Derby, and we rode here together."
+
+A pause followed, awkward in its duration.
+
+"Did you--not--learn--his--name?" asked Dorothy, hesitatingly.
+
+"Yes," I replied.
+
+Then came another pause, broken by the girl, who spoke in a quick,
+imperious tone touched with irritation:--
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"It is better that I do not tell you," I answered. "It was quite by
+accident that we met. Neither of us knew the other. Please do not ask me
+to tell you his name."
+
+"Oh, but you make me all the more eager to learn. Mystery, you know, is
+intolerable to a woman, except in the unravelling. Come, tell me! Tell me!
+Not, of course, that I really care a farthing to know--but the mystery! A
+mystery drives me wild. Tell me, please do, Cousin Malcolm."
+
+She certainly was posing for the stranger's benefit, and was doing all in
+her power, while coaxing me, to display her charms, graces, and pretty
+little ways. Her attitude and conduct spoke as plainly as the spring
+bird's song speaks to its mate. Yet Dorothy's manner did not seem bold.
+Even to me it appeared modest, beautiful, and necessary. She seemed to act
+under compulsion. She would laugh, for the purpose, no doubt, of showing
+her dimples and her teeth, and would lean her head to one side pigeon-wise
+to display her eyes to the best advantage, and then would she shyly glance
+toward Sir John to see if he was watching her. It was shameless, but it
+could not be helped by Dorothy nor any one else. After a few moments of
+mute pleading by the girl, broken now and then by, "Please, please," I
+said:--
+
+"If you give to me your promise that you will never speak of this matter
+to any person, I will tell you the gentleman's name. I would not for a
+great deal have your father know that I have held conversation with him
+even for a moment, though at the time I did not know who he was."
+
+"Oh, this is delightful! He must be some famous, dashing highwayman. I
+promise, of course I promise--faithfully." She was glancing constantly
+toward Manners, and her face was bright with smiles and eager with
+anticipation.
+
+"He is worse than a highwayman, I regret to say. The gentleman toward whom
+you are so ardently glancing is--Sir John Manners."
+
+A shock of pain passed over Dorothy's face, followed by a hard, repellent
+expression that was almost ugly.
+
+"Let us go to Aunt Dorothy," she said, as she turned and walked across the
+room toward the door.
+
+When we had closed the door of the tap-room behind us Dorothy said
+angrily:--
+
+"Tell me, cousin, how you, a Vernon, came to be in his company?"
+
+"I told you that I met him quite by accident at the Royal Arms in
+Derby-town. We became friends before either knew the other's name. After
+chance had disclosed our identities, he asked for a truce to our feud
+until the morrow; and he was so gentle and open in his conduct that I
+could not and would not refuse his proffered olive branch. In truth,
+whatever faults may be attributable to Lord Rutland,--and I am sure he
+deserves all the evil you have spoken of him,--his son, Sir John, is a
+noble gentleman, else I have been reading the book of human nature all my
+life in vain. Perhaps he is in no way to blame for his father's conduct
+He may have had no part in it"
+
+"Perhaps he has not," said Dorothy, musingly.
+
+It was not a pleasant task for me to praise Sir John, but my sense of
+justice impelled me to do so. I tried to make myself feel injured and
+chagrined because of Dorothy's manner toward him; for you must remember I
+had arranged with myself to marry this girl, but I could not work my
+feelings into a state of indignation against the heir to Rutland. The
+truth is, my hope of winning Dorothy had evaporated upon the first sight
+of her, like the volatile essence it really was. I cannot tell you why,
+but I at once seemed to realize that all the thought and labor which I had
+devoted to the arduous task of arranging with myself this marriage was
+labor lost. So I frankly told her my kindly feelings for Sir John, and
+gave her my high estimate of his character.
+
+I continued: "You see, Dorothy, I could not so easily explain to your
+father my association with Sir John, and I hope you will not speak of it
+to any one, lest the news should reach Sir George's ears."
+
+"I will not speak of it," she returned, sighing faintly. "After all, it is
+not his fault that his father is such a villain. He doesn't look like his
+father, does he?"
+
+"I cannot say. I never saw Lord Rutland," I replied.
+
+"He is the most villanous-looking--" but she broke off the sentence and
+stood for a moment in revery. We were in the darkened passage, and Dorothy
+had taken my hand. That little act in another woman of course would have
+led to a demonstration on my part, but in this girl it seemed so entirely
+natural and candid that it was a complete bar to undue familiarity. In
+truth, I had no such tendency, for the childish act spoke of an innocence
+and faith that were very sweet to me who all my life had lived among men
+and women who laughed at those simple virtues. The simple conditions of
+life are all that are worth striving for. They come to us fresh from
+Nature and from Nature's God. The complex are but concoctions of man after
+recipes in the devil's alchemy. So much gold, so much ambition, so much
+lust. Mix well. Product: so much vexation.
+
+"He must resemble his mother," said Dorothy, after a long pause. "Poor
+fellow! His mother is dead. He is like me in that respect. I wonder if his
+father's villanies trouble him?"
+
+"I think they must trouble him. He seems to be sad," said I, intending to
+be ironical.
+
+My reply was taken seriously.
+
+"I am sorry for him," she said, "it is not right to hate even our enemies.
+The Book tells us that."
+
+"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," said I, amused and provoked.
+
+Unexpected and dangerous symptoms were rapidly developing in the perverse
+girl, and trouble was brewing "in Derbyshire."
+
+The adjective perverse, by the way, usually is superfluous when used to
+modify the noun girl.
+
+"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," I repeated.
+
+"Why, y-e-s," she responded. "I cannot help that, but you know it would be
+very wrong to--to hate all his family. To hate him is bad enough."
+
+I soon began to fear that I had praised Sir John overmuch.
+
+"I think Sir John is all there is of Lord Rutland's family," I said,
+alarmed yet amused at Dorothy's search for an excuse not to hate my
+new-found friend.
+
+"Well," she continued after a pause, throwing her head to one side, "I am
+sorry there are no more of that family not to hate."
+
+"Dorothy! Dorothy!" I exclaimed. "What has come over you? You surprise
+me."
+
+"Yes," she answered, with a little sigh, "I certainly have surprised
+myself by--by my willingness to forgive those who have injured my house. I
+did not know there was so much--so much good in me."
+
+"Mistress Pharisee," thought I, "you are a hypocrite."
+
+Again intending to be ironical, I said, "Shall I fetch him from the
+tap-room and present him to you?"
+
+Once more my irony was lost upon the girl. Evidently that sort of humor
+was not my strong point.
+
+"No, no," she responded indignantly, "I would not speak to him for--"
+Again she broke her sentence abruptly, and after a little pause, short in
+itself but amply long for a girl like Dorothy to change her mind two score
+times, she continued: "It would not be for the best. What think you,
+Cousin Malcolm?"
+
+"Surely the girl has gone mad," thought I. Her voice was soft and
+conciliating as if to say, "I trust entirely to your mature, superior
+judgment."
+
+My judgment coincided emphatically with her words, and I said: "I spoke
+only in jest. It certainly would not be right. It would be all wrong if
+you were to meet him."
+
+"That is true," the girl responded with firmness, "but--but no real harm
+could come of it," she continued, laughing nervously. "He could not strike
+me nor bite me. Of course it would be unpleasant for me to meet him, and
+as there is no need--I am curious to know what one of his race is like.
+It's the only reason that would induce me to consent. Of course you know
+there could be no other reason for me to wish--that is, you know--to be
+willing to meet him. Of course you know."
+
+"Certainly," I replied, still clinging to my unsuccessful irony. "I will
+tell you all I know about him, so that you may understand what he is
+like. As for his personal appearance, you saw him, did you not?"
+
+I thought surely that piece of irony would not fail, but it did, and I
+have seldom since attempted to use that form of humor.
+
+"Yes--oh, yes, I saw him for a moment."
+
+"But I will not present him to you, Dorothy, however much you may wish to
+meet him," I said positively.
+
+"It is almost an insult, Cousin Malcolm, for you to say that I wish to
+meet him," she answered in well-feigned indignation.
+
+The French blood in my veins moved me to shrug my shoulders. I could do
+nothing else. With all my knowledge of womankind this girl had sent me to
+sea.
+
+But what shall we say of Dorothy's conduct? I fancy I can hear you mutter,
+"This Dorothy Vernon must have been a bold, immodest, brazen girl."
+Nothing of the sort. Dare you of the cold blood--if perchance there be any
+with that curse in their veins who read these lines--dare you, I say, lift
+your voice against the blessed heat in others which is but a greater,
+stronger, warmer spark of God's own soul than you possess or than you can
+comprehend? "Evil often comes of it," I hear you say. That I freely admit;
+and evil comes from eating too much bread, and from hearing too much
+preaching. But the universe, from the humblest blade of grass to the
+infinite essence of God, exists because of that warmth which the mawkish
+world contemns. Is the iron immodest when it creeps to the lodestone and
+clings to its side? Is the hen bird brazen when she flutters to her mate
+responsive to his compelling woo-song? Is the seed immodest when it sinks
+into the ground and swells with budding life? Is the cloud bold when it
+softens into rain and falls to earth because it has no other choice? or is
+it brazen when it nestles for a time on the bosom of heaven's arched dome
+and sinking into the fathomless depths of a blue black infinity ceases to
+be itself? Is the human soul immodest when, drawn by a force it cannot
+resist, it seeks a stronger soul which absorbs its ego as the blue sky
+absorbs the floating cloud, as the warm earth swells the seed, as the
+magnet draws the iron? All these are of one quality. The iron, the seed,
+the cloud, and the soul of man are _what_ they are, do _what_ they do,
+love as they love, live as they live, and die as they die because they
+must--because they have no other choice. We think we are free because at
+times we act as we please, forgetting that God gives us the "please," and
+that every act of our being is but the result of a dictated motive.
+Dorothy was not immodest. This was her case. She was the iron, the seed,
+the cloud, and the rain. You, too, are the iron, the seed, the cloud, and
+the rain. It is only human vanity which prompts you to believe that you
+are yourself and that you are free. Do you find any freedom in this world
+save that which you fondly believe to exist within yourself? Self! There
+is but one self, God. I have been told that the people of the East call
+Him Brahma. The word, it is said, means "Breath," "Inspiration," "All." I
+have felt that the beautiful pagan thought has truth in it; but my
+conscience and my priest tell me rather to cling to truths I have than to
+fly to others that I know not of. As a result, I shall probably die
+orthodox and mistaken.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE PITCHER GOES TO THE WELL.
+
+
+Dorothy and I went to the inn parlors, where I received a cordial welcome
+from my cousin, Lady Crawford. After our greeting, Dorothy came toward me
+leading the fair, pale girl whom I had seen in the courtyard.
+
+"Madge, this is my cousin, Malcolm Vernon," said Dorothy. "He was a dear
+friend of my childhood and is much beloved by my father. Lady Magdalene
+Stanley, cousin," and she placed the girl's soft white hand in mine. There
+was a peculiar hesitancy in the girl's manner which puzzled me. She did
+not look at me when Dorothy placed her hand in mine, but kept her eyes
+cast down, the long, black lashes resting upon the fair curves of her
+cheek like a shadow on the snow. She murmured a salutation, and when I
+made a remark that called for a response, she lifted her eyes but seemed
+not to look at me. Unconsciously I turned my face toward Dorothy, who
+closed her eyes and formed with her lips the word "blind."
+
+I retained the girl's hand, and she did not withdraw it. When I caught
+Dorothy's unspoken word I led Lady Madge to a chair and asked if I might
+sit beside her.
+
+"Certainly," she answered smilingly; "you know I am blind, but I can hear
+and speak, and I enjoy having persons I like sit near me that I may touch
+them now and then while we talk. If I could only see!" she exclaimed.
+Still, there was no tone of complaint in her voice and very little even of
+regret. The girl's eyes were of a deep blue and were entirely without scar
+or other evidence of blindness, except that they did not seem to see. I
+afterward learned that her affliction had come upon her as the result of
+illness when she was a child. She was niece to the Earl of Derby, and
+Dorothy's mother had been her aunt. She owned a small estate and had lived
+at Haddon Hall five or six years because of the love that existed between
+her and Dorothy. A strong man instinctively longs to cherish that which
+needs his strength, and perhaps it was the girl's helplessness that first
+appealed to me. Perhaps it was her rare, peculiar beauty, speaking
+eloquently of virtue such as I had never known, that touched me. I cannot
+say what the impelling cause was, but this I know: my heart went out in
+pity to her, and all that was good within me--good, which I had never
+before suspected--stirred in my soul, and my past life seemed black and
+barren beyond endurance. Even Dorothy's marvellous beauty lacked the
+subtle quality which this simple blind girl possessed. The first step in
+regeneration is to see one's faults; the second is to regret them; the
+third is to quit them. The first and second steps constitute repentance;
+the second and third regeneration. One hour within the radius of Madge
+Stanley's influence brought me to repentance. But repentance is an
+everyday virtue. Should I ever achieve regeneration? That is one of the
+questions this history will answer. To me, Madge Stanley's passive force
+was the strongest influence for good that had ever impinged on my life.
+With respect to her, morally, I was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the
+rain, for she, acting unconsciously, moved me with neither knowledge nor
+volition on my part.
+
+Soon after my arrival at the ladies' parlor dinner was served, and after
+dinner a Persian merchant was ushered in, closely followed by his
+servants bearing bales of rare Eastern fabrics. A visit and a dinner at
+the inn were little events that made a break in the monotony of life at
+the Hall, and the ladies preferred to visit the merchant, who was stopping
+at The Peacock for a time, rather than to have him take his wares to
+Haddon.
+
+While Lady Crawford and Dorothy were revelling in Persian silks, satins,
+and gold cloths, I sat by Lady Madge and was more than content that we
+were left to ourselves. My mind, however, was as far from thoughts of
+gallantry as if she had been a black-veiled nun. I believe I have not told
+you that I was of the Holy Catholic Faith. My religion, I may say, has
+always been more nominal and political than spiritual, although there ran
+through it a strong vein of inherited tendencies and superstitions which
+were highly colored by contempt for heresy and heretics. I was Catholic by
+habit. But if I analyzed my supposed religious belief, I found that I had
+none save a hatred for heresy. Heretics, as a rule, were low-born persons,
+vulgarly moral, and as I had always thought, despisedly hypocritical.
+Madge Stanley, however, was a Protestant, and that fact shook the
+structure of my old mistakes to its foundation, and left me religionless.
+
+After the Persian merchant had packed his bales and departed, Dorothy and
+Lady Crawford joined Madge and me near the fireplace. Soon Dorothy went
+over to the window and stood there gazing into the courtyard. After a few
+minutes Lady Crawford said, "Dorothy, had we not better order Dawson to
+bring out the horses and coach?" Will Dawson was Sir George's forester.
+
+Lady Crawford repeated her question, but Dorothy was too intently watching
+the scene in the courtyard to hear. I went over to her, and looking out at
+the window discovered the object of Dorothy's rapt attention. There is no
+need for me to tell you who it was. Irony, as you know, and as I had
+learned, was harmless against this thick-skinned nymph. Of course I had no
+authority to scold her, so I laughed. The object of Dorothy's attention
+was about to mount his horse. He was drawing on his gauntleted gloves and
+held between his teeth a cigarro. He certainly presented a handsome figure
+for the eyes of an ardent girl to rest upon while he stood beneath the
+window, clothed in a fashionable Paris-made suit of brown, doublet,
+trunks, and hose. His high-topped boots were polished till they shone, and
+his broad-rimmed hat, of soft beaver, was surmounted by a flowing plume.
+Even I, who had no especial taste nor love for masculine beauty, felt my
+sense of the beautiful strongly moved by the attractive picture my
+new-found friend presented. His dress, manner, and bearing, polished by
+the friction of life at a luxurious court, must have appeared god-like to
+Dorothy. She had never travelled farther from home than Buxton and
+Derby-town, and had met only the half-rustic men belonging to the
+surrounding gentry and nobility of Derbyshire, Nottingham, and Stafford.
+She had met but few even of them, and their lives had been spent chiefly
+in drinking, hunting, and gambling--accomplishments that do not fine down
+the texture of a man's nature or fit him for a lady's bower. Sir John
+Manners was a revelation to Dorothy; and she, poor girl, was bewildered
+and bewitched by him.
+
+When John had mounted and was moving away, he looked up to the window
+where Dorothy stood, and a light came to her eyes and a smile to her face
+which no man who knows the sum of two and two can ever mistake if he but
+once sees it.
+
+When I saw the light in Dorothy's eyes, I knew that all the hatred that
+was ever born from all the feuds that had ever lived since the quarrelling
+race of man began its feuds in Eden could not make Dorothy Vernon hate the
+son of her father's enemy.
+
+"I was--was--watching him draw smoke through the--the little stick which
+he holds in his mouth, and--and blow it out again," said Dorothy, in
+explanation of her attitude. She blushed painfully and continued, "I hope
+you do not think--"
+
+"I do not think," I answered. "I would not think of thinking."
+
+"Of course not," she responded, with a forced smile, as she watched Sir
+John pass out of sight under the arch of the innyard gate. I did not
+think. I knew. And the sequel, so full of trouble, soon proved that I was
+right. After John had passed through the gate, Dorothy was willing to go
+home; and when Will Dawson brought the great coach to the inn door, I
+mounted my horse and rode beside the ladies to Haddon Hall, two miles
+north from Rowsley.
+
+I shall not stop to tell you of the warm welcome given me by Sir George
+Vernon, nor of his delight when I briefly told him my misfortunes in
+Scotland--misfortunes that had brought me to Haddon Hall. Nor shall I
+describe the great boar's head supper given in my honor, at which there
+were twenty men who could have put me under the table. I thought I knew
+something of the art of drinking, but at that supper I soon found I was a
+mere tippler compared with these country guzzlers. At that feast I learned
+also that Dorothy, when she had hinted concerning Sir George's excessive
+drinking, had told the truth. He, being the host, drank with all his
+guests. Near midnight he grew distressingly drunk, talkative, and violent,
+and when toward morning he was carried from the room by his servants, the
+company broke up. Those who could do so reeled home; those who could not
+walk at all were put to bed by the retainers at Haddon Hall. I had chosen
+my bedroom high up in Eagle Tower. At table I had tried to remain sober.
+That, however, was an impossible task, for at the upper end of the hall
+there was a wrist-ring placed in the wainscoting at a height of ten or
+twelve inches above the head of an ordinary man, and if he refused to
+drink as much as the other guests thought he should, his wrist was
+fastened above his head in the ring, and the liquor which he should have
+poured down his throat was poured down his sleeve. Therefore to avoid this
+species of rustic sport I drank much more than was good for me. When the
+feast closed I thought I was sober enough to go to my room unassisted; so
+I took a candle, and with a great show of self-confidence climbed the
+spiral stone stairway to the door of my room. The threshold of my door was
+two or three feet above the steps of the stairway, and after I had
+contemplated the distance for a few minutes, I concluded that it would not
+be safe for me to attempt to climb into my sleeping apartments without
+help. Accordingly I sat down upon the step on which I had been standing,
+placed my candle beside me, called loudly for a servant, received no
+response, and fell asleep only to be awakened by one of Sir George's
+retainers coming downstairs next morning.
+
+After that supper, in rapid succession, followed hunting and drinking,
+feasting and dancing in my honor. At the dances the pipers furnished the
+music, or, I should rather say, the noise. Their miserable wailings
+reminded me of Scotland. After all, thought I, is the insidious, polished
+vice of France worse than the hoggish, uncouth practices of Scotland and
+of English country life? I could not endure the latter, so I asked Sir
+George, on the pretext of ill health, to allow me to refuse invitations to
+other houses, and I insisted that he should give no more entertainments at
+Haddon Hall on my account. Sir George eagerly acquiesced in all my wishes.
+In truth, I was treated like an honored guest and a member of the family,
+and I congratulated myself that my life had fallen in such pleasant lines.
+Dorothy and Madge became my constant companions, for Sir George's time
+was occupied chiefly with his estates and with his duties as magistrate. A
+feeling of rest and contentment came over me, and my past life drifted
+back of me like an ever receding cloud.
+
+Thus passed the months of October and November.
+
+In the meantime events in Scotland and in England proved my wisdom in
+seeking a home at Haddon Hall, and showed me how great was my good fortune
+in finding it.
+
+Queen Mary was a prisoner at Lochleven Castle, and her brother Murray had
+beheaded many of her friends. Elizabeth, hating Mary as only a plain,
+envious woman can hate one who is transcendently beautiful, had, upon
+different pretexts, seized many of Mary's friends who had fled to England
+for sanctuary, and some of them had suffered imprisonment or death.
+
+Elizabeth, in many instances, had good cause for her attitude toward
+Mary's friends, since plots were hatching thick and fast to liberate Mary
+from Lochleven; and many such plots, undoubtedly, had for their chief end
+the deposition of Elizabeth, and the enthronement of Mary as Queen of
+England.
+
+As a strict matter of law, Mary was rightful heir to the English throne,
+and Elizabeth was an usurper. Parliament, at Henry's request, had declared
+that Elizabeth, his issue by Anne Boleyn, was illegitimate, and that being
+true, Mary was next in line of descent. The Catholics of England took that
+stand, and Mary's beauty and powers of fascination had won for her friends
+even in the personal household of the Virgin Queen. Small cause for wonder
+was it that Elizabeth, knowing all these facts, looked with suspicion and
+fear upon Mary's refugee friends.
+
+The English queen well knew that Sir George Vernon was her friend,
+therefore his house and his friendship were my sanctuary, without which
+my days certainly would have been numbered in the land of Elizabeth, and
+their number would have been small. I was dependent on Sir George not only
+for a roof to shelter me, but for my very life. I speak of these things
+that you may know some of the many imperative reasons why I desired to
+please and conciliate my cousin. In addition to those reasons, I soon grew
+to love Sir George, not only because of his kindness to me, but because he
+was a lovable man. He was generous, just, and frank, and although at times
+he was violent almost to the point of temporary madness, his heart was
+usually gentle, and was as easily touched by kindness as it was quickly
+moved to cruelty by injury, fancied or actual. I have never known a more
+cruel, tender man than he. You will see him in each of his natures before
+you have finished this history. But you must judge him only after you have
+considered his times, which were forty years ago, his surroundings, and
+his blood.
+
+During those two months remarkable changes occurred within the walls of
+Haddon, chief of which were in myself, and, alas! in Dorothy.
+
+My pilgrimage to Haddon, as you already know, had been made for the
+purpose of marrying my fair cousin; for I did not, at the time I left
+Scotland, suppose I should need Sir George's protection against Elizabeth.
+When I met Dorothy at Rowsley, my desire to marry her became personal, in
+addition to the mercenary motives with which I had originally started. But
+I quickly recognized the fact that the girl was beyond my reach. I knew I
+could not win her love, even though I had a thousand years to try for it;
+and I would not accept her hand in marriage solely at her father's
+command. I also soon learned that Dorothy was the child of her father,
+gentle, loving, and tender beyond the naming, but also wilful, violent,
+and fierce to the extent that no command could influence her.
+
+First I shall speak of the change within myself. I will soon be done with
+so much "I" and "me," and you shall have Dorothy to your heart's content,
+or trouble, I know not which.
+
+Soon after my arrival at Haddon Hall the sun ushered in one of those
+wonderful days known only to the English autumn, when the hush of Nature's
+drowsiness, just before her long winter's sleep, imparts its soft
+restfulness to man, as if it were a lotus feast. Dorothy was
+ostentatiously busy with her household matters, and was consulting with
+butler, cook, and steward. Sir George had ridden out to superintend his
+men at work, and I, wandering aimlessly about the hail, came upon Madge
+Stanley sitting in the chaplain's room with folded hands.
+
+"Lady Madge, will you go with me for a walk this beautiful morning?" I
+asked.
+
+"Gladly would I go, Sir Malcolm," she responded, a smile brightening her
+face and quickly fading away, "but I--I cannot walk in unfamiliar places.
+I should fail. You would have to lead me by the hand, and that, I fear,
+would mar the pleasure of your walk."
+
+"Indeed, it would not, Lady Madge. I should enjoy my walk all the more."
+
+"If you really wish me to go, I shall be delighted," she responded, as the
+brightness came again to her face. "I sometimes grow weary, and, I
+confess, a little sad sitting alone when Dorothy cannot be with me. Aunt
+Dorothy, now that she has her magnifying glasses,--spectacles, I think
+they are called,--devotes all her time to reading, and dislikes to be
+interrupted."
+
+"I wish it very much," I said, surprised by the real eagerness of my
+desire, and unconsciously endeavoring to keep out of the tones of my voice
+a part of that eagerness.
+
+"I shall take you at your word," she said. "I will go to my room to get my
+hat and cloak."
+
+She rose and began to grope her way toward the door, holding out her
+white, expressive hands in front of her. It was pitiful and beautiful to
+see her, and my emotions welled up in my throat till I could hardly speak.
+
+"Permit me to give you my hand," I said huskily. How I longed to carry
+her! Every man with the right sort of a heart in his breast has a touch of
+the mother instinct in him; but, alas I only a touch. Ah, wondrous and
+glorious womanhood! If you had naught but the mother instinct to lift you
+above your masters by the hand of man-made laws, those masters were still
+unworthy to tie the strings of your shoes.
+
+"Thank you," said the girl, as she clasped my hand, and moved with
+confidence by my side. "This is so much better than the dreadful fear of
+falling. Even through these rooms where I have lived for many years I feel
+safe only in a few places,--on the stairs, and in my rooms, which are also
+Dorothy's. When Dorothy changes the position of a piece of furniture in
+the Hall, she leads me to it several times that I may learn just where it
+is. A long time ago she changed the position of a chair and did not tell
+me. I fell against it and was hurt. Dorothy wept bitterly over the mishap,
+and she has never since failed to tell me of such changes. I cannot make
+you know how kind and tender Dorothy is to me. I feel that I should die
+without her, and I know she would grieve terribly were we to part."
+
+I could not answer. What a very woman you will think I was! I, who could
+laugh while I ran my sword through a man's heart, could hardly restrain my
+tears for pity of this beautiful blind girl.
+
+"Thank you; that will do," she said, when we came to the foot of the great
+staircase. "I can now go to my rooms alone."
+
+When she reached the top she hesitated and groped for a moment; then she
+turned and called laughingly to me while I stood at the bottom of the
+steps, "I know the way perfectly well, but to go alone in any place is not
+like being led."
+
+"There are many ways in which one may be led, Lady Madge," I answered
+aloud. Then I said to myself, "That girl will lead you to Heaven, Malcolm,
+if you will permit her to do so."
+
+But thirty-five years of evil life are hard to neutralize. There is but
+one subtle elixir that can do it--love; and I had not thought of that
+magic remedy with respect to Madge.
+
+I hurriedly fetched my hat and returned to the foot of the staircase.
+Within a minute or two Madge came down stairs holding up the skirt of her
+gown with one hand, while she grasped the banister with the other. As I
+watched her descending I was enraptured with her beauty. Even the
+marvellous vital beauty of Dorothy could not compare with this girl's
+fair, pale loveliness. It seemed to be almost a profanation for me to
+admire the sweet oval of her face. Upon her alabaster skin, the black
+eyebrows, the long lashes, the faint blue veins and the curving red lips
+stood in exquisite relief. While she was descending the stairs, I caught a
+gleam of her round, snowy forearm and wrist; and when my eyes sought the
+perfect curves of her form disclosed by the clinging silk gown she wore, I
+felt that I had sinned in looking upon her, and I was almost glad she
+could not see the shame which was in my face.
+
+"Cousin Malcolm, are you waiting?" she asked from midway in the staircase.
+
+"Yes, I am at the foot of the steps," I answered.
+
+"I called you 'Cousin Malcolm,'" she said, holding out her hand when she
+came near me. "Pardon me; it was a slip of the tongue. I hear 'Cousin
+Malcolm' so frequently from Dorothy that the name is familiar to me."
+
+"I shall be proud if you will call me 'Cousin Malcolm' always. I like the
+name better than any that you can use."
+
+"If you wish it," she said, in sweet, simple candor, "I will call you
+'Cousin Malcolm,' and you may call me 'Cousin Madge' or 'Madge,' just as
+you please."
+
+"'Cousin Madge' it shall be; that is a compact," I answered, as I opened
+the door and we walked out into the fresh air of the bright October
+morning.
+
+"That will stand for our first compact; we are progressing famously," she
+said, with a low laugh of delight.
+
+Ah, to think that the blind can laugh. God is good.
+
+We walked out past the stables and the cottage, and crossed the river on
+the great stone bridge. Then we took our way down the babbling Wye,
+keeping close to its banks, while the dancing waters and even the gleaming
+pebbles seemed to dimple and smile as they softly sang their song of
+welcome to the fair kindred spirit who had come to visit them. If we
+wandered from the banks for but a moment, the waters seemed to struggle
+and turn in their course until they were again by her side, and then would
+they gently flow and murmur their contentment as they travelled forward to
+the sea, full of the memory of her sweet presence. And during all that
+time I led her by the hand. I tell you, friends, 'tis sweet to write of
+it.
+
+When we returned we crossed the Wye by the stone footbridge and entered
+the garden below the terrace at the corner postern. We remained for an
+hour resting upon the terrace balustrade, and before we went indoors Madge
+again spoke of Dorothy.
+
+"I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed this walk, nor how thankful I
+am to you for taking me," she said.
+
+I did not interrupt her by replying, for I loved to hear her talk.
+
+"Dorothy sometimes takes me with her for a short walk, but I seldom have
+that pleasure. Walking is too slow for Dorothy. She is so strong and full
+of life. She delights to ride her mare Dolcy. Have you seen Dolcy?"
+
+"No," I responded.
+
+"You must see her at once. She is the most beautiful animal in the world.
+Though small of limb, she is swift as the wind, and as easy as a cradle in
+her gaits. She is mettlesome and fiery, but full of affection. She often
+kisses Dorothy. Mare and rider are finely mated. Dorothy is the most
+perfect woman, and Dolcy is the most perfect mare. 'The two D's,' we call
+them. But Dorothy says we must be careful not to put a--a dash between
+them," she said with a laugh and a blush.
+
+Then I led Madge into the hall, and she was blithe and happy as if the
+blessed light of day were in her eyes. It was in her soul, and that, after
+all, is where it brings the greatest good.
+
+After that morning, Madge and I frequently walked out when the days were
+pleasant. The autumn was mild, well into winter time, and by the end of
+November the transparent cheeks of the blind girl held an exquisite tinge
+of color, and her form had a new grace from the strength she had acquired
+in exercise. We had grown to be dear friends, and the touch of her hand
+was a pleasure for which I waited eagerly from day to day. Again I say
+thoughts of love for her had never entered my mind. Perhaps their absence
+was because of my feeling that they could not possibly exist in her heart
+for me.
+
+One evening in November, after the servants had all gone to bed, Sir
+George and I went to the kitchen to drink a hot punch before retiring for
+the night. I drank a moderate bowl and sat in a large chair before the
+fire, smoking a pipe of tobacco, while Sir George drank brandy toddy at
+the massive oak table in the middle of the room.
+
+Sir George was rapidly growing drunk. He said: "Dawson tells me that the
+queen's officers arrested another of Mary Stuart's damned French friends
+at Derby-town yesterday,--Count somebody; I can't pronounce their
+miserable names."
+
+"Can you not remember his name?" I asked. "He may be a friend of mine." My
+remark was intended to remind Sir George that his language was offensive
+to me.
+
+"That is true, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "I beg your pardon. I meant
+to speak ill only of Mary's meddlesome friends, who are doing more injury
+than good to their queen's cause by their plotting."
+
+I replied: "No one can regret these plots more than I do. They certainly
+will work great injury to the cause they are intended to help. But I fear
+many innocent men are made to suffer for the few guilty ones. Without your
+protection, for which I cannot sufficiently thank you, my life here would
+probably be of short duration. After my misfortunes in Scotland, I know
+not what I should have done had it not been for your generous welcome. I
+lost all in Scotland, and it would now be impossible for me to go to
+France. An attempt on my part to escape would result in my arrest. Fortune
+certainly has turned her capricious back upon me, with the one exception
+that she has left me your friendship."
+
+"Malcolm, my boy," said Sir George, drawing his chair toward me, "that
+which you consider your loss is my great gain. I am growing old, and if
+you, who have seen so much of the gay world, will be content to live with
+us and share our dulness and our cares, I shall be the happiest man in
+England."
+
+"I thank you more than I can tell," I said, careful not to commit myself
+to any course.
+
+"Barring my quarrel with the cursed race of Manners," continued Sir
+George, "I have little to trouble me; and if you will remain with us, I
+thank God I may leave the feud in good hands. Would that I were young
+again only for a day that I might call that scoundrel Rutland and his imp
+of a son to account in the only manner whereby an honest man may have
+justice of a thief. There are but two of them, Malcolm,--father and
+son,--and if they were dead, the damned race would be extinct."
+
+I believe that Sir George Vernon when sober could not have spoken in that
+fashion even of his enemies.
+
+I found difficulty in replying to my cousin's remarks, so I said
+evasively:--
+
+"I certainly am the most fortunate of men to find so warm a welcome from
+you, and so good a home as that which I have at Haddon Hall. When I met
+Dorothy at the inn, I knew at once by her kindness that my friends of old
+were still true to me. I was almost stunned by Dorothy's beauty."
+
+My mention of Dorothy was unintentional and unfortunate. I had shied from
+the subject upon several previous occasions, but Sir George was
+continually trying to lead up to it. This time my lack of forethought
+saved him the trouble.
+
+"Do you really think that Doll is very beautiful--so very beautiful? Do
+you really think so, Malcolm?" said the old gentleman, rubbing his hands
+in pride and pleasure.
+
+"Surprisingly beautiful," I answered, seeking hurriedly through my mind
+for an excuse to turn the conversation. I had within two months learned
+one vital fact: beautiful as Dorothy was, I did not want her for my wife,
+and I could not have had her even were I dying for love. The more I
+learned of Dorothy and myself during the autumn through which I had just
+passed--and I had learned more of myself than I had been able to discover
+in the thirty-five previous years of my life--the more clearly I saw the
+utter unfitness of marriage between us.
+
+"In all your travels," asked Sir George, leaning his elbows upon his
+knees and looking at his feet between his hands, "in all your travels and
+court life have you ever seen a woman who was so beautiful as my girl
+Doll?"
+
+His pride in Dorothy at times had a tinge of egotism and selfishness. It
+seemed to be almost the pride of possession and ownership. "My girl!" The
+expression and the tone in which the words were spoken sounded as if he
+had said: "My fine horse," "My beautiful Hall," or "My grand estates."
+Dorothy was his property. Still, he loved the girl passionately. She was
+dearer to him than all his horses, cattle, halls, and estates put
+together, and he loved even them to excess. He loved all that he
+possessed; whatever was his was the best of the sort. Such a love is apt
+to grow up in the breasts of men who have descended from a long line of
+proprietary ancestors, and with all its materialism it has in it
+possibilities of great good. The sturdy, unflinching patriotism of the
+English people springs from this source. The thought, "That which I
+possess is the best," has beauty and use in it, though it leads men to
+treat other men, and, alas! women, as mere chattels. All this was passing
+through my mind, and I forgot to answer Sir George's question.
+
+"Have you ever seen a woman more beautiful than Doll?" he again asked.
+
+"I certainly have never seen one whose beauty may even be compared with
+Dorothy's," I answered.
+
+"And she is young, too," continued Sir George; "she is not yet nineteen."
+
+"That is very young," I answered, not knowing what else to say.
+
+"And she will be rich some day. Very rich. I am called 'King of the Peak,'
+you know, and there are not three estates in Derbyshire which, if
+combined, would equal mine."
+
+"That is true, cousin," I answered, "and I rejoice in your good fortune."
+
+"Dorothy will have it all one of these days--all, all," continued my
+cousin, still looking at his feet.
+
+After a long pause, during which Sir George took several libations from
+his bowl of toddy, he cleared his throat and said, "So Dorothy is the most
+beautiful girl and the richest heiress you know?"
+
+"Indeed she is," I responded, knowing full well what he was leading up to.
+Realizing that in spite of me he would now speak his mind, I made no
+attempt to turn the current of the conversation.
+
+After another long pause, and after several more draughts from the bowl,
+my old friend and would-be benefactor said: "You may remember a little
+conversation between us when you were last at Haddon six or seven years
+ago, about--about Dorothy? You remember?"
+
+I, of course, dared not pretend that I had forgotten.
+
+"Yes, I remember," I responded.
+
+"What do you think of the proposition by this time?" asked Sir George.
+"Dorothy and all she will inherit shall be yours--"
+
+"Stop, stop, Sir George!" I exclaimed. "You do not know what you say. No
+one but a prince or a great peer of the realm is worthy of aspiring to
+Dorothy's hand. When she is ready to marry you should take her to London
+court, where she can make her choice from among the nobles of our land.
+There is not a marriageable duke or earl in England who would not eagerly
+seek the girl for a wife. My dear cousin, your generosity overwhelms me,
+but it must not be thought of. I am utterly unworthy of her in person,
+age, and position. No! no!"
+
+"But listen to me, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "Your modesty, which,
+in truth, I did not know you possessed, is pleasing to me; but I have
+reasons of my own for wishing that you should marry Dorothy. I want my
+estates to remain in the Vernon name, and one day you or your children
+will make my house and my name noble. You and Dorothy shall go to court,
+and between you--damme! if you can't win a dukedom, I am no prophet. You
+would not object to change your faith, would you?"
+
+"Oh, no," I responded, "of course I should not object to that."
+
+"Of course not. I knew you were no fool," said Sir George. "Age! why, you
+are only thirty-five years old--little more than a matured boy. I prefer
+you to any man in England for Dorothy's husband."
+
+"You overwhelm me with your kindness," I returned, feeling that I was
+being stranded on a very dangerous shore, amidst wealth and beauty.
+
+"Tut, tut, there's no kindness in it," returned my cousin. "I do not offer
+you Dorothy's hand from an unselfish motive. I have told you one motive,
+but there is another, and a little condition besides, Malcolm." The brandy
+Sir George had been drinking had sent the devil to his brain.
+
+"What is the condition?" I asked, overjoyed to hear that there was one.
+
+The old man leaned toward me and a fierce blackness overclouded his face.
+"I am told, Malcolm, that you have few equals in swordsmanship, and that
+the duello is not new to you. Is it true?"
+
+"I believe I may say it is true," I answered. "I have fought successfully
+with some of the most noted duellists of--"
+
+"Enough, enough! Now, this is the condition, Malcolm,--a welcome one to
+you, I am sure; a welcome one to any brave man." His eyes gleamed with
+fire and hatred. "Quarrel with Rutland and his son and kill both of them."
+
+I felt like recoiling from the old fiend. I had often quarrelled and
+fought, but, thank God, never in cold blood and with deliberate intent to
+do murder.
+
+"Then Dorothy and all I possess shall be yours," said Sir George. "The old
+one will be an easy victim. The young one, they say, prides himself on his
+prowess. I do not know with what cause, I have never seen him fight. In
+fact, I have never seen the fellow at all. He has lived at London court
+since he was a child, and has seldom, if ever, visited this part of the
+country. He was a page both to Edward VI. and to Queen Mary. Why Elizabeth
+keeps the damned traitor at court to plot against her is more than I can
+understand. Do the conditions suit you, Malcolm?" asked Sir George,
+piercing me with his eyes.
+
+I did not respond, and he continued: "All I ask is your promise to kill
+Rutland and his son at the first opportunity. I care not how. The marriage
+may come off at once. It can't take place too soon to please me."
+
+I could not answer for a time. The power to speak and to think had left
+me. To accept Sir George's offer was out of the question. To refuse it
+would be to give offence beyond reparation to my only friend, and you know
+what that would have meant to me. My refuge was Dorothy. I knew, however
+willing I might be or might appear to be, Dorothy would save me the
+trouble and danger of refusing her hand. So I said:--
+
+"We have not consulted Dorothy. Perhaps her inclinations--"
+
+"Doll's inclinations be damned. I have always been kind and indulgent to
+her, and she is a dutiful, obedient daughter. My wish and command in this
+affair will furnish inclinations enough for Doll."
+
+"But, Sir George," I remonstrated, "I would not accept the hand of Dorothy
+nor of any woman unless she desired it. I could not. I could not."
+
+"If Doll consents, I am to understand that you accept?" asked Sir George.
+
+I saw no way out of the dilemma, and to gain time I said, "Few men in
+their right mind would refuse so flattering an offer unless there were a
+most potent reason, and I--I--"
+
+"Good! good! I shall go to bed happy to-night for the first time in years.
+The Rutlands will soon be out of my path."
+
+There is a self-acting retribution in our evil passions which never fails
+to operate. One who hates must suffer, and Sir George for years had paid
+the penalty night and day, unconscious that his pain was of his own
+making.
+
+Before we parted I said, "This is a delicate matter, with reference to
+Dorothy, and I insist that you give me time to win, if possible, her
+kindly regard before you express to her your wish."
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense, Malcolm! I'll tell the girl about it in the morning,
+and save you the trouble. The women will want to make some new gowns
+and--"
+
+"But," I interrupted emphatically, "I will not have it so. It is every
+man's sweet privilege to woo the woman of his choice in his own way. It is
+not a trouble to me; it is a pleasure, and it is every woman's right to be
+wooed by the man who seeks her. I again insist that I only shall speak to
+Dorothy on this subject. At least, I demand that I be allowed to speak
+first."
+
+"That's all damned nonsense," responded Sir George; "but if you will have
+it so, well and good. Take your own course. I suppose it's the fashion at
+court. The good old country way suits me. A girl's father tells her whom
+she is to marry, and, by gad, she does it without a word and is glad to
+get a man. English girls obey their parents. They know what to expect if
+they don't--the lash, by God and the dungeon under the keep. Your
+roundabout method is all right for tenants and peasants; but among people
+who possess estates and who control vast interests, girls are--girls
+are--Well, they are born and brought up to obey and to help forward the
+interests of their houses." The old man was growing very drunk, and after
+a long pause he continued: "Have your own way, Malcolm, but don't waste
+time. Now that the matter is settled, I want to get it off my hands
+quickly."
+
+"I shall speak to Dorothy on the subject at the first favorable
+opportunity," I responded; "but I warn you, Sir George, that if Dorothy
+proves disinclined to marry me, I will not accept her hand."
+
+"Never fear for Doll; she will be all right," and we parted.
+
+Doll all right! Had he only known how very far from "all right" Dorothy
+was, he would have slept little that night.
+
+This brings me to the other change of which I spoke--the change in
+Dorothy. Change? It was a metamorphosis.
+
+A fortnight after the scene at The Peacock I accidentally discovered a
+drawing made by Dorothy of a man with a cigarro in his mouth. The girl
+snatched the paper from my hands and blushed convincingly.
+
+"It is a caricature of--of him," she said. She smiled, and evidently was
+willing to talk upon the subject of "him." I declined the topic.
+
+This happened a month or more previous to my conversation with Sir George
+concerning Dorothy. A few days after my discovery of the cigarro picture,
+Dorothy and I were out on the terrace together. Frequently when she was
+with me she would try to lead the conversation to the topic which I well
+knew was in her mind, if not in her heart, at all times. She would speak
+of our first meeting at The Peacock, and would use every artifice to
+induce me to bring up the subject which she was eager to discuss, but I
+always failed her. On the day mentioned when we were together on the
+terrace, after repeated failures to induce me to speak upon the desired
+topic, she said, "I suppose you never meet--meet--him when you ride out?"
+
+"Whom, Dorothy?" I asked.
+
+"The gentleman with the cigarro," she responded, laughing nervously.
+
+"No," I answered, "I know nothing of him."
+
+The subject was dropped.
+
+At another time she said, "He was in the village--Overhaddon--yesterday."
+
+Then I knew who "him" was.
+
+"How do you know?" I asked.
+
+"Jennie Faxton, the farrier's daughter, told me. She often comes to the
+Hall to serve me. She likes to act as my maid, and is devoted to me."
+
+"Did he send any word to you?" I asked at a venture. The girl blushed and
+hung her head. "N-o," she responded.
+
+"What was it, Dorothy?" I asked gently. "You may trust me."
+
+"He sent no word to me," the girl responded. "Jennie said she heard two
+gentlemen talking about me in front of the farrier's shop, and one of them
+said something about--oh, I don't know what it was. I can't tell you. It
+was all nonsense, and of course he did not mean it."
+
+"Tell me all, Dorothy," I said, seeing that she really wanted to speak.
+
+"Oh, he said something about having seen Sir George Vernon's daughter at
+Rowsley, and--and--I can't tell you what he said, I am too full of shame."
+If her cheeks told the truth, she certainly was "full of shame."
+
+"Tell me all, sweet cousin; I am sorry for you," I said. She raised her
+eyes to mine in quick surprise with a look of suspicion.
+
+"You may trust me, Dorothy. I say it again, you may trust me."
+
+"He spoke of my beauty and called it marvellous," said the girl. "He said
+that in all the world there was not another woman--oh, I can't tell you."
+
+"Yes, yes, go on, Dorothy," I insisted.
+
+"He said," she continued, "that he could think of nothing else but me day
+or night since he had first seen me at Rowsley--that I had bewitched him
+and--and--Then the other gentleman said, 'John, don't play with fire; it
+will burn you. Nothing good can come of it for you.'"
+
+"Did Jennie know who the gentleman was?" I asked.
+
+"No," returned Dorothy.
+
+"How do you know who he was?"
+
+"Jennie described him," she said.
+
+"How did she describe him?" I asked.
+
+"She said he was--he was the handsomest man in the world and--and that he
+affected her so powerfully she fell in love with him in spite of herself.
+The little devil, to dare! You see that describes him perfectly."
+
+I laughed outright, and the girl blushed painfully.
+
+"It does describe him," she said petulantly. "You know it does. No one can
+gainsay that he is wonderfully, dangerously handsome. I believe the woman
+does not live who could refrain from feasting her eyes on his noble
+beauty. I wonder if I shall ever again--again." Tears were in her voice
+and almost in her eyes.
+
+"Dorothy! My God, Dorothy!" I exclaimed in terror.
+
+"Yes! yes! My God, Dorothy!" she responded, covering her face with her
+hands and sighing deeply, as she dropped her head and left me.
+
+Yes, yes, my God, Dorothy! The helpless iron and the terrible loadstone!
+The passive seed! The dissolving cloud and the falling rain!
+
+Less than a week after the above conversation, Dorothy, Madge, and I were
+riding from Yulegrave Church up to the village of Overhaddon, which lies
+one mile across the hills from Haddon Hall. My horse had cast a shoe, and
+we stopped at Faxton's shop to have him shod. The town well is in the
+middle of an open space called by the villagers "The Open," around which
+are clustered the half-dozen houses and shops that constitute the village.
+The girls were mounted, and I was standing beside them in front of the
+farrier's, waiting for my horse. Jennie Faxton, a wild, unkempt girl of
+sixteen, was standing in silent admiration near Dorothy. Our backs were
+turned toward the well. Suddenly a light came into Jennie's face, and she
+plucked Dorothy by the skirt of her habit.
+
+"Look, mistress, look! Look there by the well!" said Jennie in a whisper.
+Dorothy looked toward the well. I also turned my head and beheld my
+friend, Sir John, holding a bucket of water for his horse to drink. I had
+not seen him since we parted at The Peacock, and I did not show that I
+recognized him. I feared to betray our friendship to the villagers. They,
+however, did not know Sir John, and I need not have been so cautious. But
+Dorothy and Madge were with me, and of course I dared not make any
+demonstration of acquaintanceship with the enemy of our house.
+
+Dorothy watched John closely, and when he was ready to mount she struck
+her horse with the whip, and boldly rode to the well.
+
+"May I ask you to give my mare water?" she said.
+
+"Certainly. Ah, I beg pardon. I did not understand," answered Sir John,
+confusedly. John, the polished, self-poised courtier, felt the confusion
+of a country rustic in the presence of this wonderful girl, whose
+knowledge of life had been acquired within the precincts of Haddon Hall.
+Yet the inexperienced girl was self-poised and unconfused, while the wits
+of the courtier, who had often calmly flattered the queen, had all gone
+wool-gathering.
+
+She repeated her request.
+
+"Certainly," returned John, "I--I knew what you said--but--but you
+surprise me."
+
+"Yes," said brazen Dorothy, "I have surprised myself."
+
+John, in his haste to satisfy Dolcy's thirst, dashed the water against the
+skirt of Dorothy's habit, and was profuse in his apologies.
+
+"Do not mention it," said Dorothy. "I like a damp habit. The wind cannot
+so easily blow it about," and she laughed as she shook the garment to free
+it of the water. Dolcy refused to drink, and Dorothy having no excuse to
+linger at the well, drew up her reins and prepared to leave. While doing
+so, she said:--
+
+"Do you often come to Overhaddon?" Her eager eyes shone like red coals,
+and looking at John, she awaited smilingly his response.
+
+"Seldom," answered John; "not often. I mean every day--that is, if I may
+come."
+
+"Any one may come to the village whenever he wishes to do so," responded
+Dorothy, laughing too plainly at Sir John's confusion. "Is it seldom, or
+not often, or every day that you come?" In her overconfidence she was
+chaffing him. He caught the tone, and looked quickly into the girl's eyes.
+Her gaze could not stand against John's for a moment, and the long lashes
+drooped to shade her eyes from the fierce light of his.
+
+"I said I would come to Overhaddon every day," he returned; "and although
+I must have appeared very foolish in my confusion, you cannot
+misunderstand the full meaning of my words."
+
+In John's boldness and in the ring of his voice Dorothy felt the touch of
+her master, against whom she well knew all the poor force she could muster
+would be utterly helpless. She was frightened, and said:--
+
+"I--I must go. Good-by."
+
+When she rode away from him she thought: "I believed because of his
+confusion that I was the stronger. I could not stand against him for a
+moment. Holy Virgin! what have I done, and to what am I coming?"
+
+You may now understand the magnitude of the task which Sir George had set
+for me when he bade me marry his daughter and kill the Rutlands. I might
+perform the last-named feat, but dragon fighting would be mere child's
+play compared with the first, while the girl's heart was filled with the
+image of another man.
+
+I walked forward to meet Dorothy, leaving Madge near the farrier's shop.
+
+"Dorothy, are you mad? What have you been doing?" I asked.
+
+"Could you not see?" she answered, under her breath, casting a look of
+warning toward Madge and a glance of defiance at me. "Are you, too, blind?
+Could you not see what I was doing?"
+
+"Yes," I responded.
+
+"Then why do you ask?"
+
+As I went back to Madge I saw John ride out of the village by the south
+road. I afterward learned that he rode gloomily back to Rutland Castle
+cursing himself for a fool. His duty to his father, which with him was a
+strong motive, his family pride, his self love, his sense of caution, all
+told him that he was walking open-eyed into trouble. He had tried to
+remain away from the vicinity of Haddon Hall, but, despite his
+self-respect and self-restraint, he had made several visits to Rowsley and
+to Overhaddon, and at one time had ridden to Bakewell, passing Haddon
+Hall on his way thither. He had as much business in the moon as at
+Overhaddon, yet he told Dorothy he would be at the village every day, and
+she, it seemed, was only too willing to give him opportunities to transact
+his momentous affairs.
+
+As the floating cloud to the fathomless blue, as the seed to the earth, as
+the iron to the lodestone, so was Dorothy unto John.
+
+Thus you see our beautiful pitcher went to the well and was broken.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE GOLDEN HEART
+
+
+The day after Dorothy's first meeting with Manners at Overhaddon she was
+restless and nervous, and about the hour of three in the afternoon she
+mounted Dolcy and rode toward Bakewell. That direction, I was sure, she
+took for the purpose of misleading us at the Hall, and I felt confident
+she would, when once out of sight, head her mare straight for Overhaddon.
+Within an hour Dorothy was home again, and very ill-tempered.
+
+The next day she rode out in the morning. I asked her if I should ride
+with her, and the emphatic "No" with which she answered me left no room
+for doubt in my mind concerning her desire for my company or her
+destination. Again she returned within an hour and hurried to her
+apartments. Shortly afterward Madge asked me what Dorothy was weeping
+about; and although in my own mind I was confident of the cause of
+Dorothy's tears, I, of course, did not give Madge a hint of my suspicion.
+Yet I then knew, quite as well as I now know, that John, notwithstanding
+the important business which he said would bring him to Overhaddon every
+day, had forced himself to remain at home, and Dorothy, in consequence,
+suffered from anger and wounded pride. She had twice ridden to Overhaddon
+to meet him. She had done for his sake that which she knew she should have
+left undone, and he had refused the offering. A smarting conscience, an
+aching heart, and a breast full of anger were Dorothy's rewards for her
+evil doing. The day after her second futile trip to Overhaddon, I, to test
+her, spoke of John. She turned upon me with the black look of a fury, and
+hurled her words at me.
+
+"Never again speak his despised name in my hearing. Curse him and his
+whole race."
+
+"Now what has he been doing?" I asked.
+
+"I tell you, I will not speak of him, nor will I listen to you," and she
+dashed away from me like a fiery whirlwind.
+
+Four or five days later the girl rode out again upon Dolcy. She was away
+from home for four long hours, and when she returned she was so gentle,
+sweet, and happy that she was willing to kiss every one in the household
+from Welch, the butcher, to Sir George. She was radiant. She clung to
+Madge and to me, and sang and romped through the house like Dorothy of
+old.
+
+Madge said, "I am so glad you are feeling better, Dorothy." Then, speaking
+to me: "She has been ill for several days. She could not sleep."
+
+Dorothy looked quickly over to me, gave a little shrug to her shoulders,
+bent forward her face, which was red with blushing, and kissed Madge
+lingeringly upon the lips.
+
+The events of Dorothy's trip I soon learned from her.
+
+The little scene between Dorothy, Madge, and myself, after Dorothy's
+joyful return, occurred a week before the momentous conversation between
+Sir George and me concerning my union with his house. Ten days after Sir
+George had offered me his daughter and his lands, he brought up the
+subject again. He and I were walking on the ridge of Bowling Green Hill.
+
+"I am glad you are making such fair progress with Doll," said Sir George.
+"Have you yet spoken to her upon the subject?"
+
+I was surprised to hear that I had made any progress. In fact, I did not
+know that I had taken a single step. I was curious to learn in what the
+progress consisted, so I said:--
+
+"I have not spoken to Dorothy yet concerning the marriage, and I fear that
+I have made no progress at all. She certainly is friendly enough to me,
+but--"
+
+"I should say that the gift from you she exhibited would indicate
+considerable progress," said Sir George, casting an expressive glance
+toward me.
+
+"What gift?" I stupidly inquired.
+
+"The golden heart, you rascal. She said you told her it had belonged to
+your mother."
+
+"Holy Mother of Truth!" thought I, "pray give your especial care to my
+cousin Dorothy. She needs it."
+
+Sir George thrust at my side with his thumb and continued:--
+
+"Don't deny it, Malcolm. Damme, you are as shy as a boy in this matter.
+But perhaps you know better than I how to go at her. I was thinking only
+the other day that your course was probably the right one. Doll, I
+suspect, has a dash of her old father's temper, and she may prove a little
+troublesome unless we let her think she is having her own way. Oh, there
+is nothing like knowing how to handle them, Malcolm. Just let them think
+they are having their own way and--and save trouble. Doll may have more of
+her father in her than I suspect, and perhaps it is well for us to move
+slowly. You will be able to judge, but you must not move too slowly. If in
+the end she should prove stubborn, we will break her will or break her
+neck. I would rather have a daughter in Bakewell churchyard than a wilful,
+stubborn, disobedient huzzy in Haddon Hall."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Sir George had been drinking, and my slip concerning the gift passed
+unnoticed by him.
+
+"I am sure you well know how to proceed in this matter, but don't be too
+cautious, Malcolm; the best woman living loves to be stormed."
+
+"Trust me," I answered, "I shall speak--" and my words unconsciously sank
+away to thought, as thought often, and inconveniently at times, grows into
+words.
+
+"Dorothy, Dorothy," said the thoughts again and again, "where came you by
+the golden heart?" and "where learned you so villanously to lie?"
+
+"From love," was the response, whispered by the sighing winds. "From love,
+that makes men and women like unto gods and teaches them the tricks of
+devils." "From love," murmured the dry rustling leaves and the rugged
+trees. "From love," sighed the fleecy clouds as they floated in the sweet
+restful azure of the vaulted sky. "From love," cried the mighty sun as he
+poured his light and heat upon the eager world to give it life. I would
+not give a fig for a woman, however, who would not lie herself black in
+the face for the sake of her lover, and I am glad that it is a virtue few
+women lack. One who would scorn to lie under all other circumstances
+would--but you understand. I suppose that Dorothy had never before uttered
+a real lie. She hated all that was evil and loved all that was good till
+love came a-teaching.
+
+I quickly invented an excuse to leave Sir George, and returned to the Hall
+to seek Dorothy. I found her and asked her to accompany me for a few
+minutes that I might speak with her privately. We went out upon the
+terrace and I at once began:--
+
+"You should tell me when I present you gifts that I may not cause trouble
+by my ignorance nor show surprise when I suddenly learn what I have done.
+You see when a man gives a lady a gift and he does not know it, he is apt
+to--"
+
+"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Dorothy, pale with fear and consternation. "Did
+you--"
+
+"No, I did not betray you, but I came perilously near it."
+
+"I--I wanted to tell you about it. I tried several times to do so--I did
+so long to tell somebody, but I could not bring myself to speak. I was
+full of shame, yet I was proud and happy, for all that happened was good
+and pure and sacred. You are not a woman; you cannot know--"
+
+"But I do know. I know that you saw Manners the other day, and that he
+gave you a golden heart."
+
+"How did you know? Did any one--"
+
+"Tell me? No. I knew it when you returned after five hours' absence,
+looking radiant as the sun."
+
+"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, with a startled movement.
+
+"I also knew," I continued, "that at other times when you rode out upon
+Dolcy you had not seen him."
+
+"How did you know?" she asked, with quick-coming breath.
+
+"By your ill-humor," I answered.
+
+"I knew it was so. I felt that everybody knew all that I had been doing. I
+could almost see father and Madge and you--even the servants--reading the
+wickedness written upon my heart. I knew that I could hide it from
+nobody." Tears were very near the girl's eyes.
+
+"We cannot help thinking that our guilty consciences, through which we see
+so plainly our own evil, are transparent to all the world. In that fact
+lies an evil-doer's greatest danger," said I, preacher fashion; "but you
+need have no fear. What you have done I believe is suspected by no one
+save me."
+
+A deep sigh of relief rose from the girl's heaving breast.
+
+"Well," she began, "I will tell you all about it, and I am only too glad
+to do so. It is heavy, Malcolm, heavy on my conscience. But I would not
+be rid of it for all the kingdoms of the earth."
+
+"A moment since you told me that your conduct was good and pure and
+sacred, and now you tell me that it is heavy on your conscience. Does one
+grieve, Dorothy, for the sake of that which is good and pure and sacred?"
+
+"I cannot answer your question," she replied. "I am no priest. But this I
+know: I have done no evil, and my conscience nevertheless is sore. Solve
+me the riddle, Malcolm, if you can."
+
+"I cannot solve your riddle, Dorothy," I replied; "but I feel sure it will
+be far safer for each of us if you will tell me all that happens
+hereafter."
+
+"I am sure you are right," she responded; "but some secrets are so
+delicious that we love to suck their sweets alone. I believe, however,
+your advice is good, and I will tell you all that has happened, though I
+cannot look you in the face while doing it." She hesitated a moment, and
+her face was red with tell-tale blushes. She continued, "I have acted most
+unmaidenly."
+
+"Unmaidenly perhaps, but not unwomanly," said I.
+
+"I thank you," she said, interrupting my sentence. It probably was well
+that she did so, for I was about to add, "To act womanly often means to
+get yourself into mischief and your friends into as much trouble as
+possible." Had I finished my remark, she would not have thanked me.
+
+"Well," said the girl, beginning her laggard narrative, "after we saw--saw
+him at Overhaddon, you know, I went to the village on each of three
+days--"
+
+"Yes, I know that also," I said.
+
+"How did you--but never mind. I did not see him, and when I returned home
+I felt angry and hurt and--and--but never mind that either. One day I
+found him, and I at once rode to the well where he was standing by his
+horse. He drew water for Dolcy, but the perverse mare would not drink."
+
+"A characteristic of her sex," I muttered.
+
+"What did you say?" asked the girl.
+
+"Nothing."
+
+She continued: "He seemed constrained and distant in his manner, but I
+knew, that is, I thought--I mean I felt--oh, you know--he looked as if he
+were glad to see me and I--I, oh, God! I was so glad and happy to see him
+that I could hardly restrain myself to act at all maidenly. He must have
+heard my heart beat. I thought he was in trouble. He seemed to have
+something he wished to say to me."
+
+"He doubtless had a great deal he wished to say to you," said I, again
+tempted to futile irony.
+
+"I was sure he had something to say," the girl returned seriously. "He was
+in trouble. I knew that he was, and I longed to help him."
+
+"What trouble?" I inquired.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. I forgot to ask, but he looked troubled."
+
+"Doubtless he was troubled," I responded. "He had sufficient cause for
+trouble," I finished the sentence to myself with the words, "in you."
+
+"What was the cause of his trouble?" she hastily asked, turning her face
+toward me.
+
+"I do not know certainly," I answered in a tone of irony which should have
+pierced an oak board, while the girl listened and looked at me eagerly;
+"but I might guess."
+
+"What was it? What was it? Let me hear you guess," she asked.
+
+"You," I responded laconically.
+
+"I!" she exclaimed in surprise.
+
+"Yes, you," I responded with emphasis. "You would bring trouble to any
+man, but to Sir John Manners--well, if he intends to keep up these
+meetings with you it would be better for his peace and happiness that he
+should get him a house in hell, for he would live there more happily than
+on this earth."
+
+"That is a foolish, senseless remark, Malcolm," the girl replied, tossing
+her head with a show of anger in her eyes. "This is no time to jest." I
+suppose I could not have convinced her that I was not jesting.
+
+"At first we did not speak to each other even to say good day, but stood
+by the well in silence for a very long time. The village people were
+staring at us, and I felt that every window had a hundred faces in it, and
+every face a hundred eyes."
+
+"You imagined that," said I, "because of your guilty conscience."
+
+"Perhaps so. But it seemed to me that we stood by the well in silence a
+very long time. You see, Cousin Malcolm, I was not the one who should
+speak first. I had done more than my part in going to meet him."
+
+"Decidedly so," said I, interrupting the interesting narrative.
+
+"When I could bear the gaze of the villagers no longer, I drew up my reins
+and started to leave The Open by the north road. After Dolcy had climbed
+halfway up North Hill, which as you know overlooks the village, I turned
+my head and saw Sir John still standing by the well, resting his hand upon
+his horse's mane. He was watching me. I grew angry, and determined that he
+should follow me, even if I had to call him. So I drew Dolcy to a stand.
+Was not that bold in me? But wait, there is worse to come, Malcolm. He did
+not move, but stood like a statue looking toward me. I knew that he wanted
+to come, so after a little time I--I beckoned to him and--and then he came
+like a thunderbolt. Oh! it was delicious. I put Dolcy to a gallop, for
+when he started toward me I was frightened. Besides I did not want him to
+overtake me till we were out of the village. But when once he had started,
+he did not wait. He was as swift now as he had been slow, and my heart
+throbbed and triumphed because of his eagerness, though in truth I was
+afraid of him. Dolcy, you know, is very fleet, and when I touched her with
+the whip she soon put half a mile between me and the village. Then I
+brought her to a walk and--and he quickly overtook me.
+
+"When he came up to me he said: 'I feared to follow you, though I ardently
+wished to do so. I dreaded to tell you my name lest you should hate me.
+Sir Malcolm at The Peacock said he would not disclose to you my identity.
+I am John Manners. Our fathers are enemies.'
+
+"Then I said to him, 'That is the reason I wish to talk to you. I wished
+you to come to meet me because I wanted to tell you that I regret and
+deplore the feud between our fathers.'--'Ah, you wished me to come?' he
+asked.--'Of course I did,' I answered, 'else why should I be here?'--'No
+one regrets the feud between our houses so deeply as I,' replied Sir John.
+'I can think of nothing else by day, nor can I dream of anything else by
+night. It is the greatest cause for grief and sorrow that has ever come
+into my life.' You see, Cousin Malcolm," the girl continued, "I was right.
+His father's conduct does trouble him. Isn't he noble and broad-minded to
+see the evil of his father's ways?"
+
+I did not tell the girl that Sir John's regret for the feud between the
+houses of Manners and Vernon grew out of the fact that it separated him
+from her; nor did I tell her that he did not grieve over his "father's
+ways."
+
+I asked, "Did Sir John tell you that he grieved because of his father's
+ill-doing?"
+
+"N-o, not in set terms, but--that, of course, would have been very hard
+for him to say. I told you what he said, and there could be no other
+meaning to his words."
+
+"Of course not," I responded.
+
+"No, and I fairly longed to reach out my hand and clutch him,
+because--because I was so sorry for him."
+
+"Was sorrow your only feeling?" I asked.
+
+The girl looked at me for a moment, and her eyes filled with tears. Then
+she sobbed gently and said, "Oh, Cousin Malcolm, you are so old and so
+wise." ("Thank you," thought I, "a second Daniel come to judgment at
+thirty-five; or Solomon and Methuselah in one.") She continued: "Tell me,
+tell me, what is this terrible thing that has come upon me. I seem to be
+living in a dream. I am burning with a fever, and a heavy weight is here
+upon my breast. I cannot sleep at night. I can do nothing but long and
+yearn for--for I know not what--till at times it seems that some
+frightful, unseen monster is slowly drawing the heart out of my bosom. I
+think of--of him at all times, and I try to recall his face, and the tones
+of his voice until, Cousin Malcolm, I tell you I am almost mad. I call
+upon the Holy Virgin hour by hour to pity me; but she is pure, and cannot
+know what I feel. I hate and loathe myself. To what am I coming? Where
+will it all end? Yet I can do nothing to save myself. I am powerless
+against this terrible feeling. I cannot even resolve to resist it. It came
+upon me mildly that day at The Peacock Inn, when I first saw him, and it
+grows deeper and stronger day by day, and, alas! night by night. I seem to
+have lost myself. In some strange way I feel as if I had sunk into
+him--that he had absorbed me."
+
+"The iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain," thought I.
+
+"I believed," continued the girl, "that if he would exert his will I might
+have relief; but there again I find trouble, for I cannot bring myself to
+ask him to will it. The feeling within me is like a sore heart: painful as
+it is, I must keep it. Without it I fear I could not live."
+
+After this outburst there was a long pause during which she walked by my
+side, seemingly unconscious that I was near her. I had known for some time
+that Dorothy was interested in Manners; but I was not prepared to see such
+a volcano of passion. I need not descant upon the evils and dangers of the
+situation. The thought that first came to me was that Sir George would
+surely kill his daughter before he would allow her to marry a son of
+Rutland. I was revolving in my mind how I should set about to mend the
+matter when Dorothy again spoke.
+
+"Tell me, Cousin Malcolm, can a man throw a spell over a woman and bewitch
+her?"
+
+"I do not know. I have never heard of a man witch," I responded.
+
+"No?" asked the girl.
+
+"But," I continued, "I do know that a woman may bewitch a man. John
+Manners, I doubt not, could also testify knowingly on the subject by this
+time."
+
+"Oh, do you think he is bewitched?" cried Dorothy, grasping my arm and
+looking eagerly into my face. "If I could bewitch him, I would do it. I
+would deal with the devil gladly to learn the art. I would not care for my
+soul. I do not fear the future. The present is a thousand-fold dearer to
+me than either the past or the future. I care not what comes hereafter. I
+want him now. Ah, Malcolm, pity my shame."
+
+She covered her face with her hands, and after a moment continued: "I am
+not myself. I belong not to myself. But if I knew that he also suffers, I
+do believe my pain would be less."
+
+"I think you may set your heart at rest upon that point," I answered. "He,
+doubtless, also suffers."
+
+"I hope so," she responded, unconscious of the selfish wish she had
+expressed. "If he does not, I know not what will be my fate."
+
+I saw that I had made a mistake in assuring her that John also suffered,
+and I determined to correct it later on, if possible.
+
+Dorothy was silent, and I said, "You have not told me about the golden
+heart."
+
+"I will tell you," she answered. "We rode for two hours or more, and
+talked of the weather and the scenery, until there was nothing more to be
+said concerning either. Then Sir John told me of the court in London,
+where he has always lived, and of the queen whose hair, he says, is red,
+but not at all like mine. I wondered if he would speak of the beauty of my
+hair, but he did not. He only looked at it. Then he told me about the
+Scottish queen whom he once met when he was on an embassy to Edinburgh. He
+described her marvellous beauty, and I believe he sympathizes with her
+cause--that is, with her cause in Scotland. He says she has no good cause
+in England. He is true to our queen. Well--well he talked so interestingly
+that I could have listened a whole month--yes, all my life."
+
+"I suppose you could," I said.
+
+"Yes," she continued, "but I could not remain longer from home, and when I
+left him he asked me to accept a keepsake which had belonged to his
+mother, as a token that there should be no feud between him and me." And
+she drew from her bosom a golden heart studded with diamonds and pierced
+by a white silver arrow.
+
+"I, of course, accepted it, then we said 'good-by,' and I put Dolcy to a
+gallop that she might speedily take me out of temptation."
+
+"Have you ridden to Overhaddon for the purpose of seeing Manners many
+times since he gave you the heart?" I queried.
+
+"What would you call 'many times'?" she asked, drooping her head.
+
+"Every day?" I said interrogatively. She nodded. "Yes. But I have seen
+him only once since the day when he gave me the heart."
+
+Nothing I could say would do justice to the subject, so I remained silent.
+
+"But you have not yet told me how your father came to know of the golden
+heart," I said.
+
+"It was this way: One morning while I was looking at the heart, father
+came upon me suddenly before I could conceal it. He asked me to tell him
+how I came by the jewel, and in my fright and confusion I could think of
+nothing else to say, so I told him you had given it to me. He promised not
+to speak to you about the heart, but he did not keep his word. He seemed
+pleased."
+
+"Doubtless he was pleased," said I, hoping to lead up to the subject so
+near to Sir George's heart, but now farther than ever from mine.
+
+The girl unsuspectingly helped me.
+
+"Father asked if you had spoken upon a subject of great interest to him
+and to yourself, and I told him you had not. 'When he does speak,' said
+father most kindly, 'I want you to grant his request'--and I will grant
+it, Cousin Malcolm." She looked in my face and continued: "I will grant
+your request, whatever it may be. You are the dearest friend I have in the
+world, and mine is the most loving and lovable father that girl ever had.
+It almost breaks my heart when I think of his suffering should he learn of
+what I have done--that which I just told to you." She walked beside me
+meditatively for a moment and said, "To-morrow I will return Sir John's
+gift and I will never see him again."
+
+I felt sure that by to-morrow she would have repented of her repentance;
+but I soon discovered that I had given her much more time than she needed
+to perform that trifling feminine gymnastic, for with the next breath she
+said:--
+
+"I have no means of returning the heart. I must see him once more and I
+will give--give it--it--back to--to him, and will tell him that I can see
+him never again." She scarcely had sufficient resolution to finish telling
+her intention. Whence, then, would come the will to put it in action?
+Forty thieves could not have stolen the heart from her, though she thought
+she was honest when she said she would take it to him.
+
+"Dorothy," said I, seriously but kindly, "have you and Sir John spoken
+of--"
+
+She evidently knew that I meant to say "of love," for she interrupted me.
+
+"N-o, but surely he knows. And I--I think--at least I hope with all my
+heart that--"
+
+"I will take the heart to Sir John," said I, interrupting her angrily,
+"and you need not see him again. He has acted like a fool and a knave. He
+is a villain, Dorothy, and I will tell him as much in the most emphatic
+terms I have at my command."
+
+"Dare you speak against him or to him upon the subject!" she exclaimed,
+her eyes blazing with anger; "you--you asked for my confidence and I gave
+it. You said I might trust you and I did so, and now you show me that I am
+a fool indeed. Traitor!"
+
+"My dear cousin," said I, seeing that she spoke the truth in charging me
+with bad faith, "your secret is safe with me. I swear it by my knighthood.
+You may trust me. I spoke in anger. But Sir John has acted badly. That you
+cannot gainsay. You, too, have done great evil. That also you cannot
+gainsay."
+
+"No," said the girl, dejectedly, "I cannot deny it; but the greatest evil
+is yet to come."
+
+"You must do something," I continued. "You must take some decisive step
+that will break this connection, and you must take the step at once if you
+would save yourself from the frightful evil that is in store for you.
+Forgive me for what I said, sweet cousin. My angry words sprang from my
+love for you and my fear for your future."
+
+No girl's heart was more tender to the influence of kindness than
+Dorothy's. No heart was more obdurate to unkindness or peremptory command.
+
+My words softened her at once, and she tried to smother the anger I had
+aroused. But she did not entirely succeed, and a spark remained which in a
+moment or two created a disastrous conflagration. You shall hear.
+
+She walked by my side in silence for a little time, and then spoke in a
+low, slightly sullen tone which told of her effort to smother her
+resentment.
+
+"I do trust you, Cousin Malcolm. What is it that you wish to ask of me?
+Your request is granted before it is made."
+
+"Do not be too sure of that, Dorothy," I replied. "It is a request your
+father ardently desires me to make, and I do not know how to speak to you
+concerning the subject in the way I wish."
+
+I could not ask her to marry me, and tell her with the same breath that I
+did not want her for my wife. I felt I must wait for a further opportunity
+to say that I spoke only because her father had required me to do so, and
+that circumstances forced me to put the burden of refusal upon her. I well
+knew that she would refuse me, and then I intended to explain.
+
+"Why, what is it all about?" asked the girl in surprise, suspecting, I
+believe, what was to follow.
+
+"It is this: your father is anxious that his vast estates shall not pass
+out of the family name, and he wishes you to be my wife, so that your
+children may bear the loved name of Vernon."
+
+I could not have chosen a more inauspicious time to speak. She looked at
+me for an instant in surprise, turning to scorn. Then she spoke in tones
+of withering contempt.
+
+"Tell my father that I shall never bear a child by the name of Vernon. I
+would rather go barren to my grave. Ah! that is why Sir John Manners is a
+villain? That is why a decisive step should be taken? That is why you come
+to my father's house a-fortune-hunting? After you have squandered your
+patrimony and have spent a dissolute youth in profligacy, after the women
+of the class you have known will have no more of you but choose younger
+men, you who are old enough to be my father come here and seek your
+fortune, as your father sought his, by marriage. I do not believe that my
+father wishes me to--to marry you. You have wheedled him into giving his
+consent when he was in his cups. But even if he wished it with all his
+heart, I would not marry you." Then she turned and walked rapidly toward
+the Hall.
+
+Her fierce words angered me; for in the light of my real intentions her
+scorn was uncalled for, and her language was insulting beyond endurance.
+For a moment or two the hot blood rushed to my brain and rendered me
+incapable of intelligent thought. But as Dorothy walked from me I realized
+that something must be done at once to put myself right with her. When my
+fit of temper had cooled, and when I considered that the girl did not know
+my real intentions, I could not help acknowledging that in view of all
+that had just passed between us concerning Sir John Manners, and, in fact,
+in view of all that she had seen and could see, her anger was justifiable.
+
+I called to her: "Dorothy, wait a moment. You have not heard all I have to
+say."
+
+She hastened her pace. A few rapid strides brought me to her side. I was
+provoked, not at her words, for they were almost justifiable, but because
+she would not stop to hear me. I grasped her rudely by the arm and
+said:--
+
+"Listen till I have finished."
+
+"I will not," she answered viciously. "Do not touch me."
+
+I still held her by the arm and said: "I do not wish to marry you. I spoke
+only because your father desired me to do so, and because my refusal to
+speak would have offended him beyond any power of mine to make amends. I
+could not tell you that I did not wish you for my wife until you had given
+me an opportunity. I was forced to throw the burden of refusal upon you."
+
+"That is but a ruse--a transparent, flimsy ruse," responded the stubborn,
+angry girl, endeavoring to draw her arm from my grasp.
+
+"It is not a ruse," I answered. "If you will listen to me and will help me
+by acting as I suggest, we may between us bring your father to our way of
+thinking, and I may still be able to retain his friendship."
+
+"What is your great plan?" asked Dorothy, in a voice such as one might
+expect to hear from a piece of ice.
+
+"I have formed no plan as yet," I replied, "although I have thought of
+several. Until we can determine upon one, I suggest that you permit me to
+say to your father that I have asked you to be my wife, and that the
+subject has come upon you so suddenly that you wish a short time,--a
+fortnight or a month--in which to consider your answer."
+
+"That is but a ruse, I say, to gain time," she answered contemptuously. "I
+do not wish one moment in which to consider. You already have my answer. I
+should think you had had enough. Do you desire more of the same sort? A
+little of such treatment should go a long way with a man possessed of one
+spark of honor or self-respect."
+
+Her language would have angered a sheep.
+
+"If you will not listen to me," I answered, thoroughly aroused and
+careless of consequences, "go to your father. Tell him I asked you to be
+my wife, and that you scorned my suit. Then take the consequences. He has
+always been gentle and tender to you because there has been no conflict.
+Cross his desires, and you will learn a fact of which you have never
+dreamed. You have seen the manner in which he treats others who oppose
+him. You will learn that with you, too, he can be one of the cruelest and
+most violent of men."
+
+"You slander my father. I will go to him as you advise and will tell him
+that I would not marry you if you wore the English crown. I, myself, will
+tell him of my meeting with Sir John Manners rather than allow you the
+pleasure of doing so. He will be angry, but he will pity me."
+
+"For God's sake, Dorothy, do not tell your father of your meetings at
+Overhaddon. He would kill you. Have you lived in the same house with him
+all these years and do you not better know his character than to think
+that you may go to him with the tale you have just told me, and that he
+will forgive you? Feel as you will toward me, but believe me when I swear
+to you by my knighthood that I will betray to no person what you have this
+day divulged to me."
+
+Dorothy made no reply, but turned from me and rapidly walked toward the
+Hall. I followed at a short distance, and all my anger was displaced by
+fear for her. When we reached the Hall she quickly sought her father and
+approached him in her old free manner, full of confidence in her influence
+over him.
+
+"Father, this man"--waving her hand toward me--"has come to Haddon Hall
+a-fortune-hunting. He has asked me to be his wife, and says you wish me to
+accept him."
+
+"Yes, Doll, I certainly wish it with all my heart," returned Sir George,
+affectionately, taking his daughter's hand.
+
+"Then you need wish it no longer, for I will not marry him."
+
+"What?" demanded her father, springing to his feet.
+
+"I will not. I will not. I will not."
+
+"You will if I command you to do so, you damned insolent wench," answered
+Sir George, hoarsely. Dorothy's eyes opened in wonder.
+
+"Do not deceive yourself, father, for one moment," she retorted
+contemptuously. "He has come here in sheep's clothing and has adroitly
+laid his plans to convince you that I should marry him, but--"
+
+"He has done nothing of the sort," answered Sir George, growing more angry
+every moment, but endeavoring to be calm. "Nothing of the sort. Many years
+ago I spoke to him on this subject, which is very dear to my heart. The
+project has been dear to me ever since you were a child. When I again
+broached it to Malcolm a fortnight or more since I feared from his manner
+that he was averse to the scheme. I had tried several times to speak to
+him about it, but he warded me off, and when I did speak, I feared that he
+was not inclined to it."
+
+"Yes," interrupted the headstrong girl, apparently bent upon destroying
+both of us. "He pretended that he did not wish to marry me. He said he
+wished me to give a sham consent for the purpose of gaining time till we
+might hit upon some plan by which we could change your mind. He said he
+had no desire nor intention to marry me. It was but a poor, lame ruse on
+his part."
+
+During Dorothy's recital Sir George turned his face from her to me. When
+she had finished speaking, he looked at me for a moment and said:--
+
+"Does my daughter speak the truth? Did you say--"
+
+"Yes," I promptly replied, "I have no intention of marrying your
+daughter." Then hoping to place myself before Sir George in a better
+light, I continued: "I could not accept the hand of a lady against her
+will. I told you as much when we conversed on the subject."
+
+"What?" exclaimed Sir George, furious with anger. "You too? You whom I
+have befriended?"
+
+"I told you, Sir George, I would not marry Dorothy without her free
+consent. No gentleman of honor would accept the enforced compliance of a
+woman."
+
+"But Doll says that you told her you had no intention of marrying her even
+should she consent," replied Sir George.
+
+"I don't know that I spoke those exact words," I replied, "but you may
+consider them said."
+
+"You damned, ungrateful, treacherous hound!" stormed Sir George. "You
+listened to me when I offered you my daughter's hand, and you pretended to
+consent without at the time having any intention of doing so."
+
+"That, I suppose, is true, Sir George," said I, making a masterful effort
+against anger. "That is true, for I knew that Dorothy would not consent;
+and had I been inclined to the marriage, I repeat, I would marry no woman
+against her will. No gentleman would do it."
+
+My remark threw Sir George into a paroxysm of rage.
+
+"I did it, you cur, you dog, you--you traitorous, ungrateful--I did it."
+
+"Then, Sir George," said I, interrupting him, for I was no longer able to
+restrain my anger, "you were a cowardly poltroon."
+
+"This to me in my house!" he cried, grasping a chair with which to strike
+me. Dorothy came between us.
+
+"Yes," said I, "and as much more as you wish to hear." I stood my ground,
+and Sir George put down the chair.
+
+"Leave my house at once," he said in a whisper of rage.
+
+"If you are on my premises in one hour from now I will have you flogged
+from my door by the butcher."
+
+"What have I done?" cried Dorothy. "What have I done?"
+
+"Your regrets come late, Mistress Vernon," said I.
+
+"She shall have more to regret," said Sir George, sullenly. "Go to your
+room, you brazen, disobedient huzzy, and if you leave it without my
+permission, by God, I will have you whipped till you bleed. I will teach
+you to say 'I won't' when I say 'you shall.' God curse my soul, if I don't
+make you repent this day!"
+
+As I left the room Dorothy was in tears, and Sir George was walking the
+floor in a towering rage. The girl had learned that I was right in what I
+had told her concerning her father's violent temper.
+
+I went at once to my room in Eagle Tower and collected my few belongings
+in a bundle. Pitifully small it was, I tell you.
+
+Where I should go I knew not, and where I should remain I knew even less,
+for my purse held only a few shillings--the remnant of the money Queen
+Mary had sent to me by the hand of Sir Thomas Douglas. England was as
+unsafe for me as Scotland; but how I might travel to France without money,
+and how I might without a pass evade Elizabeth's officers who guarded
+every English port, even were I supplied with gold, were problems for
+which I had no solution.
+
+There were but two persons in Haddon Hall to whom I cared to say farewell.
+They were Lady Madge and Will Dawson. The latter was a Scot, and was
+attached to the cause of Queen Mary. He and I had become friends, and on
+several occasions we had talked confidentially over Mary's sad plight.
+
+When my bundle was packed, I sought Madge and found her in the gallery
+near the foot of the great staircase. She knew my step and rose to greet
+me with a bright smile.
+
+"I have come to say good-by to you, Cousin Madge," said I. The smile
+vanished from her face.
+
+"You are not going to leave Haddon Hall?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, and forever," I responded. "Sir George has ordered me to go."
+
+"No, no," she exclaimed. "I cannot believe it. I supposed that you and my
+uncle were friends. What has happened? Tell me if you can--if you wish.
+Let me touch your hand," and as she held out her hands, I gladly grasped
+them.
+
+I have never seen anything more beautiful than Madge Stanley's hands. They
+were not small, but their shape, from the fair, round forearm and wrist to
+the ends of the fingers was worthy of a sculptor's dream. Beyond their
+physical beauty there was an expression in them which would have belonged
+to her eyes had she possessed the sense of sight. The flood of her vital
+energy had for so many years been directed toward her hands as a
+substitute for her lost eyesight that their sensitiveness showed itself
+not only in an infinite variety of delicate gestures and movements,
+changing with her changing moods, but they had an expression of their own,
+such as we look for in the eyes. I had gazed upon her hands so often, and
+had studied so carefully their varying expression, discernible both to my
+sight and to my touch, that I could read her mind through them as we read
+the emotions of others through the countenance. The "feel" of her hands,
+if I may use the word, I can in no way describe. Its effect on me was
+magical. The happiest moments I have ever known were those when I held the
+fair blind girl by the hand and strolled upon the great terrace or
+followed the babbling winding course of dear old Wye, and drank in the
+elixir of all that is good and pure from the cup of her sweet, unconscious
+influence.
+
+Madge, too, had found happiness in our strolling. She had also found
+health and strength, and, marvellous to say, there had come to her a
+slight improvement in vision. She had always been able to distinguish
+sunlight from darkness, but with renewed strength had come the power dimly
+to discern dark objects in a strong light, and even that small change for
+the better had brought unspeakable gladness to her heart. She said she
+owed it all to me. A faint pink had spread itself in her cheeks and a
+plumpness had been imparted to her form which gave to her ethereal beauty
+a touch of the material. Nor was this to be regretted, for no man can
+adequately make love to a woman who has too much of the angel in her. You
+must not think, however, that I had been making love to Madge. On the
+contrary, I again say, the thought had never entered my mind. Neither at
+that time had I even suspected that she would listen to me upon the great
+theme. I had in my self-analysis assigned many reasons other than love for
+my tenderness toward her; but when I was about to depart, and she
+impulsively gave me her hands, I, believing that I was grasping them for
+the last time, felt the conviction come upon me that she was dearer to me
+than all else in life.
+
+"Do you want to tell me why my uncle has driven you from Haddon?" she
+asked.
+
+"He wished me to ask Dorothy to be my wife," I returned.
+
+"And you?" she queried.
+
+"I did so."
+
+Instantly the girl withdrew her hands from mine and stepped back from me.
+Then I had another revelation. I knew what she meant and felt. Her hands
+told me all, even had there been no expression in her movement and in her
+face.
+
+"Dorothy refused," I continued, "and her father desired to force her into
+compliance. I would not be a party to the transaction, and Sir George
+ordered me to leave his house."
+
+After a moment of painful silence Madge said:--"I do not wonder that you
+should wish to marry Dorothy. She--she must be very beautiful."
+
+"I do not wish to marry Dorothy," said I. I heard a slight noise back of
+me, but gave it no heed. "And I should not have married her had she
+consented. I knew that Dorothy would refuse me, therefore I promised Sir
+George that I would ask her to be my wife. Sir George had always been my
+friend, and should I refuse to comply with his wishes, I well knew he
+would be my enemy. He is bitterly angry against me now; but when he
+becomes calm, he will see wherein he has wronged me. I asked Dorothy to
+help me, but she would not listen to my plan."
+
+"--and now she begs your forgiveness," cried Dorothy, as she ran weeping
+to me, and took my hand most humbly.
+
+"Dorothy! Dorothy!" I exclaimed.
+
+"What frightful evil have I brought upon you?" said she. "Where can you
+go? What will you do?"
+
+"I know not," I answered. "I shall probably go to the Tower of London when
+Queen Elizabeth's officers learn of my quarrel with Sir George. But I will
+try to escape to France."
+
+"Have you money?" asked Madge, tightly holding one of my hands.
+
+"A small sum," I answered.
+
+"How much have you? Tell me. Tell me how much have you," insisted Madge,
+clinging to my hand and speaking with a force that would brook no refusal.
+
+"A very little sum, I am sorry to say; only a few shillings," I
+responded.
+
+She quickly withdrew her hand from mine and began to remove the baubles
+from her ears and the brooch from her throat. Then she nervously stripped
+the rings from her fingers and held out the little handful of jewels
+toward me, groping for my hands.
+
+"Take these, Malcolm. Take these, and wait here till I return." She turned
+toward the staircase, but in her confusion she missed it, and before I
+could reach her, she struck against the great newel post.
+
+"God pity me," she said, as I took her hand. "I wish I were dead. Please
+lead me to the staircase, Cousin Malcolm. Thank you."
+
+She was weeping gently when she started up the steps, and I knew that she
+was going to fetch me her little treasure of gold.
+
+Madge held up the skirt of her gown with one hand while she grasped the
+banister with the other. She was halfway up when Dorothy, whose generous
+impulses needed only to be prompted, ran nimbly and was about to pass her
+on the staircase when Madge grasped her gown.
+
+"Please don't, Dorothy. Please do not. I beg you, do not forestall me. Let
+me do this. Let me. You have all else to make you happy. Don't take this
+from me only because you can see and can walk faster than I."
+
+Dorothy did not stop, but hurried past her. Madge sank upon the steps and
+covered her face with her hands. Then she came gropingly back to me just
+as Dorothy returned.
+
+"Take these, Cousin Malcolm," cried Dorothy. "Here are a few stones of
+great value. They belonged to my mother."
+
+Madge was sitting dejectedly upon the lowest step of the staircase.
+Dorothy held her jewel-box toward me, and in the midst of the diamonds and
+gold I saw the heart John Manners had given her. I did not take the box.
+
+"Do you offer me this, too--even this?" I said, lifting the heart from the
+box by its chain.--"Yes, yes," cried Dorothy, "even that, gladly, gladly."
+I replaced it in the box.
+
+Then spoke Madge, while she tried to check the falling tears:--"Dorothy,
+you are a cruel, selfish girl."
+
+"Oh, Madge," cried Dorothy, stepping to her side and taking her hand. "How
+can you speak so unkindly to me?"
+
+"You have everything good," interrupted Madge. "You have beauty, wealth,
+eyesight, and yet you would not leave to me the joy of helping him. I
+could not see, and you hurried past me that you might be first to give him
+the help of which I was the first to think."
+
+Dorothy was surprised at the outburst from Madge, and kneeled by her side.
+
+"We may both help Cousin Malcolm," she said.
+
+"No, no," responded Madge, angrily. "Your jewels are more than enough. He
+would have no need of my poor offering."
+
+I took Madge's hand and said, "I shall accept help from no one but you,
+Madge; from no one but you."
+
+"I will go to our rooms for your box," said Dorothy, who had begun to see
+the trouble. "I will fetch it for you."
+
+"No, I will fetch it," answered Madge. She arose, and I led her to the
+foot of the staircase. When she returned she held in her hands a purse and
+a little box of jewels. These she offered to me, but I took only the
+purse, saying: "I accept the purse. It contains more money than I shall
+need. From its weight I should say there are twenty gold pounds sterling."
+
+"Twenty-five," answered Madge. "I have saved them, believing that the
+time might come when they would be of great use to me. I did not know the
+joy I was saving for myself."
+
+Tears came to my eyes, and Dorothy wept silently.
+
+"Will you not take the jewels also?" asked Madge.
+
+"No," I responded; "the purse will more than pay my expenses to France,
+where I have wealthy relatives. There I may have my mother's estate for
+the asking, and I can repay you the gold. I can never repay your
+kindness."
+
+"I hope you will never offer to repay the gold," said Madge.
+
+"I will not," I gladly answered.
+
+"As to the kindness," she said, "you have paid me in advance for that
+many, many times over."
+
+I then said farewell, promising to send letters telling of my fortune. As
+I was leaving I bent forward and kissed Madge upon the forehead, while she
+gently pressed my hand, but did not speak a word.
+
+"Cousin Malcolm," said Dorothy, who held my other hand, "you are a strong,
+gentle, noble man, and I want you to say that you forgive me."
+
+"I do forgive you, Dorothy, from my heart. I could not blame you if I
+wished to do so, for you did not know what you were doing."
+
+"Not to know is sometimes the greatest of sins," answered Dorothy. I bent
+forward to kiss her cheek in token of my full forgiveness, but she gave me
+her lips and said: "I shall never again be guilty of not knowing that you
+are good and true and noble, Cousin Malcolm, and I shall never again doubt
+your wisdom or your good faith when you speak to me." She did doubt me
+afterward, but I fear her doubt was with good cause. I shall tell you of
+it in the proper place.
+
+Then I forced myself to leave my fair friends and went to the gateway
+under Eagle Tower, where I found Will Dawson waiting for me with my horse.
+
+"Sir George ordered me to bring your horse," said Will. "He seemed much
+excited. Has anything disagreeable happened? Are you leaving us? I see you
+wear your steel cap and breastplate and are carrying your bundle."
+
+"Yes, Will, your master has quarrelled with me and I must leave his
+house."
+
+"But where do you go, Sir Malcolm? You remember that of which we talked?
+In England no place but Haddon Hall will be safe for you, and the ports
+are so closely guarded that you will certainly be arrested if you try to
+sail for France."
+
+"I know all that only too well, Will. But I must go, and I will try to
+escape to France. If you wish to communicate with me, I may be found by
+addressing a letter in care of the Duc de Guise."
+
+"If I can ever be of help to you," said Will, "personally, or in that
+other matter, Queen Mary, you understand,--you have only to call on me."
+
+"I thank you, Will," I returned, "I shall probably accept your kind offer
+sooner than you anticipate. Do you know Jennie Faxton, the ferrier's
+daughter?"
+
+"I do," he responded.
+
+"I believe she may be trusted," I said.
+
+"Indeed, I believe she is true as any steel in her father's shop," Will
+responded.
+
+"Good-by, Will, you may hear from me soon."
+
+I mounted and rode back of the terrace, taking my way along the Wye toward
+Rowsley. When I turned and looked back, I saw Dorothy standing upon the
+terrace. By her side, dressed in white, stood Madge. Her hand was covering
+her eyes. A step or two below them on the terrace staircase stood Will
+Dawson. They were three stanch friends, although one of them had brought
+my troubles upon me. After all, I was leaving Haddon Hall well garrisoned.
+My heart also was well garrisoned with a faithful troop of pain. But I
+shall write no more of that time. It was too full of bitterness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE
+
+
+I rode down the Wye to Rowsley, and by the will of my horse rather than by
+any intention of my own took the road up through Lathkil Dale. I had
+determined if possible to reach the city of Chester, and thence to ride
+down into Wales, hoping to find on the rough Welsh coast a fishing boat or
+a smuggler's craft that would carry me to France. In truth, I cared little
+whether I went to the Tower or to France, since in either case I felt that
+I had looked my last upon Haddon Hall, and had spoken farewell to the only
+person in all the world for whom I really cared. My ride from Haddon gave
+me time for deliberate thought, and I fully agreed with myself upon two
+propositions. First, I became thoroughly conscious of my real feeling
+toward Madge, and secondly, I was convinced that her kindness and her
+peculiar attitude toward me when I parted from her were but the promptings
+of a tender heart stirred by pity for my unfortunate situation, rather
+than what I thought when I said farewell to her. The sweet Wye and the
+beautiful Lathkil whispered to me as I rode beside their banks, but in
+their murmurings I heard only the music of her voice. The sun shone
+brightly, but its blessed light only served to remind me of the beautiful
+girl whom I had left in darkness. The light were worthless to me if I
+could not share it with her. What a mooning lout was I!
+
+All my life I had been a philosopher, and as I rode from Haddon, beneath
+all my gloominess there ran a current of amusement which brought to my
+lips an ill-formed, half-born laugh when I thought of the plight and
+condition in which I, by candid self-communion, found myself. Five years
+before that time I had left France, and had cast behind me all the fair
+possibilities for noble achievement which were offered to me in that land,
+that I might follow the fortunes of a woman whom I thought I loved. Before
+my exile from her side I had begun to fear that my idol was but a thing of
+stone; and now that I had learned to know myself, and to see her as she
+really was, I realized that I had been worshipping naught but clay for lo,
+these many years. There was only this consolation in the thought for me:
+every man at some time in his life is a fool--made such by a woman. It is
+given to but few men to have for their fool-maker the rightful queen of
+three kingdoms. All that was left to me of my life of devotion was a
+shame-faced pride in the quality of my fool-maker. "Then," thought I, "I
+have at last turned to be my own fool-maker." But I suppose it had been
+written in the book of fate that I should ride from Haddon a lovelorn
+youth of thirty-five, and I certainly was fulfilling my destiny to the
+letter.
+
+I continued to ride up the Lathkil until I came to a fork in the road. One
+branch led to the northwest, the other toward the southwest. I was at a
+loss which direction to take, and I left the choice to my horse, in whose
+wisdom and judgement I had more confidence than in my own. My horse,
+refusing the responsibility, stopped. So there we stood like an equestrian
+statue arguing with itself until I saw a horseman riding toward me from
+the direction of Overhaddon. When he approached I recognized Sir John
+Manners. He looked as woebegone as I felt, and I could not help laughing
+at the pair of us, for I knew that his trouble was akin to mine. The pain
+of love is ludicrous to all save those who feel it. Even to them it is
+laughable in others. A love-full heart has no room for that sort of
+charity which pities for kinship's sake.
+
+"What is the trouble with you, Sir John, that you look so downcast?" said
+I, offering my hand.
+
+"Ah," he answered, forcing a poor look of cheerfulness into his face, "Sir
+Malcolm, I am glad to see you. Do I look downcast?"
+
+"As forlorn as a lover who has missed seeing his sweetheart," I responded,
+guessing the cause of Sir John's despondency.
+
+"I have no sweetheart, therefore missing her could not have made me
+downcast," he replied.
+
+"So you really did miss her?" I queried. "She was detained at Haddon Hall,
+Sir John, to bid me farewell."
+
+"I do not understand--" began Sir John, growing cold in his bearing.
+
+"I understand quite well," I answered. "Dorothy told me all to-day. You
+need keep nothing from me. The golden heart brought her into trouble, and
+made mischief for me of which I cannot see the end. I will tell you the
+story while we ride. I am seeking my way to Chester, that I may, if
+possible, sail for France. This fork in the road has brought me to a
+standstill, and my horse refuses to decide which route we shall take.
+Perhaps you will direct us."
+
+"Gladly. The road to the southwest--the one I shall take--is the most
+direct route to Chester. But tell me, how comes it that you are leaving
+Haddon Hall? I thought you had gone there to marry-" He stopped speaking,
+and a smile stole into his eyes.
+
+"Let us ride forward together, and I will tell you about it," said I.
+
+While we travelled I told Sir John the circumstances of my departure from
+Haddon Hall, concealing nothing save that which touched Madge Stanley. I
+then spoke of my dangerous position in England, and told him of my great
+desire to reach my mother's people in France.
+
+"You will find difficulty and danger in escaping to France at this time,"
+said Sir John, "the guard at the ports is very strong and strict, and your
+greatest risk will be at the moment when you try to embark without a
+passport."
+
+"That is true," I responded; "but I know of nothing else that I can do."
+
+"Come with me to Rutland Castle," said Sir John. "You may there find
+refuge until such time as you can go to France. I will gladly furnish you
+money which you may repay at your pleasure, and I may soon be able to
+procure a passport for you."
+
+I thanked him, but said I did not see my way clear to accept his kind
+offer.
+
+"You are unknown in the neighborhood of Rutland," he continued, "and you
+may easily remain incognito." Although his offer was greatly to my liking,
+I suggested several objections, chief among which was the distaste Lord
+Rutland might feel toward one of my name. I would not, of course, consent
+that my identity should be concealed from him. But to be brief--an almost
+impossible achievement for me, it seems--Sir John assured me of his
+father's welcome, and it was arranged between us that I should take my
+baptismal name, François de Lorraine, and passing for a French gentleman
+on a visit to England, should go to Rutland with my friend. So it happened
+through the strange workings of fate that I found help and refuge under my
+enemy's roof-tree.
+
+Kind old Lord Rutland welcomed me, as his son had foretold, and I was
+convinced ere I had passed an hour under his roof that the feud between
+him and Sir George was of the latter's brewing.
+
+The happenings in Haddon Hall while I lived at Rutland I knew, of course,
+only by the mouth of others; but for convenience in telling I shall speak
+of them as if I had seen and heard all that took place. I may now say once
+for all that I shall take that liberty throughout this entire history.
+
+On the morning of the day after my departure from Haddon, Jennie Faxton
+went to visit Dorothy and gave her a piece of information, small in
+itself, but large in its effect upon that ardent young lady. Will
+Fletcher, the arrow-maker at Overhaddon, had observed Dorothy's movements
+in connection with Manners; and although Fletcher did not know who Sir
+John was, that fact added to his curiosity and righteous indignation.
+
+"It do be right that some one should tell the King of the Peak as how his
+daughter is carrying on with a young man who does come here every day or
+two to meet her, and I do intend to tell Sir George if she put not a stop
+to it," said Fletcher to some of his gossips in Yulegrave churchyard one
+Sunday afternoon.
+
+Dorothy notified John, Jennie being the messenger, of Will's observations,
+visual and verbal, and designated another place for meeting,--the gate
+east of Bowling Green Hill. This gate was part of a wall on the east side
+of the Haddon estates adjoining the lands of the house of Devonshire which
+lay to the eastward. It was a secluded spot in the heart of the forest
+half a mile distant from Haddon Hall.
+
+Sir George, for a fortnight or more after my disappearance, enforced his
+decree of imprisonment against Dorothy, and she, being unable to leave the
+Hall, could not go to Bowling Green Gate to meet Sir John. Before I had
+learned of the new trysting-place John had ridden thither several evenings
+to meet Dorothy, but had found only Jennie bearing her mistress's excuses.
+I supposed his journeyings had been to Overhaddon; but I did not press his
+confidence, nor did he give it.
+
+Sir George's treatment of Dorothy had taught her that the citadel of her
+father's wrath could be stormed only by gentleness, and an opportunity was
+soon presented in which she used that effective engine of feminine warfare
+to her great advantage.
+
+As I have told you, Sir George was very rich. No man, either noble or
+gentle, in Derbyshire or in any of the adjoining counties, possessed so
+great an estate or so beautiful a hall as did he. In France we would have
+called Haddon Hall a grand château.
+
+Sir George's deceased wife had been a sister to the Earl of Derby, who
+lived at the time of which I am now writing. The earl had a son, James,
+who was heir to the title and to the estates of his father. The son was a
+dissipated, rustic clown--almost a simpleton. He had the vulgarity of a
+stable boy and the vices of a courtier. His associates were chosen from
+the ranks of gamesters, ruffians, and tavern maids. Still, he was a scion
+of one of the greatest families of England's nobility.
+
+After Sir George's trouble with Dorothy, growing out of his desire that I
+should wed her, the King of the Peak had begun to feel that in his
+beautiful daughter he had upon his hands a commodity that might at any
+time cause him trouble. He therefore determined to marry her to some
+eligible gentleman as quickly as possible, and to place the heavy
+responsibility of managing her in the hands of a husband. The stubborn
+violence of Sir George's nature, the rough side of which had never before
+been shown to Dorothy, in her became adroit wilfulness of a quality that
+no masculine mind may compass. But her life had been so entirely
+undisturbed by opposing influences that her father, firm in the belief
+that no one in his household would dare to thwart his will, had remained
+in dangerous ignorance of the latent trouble which pervaded his daughter
+from the soles of her shapely feet to the top of her glory-crowned head.
+
+Sir George, in casting about for a son-in-law, had hit upon the heir to
+the house of Derby as a suitable match for his child, and had entered into
+an alliance offensive and defensive with the earl against the common
+enemy, Dorothy. The two fathers had partly agreed that the heir to Derby
+should wed the heiress of Haddon. The heir, although he had never seen his
+cousin except when she was a plain, unattractive girl, was entirely
+willing for the match, but the heiress--well, she had not been consulted,
+and everybody connected with the affair instinctively knew there would be
+trouble in that quarter. Sir George, however, had determined that Dorothy
+should do her part in case the contract of marriage should be agreed upon
+between the heads of the houses. He had fully resolved to assert the
+majesty of the law vested in him as a father and to compel Dorothy to do
+his bidding, if there were efficacy in force and chastisement. At the time
+when Sir George spoke to Dorothy about the Derby marriage, she had been a
+prisoner for a fortnight or more, and had learned that her only hope
+against her father lay in cunning. So she wept, and begged for time in
+which to consider the answer she would give to Lord Derby's request. She
+begged for two months, or even one month, in which to bring herself to
+accede to her father's commands.
+
+"You have always been so kind and good to me, father, that I shall try to
+obey if you and the earl eventually agree upon terms," she said tearfully,
+having no intention whatever of trying to do anything but disobey.
+
+"Try!" stormed Sir George. "Try to obey me! By God, girl, I say you shall
+obey!"
+
+"Oh, father, I am so young. I have not seen my cousin for years. I do not
+want to leave you, and I have never thought twice of any man. Do not drive
+me from you."
+
+Sir George, eager to crush in the outset any disposition to oppose his
+will, grew violent and threatened his daughter with dire punishment if she
+were not docile and obedient.
+
+Then said rare Dorothy:--
+
+"It would indeed be a great match." Greater than ever will happen, she
+thought. "I should be a countess." She strutted across the room with head
+up and with dilating nostrils. The truth was, she desired to gain her
+liberty once more that she might go to John, and was ready to promise
+anything to achieve that end. "What sort of a countess would I make,
+father?"
+
+"A glorious countess, Doll, a glorious countess," said her father,
+laughing. "You are a good girl to obey me so readily."
+
+"Oh, but I have not obeyed you yet," returned Dorothy, fearing that her
+father might be suspicious of a too ready acquiescence.
+
+"But you will obey me," answered Sir George, half in command and half in
+entreaty.
+
+"There are not many girls who would refuse the coronet of a countess." She
+then seated herself upon her father's knee and kissed him, while Sir
+George laughed softly over his easy victory.
+
+Blessed is the man who does not know when he is beaten.
+
+Seeing her father's kindly humor, Dorothy said:--
+
+"Father, do you still wish me to remain a prisoner in my rooms?"
+
+"If you promise to be a good, obedient daughter," returned Sir George,
+"you shall have your liberty."
+
+"I have always been that, father, and I am too old to learn otherwise,"
+answered this girl, whose father had taught her deception by his violence.
+You may drive men, but you cannot drive any woman who is worth possessing.
+You may for a time think you drive her, but in the end she will have her
+way.
+
+Dorothy's first act of obedience after regaining liberty was to send a
+letter to Manners by the hand of Jennie Faxton.
+
+John received the letter in the evening, and all next day he passed the
+time whistling, singing, and looking now and again at his horologue. He
+walked about the castle like a happy wolf in a pen. He did not tell me
+there was a project on foot, with Dorothy as the objective, but I knew it,
+and waited with some impatience for the outcome.
+
+Long before the appointed time, which was sunset, John galloped forth for
+Bowling Green Gate with joy and anticipation in his heart and pain in his
+conscience. As he rode, he resolved again and again that the interview
+toward which he was hastening should be the last he would have with
+Dorothy. But when he pictured the girl to himself, and thought upon her
+marvellous beauty and infinite winsomeness, his conscience was drowned in
+his longing, and he resolved that he would postpone resolving until the
+morrow.
+
+John hitched his horse near the gate and stood looking between the massive
+iron bars toward Haddon Hall, whose turrets could be seen through the
+leafless boughs of the trees. The sun was sinking perilously low, thought
+John, and with each moment his heart also sank, while his good resolutions
+showed the flimsy fibre of their fabric and were rent asunder by the fear
+that she might not come. As the moments dragged on and she did not come, a
+hundred alarms tormented him. First among these was a dread that she might
+have made resolves such as had sprung up so plenteously in him, and that
+she might have been strong enough to act upon them and to remain at home.
+But he was mistaken in the girl. Such resolutions as he had been making
+and breaking had never come to her at all. The difference between the man
+and the woman was this: he resolved in his mind not to see her and failed
+in keeping to his resolution; while she resolved in her heart to see
+him--resolved that nothing in heaven or earth or the other place could
+keep her from seeing him, and succeeded in carrying out her resolution.
+The intuitive resolve, the one that does not know it is a resolution, is
+the sort before which obstacles fall like corn before the sickle.
+
+After John had waited a weary time, the form of the girl appeared above
+the crest of the hill. She was holding up the skirt of her gown, and
+glided over the earth so rapidly that she appeared to be running. Beat!
+beat! oh, heart of John, if there is aught in womanhood to make you throb;
+if there is aught in infinite grace and winsomeness; if there is aught in
+perfect harmony of color and form and movement; if there is aught of
+beauty, in God's power to create that can set you pulsing, beat! for the
+fairest creature of His hand is hastening to greet you. The wind had
+dishevelled her hair and it was blowing in fluffy curls of golden red
+about her face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed with joy and exercise,
+her red lips were parted, and her eyes--but I am wasting words. As for
+John's heart it almost smothered him with its beating. He had never before
+supposed that he could experience such violent throbbing within his breast
+and live. But at last she was at the gate, in all her exquisite beauty and
+winsomeness, and something must be done to make the heart conform to the
+usages of good society. She, too, was in trouble with her breathing, but
+John thought that her trouble was owing to exertion. However that may have
+been, nothing in heaven or earth was ever so beautiful, so radiant, so
+graceful, or so fair as this girl who had come to give herself to John. It
+seems that I cannot take myself away from the attractive theme.
+
+"Ah, Sir John, you did come," said the girl, joyously.
+
+"Yes," John succeeded in replying, after an effort, "and you--I thank you,
+gracious lady, for coming. I do not deserve--" the heart again asserted
+itself, and Dorothy stood by the gate with downcast eyes, waiting to learn
+what it was that John did not deserve. She thought he deserved everything
+good.
+
+"I fear I have caused you fatigue," said John, again thinking, and with
+good reason, that he was a fool.
+
+The English language, which he had always supposed to be his mother
+tongue, had deserted him as if it were his step-mother. After all, the
+difficulty, as John subsequently said, was that Dorothy's beauty had
+deprived him of the power to think. He could only see. He was entirely
+disorganized by a girl whom he could have carried away in his arms.
+
+"I feel no fatigue," replied Dorothy.
+
+"I feared that in climbing the hill you had lost your breath," answered
+disorganized John.
+
+"So I did," she returned. Then she gave a great sigh and said, "Now I am
+all right again."
+
+All right? So is the morning sun, so is the arching rainbow, and so are
+the flitting lights of the north in midwinter. All are "all right" because
+God made them, as He made Dorothy, perfect, each after its kind.
+
+A long, uneasy pause ensued. Dorothy felt the embarrassing silence less
+than John, and could have helped him greatly had she wished to do so. But
+she had made the advances at their former meetings, and as she had told
+me, she "had done a great deal more than her part in going to meet him."
+Therefore she determined that he should do his own wooing thenceforward.
+She had graciously given him all the opportunity he had any right to ask.
+
+While journeying to Bowling Green Gate, John had formulated many true and
+beautiful sentiments of a personal nature which he intended expressing to
+Dorothy; but when the opportunity came for him to speak, the weather, his
+horse, Dorothy's mare Dolcy, the queens of England and Scotland were the
+only subjects on which he could induce his tongue to perform, even
+moderately well.
+
+Dorothy listened attentively while John on the opposite side of the gate
+discoursed limpingly on the above-named themes; and although in former
+interviews she had found those topics quite interesting, upon that
+occasion she had come to Bowling Green Gate to listen to something else
+and was piqued not to hear it. After ten or fifteen minutes she said
+demurely:--
+
+"I may not remain here longer. I shall be missed at the Hall. I regained
+my liberty but yesterday, and father will be suspicious of me during the
+next few days. I must be watchful and must have a care of my behavior."
+
+John summoned his wits and might have spoken his mind freely had he not
+feared to say too much. Despite Dorothy's witchery, honor, conscience, and
+prudence still bore weight with him, and they all dictated that he should
+cling to the shreds of his resolution and not allow matters to go too far
+between him and this fascinating girl. He was much in love with her; but
+Dorothy had reached at a bound a height to which he was still climbing.
+Soon John, also, was to reach the pinnacle whence honor, conscience, and
+prudence were to be banished.
+
+"I fear I must now leave you," said Dorothy, as darkness began to gather.
+
+"I hope I may soon see you again," said John.
+
+"Sometime I will see you if--if I can," she answered with downcast eyes.
+"It is seldom I can leave the Hall alone, but I shall try to come here at
+sunset some future day." John's silence upon a certain theme had given
+offence.
+
+"I cannot tell you how greatly I thank you," cried John.
+
+"I will say adieu," said Dorothy, as she offered him her hand through the
+bars of the gate. John raised the hand gallantly to his lips, and when she
+had withdrawn it there seemed no reason for her to remain. But she stood
+for a moment hesitatingly. Then she stooped to reach into her pocket while
+she daintily lifted the skirt of her gown with the other hand and from the
+pocket drew forth a great iron key.
+
+"I brought this key, thinking that you might wish to unlock the gate--and
+come to--to this side. I had great difficulty in taking it from the
+forester's closet, where it has been hanging for a hundred years or more."
+
+She showed John the key, returned it to her pocket, made a courtesy, and
+moved slowly away, walking backward.
+
+"Mistress Vernon," cried John, "I beg you to let me have the key."
+
+"It is too late, now," said the girl, with downcast eyes. "Darkness is
+rapidly falling, and I must return to the Hall."
+
+John began to climb the gate, but she stopped him. He had thrown away his
+opportunity.
+
+"Please do not follow me, Sir John," said she, still moving backward. "I
+must not remain longer."
+
+"Only for one moment," pleaded John.
+
+"No," the girl responded, "I--I may, perhaps, bring the key when I come
+again. I am glad, Sir John, that you came to meet me this evening." She
+courtesied, and then hurried away toward Haddon Hall. Twice she looked
+backward and waved her hand, and John stood watching her through the bars
+till her form was lost to view beneath the crest of Bowling Green Hill.
+
+"'I brought this key, thinking that you might wish to unlock the gate and
+come to this side,'" muttered John, quoting the girl's words. "Compared
+with you, John Manners, there is no other fool in this world." Then
+meditatively: "I wonder if she feels toward me as I feel toward her?
+Surely she does. What other reason could bring her here to meet me unless
+she is a brazen, wanton creature who is for every man." Then came a
+jealous thought that hurt him like the piercing of a knife. It lasted but
+a moment, however, and he continued muttering to himself: "If she loves me
+and will be my wife, I will--I will ... In God's name what will I do? If I
+were to marry her, old Vernon would kill her, and I--I should kill my
+father."
+
+Then John mounted his horse and rode homeward the unhappiest happy man in
+England. He had made perilous strides toward that pinnacle sans honor,
+sans caution, sans conscience, sans everything but love.
+
+That evening while we were walking on the battlements, smoking, John told
+me of his interview with Dorothy and extolled her beauty, grace, and
+winsomeness which, in truth, as you know, were matchless. But when he
+spoke of "her sweet, shy modesty," I came near to laughing in his face.
+
+"Did she not write a letter asking you to meet her?" I asked.
+
+"Why--y-e-s," returned John.
+
+"And," I continued, "has she not from the first sought you?"
+
+"It almost seems to be so," answered John, "but notwithstanding the fact
+that one might say--might call--that one might feel that her conduct
+is--that it might be--you know, well--it might be called by some persons
+not knowing all the facts in the case, immodest--I hate to use the word
+with reference to her--yet it does not appear to me to have been at all
+immodest in Mistress Vernon, and, Sir Malcolm, I should be deeply offended
+were any of my friends to intimate--"
+
+"Now, John," I returned, laughing at him, "you could not, if you wished,
+make me quarrel with you; and if you desire it, I will freely avow my firm
+belief in the fact that my cousin Dorothy is the flower of modesty. Does
+that better suit you?"
+
+I could easily see that my bantering words did not suit him at all; but I
+laughed at him, and he could not find it in his heart to show his
+ill-feeling.
+
+"I will not quarrel with you," he returned; "but in plain words, I do not
+like the tone in which you speak of her. It hurts me, and I do not believe
+you would wilfully give me pain."
+
+"Indeed, I would not," I answered seriously.
+
+"Mistress Vernon's conduct toward me," John continued, "has been gracious.
+There has been no immodesty nor boldness in it."
+
+I laughed again and said: "I make my humble apologies to her Majesty,
+Queen Dorothy. But in all earnestness, Sir John, you are right: Dorothy is
+modest and pure. As for her conduct toward you, there is a royal quality
+about beauty such as my cousin possesses which gives an air of
+graciousness to acts that in a plainer girl would seem bold. Beauty, like
+royalty, has its own prerogatives."
+
+For a fortnight after the adventures just related, John, in pursuance of
+his oft-repeated resolution not to see Dorothy, rode every evening to
+Bowling Green Gate; but during that time he failed to see her, and the
+resolutions, with each failure, became weaker and fewer.
+
+One evening, after many disappointments, John came to my room bearing in
+his hands a letter which he said Jennie Faxton had delivered to him at
+Bowling Green Gate.
+
+"Mistress Vernon," said John, "and Lady Madge Stanley will ride to
+Derby-town to-morrow. They will go in the Haddon Hall coach, and Dawson
+will drive. Mistress Vernon writes to me thus:--
+
+    "'To SIR JOHN MANNERS:--
+
+    "'My good wishes and my kind greeting. Lady Madge Stanley, my good
+    aunt, Lady Crawford, and myself do intend journeying to Derby-town
+    to-morrow. My aunt, Lady Crawford, is slightly ill, and although I
+    should much regret to see her sickness grow greater, yet if ill she
+    must be, I do hope that her worst day will be upon the morrow, in
+    which case she could not accompany Lady Madge and me. I shall nurse my
+    good aunt carefully this day, and shall importune her to take
+    plentifully of physic that she may quickly recover her health--after
+    to-morrow. Should a gentleman ask of Will Dawson, who will be in the
+    tap-room of the Royal Arms at eleven o'clock of the morning, Dawson
+    will be glad to inform the gentleman concerning Lady Crawford's
+    health. Let us hope that the physic will cure Lady Crawford--by the
+    day after to-morrow at furthest. The said Will Dawson may be trusted.
+    With great respect,
+
+    DOROTHY VERNON.'"
+
+"I suppose the gentleman will be solicitous concerning Lady Crawford's
+health to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock," said I.
+
+"The gentleman is now solicitous concerning Lady Crawford's health,"
+answered John, laughingly. "Was there ever a lady more fair and gracious
+than Mistress Vernon?"
+
+I smiled with a superior air at John's weakness, being, as you know,
+entirely free from his complaint myself, and John continued:--
+
+"Perhaps you would call Mistress Dorothy bold for sending me this letter?"
+
+"It is redolent with shyness," I answered. "But would you really wish poor
+Lady Crawford to be ill that you might witness Mistress Dorothy's
+modesty?"
+
+"Please don't jest on that subject," said John, seriously. "I would wish
+anything, I fear, that would bring me an opportunity to see her, to look
+upon her face, and to hear her voice. For her I believe I would sacrifice
+every one who is dear to me. One day she shall be mine--mine at whatever
+cost--if she will be. If she will be. Ah, there is the rub! If she will
+be. I dare not hope for that."
+
+"I think," said I, "that you really have some little cause to hope."
+
+"You speak in the same tone again. Malcolm, you do not understand her. She
+might love me to the extent that I sometimes hope; but her father and mine
+would never consent to our union, and she, I fear, could not be induced to
+marry me under those conditions. Do not put the hope into my heart."
+
+"You only now said she should be yours some day," I answered.
+
+"So she shall," returned John, "so she shall."
+
+"But Lady Madge is to be with her to-morrow," said I, my own heart beating
+with an ardent wish and a new-born hope, "and you may be unable, after
+all, to see Mistress Dorothy."
+
+"That is true," replied John. "I do not know how she will arrange matters,
+but I have faith in her ingenuity."
+
+Well might he have faith, for Dorothy was possessed of that sort of a will
+which usually finds a way.
+
+"If you wish me to go with you to Derby-town, I will do so. Perhaps I may
+be able to entertain Lady Madge while you have a word with Dorothy. What
+think you of the plan?" I asked.
+
+"If you will go with me, Malcolm, I shall thank you with all my heart."
+
+And so it was agreed between us that we should both go to Derby-town for
+the purpose of inquiring about Lady Crawford's health, though for me the
+expedition was full of hazard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN
+
+
+The next morning broke brightly, but soon clouds began to gather and a
+storm seemed imminent. We feared that the gloomy prospect of the sky might
+keep Dorothy and Madge at home, but long before the appointed hour John
+and I were at the Royal Arms watching eagerly for the Haddon coach. At the
+inn we occupied a room from which we could look into the courtyard, and at
+the window we stood alternating between exaltation and despair.
+
+When my cogitations turned upon myself--a palpitating youth of
+thirty-five, waiting with beating heart for a simple blind girl little
+more than half my age; and when I remembered how for years I had laughed
+at the tenderness of the fairest women of the French and Scottish
+courts--I could not help saying to myself, "Poor fool! you have achieved
+an early second childhood." But when I recalled Madge in all her beauty,
+purity, and helplessness, my cynicism left me, and I, who had enjoyed all
+of life's ambitious possibilities, calmly reached the conclusion that it
+is sometimes a blessed privilege to be a fool. While I dwelt on thoughts
+of Madge, all the latent good within me came uppermost. There is latent
+good in every man, though it may remain latent all his life. Good
+resolves, pure thoughts, and noble aspirations--new sensations to me, I
+blush to confess--bubbled in my heart, and I made a mental prayer, "If
+this is folly, may God banish wisdom." What is there, after all is said,
+in wisdom, that men should seek it? Has it ever brought happiness to its
+possessor? I am an old man at this writing. I have tasted all the cups of
+life, and from the fulness of my experience I tell you that the simple
+life is the only one wherein happiness is found. When you permit your
+heart and your mind to grow complex and wise, you make nooks and crannies
+for wretchedness to lodge in. Innocence is Nature's wisdom; knowledge is
+man's folly.
+
+An hour before noon our patience was rewarded when we saw the Haddon Hall
+coach drive into the courtyard with Dawson on the box. I tried to make
+myself believe that I did not wish Lady Crawford were ill. But there is
+little profit in too close scrutiny of our deep-seated motives, and in
+this case I found no comfort in self-examination. I really did wish that
+Aunt Dorothy were ill.
+
+My motive studying, however, was brought to a joyous end when I saw Will
+Dawson close the coach door after Madge and Dorothy had alighted.
+
+How wondrously beautiful they were! Had we lived in the days when Olympus
+ruled the world, John surely would have had a god for his rival. Dorothy
+seemed luminous, so radiant was she with the fire of life. As for Madge,
+had I beheld a corona hovering over her head I should have thought it in
+all respects a natural and appropriate phenomenon--so fair and saintlike
+did she appear to me. Her warm white furs and her clinging gown of soft
+light-colored woollen stuff seemed to be a saint's robe, and her dainty
+little hat, fashioned with ermine about the edge of the rim--well, that
+was the corona, and I was ready to worship.
+
+Dorothy, as befitted her, wore a blaze of harmonious colors and looked
+like the spirit of life and youth. I wish I could cease rhapsodizing over
+those two girls, but I cannot. You may pass over it as you read, if you do
+not like it.
+
+"Ye gods! did ever a creature so perfect as she tread the earth?" asked
+John, meaning, of course, Dorothy.
+
+"No," answered I, meaning, of course, Madge.
+
+The girls entered the inn, and John and I descended to the tap-room for
+the purpose of consulting Will Dawson concerning the state of Aunt
+Dorothy's health.
+
+When we entered the tap-room Will was standing near the fireplace with a
+mug of hot punch in his hand. When I touched him, he almost dropped the
+mug so great was his surprise at seeing me.
+
+"Sir Mal--" he began to say, but I stopped him by a gesture. He instantly
+recovered his composure and appeared not to recognize me.
+
+I spoke in broken English, for, as you know, I belong more to France than
+to any other country. "I am Sir François de Lorraine," said I. "I wish to
+inquire if Lady Crawford is in good health?"
+
+"Her ladyship is ill, sir, I am sorry to say," responded Will, taking off
+his hat. "Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge Stanley are at the inn. If you
+wish to inquire more particularly concerning Lady Crawford's health, I
+will ask them if they wish to receive you. They are in the parlor."
+
+Will was the king of trumps!
+
+"Say to them," said I, "that Sir François de Lorraine--mark the name
+carefully, please--and his friend desire to make inquiry concerning Lady
+Crawford's health, and would deem it a great honor should the ladies grant
+them an interview."
+
+Will's countenance was as expressionless as the face upon the mug from
+which he had been drinking. "I shall inform the ladies of your honor's
+request." He thereupon placed the half-emptied mug upon the fire-shelf
+and left the room.
+
+When Will announced his errand to the girls, Dorothy said in surprise:--
+
+"Sir François de Lorraine? That is the name of the Grand Duc de Guise, but
+surely--Describe him to me, Will."
+
+"He is about your height, Mistress Dorothy, and is very handsome,"
+responded Will.
+
+The latter part of Will's description placed me under obligation to him to
+the extent of a gold pound sterling.
+
+"Ah, it is John!" thought Dorothy, forgetting the fact that John was a
+great deal taller than she, but feeling that Will's description of "very
+handsome" could apply to only one man in the world. "He has taken
+Malcolm's name." Then she said, "Bring him to us, Will. But who is the
+friend? Do you know him? Tell me his appearance."
+
+"I did not notice the other gentleman," replied Will, "and I can tell you
+nothing of him."
+
+"Will, you are a very stupid man. But bring the gentlemen here." Dorothy
+had taken Will into her confidence to the extent of telling him that a
+gentleman would arrive at the Royal Arms who would inquire for Lady
+Crawford's health, and that she, Dorothy, would fully inform the gentleman
+upon that interesting topic. Will may have had suspicions of his own, but
+if so, he kept them to himself, and at least did not know that the
+gentleman whom his mistress expected to see was Sir John Manners. Neither
+did he suspect that fact. Dawson had never seen Manners, and did not know
+he was in the neighborhood of Derby. The fact was concealed from Dawson by
+Dorothy not so much because she doubted him, but for the reason that she
+wished him to be able truthfully to plead innocence in case trouble should
+grow out of the Derby-town escapade.
+
+"I wonder why John did not come alone?" thought Dorothy. "This friend of
+his will be a great hindrance."
+
+Dorothy ran to the mirror and hurriedly gave a few touches to her hair,
+pressing it lightly with her soft flexible fingers here, and tucking in a
+stray curl there, which for beauty's sake should have been allowed to hang
+loose. She was standing at the pier-glass trying to see the back of her
+head when Will knocked to announce our arrival.
+
+"Come," said Dorothy.
+
+Will opened the door and held it for us to pass in. Madge was seated near
+the fire. When we entered Dorothy was standing with great dignity in the
+centre of the floor, not of course intending to make an exhibition of
+delight over John in the presence of a stranger. But when she saw that I
+was the stranger, she ran to me with outstretched hands.
+
+"Good morning, Mistress Vernon," said I, in mock ceremoniousness.
+
+"Oh, Malcolm! Malcolm!" cried Madge, quickly rising from her chair. "You
+are cruel, Dorothy, to surprise me in this fashion."
+
+"I, too, am surprised. I did not know that Malcolm was coming," replied
+Dorothy, turning to give welcome to John. Then I stepped to Madge's side
+and took her hands, but all I could say was "Madge! Madge!" and all she
+said was "Malcolm! Malcolm!" yet we seemed to understand each other.
+
+John and Dorothy were likewise stricken with a paucity of words, but they
+also doubtless understood each other. After a moment or two there fell
+upon me a shower of questions from Dorothy.
+
+"Did you not go to France? How happens it that you are in Derby-town?
+Where did you meet Sir John? What a delightful surprise you have given us!
+Nothing was wanting to make us happy but your presence."
+
+"I am so happy that it frightens me," said Dorothy in ecstasy. "Trouble
+will come, I am sure. One extreme always follows another. The pendulum
+always swings as far back as it goes forward. But we are happy now, aren't
+we, Madge? I intend to remain so while I can. The pendulum may swing as
+far backward as it chooses hereafter. Sufficient to the day is the evil
+thereof. Sometimes the joy is almost sufficient, isn't it, Madge?"
+
+"The evil is more than sufficient some days," answered Madge.
+
+"Come, Madge, don't be foreboding."
+
+"Dorothy, I have not met the other gentleman," said Madge.
+
+"Ah, pardon me. In my surprise I forgot to present you. Lady Madge
+Stanley, let me present Sir John Manners."
+
+"Sir John Manners!" cried Madge, taking a step backward. Her surprise was
+so great that she forgot to acknowledge the introduction. "Dorothy, what
+means this?" she continued.
+
+"It means," replied Dorothy, nervously, "that Sir John is my very dear
+friend. I will explain it to you at another time."
+
+We stood silently for a few moments, and John said:--
+
+"I hope I may find favor in your heart, Lady Madge. I wish to greet you
+with my sincere homage."
+
+"Sir John, I am glad to greet you, but I fear the pendulum of which
+Dorothy spoke will swing very far backward erelong."
+
+"Let it swing as far back as it chooses," answered Dorothy, with a toss of
+her head, "I am ready to buy and to pay for happiness. That seems to be
+the only means whereby we may have it. I am ready to buy it with pain any
+day, and am willing to pay upon demand. Pain passes away; joy lasts
+forever."
+
+"I know," said Sir John, addressing Madge, "I know it is not prudent for
+Malcolm and me to be here to-day; but imprudent things seem to be the most
+delightful."
+
+"For men, Sir John," returned Madge. "Upon women they leave their mark."
+
+"I fear you are right," he answered. "I had not thought of my visit in
+that light. For Mistress Vernon's sake it is better that I do not remain
+in Derby."
+
+"For Mistress Vernon's sake you shall remain," cried that impetuous young
+woman, clutching John's arm.
+
+After a time, Dorothy wishing to visit one of the shops to make purchases,
+it was agreed between us that we should all walk out. Neither Dorothy nor
+Madge had ever before visited Derby-town. John and I had visited the place
+but once; that was upon the occasion of our first meeting. No one in the
+town knew us, and we felt safe in venturing forth into the streets. So we
+helped Dorothy and Madge to don their furs, and out we went happier and
+more reckless than four people have any good right to be. But before
+setting out I went to the tap-room and ordered dinner.
+
+I found the host and directed him to prepare a dozen partridges in a pie,
+a haunch of venison, a few links of German sausage, and a capon. The host
+informed me that he had in his pantry a barrel of roots called potatoes
+which had been sent to him by a sea-captain who had recently returned from
+the new world. He hurried away and brought a potato for inspection. It was
+of a gray brown color and near the size of an egg. The landlord assured me
+that it was delicious when baked, and I ordered four, at the cost of a
+crown each. I understand that my Lord Raleigh claims to have brought the
+first potatoes and tobacco into England in '85; but I know that I smoked
+tobacco in '66, and I saw potatoes at the Royal Arms in Derby-town in '67.
+I also ordered another new dish for our famous dinner. It was a brown
+beverage called coffee. The berries from which the beverage is made mine
+host showed to me, and said they had been brought to him by a sea-faring
+man from Arabia. I ordered a pot of the drink at a cost of three crowns. I
+have heard it said that coffee was not known in Europe or in England till
+it was introduced by Rawolf in '73, but I saw it at the Royal Arms in '67.
+In addition to this list, I ordered for our drinking sweet wine from
+Madeira and red wine from Burgundy. The latter-named wine had begun to
+grow in favor at the French court when I left France five years before. It
+was little liked in England. All these dainties were rare at the time of
+which I write; but they have since grown into considerable use, and I
+doubt not, as we progress in luxury, they will become common articles of
+food upon the tables of the rich. Prongs, or forks, as they are called,
+which by some are used in cutting and eating one's food at table, I also
+predict will become implements of daily use. It is really a filthy
+fashion, which we have, of handling food with our fingers. The Italians
+have used forks for some time, but our preachers speak against them,
+saying God has given us our fingers with which to eat, and that it is
+impious to thwart his purposes by the use of forks. The preachers will
+probably retard the general use of forks among the common people.
+
+After I had given my order for dinner we started out on our ramble through
+Derby-town.
+
+Shortly after we left the inn we divided into couples for the ostensible
+reason that we did not wish to attract too much attention--Dorothy and
+John, Madge and I! Our real reason for separating was--but you understand.
+
+Madge's hand lay like a span of snow upon my arm, and--but this time I
+will restrain my tendency to rhapsodize.
+
+We walked out through those parts of the town which were little used, and
+Madge talked freely and happily.
+
+She fairly babbled, and to me her voice was like the murmurings of the
+rivers that flowed out of paradise.
+
+We had agreed with John and Dorothy to meet them at the Royal Arms in one
+hour, and that time had almost passed when Madge and I turned our faces
+toward the inn.
+
+When we were within a short distance of our hostelry we saw a crowd
+gathered around a young man who was standing on a box. He was speaking in
+a mournful, lugubrious voice and accompanied his words with violent
+gesticulations. Out of curiosity we stopped to listen, and learned that
+religion was our orator's theme.
+
+I turned to a man standing near me and asked:--
+
+"Who is the fellow speaking?"
+
+"The pious man is Robert Brown. He is exhorting in the name of the Lord of
+Hosts."
+
+"The pious Robert Brown?" I queried, "exhorting in the name of--of the
+Lord of where, did you say?"
+
+"Hosts," laconically responded my friend, while listening intently to the
+words of Brown.
+
+"Hosts, say you? Who is he?" I asked of my interesting neighbor. "I know
+him not."
+
+"Doubtless you know Him not," responded the man, evidently annoyed at my
+interruption and my flippancy.
+
+After a moment or two I, desiring to know more concerning the orator,
+asked:--
+
+"Robert Brown, say you?"
+
+"Even he," came the response. "It will be good for your soul if you but
+listen to him in a prayerful mood. He is a young man upon whom the Spirit
+hath descended plenteously."
+
+"The Spirit?" I asked.
+
+"Ay," returned my neighbor.
+
+I could not extract another word from him, so I had the worst of the
+encounter.
+
+We had been standing there but a short time when the young exhorter
+descended from his improvised pulpit and passed among the crowd for the
+purpose of collecting money. His harangue had appeared ridiculous to me,
+but Madge seemed interested in his discourse. She said:--
+
+"He is very earnest, Malcolm," and at once my heart went out to the young
+enthusiast upon the box. One kind word from Madge, and I was the fellow's
+friend for life. I would have remained his friend had he permitted me that
+high privilege. But that he would not do. When he came to me, I dropped
+into his hat a small silver piece which shone brightly among a few black
+copper coins. My liberal contribution did not induce him to kindness, but,
+on the contrary, it attracted his attention to the giver. He looked at the
+silver coin, and then turning his solemn gaze upon me, eyed me insolently
+from head to foot. While doing so a look of profound disgust spread over
+his mournful countenance. After a calm survey of my person, which to me
+was uncomfortably long, he turned to the bystanders, and in the same
+high-pitched, lugubrious voice which he had used when exhorting, said:--
+
+"Brethren, here behold ye the type of anti-Christ," and he waved his thin
+hand toward me much to my amusement and annoyance. "Here," said he, "we
+find the leading strings to all that is iniquitous--vanity. It is
+betokened in his velvets, satins, and laces. Think ye, young man," he
+said, turning to me, "that such vanities are not an abomination in the
+eyes of the God of Israel?"
+
+"I believe that the God of Israel cares nothing about my apparel," I
+replied, more amused than angered. He paid no attention to my remark.
+
+"And this young woman," he continued, pointing to Madge, "this young
+woman, daughter of the Roman harlot, no doubt, she also is arrayed in
+silks, taffetas, and fine cloth. Look ye, friends, upon this abominable
+collar of Satan; this ruff of fine linen, all smeared in the devil's own
+liquor, starch. Her vanity is an offence in the nostrils of God's people."
+
+As he spoke he stretched forth his hand and caught in his clawlike grasp
+the dainty white ruff that encircled Madge's neck. When I saw his act, my
+first impulse was to run him through, and I drew my sword half from its
+scabbard with that purpose. But he was not the sort of a man upon whom I
+could use my blade. He was hardly more than a boy--a wild, half-crazed
+fanatic, whose reason, if he had ever possessed any, had been lost in the
+Charybdis of his zeal. He honestly thought it was his duty to insult
+persons who apparently disagreed with him. Such a method of proselyting is
+really a powerful means of persuasion among certain classes, and it has
+always been used by men who have successfully founded permanent religious
+sects. To plant successfully a religious thought or system requires more
+violent aggression than to conquer a nation.
+
+Since I could not run the fellow through, I drew back my arm, and striking
+as lightly as possible, I laid our zealous friend sprawling on his back.
+Thus had I the honor of knocking down the founder of the Brownists.
+
+If I mistake not, the time will come, if these men are allowed to harangue
+the populace, when the kings of England will be unable to accomplish the
+feat of knocking down Brown's followers. Heresies, like noxious weeds,
+grow without cultivation, and thrive best on barren soil. Or shall I say
+that, like the goodly vine, they bear better fruit when pruned? I cannot
+fully decide this question for myself; but I admire these sturdy fanatics
+who so passionately love their own faith, and so bitterly hate all others,
+and I am almost prepared to say that each new heresy brings to the world a
+better orthodoxy.
+
+For a little time after my encounter with Brown, all my skill was needed
+to ward off the frantic hero. He quickly rose to his feet, and, with the
+help of his friends, seemed determined to spread the gospel by tearing me
+to pieces. My sword point kept the rabble at a respectful distance for a
+while, but they crowded closely upon me, and I should have been compelled
+to kill some of them had I not been reënforced by two men who came to my
+help and laid about them most joyfully with their quarterstaffs. A few
+broken heads stemmed for a moment the torrent of religious enthusiasm, and
+during a pause in the hostilities I hurriedly retreated with Madge,
+ungratefully leaving my valiant allies to reap the full reward of victory
+should the fortunes of war favor them.
+
+Madge was terribly frightened, and with her by my side I, of course, would
+not have remained to fight the redoubtable Bayard himself.
+
+We hurried forward, but before we reached the inn we were overtaken by our
+allies whom we had abandoned. Our friends were young men. One wore a rich,
+half-rustic habit, and the other was dressed as a horse boy. Both were
+intoxicated. I had been thankful for their help; but I did not want their
+company.
+
+"How now, Cousin Madge?" said our richly dressed ally. "What in the
+devil's name has brought you into this street broil?"
+
+"Ah, Cousin James, is it you?" replied the trembling girl.
+
+"Yes, but who is your friend that so cleverly unloaded his quarrel upon
+us? Hell's fires! but they were like a swarm of wasps. Who is your friend,
+Madge?"
+
+"Sir Malcolm Vernon," replied Madge. "Let me present you, Sir Malcolm, to
+my cousin, Lord James Stanley."
+
+I offered my hand to his Lordship, and said:--
+
+"I thank you much for your timely help. I should not have deserted you had
+I not felt that my first duty was to extricate Lady Madge from the
+disagreeable situation. We must hasten away from here, or the mad rabble
+will follow us."
+
+"Right you are, my hearty," returned Stanley, slapping me on the shoulder.
+"Of course you had to get the wench away. Where do you go? We will bear
+you company."
+
+I longed to pay the fellow for his help by knocking him down; but the
+possibilities of trouble ahead of us were already too great, and I forced
+myself to be content with the prowess already achieved.
+
+"But you have not told me what brought you into the broil," asked his
+Lordship, as we walked toward the inn.
+
+"Sir Malcolm and I were walking out to see the town and--"
+
+"To see the town? By gad, that's good, Cousin Madge. How much of it did
+you see? You are as blind as an owl at noon," answered his Lordship.
+
+"Alas! I am blind," returned Madge, clinging closely to me, and shrinking
+from her cousin's terrible jest. I could not think of anything
+sufficiently holy and sacred upon which to vow my vengeance against this
+fellow, if the time should ever come when I dared take it.
+
+"Are you alone with this--this gentleman?" asked his Lordship, grasping
+Madge by the arm.
+
+"No," returned Madge, "Dorothy is with us."
+
+"She is among the shops," I volunteered reluctantly.
+
+"Dorothy? Dorothy Vernon? By gad, Tod, we are in luck. I must see the
+wench I am to marry," said his Lordship, speaking to his companion, the
+stable boy. "So Dorothy is with you, is she, cousin? I haven't seen her
+for years. They say she is a handsome filly now. By gad, she had room to
+improve, for she was plain enough, to frighten rats away from a barn when
+I last saw her. We will go to the inn and see for ourselves, won't we,
+Tod? Dad's word won't satisfy us when it comes to the matter of marrying,
+will it, Tod?"
+
+Tod was the drunken stable boy who had assisted his Lordship and me in
+our battle with the Brownists.
+
+I was at a loss what course to pursue. I was forced to submit to this
+fellow's company, and to endure patiently his insolence. But John and
+Dorothy would soon return, and there is no need that I should explain the
+dangers of the predicament which would then ensue.
+
+When we were within a few yards of the inn door I looked backward and saw
+Dorothy and John approaching us. I held up my hand warningly. John caught
+my meaning, and instantly leaving Dorothy's side, entered an adjacent
+shop. My movement had attracted Stanley's attention, and he turned in the
+direction I had been looking. When he saw Dorothy, he turned again to me
+and asked:--
+
+"Is that Dorothy Vernon?"
+
+"Yes," I replied.
+
+"Look at her, Tod!" exclaimed my lord, "look at her, Tod! The dad was
+right about her, after all. I thought the old man was hoaxing me when he
+told me that she was beautiful. Holy Virgin, Tod, did you ever see
+anything so handsome? I will take her quick enough; I will take her. Dad
+won't need to tease me. I'm willing."
+
+Dorothy approached to within a few yards of us, and my Lord Stanley
+stepped forward to meet her.
+
+"Ye don't know me, do ye?" said Stanley.
+
+Dorothy was frightened and quickly stepped to my side.
+
+"I--I believe not," responded Dorothy.
+
+"Lord James Stanley," murmured Madge, who knew of the approaching Stanley
+marriage.
+
+"Madge is right," returned. Stanley, grinning foolishly. "I am your cousin
+James, but not so much of a cousin that I cannot be more than cousin,
+heh?" He laughed boisterously, and winking at Tod, thrust his thumb into
+that worthy's ribs. "Say, Tod, something more than cousin; that's the
+thing, isn't it, Tod?"
+
+John was standing half-concealed at the door of the shop in which he had
+sought refuge. Dorothy well knew the peril of the situation, and when I
+frowned at her warningly, she caught the hint that she should not resent
+Stanley's words, however insulting and irritating they might become.
+
+"Let us go to the inn," said Dorothy.
+
+"That's the thing to do. Let us go to the inn and have dinner," said
+Stanley. "It's two hours past dinner time now, and I'm almost famished.
+We'll have a famous dinner. Come, cousin," said he, addressing Dorothy.
+"We'll have kidneys and tripe and--"
+
+"We do not want dinner," said Dorothy. "We must return home at once. Sir
+Malcolm, will you order Dawson to bring out the coach?"
+
+We went to the inn parlor, and I, loath to do so, left the ladies with
+Stanley and his horse-boy friend while I sought Dawson for the purpose of
+telling him to fetch the coach with all haste.
+
+"We have not dined," said the forester.
+
+"We shall not dine," I answered. "Fetch the coach with all the haste you
+can make." The bystanders in the tap-room were listening, and I continued,
+"A storm is brewing, and we must hasten home."
+
+True enough, a storm was brewing.
+
+When I left Dawson, I hurriedly found John and told him we were preparing
+to leave the inn, and that we would expect him to overtake us on the road
+to Rowsley.
+
+I returned to the ladies in the parlor and found them standing near the
+window. Stanley had tried to kiss Dorothy, and she had slapped his face.
+Fortunately he had taken the blow good-humoredly, and was pouring into her
+unwilling ear a fusillade of boorish compliments when. I entered the
+parlor.
+
+I said, "The coach is ready."
+
+The ladies moved toward the door. "I am going to ride with you, my
+beauty," said his Lordship.
+
+"That you shall not do," retorted Dorothy, with blazing eyes.
+
+"That I will do," he answered. "The roads are free to all, and you cannot
+keep me from following you."
+
+Dorothy was aware of her predicament, and I too saw it, but could find no
+way out of it. I was troubled a moment; but my fear was needless, for
+Dorothy was equal to the occasion.
+
+"We should like your company, Cousin Stanley," replied Dorothy, without a
+trace of anger in her manner, "but we cannot let you ride with us in the
+face of the storm that is brewing."
+
+"We won't mind the storm, will we, Tod? We are going with our cousin."
+
+"If you insist upon being so kind to us," said Dorothy, "you may come. But
+I have changed my mind about dinner. I am very hungry, and we accept your
+invitation."
+
+"Now you are coming around nicely," said Lord James, joyfully. "We like
+that, don't we, Tod?"
+
+Tod had been silent under all circumstances.
+
+Dorothy continued: "Madge and I will drive in the coach to one or two of
+the shops, and we shall return in one hour. Meantime, Cousin Stanley, we
+wish you to have a fine dinner prepared for us, and we promise to do ample
+justice to the fare."
+
+"She'll never come back," said silent Tod, without moving a muscle.
+
+"How about it, cousin?" asked Stanley. "Tod says you'll never come back;
+he means that you are trying to give us the slip."
+
+"Never fear, Cousin Stanley," she returned, "I am too eager for dinner
+not to come back. If you fail to have a well-loaded table for me, I shall
+never speak to you again."
+
+We then went to the coach, and as the ladies entered it Dorothy said aloud
+to Dawson:--
+
+"Drive to Conn's shop."
+
+I heard Tod say to his worthy master:--
+
+"She's a slippin' ye."
+
+"You're a fool, Tod. Don't you see she wants me more than she wants the
+dinner, and she's hungry, too."
+
+"Don't see," retorted his laconic friend.
+
+Of course when the coach was well away from the inn, Dawson received new
+instructions, and took the road to Rowsley. When the ladies had departed,
+I went to the tap-room with Stanley, and after paying the host for the
+coffee, the potatoes, and the dinner which alas! we had not tasted, I
+ordered a great bowl of sack and proceeded to drink with my allies in the
+hope that I might make them too drunk to follow us. Within half an hour I
+discovered that I was laboring at a hopeless task. There was great danger
+that I would be the first to succumb; so I, expressing a wish to sleep off
+the liquor before the ladies should return, made my escape from the
+tap-room, mounted my horse, and galloped furiously after Dorothy and
+Madge. John was riding by the coach when I overtook it.
+
+It was two hours past noon when I came up with John and the girls. Snow
+had been falling softly earlier in the afternoon, but as the day advanced
+the storm grew in violence. A cold, bleak wind was blowing from the north,
+and by reason of the weather and because of the ill condition of the
+roads, the progress of the coach was so slow that darkness overtook us
+before we had finished half of our journey to Rowsley. Upon the fall of
+night the storm increased in violence, and the snow came in piercing,
+horizontal shafts which stung like the prick of a needle.
+
+At the hour of six--I but guessed the time--John and I, who were riding
+at the rear of the coach, heard close on our heels the trampling of
+horses. I rode forward to Dawson, who was in the coach box, and told him
+to drive with all the speed he could make. I informed him that some one
+was following us, and that I feared highwaymen were on our track.
+
+Hardly had I finished speaking to Dawson when I heard the report of a
+hand-fusil, back of the coach, near the spot where I had left John. I
+quickly drew my sword, though it was a task of no small labor, owing to
+the numbness of my fingers. I breathed along the blade to warm it, and
+then I hastened to John, whom I found in a desperate conflict with three
+ruffians. No better swordsman than John ever drew blade, and he was
+holding his ground in the darkness right gallantly. When I rode to his
+rescue, another hand-fusil was discharged, and then another, and I knew
+that we need have no more fear from bullets, for the three men had
+discharged their weapons, and they could not reload while John and I were
+engaging them. I heard the bullets tell upon the coach, and I heard the
+girls screaming lustily. I feared they had been wounded, but you may be
+sure I had no leisure to learn the truth. Three against two was terrible
+odds in the dark, where brute force and luck go for more than skill. We
+fought desperately for a while, but in the end we succeeded in beating off
+the highwaymen. When we had finished with the knaves who had attacked us,
+we quickly overtook our party. We were calling Dawson to stop when we saw
+the coach, careening with the slant of the hill, topple over, and fall to
+the bottom of a little precipice five or six feet in height. We at once
+dismounted and jumped down the declivity to the coach, which lay on its
+side, almost covered by drifted snow. The pole had broken in the fall, and
+the horses were standing on the road. We first saw Dawson. He was
+swearing like a Dutchman, and when we had dragged him from his snowy
+grave, we opened the coach door, lifted out the ladies, and seated them
+upon the uppermost side of the coach. They were only slightly bruised, but
+what they lacked in bruises they made up in fright. In respect to the
+latter it were needless for me to attempt a description.
+
+We can laugh about it now and speak lightly concerning the adventure, and,
+as a matter of truth, the humor of the situation appealed to me even then.
+But imagine yourself in the predicament, and you will save me the trouble
+of setting forth its real terrors.
+
+The snow was up to our belts, and we did not at first know how we were to
+extricate the ladies. John and Dawson, however, climbed to the road, and I
+carried Dorothy and Madge to the little precipice where the two men at the
+top lifted them from my arms. The coach was broken, and when I climbed to
+the road, John, Dawson, and myself held a council of war against the
+storm. Dawson said we were three good miles from Rowsley, and that he knew
+of no house nearer than the village at which we could find shelter. We
+could not stand in the road and freeze, so I got the blankets and robes
+from the coach and made riding pads for Dorothy and Madge. These we
+strapped upon the broad backs of the coach horses, and then assisted the
+ladies to mount. I walked by the side of Madge, and John performed the
+same agreeable duty for Dorothy. Dawson went ahead of us, riding my horse
+and leading John's; and thus we travelled to Rowsley, half dead and nearly
+frozen, over the longest three miles in the kingdom.
+
+John left us before entering the village, and took the road to Rutland,
+intending to stop for the night at a cottage two miles distant, upon his
+father's estates. I was to follow Sir John when the ladies were safely
+lodged at The Peacock.
+
+It was agreed between us that nothing should be said concerning the
+presence of any man save Dawson and myself in our party.
+
+When John left us, I rode to The Peacock with Dorothy and Madge, and while
+I was bidding them good-by my violent cousin, Sir George, entered the inn.
+Dorothy ran to her father and briefly related the adventures of the night,
+dwelling with undeserved emphasis upon the help I had rendered. She told
+her father--the statement was literally true--that she had met me at the
+Royal Arms, where I was stopping, and that she had, through fear of the
+storm and in dread of highwaymen, asked me to ride beside their coach to
+Rowsley.
+
+When I saw Sir George enter the room, I expected to have trouble with him;
+but after he had spoken with Dorothy, much to my surprise, he offered me
+his hand and said:--
+
+"I thank you, Malcolm, for the help you have rendered my girls, and I am
+glad you have come back to us."
+
+"I have not come back to you, Sir George," said I, withholding my hand. "I
+met Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge at the Royal Arms, and escorted them to
+Rowsley for reasons which she has just given to you. I was about to depart
+when you entered."
+
+"Tut, tut! Malcolm, you will come with us to Haddon Hall."
+
+"To be ordered away again, Sir George?" I asked.
+
+"I did not order you to go. You left in a childish fit of anger. Why in
+the devil's name did you run away so quickly? Could you not have given a
+man time to cool off? You treated me very badly, Malcolm."
+
+"Sir George, you certainly know--"
+
+"I know nothing of the sort. Now I want not another word from you. Damme!
+I say, not another word. If I ever ordered you to leave Haddon Hall, I
+didn't know what I was doing," cried Sir George, heartily.
+
+"But you may again not know," said I.
+
+"Now, Malcolm, don't be a greater fool than I was. If I say I did not
+order you to leave Haddon Hall, can't you take me at my word? My age and
+my love for you should induce you to let me ease my conscience, if I can.
+If the same illusion should ever come over you again--that is, if you
+should ever again imagine that I am ordering you to leave Haddon
+Hall--well, just tell me to go to the devil. I have been punished enough
+already, man. Come home with us. Here is Dorothy, whom I love better than
+I love myself. In anger I might say the same thing to her that I said to
+you, but--Nonsense, Malcolm, don't be a fool. Come home with us. Haddon is
+your home as freely as it is the home of Dorothy, Madge, and myself."
+
+The old gentleman's voice trembled, and I could not withstand the double
+force of his kindness and my desire. So it came about that when Madge held
+out her fair hand appealingly to me, and when Dorothy said, "Please come
+home with us, Cousin Malcolm," I offered my hand to Sir George, and with
+feeling said, "Let us make this promise to each other: that nothing
+hereafter shall come between us."
+
+"I gladly promise," responded the generous, impulsive old man. "Dorothy,
+Madge, and you are all in this world whom I love. Nothing shall make
+trouble between us. Whatever happens, we will each forgive."
+
+The old gentleman was in his kindest, softest mood.
+
+"Let us remember the words," said I.
+
+"I give my hand and my word upon it," cried Sir George.
+
+How easy it is to stake the future upon a present impulse. But when the
+time for reckoning comes,--when the future becomes the present,--it is
+sometimes hard to pay the priceless present for the squandered past. Next
+morning we all rode home to Haddon,--how sweet the words sound even at
+this distance of time!--and there was rejoicing in the Hall as if the
+prodigal had returned.
+
+In the evening I came upon Madge unawares. She was softly singing a
+plaintive little love song. I did not disturb her, and as I stole away
+again I said to myself, "God is good." A realization of that great truth
+had of late been growing upon me. When once we thoroughly learn it, life
+takes on a different color.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+TRIBULATION IN HADDON
+
+
+After I had left Haddon at Sir George's tempestuous order, he had remained
+in a state of furious anger against Dorothy and myself for a fortnight or
+more. But after her adroit conversation with him concerning the Stanley
+marriage, wherein she neither promised nor refused, and after she learned
+that she could more easily cajole her father than command him, Dorothy
+easily ensconced herself again in his warm heart, and took me into that
+capacious abode along with her.
+
+Then came the trip to Derby, whereby his serene Lordship, James Stanley,
+had been enabled to see Dorothy and to fall in love with her winsome
+beauty, and whereby I was brought back to Haddon. Thereafter came events
+crowding so rapidly one upon the heels of another that I scarce know where
+to begin the telling of them. I shall not stop to say, "Sir George told me
+this," or "Madge, Dorothy, or John told me that," but I shall write as if
+I had personal knowledge of all that happened. After all, the important
+fact is that I know the truth concerning matters whereof I write, and of
+that you may rest with surety.
+
+The snow lay upon the ground for a fortnight after the storm in which we
+rode from Derby, but at the end of that time it melted, and the sun shone
+with the brilliancy and warmth of springtide. So warm and genial was the
+weather that the trees, flowers, and shrubs were cozened into budding
+forth. The buds were withered by a killing frost which came upon us later
+in the season at a time when the spring should have been abroad in all her
+graciousness, and that year was called the year of the leafless summer.
+
+One afternoon Sir George received a distinguished guest in the person of
+the Earl of Derby, and the two old gentlemen remained closeted together
+for several hours. That night at supper, after the ladies had risen from
+table, Sir George dismissed the servants saying that he wished to speak to
+me in private. I feared that he intended again bringing forward the
+subject of marriage with Dorothy, but he soon relieved my mind.
+
+"The Earl of Derby was here to-day. He has asked for Doll's hand in
+marriage with his eldest son and heir, Lord James Stanley, and I have
+granted the request."
+
+"Indeed," I responded, with marvellous intelligence. I could say nothing
+more, but I thought--in truth I knew--that it did not lie within the power
+of any man in or out of England to dispose of Dorothy Vernon's hand in
+marriage to Lord James Stanley. Her father might make a murderess out of
+her, but Countess of Derby, never.
+
+Sir George continued, "The general terms of the marriage contract have
+been agreed upon by the earl and me, and the lawyers will do the rest."
+
+"What is your feeling in the matter?" I asked aimlessly.
+
+"My feeling?" cried Sir George. "Why, sir, my feeling is that the girl
+shall marry Stanley just as soon as arrangements can be made for the
+wedding ceremony. The young fellow, it seems, saw Doll at Derby-town the
+day you came home, and since then he is eager, his father tells me, for
+the union. He is coming to see her when I give my permission, and I will
+send him word at as early a date as propriety will admit. I must not let
+them be seen together too soon, you know. There might be a hitch in the
+marriage negotiations. The earl is a tight one in business matters, and
+might drive a hard bargain with me should I allow his son to place Doll in
+a false position before the marriage contract is signed." He little knew
+how certainly Dorothy herself would avoid that disaster.
+
+He took a long draught from his mug of toddy and winked knowingly at me,
+saying, "I am too wise for that."
+
+"Have you told Dorothy?" I asked.
+
+"No," he replied, "I have not exactly told her. I had a talk with her a
+few days ago on the subject, though the earl and I had not, at that time,
+entirely agreed upon the terms, and I did not know that we should agree.
+But I told her of the pending negotiations, because I wished to prepare
+her for the signing of the contract; and also, by gad, Malcolm, I wanted
+to make the girl understand at the outset that I will have no trifling
+with my commands in this matter. I made that feature of the case very
+plain, you may rest assured. She understands me fully, and although at
+first she was a little inclined to fight, she soon--she soon--well, she
+knuckled under gracefully when she found she must."
+
+"Did she consent to the marriage?" I asked, well knowing that even if she
+had consented in words, she had no thought of doing so in deed.
+
+"Y-e-s," returned Sir George, hesitatingly.
+
+"I congratulate you," I replied.
+
+"I shall grieve to lose Doll," the old man slowly continued with
+perceptible signs of emotion. "I shall grieve to lose my girl, but I am
+anxious to have the wedding over. You see, Malcolm, of late I have noticed
+signs of wilfulness in Doll that can be more easily handled by a husband
+than by a father. Marriage and children anchor a woman, you know. In
+truth, I have opened my eyes to the fact that Doll is growing dangerous.
+I'gad, the other day I thought she was a child, but suddenly I learn she
+is a woman. I had not before noticed the change. Beauty and wilfulness,
+such as the girl has of late developed, are powers not to be
+underestimated by wise men. There is hell in them, Malcolm, I tell you
+there is hell in them." Sir George meditatively snuffed the candle with
+his fingers and continued: "If a horse once learns that he can kick--sell
+him. Only yesterday, as I said, Doll was a child, and now, by Jove, she is
+a full-blown woman, and I catch myself standing in awe of her and calling
+her Dorothy. Yes, damme, standing in awe of my own child! That will never
+do, you know. What has wrought the change? And, after all, what is the
+change? I can't define it, but there has been a great one."
+
+He was in a revery and spoke more to himself than to me. "Yesterday she
+was my child--she was a child, and now--and now--she is--she is--Why the
+devil didn't you take her, Malcolm?" cried the old man, awakening. "But
+there, never mind; that is all past and gone, and the future Earl of Derby
+will be a great match for her."
+
+"Do you know the future Earl of Derby?" I asked. "Have you ever seen him?"
+
+"No," Sir George replied. "I hear he is rather wild and uncouth, but--"
+
+"My dear cousin," said I, interrupting him, "he is a vulgar, drunken
+clown, whose associates have always been stable boys, tavern maids, and
+those who are worse than either."
+
+"What?" cried Sir George, hotly, the liquor having reached his brain. "You
+won't have Doll yourself, and you won't consent to another--damme, would
+you have the girl wither into spinsterhood? How, sir, dare you interfere?"
+
+"I withdraw all I said, Sir George," I replied hastily. "I have not a word
+to say against the match. I thought--"
+
+"Well, damn you, sir, don't think."
+
+"You said you wished to consult me about the affair, and I supposed--"
+
+"Don't suppose either," replied Sir George, sullenly. "Supposing and
+thinking have hanged many a man. I didn't wish to consult you. I simply
+wanted to tell you of the projected marriage." Then after a moment of
+half-maudlin, sullen silence he continued, "Go to bed, Malcolm, go to bed,
+or we'll be quarrelling again."
+
+I was glad enough to go to bed, for my cousin was growing drunk, and drink
+made a demon of this man, whose violence when sober was tempered by a
+heart full of tenderness and love.
+
+Next morning Sir George was feeling irritable from the effects of the
+brandy he had drunk over night. At breakfast, in the presence of Lady
+Crawford, Madge, and myself, he abruptly informed Dorothy that he was
+about to give that young goddess to Lord James Stanley for his wife. He
+told her of the arrangement he had made the day before with the Earl of
+Derby. Lady Crawford looked toward her brother in surprise, and Madge
+pushed her chair a little way back from the table with a startled
+movement. Dorothy sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing fire and her
+breast rising and falling like the storm-wrought pulsing of the sea. I
+coughed warningly and placed my finger on my lips, making the sign of
+silence to Dorothy. The girl made a wondrous and beautiful struggle
+against her wrath, and in a moment all signs of ill-temper disappeared,
+and her face took on an expression of sweet meekness which did not belong
+there of right. She quietly sat down again, and when I looked at her, I
+would have sworn that Griselda in the flesh was sitting opposite me. Sir
+George was right. "Ways such as the girl had of late developed were
+dangerous." Hell was in them to an extent little dreamed of by her father.
+Breakfast was finished in silence. Dorothy did not come down to dinner at
+noon, but Sir George did not mark her absence. At supper her place was
+still vacant.
+
+"Where is Doll?" cried Sir George, angrily. He had been drinking heavily
+during the afternoon. "Where is Doll?" he demanded.
+
+"She is on the terrace," answered Madge. "She said she did not want
+supper."
+
+"Tell your mistress to come to supper," said Sir George, speaking to one
+of the servants. "You will find her on the terrace."
+
+The servant left the room, but soon returned, saying that Mistress Dorothy
+wanted no supper.
+
+"Tell her to come to the table whether she wants supper or not. Tell her I
+will put a stop to her moping about the place like a surly vixen," growled
+Sir George.
+
+"Don't send such a message by a servant," pleaded Lady Crawford.
+
+"Then take it to her yourself, Dorothy," exclaimed her brother.
+
+Dorothy returned with her aunt and meekly took her place at the table.
+
+"I will have none of your moping and pouting," said Sir George, as Dorothy
+was taking her chair.
+
+The girl made no reply, but she did not eat.
+
+"Eat your supper," her father commanded. "I tell you I will have no--"
+
+"You would not have me eat if I am not hungry, would you, father?" she
+asked softly.
+
+"I'd have you hungry, you perverse wench."
+
+"Then make me an appetite," returned the girl. I never heard more ominous
+tones fall from human lips. They betokened a mood in which one could
+easily do murder in cold blood, and I was surprised that Sir George did
+not take warning and remain silent.
+
+"I cannot make an appetite for you, fool," he replied testily.
+
+"Then you cannot make me eat," retorted Dorothy.
+
+"Ah, you would answer me, would you, you brazen, insolent huzzy," cried
+her father, angrily.
+
+Dorothy held up her hand warningly to Sir George, and uttered the one
+word, "Father." Her voice sounded like the clear, low ring of steel as I
+have heard it in the stillness of sunrise during a duel to the death.
+Madge gently placed her hand in Dorothy's, but the caress met no response.
+
+"Go to your room," answered Sir George.
+
+Dorothy rose to her feet and spoke calmly: "I have not said that I would
+disobey you in regard to this marriage which you have sought for me; and
+your harshness, father, grows out of your effort to reconcile your
+conscience with the outrage you would put upon your own flesh and
+blood--your only child."
+
+"Suffering God!" cried Sir George, frenzied with anger and drink. "Am I to
+endure such insolence from my own child? The lawyers will be here
+to-morrow. The contract will be signed, and, thank God, I shall soon be
+rid of you. I'll place you in the hands of one who will break your
+damnable will and curb your vixenish temper." Then he turned to Lady
+Crawford. "Dorothy, if there is anything to do in the way of gowns and
+women's trumpery in preparation for the wedding, begin at once, for the
+ceremony shall come off within a fortnight."
+
+This was beyond Dorothy's power to endure. Madge felt the storm coming and
+clutched her by the arm in an effort to stop her, but nothing could have
+done that.
+
+"I marry Lord Stanley?" she asked in low, bell-like tones, full of
+contempt and disdain. "Marry that creature? Father, you don't know me."
+
+"By God, I know myself," retorted Sir George, "and I say--"
+
+"Now hear me, father," she interrupted in a manner that silenced even
+him. She bent forward, resting one fair hand upon the table, while she
+held out her other arm bared to the elbow. "Hear what I say and take it
+for the truth as if it had come from Holy Writ. I will open the veins in
+this arm and will strew my blood in a gapless circle around Haddon Hall so
+that you shall tread upon it whenever you go forth into the day or into
+the night before I will marry the drunken idiot with whom you would curse
+me. Ay, I will do more. I will kill you, if need be, should you try to
+force him on me. Now, father, we understand each other. At least you
+cannot fail to understand me. For the last time I warn you. Beware of me."
+
+She gently pushed the chair back from the table, quietly adjusted the
+sleeve which she had drawn upward from her wrist, and slowly walked out of
+the room, softly humming the refrain of a roundelay. There was no trace of
+excitement about the girl. Her brain was acting with the ease and
+precision of a perfectly constructed machine. Sir George, by his violence
+and cruelty, had made a fiend of this strong, passionate, tender heart.
+That was all.
+
+The supper, of course, was quickly finished, and the ladies left the room.
+
+Sir George took to his bottle and remained with it till his servants put
+him to bed. I slipped away from him and smoked a pipe in front of the
+kitchen fire. Then I went early to my bed in Eagle Tower.
+
+Dorothy went to her apartments. There she lay upon her bed, and for a time
+her heart was like flint. Soon she thought of her precious golden heart
+pierced with a silver arrow, and tears came to her eyes as she drew the
+priceless treasure from her breast and breathed upon it a prayer to the
+God of love for help. Her heart was soft again, soft only as hers could
+be, and peace came to her as she pressed John's golden heart to her lips
+and murmured over and over the words, "My love, my love, my love," and
+murmuring fell asleep.
+
+I wonder how many of the countless women of this world found peace,
+comfort, and ecstasy in breathing those magic words yesterday? How many
+have found them to-day? How many will find them to-morrow? No one can
+tell; but this I know, they come to every woman at some time in her life,
+righteously or unrighteously, as surely as her heart pulses.
+
+That evening Jennie Faxton bore a letter to John, informing him of the
+projected Stanley marriage. It asked him to meet the writer at Bowling
+Green Gate, and begged him to help her if he could.
+
+The small and intermittent remnants of conscience, sense of duty, and
+caution which still remained in John's head--I will not say in John's
+heart, for that was full to overflowing with something else--were quickly
+banished by the unwelcome news in Dorothy's letter. His first impulse was
+to kill Stanley; but John Manners was not an assassin, and a duel would
+make public all he wished to conceal. He wished to conceal, among other
+things, his presence at Rutland. He had two reasons for so desiring. First
+in point of time was the urgent purpose with which he had come to
+Derbyshire. That purpose was to further a plan for the rescue of Mary
+Stuart and to bring her incognito to Rutland Castle as a refuge until
+Elizabeth could be persuaded to receive her. Of this plan I knew nothing
+till after the disastrous attempt to carry it out, of which I shall
+hereafter tell you. The other reason why John wished his presence at
+Rutland unknown was that if he were supposed to be in London, no one would
+suspect him of knowing Dorothy Vernon.
+
+You must remember there had been no overt love-making between John and
+Dorothy up to that time. The scene at the gate approached perilously near
+it, but the line between concealment and confession had not been crossed.
+Mind you, I say there had been no love-making _between_ them. While
+Dorothy had gone as far in that direction as a maiden should dare go--and
+to tell the exact truth, a great deal farther--John had remained almost
+silent for reasons already given you. He also felt a fear of the girl, and
+failed to see in her conduct those signs of intense love which would have
+been plainly discernible had not his perceptions been blinded by the fury
+of his own infatuation. He had placed a curb on his passion and did not
+really know its strength and power until he learned that another man was
+soon to possess the girl he loved. Then life held but one purpose for him.
+Thus, you see that when Dorothy was moaning, "My love, my love," and was
+kissing the golden heart, she was taking a great deal for granted.
+Perhaps, however, she better understood John's feeling for her than did he
+himself. A woman's sixth sense, intuition, is a great help to her in such
+cases. Perhaps the girl knew with intuitive confidence that her passion
+was returned; and perhaps at first she found John's receptive mode of
+wooing sweeter far than an aggressive attack would have been. It may be
+also there was more of the serpent's cunning than of reticence in John's
+conduct. He knew well the ways of women, and perhaps he realized that if
+he would allow Dorothy to manage the entire affair she would do his wooing
+for him much better than he could do it for himself. If you are a man, try
+the plan upon the next woman whom you seek to win. If she happens to be
+one who has full confidence in her charms, you will be surprised at the
+result. Women lacking that confidence are restrained by fear and doubt.
+But in no case have I much faith in the hammer-and-tongs process at the
+opening of a campaign. Later on, of course--but you doubtless are quite as
+well informed concerning this important subject as I. There is, however,
+so much blundering in that branch of science that I have a mind to endow a
+college at Oxford or at Paris in which shall be taught the gentle,
+universally needed art of making love. What a noble attendance such a
+college would draw. But I have wandered wofully from my story.
+
+I must go back a short time in my narrative. A few days before my return
+to Haddon Hall the great iron key to the gate in the wall east of Bowling
+Green Hill was missed from the forester's closet where it had hung for a
+century or more. Bowling Green Hill, as you know, is eastward from Haddon
+Hall a distance of the fourth part of a mile, and the gate is east of the
+hill about the same distance or less. A wall is built upon the east line
+of the Haddon estate, and east of the wall lies a great trackless forest
+belonging to the house of Devonshire. In olden times there had been a road
+from Bakewell to Rowsley along the east side of the wall; but before Sir
+George's seizin the road had been abandoned and the gate was not used. It
+stood in a secluded, unfrequented spot, and Dorothy thought herself very
+shrewd in choosing it for a trysting-place.
+
+But as I told you, one day the key was missed. It was of no value or use,
+and at first nothing was thought of its loss; but from time to time the
+fact that it could not be found was spoken of as curious. All the servants
+had been questioned in vain, and the loss of the key to Bowling Green Gate
+soon took on the dignity of a mystery--a mystery soon to be solved, alas!
+to Dorothy's undoing.
+
+The afternoon of the day following the terrible scene between Sir George
+and his daughter at the supper table, Dorothy rode forth alone upon her
+mare Dolcy. From the window of my room in Eagle Tower I saw her go down
+the west side of the Wye toward Rowsley. I ascended to the roof of the
+tower, and from that elevation I saw her cross the river, and soon she was
+lost to sight in the forest. At that time I knew nothing of the new
+trysting-place, but I felt sure that Dorothy had gone out to seek John.
+The sun shone brightly, and its gentle warmth enticed me to remain upon
+the tower battlements, to muse, and to dream. I fetched my pipe and
+tobacco from my room. I had been smoking at intervals for several months,
+but had not entirely learned to like the weed, because of a slight nausea
+which it invariably caused me to feel. But I thought by practice now and
+again to inure myself to the habit, which was then so new and fashionable
+among modish gentlemen. While I smoked I mused upon the past and present,
+and tried to peer into the future--a fruitless task wherein we waste much
+valuable time; a vain striving, like Eve's, after forbidden knowledge,
+which, should we possess it, would destroy the little remnant of Eden
+still existing on earth. Could we look forward only to our joys, a
+knowledge of the future might be good to have; but imagine, if you can,
+the horror of anticipating evils to come.
+
+After a short time, a lotuslike dreaminess stole over me, and past and
+future seemed to blend in a supreme present of contentment and rest. Then
+I knew I had wooed and won Tobacco and that thenceforth I had at hand an
+ever ready solace in time of trouble. At the end of an hour my dreaming
+was disturbed by voices, which came distinctly up to me from the base of
+the tower. I leaned over the battlements to listen, and what I heard gave
+me alarm and concern such as all the tobacco in the world could not
+assuage. I looked down the dizzy heights of Eagle Tower and saw Sir George
+in conversation with Ben Shaw, a woodman. I had not heard the words first
+spoken between them.
+
+"Ay, ay, Sir George," said Ben, "they be there, by Bowling Green Gate,
+now. I saw them twenty minutes since,--Mistress Vernon and a gentleman."
+
+"Perhaps the gentleman is Sir Malcolm," answered my cousin. I drew back
+from the battlements, and the woodman replied, "Perhaps he be, but I doubt
+it."
+
+There had been a partial reconciliation--sincere on Sir George's part, but
+false and hollow on Dorothy's--which Madge had brought about between
+father and daughter that morning. Sir George, who was sober and repentant
+of his harshness, was inclined to be tender to Dorothy, though he still
+insisted in the matter of the Stanley marriage. Dorothy's anger had
+cooled, and cunning had taken its place. Sir George had asked her to
+forgive him for the hard words he had spoken, and she had again led him to
+believe that she would be dutiful and obedient. It is hard to determine,
+as a question of right and wrong, whether Dorothy is to be condemned or
+justified in the woful deception she practised upon her father. To use a
+plain, ugly word, she lied to him without hesitation or pain of
+conscience. Still, we must remember that, forty years ago, girls were
+frequently forced, regardless of cries and piteous agony, into marriages
+to which death would have been preferable. They were flogged into
+obedience, imprisoned and starved into obedience, and alas! they were
+sometimes killed in the course of punishment for disobedience by men of
+Sir George's school and temper. I could give you at least one instance in
+which a fair girl met her death from punishment inflicted by her father
+because she would not consent to wed the man of his choice. Can we blame
+Dorothy if she would lie or rob or do murder to avoid a fate which to her
+would have been worse than death? When you find yourself condemning her,
+now or hereafter in this history, if you are a man ask yourself this
+question: "If I had a sweetheart in Dorothy's sad case, should I not wish
+her to do as she did? Should I not wish, if it were possible by any
+means, that she should save herself from the worst of fates, and should
+save me from the agony of losing her to such a man as Sir George had
+selected for Dorothy's husband? Is it not a sin to disobey the law of
+self-preservation actively or passively?" Answer these questions as you
+choose. As for myself, I say God bless Dorothy for lying. Perhaps I am in
+error. Perhaps I am not. I but tell you the story of Dorothy as it
+happened, and I am a poor hand at solving questions of right and wrong
+where a beautiful woman is concerned. To my thinking, she usually is in
+the right. In any case, she is sure to have the benefit of the doubt.
+
+When Sir George heard the woodman's story, he started hurriedly toward
+Bowling Green Gate.
+
+Now I shall tell you of Dorothy's adventures after I saw her cross the
+Wye.
+
+When she reached the gate, John was waiting for her.
+
+"Ah, Sir John, I am so glad you are here. That is, I am glad you are here
+before I arrived--good even," said the girl, confusedly. Her heart again
+was beating in a provoking manner, and her breath would not come with ease
+and regularity. The rapid progress of the malady with which she was
+afflicted or blessed was plainly discernible since the last meeting with
+my friend, Sir John. That is, it would have been plain to any one but
+John, whose ailment had taken a fatal turn and had progressed to the
+ante-mortem state of blindness. By the help of the stimulating hope and
+fear which Dorothy's letter had brought to him, he had planned an
+elaborate conversation, and had determined to speak decisive words. He
+hoped to receive from her the answer for which he longed; but his heart
+and breath seemed to have conspired with Dorothy to make
+intercommunication troublesome.
+
+"I received your gracious letter, Mistress Vernon, and I thank you. I
+was--I am--that is, my thanks are more than I--I can express."
+
+"So I see," said the girl, half amused at John's condition, although it
+was but little worse than her own. This universal malady, love, never
+takes its blind form in women. It opens their eyes. Under its influence
+they can see the truth through a millstone. The girl's heart jumped with
+joy when she saw John's truth-telling manner, and composure quickly came
+to her relief, though she still feigned confusion because she wished him
+to see the truth in her as she had seen it in him. She well knew of his
+blindness, and had almost begun to fear lest she would eventually be
+compelled to tell him in words that which she so ardently wished him to
+see for himself. She thought John was the blindest of his sex; but she
+was, to a certain extent, mistaken. John was blind, as you already know,
+but his reticence was not all due to a lack of sight. He at least had
+reached the condition of a well-developed hope. He hoped the girl cared
+for him. He would have fully believed it had it not been for the
+difficulty he found in convincing himself that a goddess like Dorothy
+could care for a man so unworthy as himself. Most modest persons are
+self-respecting. That was John's condition; he was not vain.
+
+"Jennie brought me your letter also," said the girl, laughing because she
+was happy, though her merriment somewhat disconcerted John.
+
+"It told me," she continued, "that you would come. I have it here in my
+pocket--and--and the gate key." She determined this time to introduce the
+key early in the engagement. "But I feared you might not want to come."
+The cunning, the boldness, and the humility of the serpent was in the
+girl. "That is, you know, I thought--perhaps--that is, I feared that you
+might not come. Your father might have been ill, or you might have changed
+your mind after you wrote the letter."
+
+"No," answered John, whose face was beaming with joy. Here, truly, was a
+goddess who could make the blind to see if she were but given a little
+time.
+
+"Do you mean that your father is not ill, or that you did not change your
+mind?" asked Dorothy, whose face, as it should have been after such a
+speech, was bent low while she struggled with the great iron key,
+entangled in the pocket of her gown.
+
+"I mean that I have not changed my mind," said John, who felt that the
+time to speak had come. "There has been no change in me other than a new
+access of eagerness with every hour, and a new longing to see you and to
+hear your voice."
+
+Dorothy felt a great thrill pass through her breast, and she knew that the
+reward of her labors was at hand.
+
+"Certainly," said the self-complacent girl, hardly conscious of her words,
+so great was the joyous tumult in her heart, "I should have known."
+
+There was another pause devoted to the key, with bended head. "But--but
+you might have changed your mind," she continued, "and I might not have
+known it, for, you see, I did not know your former state of mind; you have
+never told me." Her tongue had led her further than she had intended to
+go, and she blushed painfully, and I think, considering her words,
+appropriately.
+
+"My letter told you my state of mind. At least it told you of my intention
+to come. I--I fear that I do not understand you," said John.
+
+"I mean," she replied, with a saucy, fluttering little laugh as she looked
+up from her conflict with the entangled key, "I mean that--that you don't
+know what I mean. But here is the key at last, and--and--you may, if you
+wish, come to this side of the gate."
+
+She stepped forward to unlock the gate with an air that seemed to say,
+"Now, John, you shall have a clear field."
+
+But to her surprise she found that the lock had been removed. That
+discovery brought back to John his wandering wits.
+
+"Mistress Dorothy," he cried in tones of alarm, "I must not remain here.
+We are suspected and are sure to be discovered. Your father has set a trap
+for us. I care not for myself, but I would not bring upon you the trouble
+and distress which would surely follow discovery. Let us quickly choose
+another place and time of meeting. I pray you, sweet lady, meet me
+to-morrow at this time near the white cliff back of Lathkil mill. I have
+that to say to you which is the very blood of my heart. I must now leave
+you at once."
+
+He took her hand, and kissing it, started to leave through the open gate.
+
+The girl caught his arm to detain him. "Say it now, John, say it now. I
+have dreamed of it by night and by day. You know all, and I know all, and
+I long to hear from your lips the words that will break down all barriers
+between us." She had been carried away by the mad onrush of her passion.
+She was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain, and she spoke because
+she could not help it.
+
+"I will speak, Dorothy, God help me! God help me, I will speak!" said
+John, as he caught the girl to his breast in a fierce embrace. "I love
+you, I love you! God Himself only knows how deeply, how passionately! I do
+not know. I cannot fathom its depths. With all my heart and soul, with
+every drop of blood that pulses through my veins, I love you--I adore you.
+Give me your lips, my beauty, my Aphrodite, my queen!"
+
+"There--they--are, John,--there they are. They are--all yours--all
+yours--now! Oh, God! my blood is on fire." She buried her face on his
+breast for shame, that he might not see her burning eyes and her scarlet
+cheeks. Then after a time she cared not what he saw, and she lifted her
+lips to his, a voluntary offering. The supreme emotions of the moment
+drove all other consciousness from their souls.
+
+"Tell me, Dorothy, that you will be my wife. Tell me, tell me!" cried
+John.
+
+"I will, I will, oh, how gladly, how gladly!"
+
+"Tell me that no power on earth can force you to marry Lord Stanley. Tell
+me that you will marry no man but me; that you will wait--wait for me
+till--"
+
+"I will marry no man but you, John, no man but you," said the girl,
+whisperingly. Her head was thrown back from his breast that she might look
+into his eyes, and that he might see the truth in hers. "I am all yours.
+But oh, John, I cannot wait--I cannot! Do not ask me to wait. It would
+kill me. I wear the golden heart you gave me, John," she continued, as she
+nestled closer in his embrace. "I wear the golden heart always. It is
+never from me, even for one little moment. I bear it always upon my heart,
+John. Here it is." She drew from her breast the golden heart and kissed
+it. Then she pressed it to his lips, and said: "I kiss it twenty times in
+the day and in the night; ay, a hundred times. I do not know how often;
+but now I kiss your real heart, John," and she kissed his breast, and then
+stood tiptoe to lift her lips to his.
+
+There was no room left now in John's heart for doubt that Dorothy Vernon
+was his own forever and forever. She had convinced him beyond the reach of
+fear or doubt. John forgot the lockless gate. He forgot everything but
+Dorothy, and cruel time passed with a rapidity of which they were
+unconscious. They were, however, brought back to consciousness by hearing
+a long blast from the forester's bugle, and John immediately retreated
+through the gate.
+
+Dorothy then closed the gate and hastily seated herself upon a stone
+bench against the Haddon side of the wall. She quickly assumed an attitude
+of listless repose, and Dolcy, who was nibbling at the grass near by,
+doubtless supposed that her mistress had come to Bowling Green Gate to
+rest because it was a secluded place, and because she desired to be alone.
+
+Dorothy's attitude was not assumed one moment too soon, for hardly was her
+gown arranged with due regard to carelessness when Sir George's form rose
+above the crest of Bowling Green Hill. In a few minutes he was standing in
+front of his daughter, red with anger. Dorothy's face wore a look of calm
+innocence, which I believe would have deceived Solomon himself,
+notwithstanding that great man's experience with the sex. It did more to
+throw Sir George off the scent than any words the girl could have spoken.
+
+"Who has been with you?" demanded Sir George, angrily.
+
+"When, father?" queried the girl, listlessly resting her head against the
+wall.
+
+"Now, this afternoon. Who has been with you? Ben Shaw said that a man was
+here. He said that he saw a man with you less than half an hour since."
+
+That piece of information was startling to Dorothy, but no trace of
+surprise was visible in her manner or in her voice. She turned listlessly
+and brushed a dry leaf from her gown. Then she looked calmly up into her
+father's face and said laconically, but to the point:--
+
+"Ben lied." To herself she said, "Ben shall also suffer."
+
+"I do not believe that Ben lied," said Sir George. "I, myself, saw a man
+go away from here."
+
+That was crowding the girl into close quarters, but she did not flinch.
+
+"Which way did he go, father?" she asked, with a fine show of carelessness
+in her manner, but with a feeling of excruciating fear in her breast. She
+well knew the wisdom of the maxim, "Never confess."
+
+"He went northward," answered Sir George.
+
+"Inside the wall?" asked Dorothy, beginning again to breathe freely, for
+she knew that John had ridden southward.
+
+"Inside the wall, of course," her father replied. "Do you suppose I could
+see him through the stone wall? One should be able to see through a stone
+wall to keep good watch on you."
+
+"You might have thought you saw him through the wall," answered the girl.
+"I sometimes think of late, father, that you are losing your mind. You
+drink too much brandy, my dear father. Oh, wouldn't it be dreadful if you
+were to lose your mind?" She rose as she spoke, and going to her father
+began to stroke him gently with her hand. She looked into his face with
+real affection; for when she deceived him, she loved him best as a partial
+atonement for her ill-doing.
+
+"Wouldn't that be dreadful?" she continued, while Sir George stood lost in
+bewilderment. "Wouldn't that be dreadful for my dear old father to lose
+his mind? But I really think it must be coming to pass. A great change has
+of late come over you, father. You have for the first time in your life
+been unkind to me and suspicious. Father, do you realize that you insult
+your daughter when you accuse her of having been in this secluded place
+with a man? You would punish another for speaking so against my fair
+name."
+
+"But, Dorothy," Sir George replied, feeling as if he were in the wrong,
+"Ben Shaw said that he saw you here with a man, and I saw a man pass
+toward Bakewell. Who was he? I command you to tell me his name."
+
+Dorothy knew that her father must have seen a man near the gate, but who
+he was she could not imagine. John surely was beyond the wall and well out
+of sight on his way to Rowsley before her father reached the crest of
+Bowling Green Hill. But it was evident that Shaw had seen John. Evidence
+that a man had been at the gate was too strong to be successfully
+contradicted. Facts that cannot be successfully contradicted had better be
+frankly admitted. Dorothy sought through her mind for an admission that
+would not admit, and soon hit upon a plan which, shrewd as it seemed to
+be, soon brought her to grief.
+
+"Perhaps you saw Cousin Malcolm," said Dorothy, as the result of her
+mental search. "He passed here a little time since and stopped for a
+moment to talk. Perhaps you saw Malcolm, father. You would not find fault
+with me because he was here, would you?"
+
+"Dorothy, my daughter," said Sir George, hesitatingly, "are you telling me
+the truth?"
+
+Then the fair girl lifted up her beautiful head, and standing erect at her
+full height (it pains me to tell you this) said: "Father, I am a Vernon. I
+would not lie."
+
+Her manner was so truthlike that Sir George was almost convinced.
+
+He said, "I believe you."
+
+Her father's confidence touched her keenly; but not to the point of
+repentance, I hardly need say.
+
+Dorothy then grew anxious to return to the Hall that she might prepare me
+to answer whatever idle questions her father should put to me. She took
+Dolcy's rein, and leading the mare with one hand while she rested the
+other upon her father's arm, walked gayly across Bowling Green down to the
+Hall, very happy because of her lucky escape.
+
+But a lie is always full of latent retribution.
+
+I was sitting in the kitchen, dreamily watching the huge fire when Dorothy
+and her father entered.
+
+"Ah, Malcolm, are you here?" asked Sir George in a peculiar tone of
+surprise for which I could see no reason.
+
+"I thought you were walking."
+
+I was smoking. I took my pipe from my lips and said, "No, I am helping old
+Bess and Jennie with supper."
+
+"Have you not been walking?" asked Sir George.
+
+There was an odd expression on his face when I looked up to him, and I was
+surprised at his persistent inquiry concerning so trivial a matter. But
+Sir George's expression, agitated as it was, still was calm when compared
+with that of Dorothy, who stood a step or two behind her father. Not only
+was her face expressive, but her hands, her feet, her whole body were
+convulsed in an effort to express something which, for the life of me, I
+could not understand. Her wonderful eyes wore an expression, only too
+readable, of terror and pleading. She moved her hands rapidly and stamped
+her foot. During this pantomime she was forming words with her lips and
+nodding her head affirmatively. Her efforts at expression were lost upon
+me, and I could only respond with a blank stare of astonishment. The
+expression on my face caused Sir George to turn in the direction of my
+gaze, and he did so just in time to catch Dorothy in the midst of a mighty
+pantomimic effort at mute communication.
+
+"Why in the devil's name are you making those grimaces?" demanded Sir
+George.
+
+"I wasn't making grimaces--I--I think I was about to sneeze," replied
+Dorothy.
+
+"Do you think I am blind?" stormed Sir George. "Perhaps I am losing my
+mind? You are trying to tell Malcolm to say that he was with you at
+Bowling Green Gate. Losing my mind, am I? Damme, I'll show you that if I
+am losing my mind I have not lost my authority in my own house."
+
+"Now, father, what is all this storming about?" asked the girl, coaxingly,
+as she boldly put her hands upon her father's shoulders and turned her
+face in all its wondrous beauty and childish innocence of expression up to
+his. "Ask Malcolm to tell you whatever you wish to know." She was sure
+that her father had told me what she had been so anxious to communicate,
+and she felt certain that I would not betray her. She knew that I, whose
+only virtues were that I loved my friend and despised a lie, would
+willingly bear false witness for her sake. She was right. I had caught the
+truth of the situation from Sir George, and I quickly determined to
+perjure my soul, if need be, to help Dorothy. I cannot describe the
+influence this girl at times exerted over me. When under its spell I
+seemed to be a creature of her will, and my power to act voluntarily was
+paralyzed by a strange force emanating from her marvellous vitality. I
+cannot describe it. I tell you only the incontestable fact, and you may
+make out of it whatever you can. I shall again in the course of this
+history have occasion to speak of Dorothy's strange power, and how it was
+exerted over no less a person than Queen Elizabeth.
+
+"Ask Malcolm," repeated the girl, leaning coaxingly upon her father's
+breast. But I was saved from uttering the lie I was willing to tell; for,
+in place of asking me, as his daughter had desired, Sir George demanded
+excitedly of Dorothy, "What have you in your pocket that strikes against
+my knee?"
+
+"Mother of Heaven!" exclaimed Dorothy in a whisper, quickly stepping back
+from her father and slowly lifting her skirt while she reached toward her
+pocket. Her manner was that of one almost bereft of consciousness by
+sudden fright, and an expression of helplessness came over her face which
+filled my heart with pity. She stood during a long tedious moment holding
+with one hand the uplifted skirt, while with the other she clutched the
+key in her pocket.
+
+"What have you in your pocket?" demanded Sir George with a terrible oath.
+"Bring it out, girl. Bring it out, I tell you." Dorothy started to run
+from the room, but her father caught her by the wrist and violently drew
+her to him. "Bring it out, huzzy; it's the key to Bowling Green Gate. Ah,
+I've lost my mind, have I? Blood of Christ! I have not lost my mind yet,
+but I soon shall lose it at this rate," and he certainly looked as if he
+would.
+
+Poor frightened Dorothy was trying to take the key from her pocket, but
+she was too slow to please her angry father, so he grasped the gown and
+tore a great rent whereby the pocket was opened from top to bottom.
+Dorothy still held the key in her hand, but upon the floor lay a piece of
+white paper which had fallen out through the rent Sir George had made in
+the gown. He divined the truth as if by inspiration. The note, he felt
+sure, was from Dorothy's unknown lover. He did not move nor speak for a
+time, and she stood as if paralyzed by fear. She slowly turned her face
+from her father to me, and in a low tone spoke my name, "Malcolm." Her
+voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but so piteous a cry for help I
+have never heard from human lips. Then she stooped, intending to take the
+letter from the floor, and Sir George drew back his arm as if he would
+strike her with his clenched hand. She recoiled from him in terror, and he
+took up the letter, unfolded it, and began to read:--
+
+"Most gracious lady, I thank you for your letter, and with God's help I
+will meet you at Bowling Green Gate--." The girl could endure no more. She
+sprang with a scream toward her father and tried to snatch the letter. Sir
+George drew back, holding firmly to the paper. She followed him
+frantically, not to be thrown off, and succeeded in clutching the letter.
+Sir George violently thrust her from him. In the scuffle that ensued the
+letter was torn, and the lower portion of the sheet remained in Dorothy's
+hand. She ran to the fireplace, intending to thrust the fragment into the
+fire, but she feared that her father might rescue it from the ashes. She
+glanced at the piece of paper, and saw that the part she had succeeded in
+snatching from her father bore John's name. Sir George strode hurriedly
+across the room toward her and she ran to me.
+
+"Malcolm! Malcolm!" she cried in terror. The cry was like a shriek. Then I
+saw her put the paper in her mouth. When she reached me she threw herself
+upon my breast and clung to me with her arms about my neck. She trembled
+as a single leaf among the thousands that deck a full-leaved tree may
+tremble upon a still day, moved by a convulsive force within itself. While
+she clung to me her glorious bust rose and fell piteously, and her
+wondrous eyes dilated and shone with a marvellous light. The expression
+was the output of her godlike vitality, strung to its greatest tension.
+Her face was pale, but terror dominated all the emotions it expressed. Her
+fear, however, was not for herself. The girl, who would have snapped her
+fingers at death, saw in the discovery which her father was trying to
+make, loss to her of more than life. That which she had possessed for less
+than one brief hour was about to be taken from her. She had not enjoyed
+even one little moment alone in which to brood her new-found love, and to
+caress the sweet thought of it. The girl had but a brief instant of rest
+in my arms till Sir George dragged her from me by his terrible strength.
+
+"Where is the paper?" he cried in rage. "It contained the fellow's
+signature."
+
+"I have swallowed it, father, and you must cut me open to find it.
+Doubtless that would be a pleasant task for you," answered Dorothy, who
+was comparatively calm now that she knew her father could not discover
+John's name. I believe Sir George in his frenzy would have killed the girl
+had he then learned that the letter was from John Manners.
+
+"I command you to tell me this fellow's name," said Sir George, with a
+calmness born of tempest. Dorothy did not answer, and Sir George continued
+"I now understand how you came by the golden heart. You lied to me and
+told me that Malcolm had given it to you. Lie upon lie. In God's name I
+swear that I would rather father a thief than a liar."
+
+"I did give her the heart, Sir George," I said, interrupting him. "It was
+my mother's." I had caught the lying infection. But Sir George, in his
+violence, was a person to incite lies. He of course had good cause for his
+anger. Dorothy had lied to him. Of that there could be no doubt; but her
+deception was provoked by his own conduct and by the masterful love that
+had come upon her. I truly believe that prior to the time of her meeting
+with Manners she had never spoken an untruth, nor since that time I also
+believe, except when driven to do so by the same motive. Dorothy was not a
+thief, but I am sure she would have stolen for the sake of her lover. She
+was gentle and tender to a degree that only a woman can attain; but I
+believe she would have done murder in cold blood for the sake of her love.
+Some few women there are in whose hearts God has placed so great an ocean
+of love that when it reaches its flood all other attributes of heart and
+soul and mind are ingulfed in its mighty flow. Of this rare class was
+Dorothy.
+
+"God is love," says the Book.
+
+"The universe is God," says the philosopher. "Therefore," as the
+mathematician would say, "love is the universe." To that proposition
+Dorothy was a corollary.
+
+The servants were standing open-eyed about us in the kitchen.
+
+"Let us go to the dining hall," I suggested. Sir George led the way by the
+stone steps to the screens, and from the screens to the small banquet
+hail, and I followed, leading Dorothy by the hand.
+
+The moment of respite from her father's furious attack gave her time in
+which to collect her scattered senses.
+
+When we reached the banquet hall, and after I had closed the door, Sir
+George turned upon his daughter, and with oath upon oath demanded to know
+the name of her lover. Dorothy stood looking to the floor and said
+nothing. Sir George strode furiously to and fro across the room.
+
+"Curse the day you were born, you wanton huzzy. Curse you! curse you! Tell
+me the name of the man who wrote this letter," he cried, holding toward
+her the fragment of paper. "Tell me his name or, I swear it before God, I
+swear it upon my knighthood, I will have you flogged in the upper court
+till you bleed. I would do it if you were fifty times my child."
+
+Then Dorothy awakened. The girl was herself again. Now it was only for
+herself she had to fear.
+
+Her heart kept saying, "This for his sake, this for his sake." Out of her
+love came fortitude, and out of her fortitude came action.
+
+Her father's oath had hardly been spoken till the girl tore her bodice
+from her shoulders. She threw the garment to the floor and said:--
+
+"I am ready for the whip, I am ready. Who is to do the deed, father, you
+or the butcher? It must be done. You have sworn it, and I swear before God
+and by my maidenhood that I will not tell you the name of the man who
+wrote the letter. I love him, and before I will tell you his name or
+forego his love for me, or before I will abate one jot or tittle of my
+love for him, I will gladly die by the whip in your hand. I am ready for
+the whip, father. I am ready. Let us have it over quickly."
+
+The girl, whose shoulders were bare, took a few steps toward the door
+leading to the upper court, but Sir George did not move. I was deeply
+affected by the terrible scene, and I determined to prevent the flogging
+if to do so should cost Sir George's life at my hands. I would have
+killed him ere he should have laid a single lash of the whip upon
+Dorothy's back.
+
+"Father," continued the terrible girl, "are you not going to flog me?
+Remember your oaths. Surely you would not be forsworn before God and upon
+your knighthood. A forsworn Christian? A forsworn knight? A forsworn
+Vernon? The lash, father, the lash--I am eager for it."
+
+Sir George stood in silence, and Dorothy continued to move toward the
+door. Her face was turned backward over her shoulder to her father, and
+she whispered the words, "Forsworn, forsworn, forsworn!"
+
+As she put her hand on the latch the piteous old man held forth his arms
+toward her and in a wail of agony cried: "Doll! Doll! My daughter! My
+child! God help me!"
+
+He covered his face with his hands, his great form shook for a moment as
+the tree trembles before the fall, and he fell prone to the floor sobbing
+forth the anguish of which his soul was full.
+
+In an instant Dorothy was by her father's side holding his head upon her
+lap. She covered his face with her kisses, and while the tears streamed
+from her eyes she spoke incoherent words of love and repentance.
+
+"I will tell you all, father; I will tell you all. I will give him up; I
+will see him never again. I will try not to love him. Oh, father, forgive
+me, forgive me. I will never again deceive you so long as I live."
+
+Truly the fate of an overoath is that it shall be broken. When one swears
+to do too much, one performs too little.
+
+I helped Sir George rise to his feet.
+
+Dorothy, full of tenderness and in tears, tried to take his hand, but he
+repulsed her rudely, and uttering terrible oaths coupled with her name
+quitted the room with tottering steps.
+
+When her father had gone Dorothy stood in revery for a little time, and
+then looking toward the door through which her father had just passed, she
+spoke as if to herself: "He does not know. How fortunate!"
+
+"But you said you would tell him," I suggested. "You said you would give
+him up."
+
+Dorothy was in a deep revery. She took her bodice from the floor and
+mechanically put it on.
+
+"I know I said I would tell my father, and I offered to give--give him
+up," she replied; "but I will do neither. Father would not meet my love
+with love. He would not forgive me, nor would he accept my repentance when
+it was he who should have repented. I was alarmed and grieved for father's
+sake when I said that I would tell him about--about John, and would give
+him up." She was silent and thoughtful for a little time. "Give him up?"
+she cried defiantly. "No, not for my soul; not for ten thousand thousand
+souls. When my father refused my love, he threw away the only opportunity
+he shall ever have to learn from me John's name. That I swear, and I shall
+never be forsworn. I asked father's forgiveness when he should have begged
+for mine. Whip me in the courtyard, would he, till I should bleed! Yet I
+was willing to forgive him, and he would not accept my forgiveness. I was
+willing to forego John, who is more than life to me; but my father would
+not accept my sacrifice. Truly will I never be so great a fool the second
+time. Malcolm, I will not remain here to be the victim of another insult
+such as my father put upon me to-day. There is no law, human or divine,
+that gives to a parent the right to treat his daughter as my father has
+used me. Before this day my conscience smote me when I deceived him, and I
+suffered pain if I but thought of my father. But now, thanks to his
+cruelty, I may be happy without remorse. Malcolm, if you betray me, I
+will--I will kill you if I must follow you over the world to do it."
+
+"Do you think that I deserve that threat from you, Dorothy?" I asked.
+
+"No, no, my dear friend, forgive me. I trust you," and she caught up my
+hand and kissed it gently.
+
+Dorothy and I remained in the banquet hail, seated upon the stone bench
+under the blazoned window.
+
+Soon Sir George returned, closely followed by two men, one of whom bore
+manacles such as were used to secure prisoners in the dungeon. Sir George
+did not speak. He turned to the men and motioned with his hand toward
+Dorothy. I sprang to my feet, intending to interfere by force, if need be,
+to prevent the outrage; but before I could speak Lady Crawford hurriedly
+entered the hall and ran to Sir George's side.
+
+"Brother," she said, "old Bess has just told me that you have given orders
+for Dorothy's confinement in the dungeon. I could not believe Bess; but
+these men with irons lead me to suspect that you really intend.--"
+
+"Do not interfere in affairs that do not concern you," replied Sir George,
+sullenly.
+
+"But this does concern me greatly," said Aunt Dorothy, "and if you send
+Doll to the dungeon, Madge and I will leave your house and will proclaim
+your act to all England."
+
+"The girl has disobeyed me and has lied to me, and--"
+
+"I care not what she has done, I shall leave your house and disown you for
+my brother if you perpetrate this outrage upon my niece. She is dear to me
+as if she were my own child. Have I not brought her up since babyhood? If
+you carry out this order, brother, I will leave Haddon Hall forever."
+
+"And I'll go with her," cried old Bess, who stood at the door of the
+screens.
+
+"And I, too," said Dawson, who was one of the men who had entered with Sir
+George.
+
+"And I," cried the other man, throwing the manacles to the floor, "I will
+leave your service."
+
+Sir George took up the manacles and moved toward Dorothy.
+
+"You may all go, every cursed one of you. I rule my own house, and I will
+have no rebels in it. When I have finished with this perverse wench, I'll
+not wait for you to go. I'll drive you all out and you may go to--"
+
+He was approaching Dorothy, but I stepped in front of him.
+
+"This must not be, Sir George," said I, sternly. "I shall not leave Haddon
+Hall, and I fear you not. I shall remain here to protect your daughter and
+you from your own violence. You cannot put me out of Haddon Hall; I will
+not go."
+
+"Why cannot I put you out of Haddon Hail?" retorted Sir George, whose rage
+by that time was frightful to behold.
+
+"Because, sir, I am a better man and a better swordsman than you are, and
+because you have not on all your estates a servant nor a retainer who will
+not join me against you when I tell them the cause I champion."
+
+Dawson and his fellow stepped to my side significantly, and Sir George
+raised the iron manacles as if intending to strike me. I did not move. At
+the same moment Madge entered the room.
+
+"Where is my uncle?" she asked.
+
+Old Bess led her to Sir George. She spoke not a word, but placed her arms
+gently about his neck and drew his face down to hers. Then she kissed him
+softly upon the lips and said:--
+
+"My uncle has never in all his life spoken in aught but kindness to me,
+and now I beg him to be kind to Dorothy."
+
+The heavy manacles fell clanking to the floor. Sir George placed his hand
+caressingly upon Madge's head and turned from Dorothy.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Lady Crawford then approached her brother and put her hand upon his arm,
+saying:--
+
+"Come with me, George, that I may speak to you in private."
+
+She moved toward the door by which she had entered, and Madge quietly took
+her uncle's hand and led him after Lady Crawford. Within five minutes Sir
+George, Aunt Dorothy, and Madge returned to the room.
+
+"Dorothy?" said Madge in a low voice.
+
+"Here I am, Madge," murmured Dorothy, who was sitting on the bench by the
+blazoned window. Madge walked gropingly over to her cousin and sat by her
+side, taking her hand. Then Lady Crawford spoke to Dorothy:--
+
+"Your father wishes me to say that you must go to your apartments in
+Entrance Tower, and that you shall not leave them without his consent. He
+also insists that I say to you if you make resistance or objection to this
+decree, or if you attempt to escape, he will cause you to be manacled and
+confined in the dungeon, and that no persuasion upon our part will lead
+him from his purpose."
+
+"Which shall it be?" asked Sir George, directing his question to Lady
+Crawford.
+
+Dorothy lifted her eyebrows, bit the corner of her lip, shrugged her
+shoulders, and said:--
+
+"Indeed, it makes no difference to me where you send me, father; I am
+willing to do whatever will give you the greatest happiness. If you
+consult my wishes, you will have me whipped in the courtyard till I bleed.
+I should enjoy that more than anything else you can do. Ah, how tender is
+the love of a father! It passeth understanding."
+
+"Come to your apartments, Dorothy," said Lady Crawford, anxious to
+separate the belligerents. "I have given your father my word of honor that
+I will guard you and will keep you prisoner in your rooms. Do you not pity
+me? I gave my promise only to save you from the dungeon, and painful as
+the task will be, I will keep my word to your father."
+
+"Which shall it be, father?" asked Dorothy. "You shall finish the task you
+began. I shall not help you in your good work by making choice. You shall
+choose my place of imprisonment. Where shall it be? Shall I go to my rooms
+or to the dungeon?"
+
+"Go to your rooms," answered Sir George, "and let me never see--" but Sir
+George did not finish the sentence. He hurriedly left the hall, and
+Dorothy cheerfully went to imprisonment in Entrance Tower.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+MALCOLM No. 2
+
+
+Sir George had done a bad day's work. He had hardened Dorothy's heart
+against himself and had made it more tender toward John. Since her father
+had treated her so cruelly, she felt she was at liberty to give her heart
+to John without stint. So when once she was alone in her room the
+flood-gates of her heart were opened, and she poured forth the ineffable
+tenderness and the passionate longings with which she was filled. With
+solitude came the memory of John's words and John's kisses. She recalled
+every movement, every word, every tone, every sensation. She gave her soul
+unbridled license to feast with joyous ecstasy upon the thrilling
+memories. All thoughts of her father's cruelty were drowned in a sea of
+bliss. She forgot him. In truth, she forgot everything but her love and
+her lover. That evening, after she had assisted Madge to prepare for bed,
+as was her custom, Dorothy stood before her mirror making her toilet for
+the night. In the flood of her newly found ecstasy she soon forgot that
+Madge was in the room.
+
+Dorothy stood before her mirror with her face near to its polished
+surface, that she might scrutinize every feature, and, if possible, verify
+John's words.
+
+"He called me 'my beauty' twice," she thought, "and 'my Aphrodite' once."
+Then her thoughts grew into unconscious words, and she spoke aloud:--
+
+"I wish he could see me now." And she blushed at the thought, as she
+should have done. "He acted as if he meant all he said," she thought. "I
+know he meant it. I trust him entirely. But if he should change? Holy
+Mother, I believe I should die. But I do believe him. He would not lie,
+even though he is not a Vernon."
+
+With thoughts of the scene between herself and her father at the gate,
+there came a low laugh, half of amusement, half of contentment, and the
+laugh meant a great deal that was to be regretted; it showed a sad change
+in Dorothy's heart. But yesterday the memory of her deceit would have
+filled her with grief. To-night she laughed at it. Ah, Sir George!
+Pitiable old man! While your daughter laughs, you sigh and groan and moan,
+and your heart aches with pain and impotent rage. Even drink fails to
+bring comfort to you. I say impotent rage, because Dorothy is out of your
+reach, and as surely as the sun rises in the east she is lost to you
+forever. The years of protection and tender love which you have given to
+her go for nothing. Now comes the son of your mortal enemy, and you are
+but an obstruction in her path. Your existence is forgotten while she
+revels in the memory of his words, his embraces, and his lips. She laughs
+while you suffer, in obedience to the fate that Heaven has decreed for
+those who bring children into this world.
+
+Who is to blame for the pitiable mite which children give in return for a
+parent's flood of love? I do not know, but of this I am sure: if parents
+would cease to feel that they own their children in common with their
+horses, their estates, and their cattle; if they would not, as many do in
+varying degrees, treat their children as their property, the return of
+love would be far more adequate than it is.
+
+Dorothy stood before her mirror plaiting her hair. Her head was turned
+backward a little to one side that she might more easily reach the great
+red golden skein. In that entrancing attitude the reflection of the nether
+lip of which John had spoken so fondly came distinctly to Dorothy's
+notice. She paused in the braiding of her hair and held her face close to
+the mirror that she might inspect the lip, whose beauty John had so
+ardently admired. She turned her face from one side to the other that she
+might view it from all points, and then she thrust it forward with a
+pouting movement that would have set the soul of a mummy pulsing if he had
+ever been a man. She stood for a moment in contemplation of the full red
+lip, and then resting her hands upon the top of the mirror table leaned
+forward and kissed its reflected image.
+
+Again forgetfulness fell upon her and her thoughts grew into words.
+
+"He was surely right concerning my lower lip," she said, speaking to
+herself. Then without the least apparent relevance, "He had been smoking."
+Again her words broke her revery, and she took up the unfinished braid of
+hair. When she did so, she caught a glimpse of her arm which was as
+perfectly rounded as the fairest marble of Phidias. She stretched the arm
+to its full length that the mirror might reflect its entire beauty. Again
+she thought aloud: "I wish he could see my arm. Perhaps some day--" But
+the words ceased, and in their place came a flush that spread from her
+hair to her full white throat, and she quickly turned the mirror away so
+that even it should not behold her beauty.
+
+You see after all is told Dorothy was modest.
+
+She finished her toilet without the aid of her mirror; but before she
+extinguished the candle she stole one more fleeting glance at its polished
+surface, and again came the thought, "Perhaps some day--" Then she covered
+the candle, and amid enfolding darkness lay down beside Madge, full of
+thoughts and sensations that made her tremble; for they were strange to
+her, and she knew not what they meant.
+
+Dorothy thought that Madge was asleep, but after a few minutes the latter
+said:--
+
+"Tell me, Dorothy, who was on fire?"
+
+"Who was on fire?" asked Dorothy in surprise. "What do you mean, Madge?"
+
+"I hope they have not been trying to burn any one," said Madge.
+
+"What do you mean?" again asked Dorothy.
+
+"You said 'He had been smoking,'" responded Madge.
+
+"Oh," laughed Dorothy, "that is too comical. Of course not, dear one. I
+was speaking of--of a man who had been smoking tobacco, as Malcolm does."
+Then she explained the process of tobacco smoking.
+
+"Yes, I know," answered Madge. "I saw Malcolm's pipe. That is, I held it
+in my hands for a moment while he explained to me its use."
+
+Silence ensued for a moment, and Madge again spoke:--
+
+"What was it he said about your lower lip, and who was he? I did not learn
+why Uncle George wished to confine you in the dungeon. I am so sorry that
+this trouble has come upon you."
+
+"Trouble, Madge?" returned Dorothy. "Truly, you do not understand. No
+trouble has come upon me. The greatest happiness of my life has come to
+pass. Don't pity me. Envy me. My happiness is so sweet and so great that
+it frightens me."
+
+"How can you be happy while your father treats you so cruelly?" asked
+Madge.
+
+"His conduct makes it possible for my happiness to be complete," returned
+Dorothy. "If he were kind to me, I should be unhappy, but his cruelty
+leaves me free to be as happy as I may. For my imprisonment in this room I
+care not a farthing. It does not trouble me, for when I wish to see--see
+him again, I shall do so. I don't know at this time just how I shall
+effect it; but be sure, sweet one, I shall find a way." There was no doubt
+in Madge's mind that Dorothy would find a way.
+
+"Who is he, Dorothy? You may trust me. Is he the gentleman whom we met at
+Derby-town?"
+
+"Yes," answered Dorothy, "he is Sir John Manners."
+
+"Dorothy!" exclaimed Madge in tones of fear.
+
+"It could not be worse, could it, Madge?" said Dorothy.
+
+"Oh, Dorothy!" was the only response.
+
+"You will not betray me?" asked Dorothy, whose alarm made her suspicious.
+
+"You know whether or not I will betray you," answered Madge.
+
+"Indeed, I know, else I should not have told you my secret. Oh, you should
+see him, Madge; he is the most beautiful person living. The poor soft
+beauty of the fairest woman grows pale beside him. You cannot know how
+wonderfully beautiful a man may be. You have never seen one."
+
+"Yes, I have seen many men, and I well remember their appearance. I was
+twelve years old, you know, when I lost my sight."
+
+"But, Madge," said Dorothy, out of the fulness of her newly acquired
+knowledge, "a girl of twelve cannot see a man."
+
+"No woman sees with her eyes the man whom she loves," answered Madge,
+quietly.
+
+"How does she see him?" queried Dorothy.
+
+"With her heart."
+
+"Have you, too, learned that fact?" asked Dorothy.
+
+Madge hesitated for a moment and murmured "Yes."
+
+"Who is he, dear one?" whispered Dorothy.
+
+"I may not tell even you, Dorothy," replied Madge, "because it can come
+to nothing. The love is all on my part."
+
+Dorothy insisted, but Madge begged her not to ask for her secret.
+
+"Please don't even make a guess concerning him," said Madge. "It is my
+shame and my joy."
+
+It looked as if this malady which had fallen upon Dorothy were like the
+plague that infects a whole family if one but catch it.
+
+Dorothy, though curious, was generous, and remained content with Madge's
+promise that she should be the first one to hear the sweet story if ever
+the time should come to tell it.
+
+"When did you see him?" asked Madge, who was more willing to receive than
+to impart intelligence concerning affairs of the heart.
+
+"To-day," answered Dorothy. Then she told Madge about the scenes at the
+gate and described what had happened between her and Sir George in the
+kitchen and banquet hall.
+
+"How could you tell your father such a falsehood?" asked Madge in
+consternation.
+
+"It was very easy. You see I had to do it. I never lied until recently.
+But oh, Madge, this is a terrible thing to come upon a girl!" "This" was
+somewhat indefinite, but Madge understood, and perhaps it will be clear to
+you what Dorothy meant. The girl continued: "She forgets all else. It will
+drive her to do anything, however wicked. For some strange cause, under
+its influence she does not feel the wrong she does. It acts upon a girl's
+sense of right and wrong as poppy juice acts on pain. Before it came upon
+me in--in such terrible force, I believe I should have become ill had I
+told my father a falsehood. I might have equivocated, or I might have
+evaded the truth in some slight degree, but I could not have told a lie.
+But now it is as easy as winking."
+
+"And I fear, Dorothy," responded Madge, "that winking is very easy for
+you."
+
+"Yes," answered candid Dorothy with a sigh.
+
+"It must be a very great evil," said Madge, deploringly.
+
+"One might well believe so," answered Dorothy, "but it is not. One
+instinctively knows it to be the essence of all that is good."
+
+Madge asked, "Did Sir John tell you that--that he--"
+
+"Yes," said Dorothy, covering her face even from the flickering rays of
+the rushlight.
+
+"Did you tell him?"
+
+"Yes," came in reply from under the coverlet.
+
+After a short silence Dorothy uncovered her face.
+
+"Yes," she said boldly, "I told him plainly; nor did I feel shame in so
+doing. It must be that this strange love makes one brazen. You, Madge,
+would die with shame had you sought any man as I have sought John. I would
+not for worlds tell you how bold and over-eager I have been."
+
+"Oh, Dorothy!" was all the answer Madge gave.
+
+"You would say 'Oh, Dorothy,' many times if you knew all." Another pause
+ensued, after which Madge asked:--
+
+"How did you know he had been smoking?"
+
+"I--I tasted it," responded Dorothy.
+
+"How could you taste it? I hope you did not smoke?" returned Madge in
+wonderment.
+
+Dorothy smothered a little laugh, made two or three vain attempts to
+explain, tenderly put her arms about Madge's neck and kissed her.
+
+"Oh, Dorothy, that certainly was wrong," returned Madge, although she had
+some doubts in her own mind upon the point.
+
+"Well, if it is wrong," answered Dorothy, sighing, "I don't care to live."
+
+"Dorothy, I fear you are an immodest girl," said Madge.
+
+"I fear I am, but I don't care--John, John, John!"
+
+"How came he to speak of your lower lip?" asked Madge. "It certainly is
+very beautiful; but how came he to speak of it?"
+
+"It was after--after--once," responded Dorothy.
+
+"And your arm," continued remorseless Madge, "how came he to speak of it?
+You surely did not--"
+
+"No, no, Madge; I hope you do not think I would show him my arm. I have
+not come to that. I have a poor remnant of modesty left; but the Holy
+Mother only knows how long it will last. No, he did not speak of my arm."
+
+"You spoke of your arm when you were before the mirror," responded Madge,
+"and you said, 'Perhaps some day--'"
+
+"Oh, don't, Madge. Please spare me. I indeed fear I am very wicked. I will
+say a little prayer to the Virgin to-night. She will hear me, even If I am
+wicked; and she will help me to become good and modest again."
+
+The girls went to sleep, and Dorothy dreamed "John, John, John," and
+slumbered happily.
+
+That part of the building of Haddon Hall which lies to the northward, west
+of the kitchen, consists of rooms according to the following plan:--
+
+The two rooms in Entrance Tower over the great doors at the northwest
+corner of Haddon Hall were occupied by Dorothy and Madge. The west room
+overlooking the Wye was their parlor. The next room to the east was their
+bedroom. The room next their bedroom was occupied by Lady Crawford. Beyond
+that was Sir George's bedroom, and east of his room was one occupied by
+the pages and two retainers. To enter Dorothy's apartments one must pass
+through all the other rooms I have mentioned. Her windows were twenty-five
+feet from the ground and were barred with iron. After Dorothy's sentence
+of imprisonment, Lady Crawford, or some trusted person in her place, was
+always on guard in Aunt Dorothy's room to prevent Dorothy's escape, and
+guards were also stationed in the retainer's room for the same purpose. I
+tell you this that you may understand the difficulties Dorothy would have
+to overcome before she could see John, as she declared to Madge she would.
+But my opinion is that there are no limits to the resources of a wilful
+girl. Dorothy saw Manners. The plan she conceived to bring about the
+desired end was so seemingly impossible, and her execution of it was so
+adroit and daring, that I believe it will of itself interest you in the
+telling, aside from the bearing it has upon this history. No sane man
+would have deemed it possible, but this wilful girl carried it to
+fruition. She saw no chance of failure. To her it seemed a simple, easy
+matter. Therefore she said with confidence and truth, "I will see him when
+I wish to."
+
+Let me tell you of it.
+
+During Dorothy's imprisonment I spent an hour or two each evening with her
+and Madge at their parlor in the tower. The windows of the room, as I have
+told you, faced westward, overlooking the Wye, and disclosed the
+beautiful, undulating scenery of Overhaddon Hill in the distance.
+
+One afternoon when Madge was not present Dorothy asked me to bring her a
+complete suit of my garments,--boots, hose, trunks, waistcoat, and
+doublet. I laughed, and asked her what she wanted with them, but she
+refused to tell me. She insisted, however, and I promised to fetch the
+garments to her. Accordingly the next evening I delivered the bundle to
+her hands. Within a week she returned them all, saving the boots. Those
+she kept--for what reason I could not guess.
+
+Lady Crawford, by command of Sir George, carried in her reticule the key
+of the door which opened from her own room into Sir George's apartments,
+and the door was always kept locked.
+
+Dorothy had made several attempts to obtain possession of the key, with
+intent, I believe, of making a bold dash for liberty. But Aunt Dorothy,
+mindful of Sir George's wrath and fearing him above all men, acted
+faithfully her part of gaoler. She smiled, half in sadness, when she told
+me of the girl's simplicity in thinking she could hoodwink a person of
+Lady Crawford's age, experience, and wisdom. The old lady took great pride
+in her own acuteness. The distasteful task of gaoler, however, pained good
+Aunt Dorothy, whose simplicity was, in truth, no match for Dorothy's
+love-quickened cunning. But Aunt Dorothy's sense of duty and her fear of
+Sir George impelled her to keep good and conscientious guard.
+
+One afternoon near the hour of sunset I knocked for admission at Lady
+Crawford's door. When I had entered she locked the door carefully after
+me, and replaced the key in the reticule which hung at her girdle.
+
+I exchanged a few words with her Ladyship, and entered Dorothy's bedroom,
+where I left my cloak, hat, and sword. The girls were in the parlor. When
+I left Lady Crawford she again took her chair near the candle, put on her
+great bone-rimmed spectacles, and was soon lost to the world in the pages
+of "Sir Philip de Comynges." The dear old lady was near-sighted and was
+slightly deaf. Dorothy's bedroom, like Lady Crawford's apartments, was in
+deep shadow. In it there was no candle.
+
+My two fair friends were seated in one of the west windows watching the
+sunset. They rose, and each gave me her hand and welcomed me with the rare
+smiles I had learned to expect from them. I drew a chair near to the
+window and we talked and laughed together merrily for a few minutes. After
+a little time Dorothy excused herself, saying that she would leave Madge
+and me while she went into the bedroom to make a change in her apparel.
+
+Madge and I sat for a few minutes at the window, and I said, "You have not
+been out to-day for exercise."
+
+I had ridden to Derby with Sir George and had gone directly on my return
+to see my two young friends. Sir George had not returned.
+
+"Will you walk with me about the room?" I asked. My real reason for making
+the suggestion was that I longed to clasp her hand, and to feel its
+velvety touch, since I should lead her if we walked.
+
+She quickly rose in answer to my invitation and offered me her hand. As we
+walked to and fro a deep, sweet contentment filled my heart, and I felt
+that any words my lips could coin would but mar the ineffable silence.
+
+Never shall I forget the soft light of that gloaming as the darkening red
+rays of the sinking sun shot through the panelled window across the floor
+and illumined the tapestry upon the opposite wall.
+
+The tapestries of Haddon Hall are among the most beautiful in England, and
+the picture upon which the sun's rays fell was that of a lover kneeling at
+the feet of his mistress. Madge and I passed and repassed the illumined
+scene, and while it was softly fading into shadow a great flood of tender
+love for the girl whose soft hand I held swept over my heart. It was the
+noblest motive I had ever felt.
+
+Moved by an impulse I could not resist, I stopped in our walk, and falling
+to my knee pressed her hand ardently to my lips. Madge did not withdraw
+her hand, nor did she attempt to raise me. She stood in passive silence.
+The sun's rays had risen as the sun had sunk, and the light was falling
+like a holy radiance from the gates of paradise upon the girl's head. I
+looked upward, and never in my eyes had woman's face appeared so fair and
+saintlike. She seemed to see me and to feel the silent outpouring of my
+affection. I rose to my feet, and clasping both her hands spoke only her
+name "Madge."
+
+She answered simply, "Malcolm, is it possible?" And her face, illumined by
+the sunlight and by the love-god, told me all else. Then I gently took her
+to my arms and kissed her lips again and again and again, and Madge by no
+sign nor gesture said me nay. She breathed a happy sigh, her head fell
+upon my breast, and all else of good that the world could offer compared
+with her was dross to me.
+
+We again took our places by the window, since now I might hold her hand
+without an excuse. By the window we sat, speaking little, through the
+happiest hour of my I life. How dearly do I love to write about it, and to
+lave my soul in the sweet aromatic essence of its memory. But my
+rhapsodies must have an end.
+
+When Dorothy left me with Madge at the window she entered her bedroom and
+quickly arrayed herself in garments which were facsimiles of those I had
+lent her. Then she put her feet into my boots and donned my hat and cloak.
+She drew my gauntleted gloves over her hands, buckled my sword to her slim
+waist, pulled down the broad rim of my soft beaver hat over her face, and
+turned up the collar of my cloak. Then she adjusted about her chin and
+upper lip a black chin beard and moustachio, which she had in some manner
+contrived to make, and, in short, prepared to enact the role of Malcolm
+Vernon before her watchful gaoler, Aunt Dorothy.
+
+While sitting silently with Madge I heard the clanking of my sword against
+the oak floor in Dorothy's bedroom. I supposed she had been toying with it
+and had let it fall. She was much of a child, and nothing could escape her
+curiosity. Then I heard the door open into Aunt Dorothy's apartments. I
+whispered to Madge requesting her to remain silently by the window, and
+then I stepped softly over to the door leading into the bedroom. I
+noiselessly opened the door and entered. From my dark hiding-place in
+Dorothy's bedroom I witnessed a scene in Aunt Dorothy's room which filled
+me with wonder and suppressed laughter. Striding about in the
+shadow-darkened portions of Lady Crawford's apartment was my other self,
+Malcolm No. 2, created from the flesh and substance of Dorothy Vernon.
+
+The sunlight was yet abroad, though into Lady Crawford's room its slanting
+rays but dimly entered at that hour, and the apartment was in deep shadow,
+save for the light of one flickering candle, close to the flame of which
+the old lady was holding the pages of the book she was laboriously
+perusing.
+
+The girl held her hand over her mouth trumpet-wise that her voice might be
+deepened, and the swagger with which she strode about the room was the
+most graceful and ludicrous movement I ever beheld. I wondered if she
+thought she was imitating my walk, and I vowed that if her step were a
+copy of mine, I would straightway amend my pace.
+
+"What do you read, Lady Crawford?" said my cloak and hat, in tones that
+certainly were marvellously good imitations of my voice.
+
+"What do you say, Malcolm?" asked the deaf old lady, too gentle to show
+the ill-humor she felt because of the interruption to her reading.
+
+"I asked what do you read?" repeated Dorothy.
+
+"The 'Chronicle of Sir Philip de Comynges,'" responded Lady Crawford.
+"Have you read it? It is a rare and interesting history."
+
+"Ah, indeed, it is a rare book, a rare book. I have read it many times."
+There was no need for that little fabrication, and it nearly brought
+Dorothy into trouble.
+
+"What part of the 'Chronicle' do you best like?" asked Aunt Dorothy,
+perhaps for lack of anything else to say. Here was trouble already for
+Malcolm No. 2.
+
+"That is hard for me to say. I so well like it all. Perhaps--ah--perhaps I
+prefer the--the ah--the middle portion."
+
+"Ah, you like that part which tells the story of Mary of Burgundy,"
+returned Aunt Dorothy. "Oh, Malcolm, I know upon what theme you are always
+thinking--the ladies, the ladies."
+
+"Can the fair Lady Crawford chide me for that?" my second self responded
+in a gallant style of which I was really proud. "She who has caused so
+much of that sort of thought surely must know that a gentleman's mind
+cannot be better employed than--"
+
+"Malcolm, you are incorrigible. But it is well for a gentleman to keep in
+practice in such matters, even though he have but an old lady to practise
+on."
+
+"They like it, even if it be only practice, don't they?" said Dorothy,
+full of the spirit of mischief.
+
+"I thank you for nothing, Sir Malcolm Vernon," retorted Aunt Dorothy with
+a toss of her head. "I surely don't value your practice, as you call it,
+one little farthing's worth."
+
+But Malcolm No. 2, though mischievously inclined, was much quicker of wit
+than Malcolm No. 1, and she easily extricated herself.
+
+"I meant that gentlemen like it, Lady Crawford."
+
+"Oh!" replied Lady Crawford, again taking up her book. "I have been
+reading Sir Philip's account of the death of your fair Mary of Burgundy.
+Do you remember the cause of her death?"
+
+Malcolm No. 2, who had read Sir Philip so many times, was compelled to
+admit that he did not remember the cause of Mary's death.
+
+"You did not read the book with attention," replied Lady Crawford. "Sir
+Philip says that Mary of Burgundy died from an excess of modesty."
+
+"That disease will never depopulate England," was the answer that came
+from my garments, much to my chagrin.
+
+"Sir Malcolm," exclaimed the old lady, "I never before heard so ungallant
+a speech from your lips."--"And," thought I, "she never will hear its like
+from me."
+
+"Modesty," continued Lady Crawford, "may not be valued so highly by young
+women nowadays as it was in the time of my youth, but--"
+
+"I am sure it is not," interrupted Dorothy.
+
+"But," continued Lady Crawford, "the young women of England are modest and
+seemly in their conduct, and they do not deserve to be spoken of in
+ungallant jest."
+
+I trembled lest Dorothy should ruin my reputation for gallantry.
+
+"Do you not," said Lady Crawford, "consider Dorothy and Madge to be
+modest, well-behaved maidens?"
+
+"Madge! Ah, surely she is all that a maiden should be. She is a saint, but
+as to Dorothy--well, my dear Lady Crawford, I predict another end for her
+than death from modesty. I thank Heaven the disease in its mild form does
+not kill. Dorothy has it mildly," then under her breath, "if at all."
+
+The girl's sense of humor had vanquished her caution, and for the moment
+it caused her to forget even the reason for her disguise.
+
+"You do not speak fairly of your cousin Dorothy," retorted Lady Crawford.
+"She is a modest girl, and I love her deeply."
+
+"Her father would not agree with you," replied Dorothy.
+
+"Perhaps not," responded the aunt. "Her father's conduct causes me great
+pain and grief."
+
+"It also causes me pain," said Dorothy, sighing.
+
+"But, Malcolm," continued the old lady, putting down her book and turning
+with quickened interest toward my other self, "who, suppose you, is the
+man with whom Dorothy has become so strangely entangled?"
+
+"I cannot tell for the life of me," answered Malcolm No. 2. "Surely a
+modest girl would not act as she does."
+
+"Surely a modest girl would," replied Aunt Dorothy, testily. "Malcolm, you
+know nothing of women."
+
+"Spoken with truth," thought I.
+
+The old lady continued: "Modesty and love have nothing whatever to do with
+each other. When love comes in at the door, modesty flies out at the
+window. I do pity my niece with all my heart, and in good truth I wish I
+could help her, though of course I would not have her know my feeling. I
+feign severity toward her, but I do not hesitate to tell you that I am
+greatly interested in her romance. She surely is deeply in love."
+
+"That is a true word, Aunt Dorothy," said the lovelorn young woman. "I am
+sure she is fathoms deep in love."
+
+"Nothing," said Lady Crawford, "but a great passion would have impelled
+her to act as she did. Why, even Mary of Burgundy, with all her modesty,
+won the husband she wanted, ay, and had him at the cost of half her rich
+domain."
+
+"I wonder if Dorothy will ever have the man she wants?" said Malcolm,
+sighing in a manner entirely new to him.
+
+"No," answered the old lady, "I fear there is no hope for Dorothy. I
+wonder who he is? Her father intends that she shall soon marry Lord
+Stanley. Sir George told me as much this morning when he started for
+Derby-town to arrange for the signing of the marriage contract within a
+day or two. He had a talk yesterday with Dorothy. She, I believe, has
+surrendered to the inevitable, and again there is good feeling between her
+and my brother."
+
+Dorothy tossed her head expressively.
+
+"It is a good match," continued Lady Crawford, "a good match, Malcolm. I
+pity Dorothy; but it is my duty to guard her, and I shall do it
+faithfully."
+
+"My dear Lady Crawford," said my hat and cloak, "your words and feelings
+do great credit to your heart. But have you ever thought that your niece
+is a very wilful girl, and that she is full of disturbing expedients? Now
+I am willing to wager my beard that she will, sooner than you suspect, see
+her lover. And I am also willing to lay a wager that she will marry the
+man of her choice despite all the watchfulness of her father and yourself.
+Keep close guard over her, my lady, or she will escape."
+
+Lady Crawford laughed. "She shall not escape. Have no fear of that,
+Malcolm. The key to the door is always safely locked in my reticule. No
+girl can outwit me. I am too old to be caught unawares by a mere child
+like Dorothy. It makes me laugh, Malcolm--although I am sore at heart for
+Dorothy's sake--it makes me laugh, with a touch of tears, when I think of
+poor simple Dorothy's many little artifices to gain possession of this
+key. They are amusing and pathetic. Poor child! But I am too old to be
+duped by a girl, Malcolm, I am too old. She has no chance to escape."
+
+I said to myself: "No one has ever become too old to be duped by a girl
+who is in love. Her wits grow keen as the otter's fur grows thick for the
+winter's need. I do not know your niece's plan; but if I mistake not, Aunt
+Dorothy, you will in one respect, at least, soon be rejuvenated."
+
+"I am sure Lady Crawford is right in what she says," spoke my other self,
+"and Sir George is fortunate in having for his daughter a guardian who
+cannot be hoodwinked and who is true to a distasteful trust. I would the
+trouble were over and that Dorothy were well married."
+
+"So wish I, Malcolm, with all my heart," replied Aunt Dorothy.
+
+After a brief pause in the conversation Malcolm No. 2 said:--
+
+"I must now take my leave. Will you kindly unlock the door and permit me
+to say good night?"
+
+"If you must go," answered my lady, glad enough to be left alone with her
+beloved Sir Philip. Then she unlocked the door.
+
+"Keep good watch, my dear aunt," said Malcolm. "I greatly fear that
+Dorothy--" but the door closed on the remainder of the sentence and on
+Dorothy Vernon.
+
+"Nonsense!" ejaculated the old lady somewhat impatiently. "Why should he
+fear for Dorothy? I hope I shall not again be disturbed." And soon she was
+deep in the pages of her book.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A TRYST AT BOWLING GREEN GATE
+
+
+I was at a loss what course to pursue, and I remained for a moment in
+puzzling thought. I went back to Madge, and after closing the door, told
+her of all I had seen. She could not advise me, and of course she was
+deeply troubled and concerned. After deliberating, I determined to speak
+to Aunt Dorothy that she might know what had happened. So I opened the
+door and walked into Lady Crawford's presence. After viewing my lady's
+back for a short time, I said:--
+
+"I cannot find my hat, cloak, and sword. I left them in Dorothy's bedroom.
+Has any one been here since I entered?"
+
+The old lady turned quickly upon me, "Since you entered?" she cried in
+wonderment and consternation. "Since you left, you mean. Did you not leave
+this room a few minutes ago? What means this? How found you entrance
+without the key?"
+
+"I did not leave this room, Aunt Dorothy; you see I am here," I responded.
+
+"Who did leave? Your wraith? Some one--Dorothy!" screamed the old lady in
+terror. "That girl!!--Holy Virgin! where is she?"
+
+Lady Crawford hastened to Dorothy's room and returned to me in great
+agitation.
+
+"Were you in the plot?" she demanded angrily.
+
+"No more than were you, Lady Crawford," I replied, telling the exact
+truth. If I were accessory to Dorothy's crime, it was only as a witness
+and Aunt Dorothy had seen as much as I.
+
+I continued: "Dorothy left Lady Madge and me at the window, saying she
+wished to make a change in her garments. I was watching the sunset and
+talking with Lady Madge."
+
+Lady Crawford, being full of concern about the main event,--Dorothy's
+escape,--was easily satisfied that I was not accessory before the fact.
+
+"What shall I do, Malcolm? What shall I do? Help me, quickly. My brother
+will return in the morning--perhaps he will return to-night--and he will
+not believe that I have not intentionally permitted Dorothy to leave the
+Hall. I have of late said so much to him on behalf of the girl that he
+suspects me already of being in sympathy with her. He will not believe me
+when I tell him that I have been duped. The ungrateful, selfish girl! How
+could she so unkindly return my affection!"
+
+The old lady began to weep.
+
+I did not believe that Dorothy intended to leave Haddon Hall permanently.
+I felt confident she had gone out only to meet John, and was sure she
+would soon return. On the strength of that opinion I said: "If you fear
+that Sir George will not believe you--he certainly will blame you--would
+it not be better to admit Dorothy quietly when she returns and say nothing
+to any one concerning the escapade? I will remain here in these rooms, and
+when she returns I will depart, and the guards will never suspect that
+Dorothy has left the Hall."
+
+"If she will but return," wailed Aunt Dorothy, "I shall be only too glad
+to admit her and to keep silent."
+
+"I am sure she will," I answered. "Leave orders with the guard at Sir
+George's door to admit me at any time during the night, and Dorothy will
+come in without being recognized. Her disguise must be very complete if
+she could deceive you."
+
+"Indeed, her disguise is complete," replied the tearful old lady.
+
+Dorothy's disguise was so complete and her resemblance to me had been so
+well contrived that she met with no opposition from the guards in the
+retainer's room nor from the porter. She walked out upon the terrace where
+she strolled for a short time. Then she climbed over the wall at the stile
+back of the terrace and took her way up Bowling Green Hill toward the
+gate. She sauntered leisurely until she was out of sight of the Hall. Then
+gathering up her cloak and sword she sped along the steep path to the hill
+crest and thence to the gate.
+
+Soon after the first day of her imprisonment she had sent a letter to John
+by the hand of Jennie Faxton, acquainting him with the details of all that
+had happened. In her letter, among much else, she said:--
+
+"My true love, I beg you to haunt with your presence Bowling Green Gate
+each day at the hour of sunset. I cannot tell you when I shall be there to
+meet you, or surely I would do so now. But be there I will. Let no doubt
+of that disturb your mind. It does not lie in the power of man to keep me
+from you. That is, it lies in the power of but one man, you, my love and
+my lord, and I fear not that you will use your power to that end. So it is
+that I beg you to wait for me at sunset hour each day near by Bowling
+Green Gate. You may be caused to wait for me a long weary time; but one
+day, sooner or later, I shall go to you, and then--ah, then, if it be in
+my power to reward your patience, you shall have no cause for complaint."
+
+When Dorothy reached the gate she found it securely locked. She peered
+eagerly through the bars, hoping to see John. She tried to shake the
+heavy iron structure to assure herself that it could not be opened.
+
+"Ah, well," she sighed, "I suppose the reason love laughs at locksmiths is
+because he--or she--can climb."
+
+Then she climbed the gate and sprang to the ground on the Devonshire side
+of the wall.
+
+"What will John think when he sees me in this attire?" she said half
+aloud. "Malcolm's cloak serves but poorly to cover me, and I shall instead
+be covered with shame and confusion when John comes. I fear he will think
+I have disgraced myself." Then, with a sigh, "But necessity knows no
+raiment."
+
+She strode about near the gate for a few minutes, wishing that she were
+indeed a man, save for one fact: if she were not a woman, John would not
+love her, and, above all, she could not love John. The fact that she could
+and did love John appealed to Dorothy as the highest, sweetest privilege
+that Heaven or earth could offer to a human being.
+
+The sun had sunk in the west, and his faint parting glory was but dimly to
+be seen upon a few small clouds that floated above Overhaddon Hill. The
+moon was past its half; and the stars, still yellow and pale from the
+lingering glare of day, waited eagerly to give their twinkling help in
+lighting the night. The forest near the gate was dense, and withal the
+fading light of the sun and the dawning beams of the moon and stars, deep
+shadow enveloped Dorothy and all the scene about her. The girl was
+disappointed when she did not see Manners, but she was not vexed. There
+was but one person in all the world toward whom she held a patient, humble
+attitude--John. If he, in his greatness, goodness, and condescension,
+deigned to come and meet so poor a person as Dorothy Vernon, she would be
+thankful and happy; if he did not come, she would be sorrowful. His will
+was her will, and she would come again and again until she should find
+him waiting for her, and he should stoop to lift her into heaven.
+
+If there is a place in all the earth where red warm blood counts for its
+full value, it is in a pure woman's veins. Through self-fear it brings to
+her a proud reserve toward all mankind till the right one comes. Toward
+him it brings an eager humbleness that is the essence and the life of
+Heaven and of love. Poets may praise snowy women as they will, but the
+compelling woman is she of the warm blood. The snowy woman is the lifeless
+seed, the rainless cloud, the unmagnetic lodestone, the drossful iron. The
+great laws of nature affect her but passively. If there is aught in the
+saying of the ancients, "The best only in nature can survive," the day of
+her extermination will come. Fire is as chaste as snow, and infinitely
+more comforting.
+
+Dorothy's patience was not to be tried for long. Five minutes after she
+had climbed the gate she beheld John riding toward her from the direction
+of Rowsley, and her heart beat with thrill upon thrill of joy. She felt
+that the crowning moment of her life was at hand. By the help of a subtle
+sense--familiar spirit to her love perhaps--she knew that John would ask
+her to go with him and to be his wife, despite all the Rutlands and
+Vernons dead, living, or to be born. The thought of refusing him never
+entered her mind. Queen Nature was on the throne in the fulness of power,
+and Dorothy, in perfect attune with her great sovereign, was fulfilling
+her destiny in accordance with the laws to which her drossless being was
+entirely amenable.
+
+Many times had the fear come to her that Sir John Manners, who was heir to
+the great earldom of Rutland,--he who was so great, so good, and so
+beautiful,--might feel that his duty to his house past, present, and
+future, and the obligations of his position among the grand nobles of the
+realm, should deter him from a marriage against which so many good reasons
+could be urged. But this evening her familiar spirit whispered to her that
+she need not fear, and her heart was filled with joy and certainty. John
+dismounted and tethered his horse at a short distance from the gate. He
+approached Dorothy, but halted when he beheld a man instead of the girl
+whom he longed to meet. His hesitancy surprised Dorothy, who, in her
+eagerness, had forgotten her male attire. She soon saw, however, that he
+did not recognize her, and she determined, in a spirit of mischief, to
+maintain her incognito till he should penetrate her disguise.
+
+She turned her back on John and sauntered leisurely about, whistling
+softly. She pretended to be unconscious of his presence, and John, who
+felt that the field was his by the divine right of love, walked to the
+gate and looked through the bars toward Bowling Green. He stood at the
+gate for a short time with indifference in his manner and irritation in
+his heart. He, too, tried to hum a tune, but failed. Then he tried to
+whistle, but his musical efforts were abortive. There was no music in him.
+A moment before his heart had been full of harmony; but when he found a
+man instead of his sweetheart, the harmony quickly turned to rasping
+discord.
+
+John was not a patient man, and his impatience was apt to take the form of
+words and actions. A little aimless stalking about at the gate was more
+than enough for him, so he stepped toward the intruder and lifted his hat.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, "I thought when first I saw you that you
+were Sir Malcolm Vernon. I fancied you bore resemblance to him. I see that
+I was in error."
+
+"Yes, in error," answered my beard.
+
+Again the two gentlemen walked around each other with great amusement on
+the part of one, and with ever increasing vexation on the part of the
+other.
+
+Soon John said, "May I ask whom have I the honor to address?"
+
+"Certainly, you may ask," was the response.
+
+A silence ensued during which Dorothy again turned her back on John and
+walked a few paces away from him. John's patience was rapidly oozing, and
+when the unknown intruder again turned in his direction, John said with
+all the gentleness then at his command:--
+
+"Well, sir, I do ask."
+
+"Your curiosity is flattering," said the girl.
+
+"Pardon me, sir," returned John. "My curiosity is not intended to be
+flattering. I--"
+
+"I hope it is not intended to be insulting, sir?" asked my hat and cloak.
+
+"That, sir, all depends upon yourself," retorted John, warmly. Then after
+an instant of thought, he continued in tones of conciliation:--
+
+"I have an engagement of a private nature at this place. In short, I hope
+to meet a--a friend here within a few minutes and I feel sure that under
+the circumstances so gallant a gentleman as yourself will act with due
+consideration for the feelings of another. I hope and believe that you
+will do as you would be done by."
+
+"Certainly, certainly," responded the gallant. "I find no fault at all
+with your presence. Please take no account whatever of me. I assure you I
+shall not be in the least disturbed."
+
+John was somewhat disconcerted.
+
+"Perhaps you will not be disturbed," replied John, struggling to keep down
+his temper, "but I fear you do not understand me. I hope to meet a--a lady
+and--"
+
+"I hope also to meet a--a friend," the fellow said; "but I assure you we
+shall in no way conflict."
+
+"May I ask," queried John, "if you expect to meet a gentleman or a lady?"
+
+"Certainly you may ask," was the girl's irritating reply.
+
+"Well, well, sir, I do ask," said John. "Furthermore, I demand to know
+whom you expect to meet at this place."
+
+"That, of course, sir, is no business of yours."
+
+"But I shall make it my affair. I expect to meet a lady here, my
+sweetheart." The girl's heart jumped with joy. "And if you have any of the
+feelings of a gentleman, you must know that your presence will be
+intolerable to me."
+
+"Perhaps it will be, my dear sir, but I have as good a right here as you
+or any other. If you must know all about my affairs, I tell you I, too,
+hope to meet my sweetheart at this place. In fact, I know I shall meet my
+sweetheart, and, my good fellow, I beg to inform you that a stranger's
+presence would be very annoying to me."
+
+John was at his wit's end. He must quickly do or say something to persuade
+this stubborn fellow to leave. If Dorothy should come and see two persons
+at the gate she, of course, would return to the Hall. Jennie Faxton, who
+knew that the garments were finished, had told Sir John that he might
+reasonably expect to see Dorothy at the gate on that evening, for Sir
+George had gone to Derby-town, presumably to remain over night.
+
+In sheer desperation John said, "I was here first, and I claim the
+ground."
+
+"That is not true," replied the other. "I have been waiting here for
+you--I mean for the person I am to meet--" Dorothy thought she had
+betrayed herself, and that John would surely recognize her. "I had been
+waiting full five minutes before you arrived."
+
+John's blindness in failing to recognize Dorothy is past my understanding.
+He explained it to me afterward by saying that his eagerness to see
+Dorothy, and his fear, nay almost certainty, that she could not come,
+coupled with the hope which Jennie Faxton had given him, had so completely
+occupied his mind that other subjects received but slight consideration.
+
+"But I--I have been here before this night to meet--"
+
+"And I have been here to meet--quite as often as you, I hope," retorted
+Dorothy.
+
+They say that love blinds a man. It must also have deafened John, since he
+did not recognize his sweetheart's voice.
+
+"It may be true that you have been here before this evening," retorted
+John, angrily; "but you shall not remain here now. If you wish to save
+yourself trouble, leave at once. If you stalk about in the forest, I will
+run you through and leave you for the crows to pick."
+
+"I have no intention of leaving, and if I were to do so you would regret
+it; by my beard, you would regret it," answered the girl, pleased to see
+John in his overbearing, commanding mood. His stupidity was past
+comprehension.
+
+"Defend yourself," said John, drawing his sword.
+
+"Now he will surely know the truth," thought Dorothy, but she said: "I am
+much younger than you, and am not so large and strong. I am unskilled in
+the use of a sword, and therefore am I no match for Sir John Manners than
+whom, I have heard, there is no better swordsman, stronger arm, nor braver
+heart in England."
+
+"You flatter me, my friend," returned John, forced into a good humor
+against his will; "but you must leave. He who cannot defend himself must
+yield; it is the law of nature and of men."
+
+John advanced toward Dorothy, who retreated stepping backward, holding her
+arm over her face.
+
+"I am ready to yield if you wish. In fact, I am eager to yield--more eager
+than you can know," she cried.
+
+"It is well," answered John, putting his sword in sheath.
+
+"But," continued Dorothy, "I will not go away."
+
+"Then you must fight," said John.
+
+"I tell you again I am willing, nay, eager to yield to you, but I also
+tell you I cannot fight in the way you would have me. In other ways
+perhaps I can fight quite as well as anybody. But really, I am ashamed to
+draw my sword, since to do so would show you how poorly I am equipped to
+defend myself under your great laws of nature and of man. Again, I wish to
+assure you that I am more than eager to yield; but I cannot fight you, and
+I will not go away."
+
+The wonder never ceases that John did not recognize her. She took no pains
+to hide her identity, and after a few moments of concealment she was
+anxious that John should discover her under my garments.
+
+"I would know his voice," she thought, "did he wear all the petticoats in
+Derbyshire."
+
+"What shall I do with you?" cried John, amused and irritated. "I cannot
+strike you."
+
+"No, of course you would not murder me in cold blood," answered Dorothy,
+laughing heartily. She was sure her laughter would open John's eyes.
+
+"I cannot carry you away," said John.
+
+"I would come back again, if you did," answered the irrepressible fellow.
+
+"I suppose you would," returned John, sullenly. "In the devil's name, tell
+me what you will do. Can I not beg you to go?"
+
+"Now, Sir John, you have touched me. I make you this offer: you expect
+Mistress Vernon to come from the Hall--"
+
+"What do you know about Mistress Vernon?" cried John. "By God, I will--"
+
+"Now don't grow angry, Sir John, and please don't swear in my presence.
+You expect her, I say, to come from the Hall. What I propose is this: you
+shall stand by the gate and watch for Doll--oh, I mean Mistress
+Vernon--and I will stand here behind the wall where she cannot see me.
+When she comes in sight--though in truth I don't think she will come, and
+I believe were she under your very nose you would not see her--you shall
+tell me and I will leave at once; that is, if you wish me to leave. After
+you see Dorothy Vernon if you still wish me to go, I pledge my faith no
+power can keep me. Now is not that fair? I like you very much, and I want
+to remain here, if you will permit me, and talk to you for a little
+time--till you see Doll Vernon."
+
+"Doll Vernon, fellow? How dare you so speak of her?" demanded John, hotly.
+
+"Your pardon and her pardon, I beg; Mistress Vernon, soon to be Countess
+of Derbyshire. By the way, I wager you a gold pound sterling that by the
+time you see Doll Vernon--Mistress Vernon, I pray your pardon--you will
+have grown so fond of me that you will not permit me to leave you." She
+thought after that speech he could not help but know her; but John's skull
+was like an oaken board that night. Nothing could penetrate it. He began
+to fancy that his companion was a simple witless person who had escaped
+from his keepers.
+
+"Will you take the wager?" asked Dorothy.
+
+"Nonsense!" was the only reply John deigned to give to so foolish a
+proposition.
+
+"Then will you agree that I shall remain at the gate till Doll--Mistress
+Vernon comes?"
+
+"I suppose I shall have to make the best terms possible with you," he
+returned. "You are an amusing fellow and as perverse as a woman."
+
+"I knew you would soon learn to like me," she responded. "The first step
+toward a man's affection is to amuse him. That old saw which says the road
+to a man's heart is through his stomach, is a sad mistake. Amusement is
+the highway to a man's affections."
+
+"It is better that one laugh with us than at us. There is a vast
+difference in the two methods," answered John, contemptuously.
+
+"You dare to laugh at me," cried Dorothy, grasping the hilt of her sword,
+and pretending to be angry. John waved her off with his hand, and
+laughingly said, "Little you know concerning the way to a man's heart, and
+no doubt less of the way to a woman's."
+
+"I, perhaps, know more about it than you would believe," returned Malcolm
+No. 2.
+
+"If you know aught of the latter subject, it is more than I would
+suppose," said John. "It is absurd to say that a woman can love a man who
+is unable to defend himself."
+
+"A vain man thinks that women care only for men of his own pattern,"
+retorted Dorothy. "Women love a strong arm, it is true, but they also love
+a strong heart, and you see I am not at all afraid of you, even though you
+have twice my strength. There are as many sorts of bravery, Sir John,
+as--as there are hairs in my beard."
+
+"That is not many," interrupted John.
+
+"And," continued the girl, "I believe, John,--Sir John,--you possess all
+the kinds of bravery that are good."
+
+"You flatter me," said John.
+
+"Yes," returned Dorothy, "that was my intent."
+
+After that unflattering remark there came a pause. Then the girl continued
+somewhat hesitatingly: "Doubtless many women, Sir John, have seen your
+virtues more clearly than even I see them. Women have a keener perception
+of masculine virtues than--than we have."
+
+Dorothy paused, and her heart beat with a quickened throb while she
+awaited his reply. A new field of discovery was opening up to her and a
+new use for her disguise.
+
+John made no reply, but the persistent girl pursued her new line of
+attack.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Surely Sir John Manners has had many sweethearts," said Dorothy, in
+flattering tones. There were rocks and shoals ahead for John's love barge.
+"Many, many, I am sure," the girl persisted.
+
+"Ah, a few, a few, I admit," John like a fool replied. Dorothy was
+accumulating disagreeable information rapidly.
+
+"While you were at London court," said she, "the fine ladies must have
+sought you in great numbers--I am sure they did."
+
+"Perhaps, oh, perhaps," returned John. "One cannot always remember such
+affairs." His craft was headed for the rocks. Had he observed Dorothy's
+face, he would have seen the storm a-brewing.
+
+"To how many women, Sir John, have you lost your heart, and at various
+times how many have lost their hearts to you?" asked the persistent
+girl.--"What a senseless question," returned John. "A dozen times or more;
+perhaps a score or two score times. I cannot tell the exact number. I did
+not keep an account."
+
+Dorothy did not know whether she wanted to weep or be angry. Pique and a
+flash of temper, however, saved her from tears, and she said, "You are so
+brave and handsome that you must have found it a very easy task--much
+easier than it would be for me--to convince those confiding ones of your
+affection?"
+
+"Yes," replied John, plunging full sail upon the breakers, "I admit that
+usually they have been quite easy to convince. I am naturally bold, and I
+suppose that perhaps--that is, I may possibly have a persuasive trick
+about me."
+
+Shades of good men who have blundered into ruin over the path of petty
+vanity, save this man! But no, Dorothy must drink the bitter cup of
+knowledge to the dregs.
+
+"And you have been false to all of these women? she said.
+
+"Ah, well, you know--the devil take it! A man can't be true to a score of
+women," replied John.
+
+"I am sure none of them wished you to be true," the girl answered,
+restraining her tears with great difficulty.
+
+At that point in the conversation John began to suspect from the manner
+and shapeliness of his companion that a woman had disguised herself in
+man's attire. Yet it did not once occur to him that Dorothy's fair form
+was concealed within the disguise. He attempted to lift my soft beaver
+hat, the broad rim of which hid Dorothy's face, but to that she made a
+decided objection, and John continued: "By my soul I believe you are a
+woman. Your walk"--Dorothy thought she had been swaggering like a
+veritable swash-buckler--"your voice, the curves of your form, all betray
+you." Dorothy gathered the cloak closely about her.
+
+"I would know more of you," said John, and he stepped toward the now
+interesting stranger. But she drew away from him, and told him to keep
+hands off.
+
+"Oh, I am right. You are a woman," said John.
+
+Dorothy had maintained the disguise longer than she wished, and was
+willing that John should discover her identity. At first it had been rare
+sport to dupe him; but the latter part of her conversation had given her
+no pleasure. She was angry, jealous, and hurt by what she had learned.
+
+"Yes," she answered, "I admit that I am a--a woman. Now I must go."
+
+"Stay but one moment," pleaded John, whose curiosity and gallantry were
+aroused. "I will watch for Mistress Vernon, and when she appears, then you
+may go."
+
+"I told you that you would want me to remain," said the girl with a sigh.
+She was almost ready to weep. Then she thought: "I little dreamed I was
+coming here for this. I will carry the disguise a little farther, and
+will, perhaps, learn enough to--to break my heart."
+
+She was soon to learn all she wanted to know and a great deal more.
+
+"Come sit by me on this stone," said John, coaxingly. The girl complied,
+and drew the cloak over her knees.
+
+"Tell me why you are here," he asked.
+
+"To meet a gentleman," she replied, with low-bent face.
+
+"Tell me your name," John asked, as he drew my glove from her passive
+hand. John held the hand in his, and after examining it in the dim light
+saw that it was a great deal more than good to look upon. Then he lifted
+it to his lips and said:
+
+"Since our sweethearts have disappointed us, may we not console ourselves
+with each other?" He placed his arm around the girl's waist and drew her
+yielding form toward him. Dorothy, unobserved by John, removed the false
+beard and moustachio, and when John put his arm about her waist and leaned
+forward to kiss the fair accommodating neighbor she could restrain her
+tears no longer and said:--
+
+"That would be no consolation for me, John; that would be no consolation
+for me. How can you? How can you?"
+
+She rose to her feet and covered her face with her hands in a paroxysm of
+weeping. John, too, sprang to his feet, you may be sure. "Dorothy! God
+help me! I am the king of fools. Curse this hour in which I have thrown
+away my heaven. You must hate and despise me, fool, fool that I am."
+
+John knew that it were worse than useless for him to attempt an
+explanation. The first thought that flashed through his mind was, to tell
+the girl that he had only pretended not to know her. He thought he would
+try to make her believe that he had been turning her trick upon herself;
+but he was wise in his day and generation, and did not seek refuge in that
+falsehood.
+
+The girl would never have forgiven him for that.
+
+"The only amends I can make," he said, in very dolefulness, "is that I may
+never let you see my face again."
+
+"That will not help matters," sobbed Dorothy.
+
+"I know it will not," returned John. "Nothing can help me. I can remain
+here no longer. I must leave you. I cannot even ask you to say farewell.
+Mistress Vernon, you do not despise me half so bitterly as I despise
+myself."
+
+Dorothy was one of those rare natures to whom love comes but once. It had
+come to her and had engulfed her whole being. To part with it would be
+like parting with life itself. It was her tyrant, her master. It was her
+ego. She could no more throw it off than she could expel herself from her
+own existence. All this she knew full well, for she had analyzed her
+conditions, and her reason had joined with all her other faculties in
+giving her a clear concept of the truth. She knew she belonged to John
+Manners for life and for eternity. She also knew that the chance of seeing
+him soon again was very slight, and to part from him now in aught but
+kindness would almost kill her.
+
+Before John had recognized Dorothy he certainly had acted like a fool, but
+with the shock of recognition came wisdom. All the learning of the
+ancients and all the cunning of the prince of darkness could not have
+taught him a wiser word with which to make his peace, "I may never let you
+see my face again." That was more to be feared by Dorothy than even John's
+inconstancy.
+
+Her heart was full of trouble. "I do not know what I wish," she said
+simply. "Give me a little time to think."
+
+John's heart leaped with joy, but he remained silent.
+
+Dorothy continued: "Oh, that I had remained at home. I would to God I had
+never seen Derby-town nor you."
+
+John in the fulness of his wisdom did not interrupt her.
+
+"To think that I have thus made a fool of myself about a man who has
+given his heart to a score of women."
+
+"This is torture," moaned John, in real pain.
+
+"But," continued Dorothy, "I could not remain away from this place when I
+had the opportunity to come to you. I felt that I must come. I felt that I
+should die if I did not. And you are so false. I wish I were dead. A
+moment ago, had I been another woman, you would have kissed her. You
+thought I was another woman."
+
+John's wisdom stood by him nobly. He knew he could neither explain
+successfully nor beg forgiveness. He simply said: "I cannot remain and
+look you in the face. If I dare make any request, it is that despite all
+you have heard from my lips you will still believe that I love you, and
+that in all my life I have never loved any one so dearly. There is no
+other woman for me."
+
+"You doubtless spoke the same false words to the other two score women,"
+said Dorothy. Tears and sobs were playing sad havoc with her powers of
+speech.
+
+"Farewell, Mistress Vernon," replied John. "I should be shameless if I
+dared ask you to believe any word I can utter. Forget, if possible, that I
+ever existed; forget me that you may not despise me. I am unworthy to
+dwell even in the smallest of your thoughts. I am altogether base and
+contemptible."
+
+"N-o-o," sighed Dorothy, poutingly, while she bent low her head and toyed
+with the gold lace of my cloak.
+
+"Farewell," said John. He took a step or two backward from her.
+
+"You are over-eager to leave, it seems to me," said the girl in an injured
+tone. "I wonder that you came at all." John's heart was singing hosanna.
+He, however, maintained his voice at a mournful pitch and said: "I must
+go. I can no longer endure to remain." While he spoke he moved toward his
+horse, and his head was bowed with real shame as he thought of the
+pitiable fool he had made of himself. Dorothy saw him going from her, and
+she called to him softly and reluctantly, "John."
+
+He did not hear her, or perhaps he thought best to pretend that he did not
+hear, and as he moved from her the girl became desperate. Modesty,
+resentment, insulted womanhood and injured pride were all swept away by
+the stream of her mighty love, and she cried again, this time without
+hesitancy or reluctance, "John, John." She started to run toward him, but
+my cloak was in her way, and the sword tripped her feet. In her fear lest
+John might leave her, she unclasped the sword-belt from her waist and
+snatched the cloak from her shoulders. Freed from these hindrances, she
+ran toward John.
+
+"John, do not leave me. Do not leave me." As she spoke, she reached an
+open space among the trees and John turned toward her. Her hat had fallen
+off, and the red golden threads of her hair, freed from their fastenings,
+streamed behind her. Never before had a vision of such exquisite
+loveliness sped through the moonbeams. So entrancing was her beauty to
+John that he stood motionless in admiration. He did not go to meet her as
+he should have done, and perhaps as he would have done had his senses not
+been wrapped in benumbing wonderment. His eyes were unable to interpret to
+his brain all her marvellous beauty, and his other senses abandoning their
+proper functions had hastened to the assistance of his sight He saw, he
+heard, he felt her loveliness. Thus occupied he did not move, so Dorothy
+ran to him and fell upon his breast.
+
+"You did not come to meet me," she sobbed. "You made me come all the way,
+to forgive you. Cruel, cruel!"
+
+John held the girl in his arms, but he did not dare to kiss her, and his
+self-denial soon brought its reward. He had not expected that she would
+come a beggar to him. The most he had dared to hope was that she would
+listen to his prayer for forgiveness. With all his worldly wisdom John had
+not learned the fact that inconstancy does not destroy love in the one who
+suffers by reason of it; nor did he know of the exquisite pain-touched
+happiness which comes to a gentle, passionate heart such as Dorothy's from
+the mere act of forgiving.
+
+"Is it possible you can forgive me for the miserable lies I have uttered?"
+asked John, almost unconscious of the words he was speaking. "Is it
+possible you can forgive me for uttering those lies, Dorothy?" he
+repeated.
+
+She laid her head upon his breast, and softly passing her hand over the
+lace of his doublet, whispered:--
+
+"If I could believe they were lies, I could easily forgive you," she
+answered between low sobs and soft sighs. Though she was a woman, the
+sweet essence of childhood was in her heart.
+
+"But you cannot believe me, even when I tell you that I spoke not the
+truth," answered John, with growing faith in his system of passive
+repentance. Again came the sighs, and a few struggling, childish sobs.
+
+"It is easy for us to believe that which we long to believe," she said.
+Then she turned her face upward to him, and John's reward was altogether
+disproportioned to the self-denial he had exercised a few minutes before.
+She rewarded him far beyond his deserts; and after a pause she said
+mischievously:--
+
+"You told me that you were a bold man with women, and I know that at least
+that part of what you said was untrue, for you are a bashful man, John,
+you are downright bashful. It is I who have been bold. You were too timid
+to woo me, and I so longed for you that I--I--was not timid."
+
+"For God's sake, Dorothy, I beg you to have pity and to make no jest of
+me. Your kindness almost kills me, and your ridicule--"
+
+"There, there, John," whispered the girl, "I will never again make a jest
+of you if it gives you pain. Tell me, John, tell me truly, was it all
+false--that which you told me about the other women?"
+
+There had been more truth in John's bragging than he cared to confess. He
+feared and loathed a lie; so he said evasively, but with perfect truth:--
+
+"You must know, my goddess. If you do not know without the telling that I
+love you with all my being; if you do not know that there is for me and
+ever will be no woman but you in all the world; if you do not know that
+you have stolen my soul and that I live only in your presence, all that I
+can say will avail nothing toward convincing you. I am almost crazed with
+love for you, and with pain and torture. For the love of God let me leave
+you that I may hide my face."
+
+"Never," cried the girl, clasping her hands about his neck and pressing
+her lips gently upon his. "Never. There, that will soothe you, won't it,
+John?"
+
+It did soothe him, and in the next moment, John, almost frenzied with joy,
+hurt the girl by the violence of his embraces; but she, woman-like, found
+her heaven in the pain.
+
+They went back to the stone bench beside the gate, and after a little time
+Dorothy said:--
+
+"But tell me, John, would you have kissed the other woman? Would you
+really have done it?"
+
+John's honesty certainly was good policy in that instance. The adroit girl
+had set a trap for him.
+
+"I suppose I would," answered John, with a groan.
+
+"It hurts me to hear the fact," said Dorothy, sighing; "but it pleases me
+to hear the truth. I know all else you tell me is true. I was trying you
+when I asked the question, for I certainly knew what you intended to do. A
+woman instinctively knows when a man is going to--to--when anything of
+that sort is about to happen."
+
+"How does she know?" asked John.
+
+Rocks and breakers ahead for Dorothy.
+
+"I cannot tell you," replied the girl, naïvely, "but she knows."
+
+"Perhaps it is the awakened desire in her own heart which forewarns her,"
+said John, stealthily seeking from Dorothy a truth that would pain him
+should he learn it.
+
+"I suppose that is partly the source of her knowledge," replied the
+knowing one, with a great show of innocence in her manner. John was in no
+position to ask impertinent questions, nor had he any right to grow angry
+at unpleasant discoveries; but he did both, although for a time he
+suppressed the latter.
+
+"You believe she is sure to know, do you?" he asked.
+
+"Usually," she replied. "Of course there are times when--when it happens
+so suddenly that--"
+
+John angrily sprang to his feet, took a few hurried steps in front of
+Dorothy, who remained demurely seated with her eyes cast down, and then
+again he took his place beside her on the stone bench. He was trembling
+with anger and jealousy. The devil was in the girl that night for
+mischief.
+
+"I suppose you speak from the fulness of your experience," demanded John,
+in tones that would have been insulting had they not been pleasing to the
+girl. She had seen the drift of John's questions at an early stage of the
+conversation, and his easily aroused jealousy was good proof to her of his
+affection. After all, she was in no danger from rocks and breakers. She
+well knew the currents, eddies, rocks, and shoals of the sea she was
+navigating, although she had never before sailed it. Her fore-mothers, all
+the way back to Eve, had been making charts of those particular waters for
+her especial benefit. Why do we, a slow-moving, cumbersome army of men,
+continue to do battle with the foe at whose hands defeat is always our
+portion?
+
+"Experience?" queried Dorothy, her head turned to one side in a
+half-contemplative attitude. "Experience? Of course that is the only way
+we learn anything."
+
+John again sprang to his feet, and again he sat down beside the girl. He
+had so recently received forgiveness for his own sins that he dared not be
+unforgiving toward Dorothy. He did not speak, and she remained silent,
+willing to allow time for the situation to take its full effect. The
+wisdom of the serpent is black ignorance compared with the cunning of a
+girl in Dorothy's situation. God gives her wit for the occasion as He
+gives the cat soft paws, sharp claws, and nimbleness. She was teaching
+John a lesson he would never forget. She was binding him to her with hoops
+of steel.
+
+"I know that I have not the right to ask," said John, suppressing his
+emotions, "but may I know merely as a matter of trivial information--may I
+know the name of--of the person--this fellow with whom you have had so
+full an experience? God curse him! Tell me his name." He caught the girl
+violently by both arms as if he would shake the truth out of her. He was
+unconsciously making full amends for the faults he had committed earlier
+in the evening. The girl made no answer. John's powers of self-restraint,
+which were not of the strongest order, were exhausted, and he again sprang
+to his feet and stood towering before her in a passion. "Tell me his
+name," he said hoarsely. "I demand it. I will not rest till I kill him."
+
+"If you would kill him, I surely will not tell you his name. In truth, I
+admit I am very fond of him."
+
+"Speak not another word to me till you tell me his name," stormed John. I
+feel sorry for John when I think of the part he played in this interview;
+but every man knows well his condition.
+
+"I care not," continued John, "in what manner I have offended you, nor
+does my debt of gratitude to you for your generosity in forgiving my sins
+weigh one scruple against this you have told me. No man, unless he were a
+poor clown, would endure it; and I tell you now, with all my love for you,
+I will not--I will not!"
+
+Dorothy was beginning to fear him. She of course did not fear personal
+violence; but after all, while he was slower than she, he was much
+stronger every way, and when aroused, his strength imposed itself upon her
+and she feared to play him any farther.
+
+"Sit beside me, John, and I will tell you his name," said the girl,
+looking up to him, and then casting down her eyes. A dimpling smile was
+playing about her lips.
+
+"No, I will not sit by you," replied John, angrily. She partly rose, and
+taking him by the arm drew him to her side.
+
+"Tell me his name," again demanded John, sitting rigidly by Dorothy. "Tell
+me his name."
+
+"Will you kill him?" she asked.
+
+"That I will," he answered. "Of that you may rest assured."
+
+"If you kill him, John, it will break my heart; for to do so, you must
+commit suicide. There is no other man but you, John. With you I had my
+first, last, and only experience."
+
+John, of course, was speechless. He had received only what he deserved. I
+freely admit he played the part of a fool during this entire interview
+with Dorothy, and he was more fully convinced of the fact than either you
+or I can be. I do not like to have a fool for the hero of my history; but
+this being a history and not a romance, I must tell you of events just as
+they happened, and of persons exactly as they were, else my conscience
+will smite me for untruthfulness. Dorothy's last assault was too much for
+John. He could neither parry nor thrust.
+
+Her heart was full of mirth and gladness.
+
+"None other but you, John," she repeated, leaning forward in front of him,
+and looking up into his eyes. A ray of moonlight stealing its way between
+the forest boughs fell upon her upturned face and caused it to glow with a
+goddess-like radiance.
+
+"None but you, John. There never has been and there never shall be
+another."
+
+When John's consciousness returned he said, "Dorothy, can you love such a
+fool as I?"
+
+"That I can and that I do with all my heart," she returned.
+
+"And can you forgive me for this last fault--for doubting you?"
+
+"That is easily done," she answered softly, "because doubt is the child of
+love."
+
+"But you do not doubt me?" he replied.
+
+"N-o-o," she answered somewhat haltingly; "but I--I am a woman."
+
+"And a woman's heart is the home of faith," said John, reverentially.
+
+"Y-e-s," she responded, still not quite sure of her ground. "Sometimes it
+is the home of too much faith, but faith, like virtue, is its own reward.
+Few persons are false to one who gives a blind, unquestioning faith. Even
+a poor degree of honor responds to it in kind."
+
+"Dorothy, I am so unworthy of you that I stand abashed in your presence,"
+replied John.
+
+"No, you are not unworthy of me. We don't look for unmixed good in men,"
+said the girl with a mischievous little laugh. Then seriously: "Those
+virtues you have are so great and so strong, John, that my poor little
+virtues, while they perhaps are more numerous than yours, are but weak
+things by comparison. In truth, there are some faults in men which we
+women do not--do not altogether dislike. They cause us--they make us--oh,
+I cannot express exactly what I mean. They make us more eager perhaps. A
+too constant man is like an overstrong sweet: he cloys us. The faults I
+speak of hurt us; but we thrive on them. Women enjoy pain now and then.
+Malcolm was telling me the other day that the wise people of the East have
+a saying: 'Without shadow there can be no light; without death there can
+be no life; without suffering there can be no joy.' Surely is that saying
+true of women. She who suffers naught enjoys naught. When a woman becomes
+passive, John, she is but a clod. Pain gives us a vent--a vent for
+something, I know not what it is; but this I know, we are happier for it."
+
+"I fear, Dorothy, that I have given you too much 'vent,' as you call it,"
+said John.
+
+"No, no," she replied. "That was nothing. My great vent is that I can pour
+out my love upon you, John, without stint. Now that I know you are mine, I
+have some one whom I can deluge with it. Do you know, John, I believe that
+when God made me He collected together the requisite portions of reason,
+imagination, and will,--there was a great plenty of will, John,--and all
+the other ingredients that go to make a human being. But after He had
+gotten them all together there was still a great space left to be filled,
+and He just threw in an immensity of love with which to complete me.
+Therefore, John, am I not in true proportion. There is too much love in
+me, and it wells up at times and overflows my heart. How thankful I should
+be that I may pour it upon you and that it will not be wasted. How good
+you are to give me the sweet privilege."
+
+"How thankful should I be, Dorothy. I have never known you till this
+night. I am unworthy--"
+
+"Not another word of that sort, John," she interrupted, covering his mouth
+with her hand.
+
+They stood for a long time talking a deal of celestial nonsense which I
+shall not give you. I fear I have already given you too much of what John
+and Dorothy did and said in this very sentimental interview. But in no
+other way can I so well make you to know the persons of whom I write. I
+might have said Dorothy was so and so, and John was such and such. I might
+have analyzed them in long, dull pages of minute description; but it is
+that which persons do and say that gives us true concept of their
+characters; what others say about them is little else than a mere
+statement that black is black and white is white. But to my story again.
+
+Dorothy by her beauty had won John's admiration when first he beheld her.
+When he met her afterward, her charms of mind and her thousand winsome
+ways moved him deeply. But upon the evening of which I am now telling you
+he beheld for the first time her grand burning soul, and he saw her pure
+heart filled to overflowing with its dangerous burden of love, right from
+the hands of God Himself, as the girl had said. John was of a coarser
+fibre than she who had put him up for her idol; but his sensibilities were
+keen, and at their awakening he saw clearly the worth of the priceless
+treasure which propitious fate had given him in the love of Dorothy, and
+he sat humbly at her feet. Yet she knew it not, but sat humbly at John's
+feet the happiest woman in all the world because of her great good fortune
+in having a demi-god upon whom she could lavish the untold wealth of her
+heart. If you are a woman, pray God that He may touch your eyes with
+Dorothy's blessed blindness. There is a heaven in the dark for you, if you
+can find it.
+
+I must leave the scene, though I am loath to do so. Seldom do we catch a
+glimpse of a human soul, and more seldom still does it show itself like a
+gust of God's breath upon the deep of eternity as it did that night in
+Dorothy.
+
+After a time John said: "I have your promise to be my wife. Do you still
+wish to keep it?"
+
+"What an absurd question, John," replied the girl, laughing softly and
+contentedly. "Why else am I here? Tell me, think you, John, should I be
+here if I were not willing and eager to--to keep that promise?"
+
+"Will you go with me notwithstanding your father's hatred of my house?" he
+asked.
+
+"Ah, truly that I will, John," she answered; "surely you know I will go
+with you."
+
+"Let us go at once. Let us lose not a moment. We have already delayed too
+long," cried John in eager ecstasy.
+
+"Not to-night, John; I cannot go to-night," she pleaded. "Think of my
+attire," and she drew my cloak more closely about her. "I cannot go with
+you this time. My father is angry with me because of you, although he does
+not know who you are. Is it not famous to have a lover in secret of whom
+nobody knows? Father is angry with me, and as I told you in my letter, he
+keeps me a prisoner in my rooms. Aunt Dorothy stands guard over me. The
+dear, simple old soul! She told me, thinking I was Malcolm, that she was
+too old to be duped by a girl! Oh, it was too comical!" And she threw back
+her head and gave forth a peal of laughter that John was reluctantly
+compelled to silence. "I would so delight to tell you of the scene when I
+was in Aunt Dorothy's room impersonating Malcolm; but I have so much else
+to say of more importance that I know I shall not tell the half. When you
+have left me, I shall remember what I most wished to say but forgot."
+
+"No, John," she continued seriously, "my father has been cruel to me, and
+I try to make myself think I do not love him; but I fail, for I do love
+him." Tears were welling up in her eyes and stifling her voice. In a
+moment she continued: "It would kill him, John, were I to go with you
+now. I _will_ go with you soon,--I give you my solemn promise to that--but
+I cannot go now,--not now. I cannot leave him and the others. With all his
+cruelty to me, I love him, John, next to you. He will not come to see me
+nor will he speak to me. Think of that." The tears that had welled up to
+her eyes fell in a piteous stream over her cheeks. "Aunt Dorothy and
+Madge," she continued, "are so dear to me that the thought of leaving them
+is torture. But I will go with you some day, John, some day soon, I
+promise you. They have always been kind and gentle to me, and I love them
+and my father and my dear home where I was born and where my sweet mother
+died--and Dolcy--I love them all so dearly that I must prepare myself to
+leave them, John, even to go with you. The heart strings of my whole life
+bind me to them. Forgive me, John, forgive me. You must think of the grief
+and pain I shall yet pass through to go to you. It is as I told you: we
+women reach heaven only through purgatory. I must forsake all else I love
+when I go to you. All, all! All that has been dear to me in life I must
+forsake for--for that which is dearer to me than life itself. I promise,
+John, to go with you, but--but forgive me. I cannot go to-night."
+
+"Nor can I ask it of you, Dorothy," said John. "The sacrifice would be all
+on one side. I should forego nothing, and I should receive all. You would
+forego everything, and God help me, you would receive nothing worth
+having. I am unworthy--"
+
+"Not that word, John," cried Dorothy, again covering his mouth with--well,
+not with her hand. "I shall give up a great deal," she continued, "and I
+know I shall suffer. I suffer even now when I think of it, for you must
+remember that I am rooted to my home and to the dear ones it shelters; but
+I will soon make the exchange, John; I shall make it gladly when the time
+comes, because--because I feel that I could not live if I did not make
+it."
+
+"My father has already consented to our marriage," said John. "I told him
+to-day all that had passed between you and me. He, of course, was greatly
+pained at first; but when I told him of your perfections, he said that if
+you and I were dear to each other, he would offer no opposition, but would
+welcome you to his heart."
+
+"Is your father that--that sort of a man?" asked Dorothy, half in revery.
+"I have always heard--" and she hesitated.
+
+"I know," replied John, "that you have heard much evil of my father,
+but--let us not talk on that theme. You will know him some day, and you
+may judge him for yourself. When will you go with me, Dorothy?"
+
+"Soon, very soon, John," she answered. "You know father intends that I
+shall marry Lord Stanley. _I_ intend otherwise. The more father hurries
+this marriage with my beautiful cousin the sooner I shall be--be
+your--that is, you know, the sooner I shall go with you."
+
+"You will not allow your father to force you to marry Lord Stanley?" asked
+John, frightened by the thought.
+
+"Ah," cried the girl, softly, "you know I told you that God had put into
+me a great plenty of will. Father calls it wilfulness; but whichever it
+is, it stands me in good hand now. You don't know how much I have of it!
+You never will know until I am your--your--wife." The last word was spoken
+in a soft, hesitating whisper, and her head sought shamefaced refuge on
+John's breast. Of course the magic word "wife" on Dorothy's lips aroused
+John to action, and--but a cloud at that moment passed over the moon and
+kindly obscured the scene.
+
+"You do not blame me, John," said Dorothy, "because I cannot go with you
+to-night? You do not blame me?"
+
+"Indeed I do not, my goddess," answered John. "You will soon be mine. I
+shall await your pleasure and your own time, and when you choose to come
+to me--ah, then--" And the kindly cloud came back to the moon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THOMAS THE MAN SERVANT
+
+
+After a great effort of self-denial John told Dorothy it was time for her
+to return to the Hall, and he walked with her down Bowling Green Hill to
+the wall back of the terrace garden.
+
+Dorothy stood for a moment on the stile at the old stone wall, and John,
+clasping her hand, said:--
+
+"You will perhaps see me sooner than you expect," and then the cloud
+considerately floated over the moon again, and John hurried away up
+Bowling Green Hill.
+
+Dorothy crossed the terrace garden, going toward the door since known as
+"Dorothy's Postern." She had reached the top of the postern steps when she
+heard her father's voice, beyond the north wall of the terrace garden well
+up toward Bowling Green Hill. John, she knew, was at that moment climbing
+the hill. Immediately following the sound of her father's voice she heard
+another voice--that of her father's retainer, Sir John Guild. Then came
+the word "Halt!" quickly followed by the report of a fusil, and the sharp
+clinking of swords upon the hillside. She ran back to the wall, and saw
+the dimly outlined forms of four men. One of them was John, who was
+retreating up the hill. The others were following him. Sir George and Sir
+John Guild had unexpectedly returned from Derby. They had left their
+horses with the stable boys and were walking toward the kitchen door when
+Sir George noticed a man pass from behind the corner of the terrace
+garden wall and proceed up Bowling Green Hill. The man of course was John.
+Immediately Sir George and Guild, accompanied by a servant who was with
+them, started in pursuit of the intruder, and a moment afterward Dorothy
+heard her father's voice and the discharge of the fusil. She climbed to
+the top of the stile, filled with an agony of fear. Sir George was fifteen
+or twenty yards in advance of his companion, and when John saw that his
+pursuers were attacking him singly, he turned and quickly ran back to meet
+the warlike King of the Peak. By a few adroit turns with his sword John
+disarmed his antagonist, and rushing in upon him easily threw him to the
+ground by a wrestler's trick. Guild and the servant by that time were
+within six yards of Sir George and John.
+
+"Stop!" cried Manners, "your master is on the ground at my feet. My sword
+point is at his heart. Make but one step toward me and Sir George Vernon
+will be a dead man."
+
+Guild and the servant halted instantly.
+
+"What are your terms?" cried Guild, speaking with the haste which he well
+knew was necessary if he would save his master's life.
+
+"My terms are easy," answered John. "All I ask is that you allow me to
+depart in peace. I am here on no harmful errand, and I demand that I may
+depart and that I be not followed nor spied upon by any one."
+
+"You may depart in peace," said Guild. "No one will follow you; no one
+will spy upon you. To this I pledge my knightly word in the name of Christ
+my Saviour."
+
+John at once took his way unmolested up the hill and rode home with his
+heart full of fear lest his tryst with Dorothy had been discovered.
+
+Guild and the servant assisted Sir George to rise, and the three started
+down the hill toward the stile where Dorothy was standing. She was hidden
+from them, however, by the wall. Jennie Faxton, who had been on guard
+while John and Dorothy were at the gate, at Dorothy's suggestion stood on
+top of the stile where she could easily be seen by Sir George when he
+approached.
+
+"When my father comes here and questions you," said Dorothy to Jennie
+Faxton, "tell him that the man whom he attacked was your sweetheart."
+
+"Never fear, mistress," responded Jennie. "I will have a fine story for
+the master."
+
+Dorothy crouched inside the wall under the shadow of a bush, and Jennie
+waited on the top of the stile. Sir George, thinking the girl was Dorothy,
+lost no time in approaching her. He caught her roughly by the arm and
+turned her around that he might see her face.
+
+"By God, Guild," he muttered, "I have made a mistake. I thought the girl
+was Doll."
+
+He left instantly and followed Guild and the servant to the kitchen door.
+When Sir George left the stile, Dorothy hastened back to the postern of
+which she had the key, and hurried toward her room. She reached the door
+of her father's room just in time to see Sir George and Guild enter it.
+They saw her, and supposed her to be myself. If she hesitated, she was
+lost. But Dorothy never hesitated. To think, with her, was to act. She did
+not of course know that I was still in her apartments. She took the
+chance, however, and boldly followed Sir John Guild into her father's
+room. There she paused for a moment that she might not appear to be in too
+great haste, and then entered Aunt Dorothy's room where I was seated,
+waiting for her.
+
+"Dorothy, my dear child," exclaimed Lady Crawford, clasping her arms about
+Dorothy's neck.
+
+"There is no time to waste in sentiment, Aunt Dorothy," responded the
+girl. "Here are your sword and cloak, Malcolm. I thank you for their use.
+Don them quickly." I did so, and walked into Sir George's room, where that
+worthy old gentleman was dressing a slight wound in the hand. I stopped to
+speak with him; but he seemed disinclined to talk, and I left the room. He
+soon went to the upper court, and I presently followed him.
+
+Dorothy changed her garments, and she, Lady Crawford, and Madge also came
+to the upper court. The braziers in the courtyard had been lighted and
+cast a glare over two score half-clothed men and women who had been
+aroused from their beds by the commotion of the conflict on the hillside.
+Upon the upper steps of the courtyard stood Sir George and Jennie Faxton.
+
+"Who was the man you were with?" roughly demanded Sir George of the
+trembling Jennie. Jennie's trembling was assumed for the occasion.
+
+"I will not tell you his name," she replied with tears. "He is my
+sweetheart, and I will never come to the Hall again. Matters have come to
+a pretty pass when a maiden cannot speak with her sweetheart at the stile
+without he is set upon and beaten as if he were a hedgehog. My father is
+your leal henchman, and his daughter deserves better treatment at your
+hands than you have given me."
+
+"There, there!" said Sir George, placing his hand upon her head. "I was in
+the wrong. I did not know you had a sweetheart who wore a sword. When I
+saw you at the stile, I was sure you were another. I am glad I was wrong."
+So was Dorothy glad.
+
+"Everybody be off to bed," said Sir George. "Ben Shaw, see that the
+braziers are all blackened."
+
+Dorothy, Madge, and Lady Crawford returned to the latter's room, and Sir
+George and I entered after them. He was evidently softened in heart by the
+night's adventures and by the mistake he supposed he had made.
+
+A selfish man grows hard toward those whom he injures. A generous heart
+grows tender. Sir George was generous, and the injustice he thought he had
+done to Dorothy made him eager to offer amends. The active evil in all Sir
+George's wrong-doing was the fact that he conscientiously thought he was
+in the right. Many a man has gone to hell backward--with his face honestly
+toward heaven. Sir George had not spoken to Dorothy since the scene
+wherein the key to Bowling Green Gate played so important a part.
+
+"Doll," said Sir George, "I thought you were at the stile with a man. I
+was mistaken. It was the Faxton girl. I beg your pardon, my daughter. I
+did you wrong."
+
+"You do me wrong in many matters, father," replied Dorothy.
+
+"Perhaps I do," her father returned, "perhaps I do, but I mean for the
+best. I seek your happiness."
+
+"You take strange measures at times, father, to bring about my happiness,"
+she replied.
+
+"Whom God loveth He chasteneth," replied Sir George, dolefully.
+
+"That manner of loving may be well enough for God," retorted Dorothy with
+no thought of irreverence, "but for man it is dangerous. Whom man loves he
+should cherish. A man who has a good, obedient daughter--one who loves
+him--will not imprison her, and, above all, he will not refuse to speak to
+her, nor will he cause her to suffer and to weep for lack of that love
+which is her right. A man has no right to bring a girl into this world and
+then cause her to suffer as you--as you--"
+
+She ceased speaking and sought refuge in silent feminine eloquence--tears.
+One would have sworn she had been grievously injured that night.
+
+"But I am older than you, Doll, and I know what is best for your
+happiness," said Sir George.
+
+"There are some things, father, which a girl knows with better, surer
+knowledge than the oldest man living. Solomon was wise because he had so
+many wives from whom he could absorb wisdom."
+
+"Ah, well!" answered Sir George, smiling in spite of himself, "you will
+have the last word."
+
+"Confess, father," she retorted quickly, "that you want the last word
+yourself."
+
+"Perhaps I do want it, but I'll never have it," returned Sir George; "kiss
+me, Doll, and be my child again."
+
+"That I will right gladly," she answered, throwing her arms about her
+father's neck and kissing him with real affection. Then Sir George said
+good night and started to leave. At the door he stopped, and stood for a
+little time in thought.
+
+"Dorothy," said he, speaking to Lady Crawford, "I relieve you of your duty
+as a guard over Doll. She may go and come when she chooses."
+
+"I thank you, George," said Aunt Dorothy. "The task has been painful to
+me."
+
+Dorothy went to her father and kissed him again, and Sir George departed.
+
+When the door was closed, Lady Crawford breathed a great sigh and said: "I
+thank Heaven, Dorothy, he does not know that you have been out of your
+room. How could you treat me so cruelly? How could you deceive me?"
+
+"That, Aunt Dorothy," replied the niece, "is because you are not old
+enough yet to be a match for a girl who is--who is in love."
+
+"Shame upon you, Dorothy!" said Lady Crawford. "Shame upon you, to act as
+you did, and now to speak so plainly about being in love! Malcolm said you
+were not a modest girl, and I am beginning to believe him."
+
+"Did Malcolm speak so ill of me?" asked Dorothy, turning toward me with a
+smile in her eyes.
+
+"My lady aunt," said I, turning to Lady Crawford, "when did I say that
+Dorothy was an immodest girl?"
+
+"You did not say it," the old lady admitted. "Dorothy herself said it, and
+she proves her words to be true by speaking so boldly of her feelings
+toward this--this strange man. And she speaks before Madge, too."
+
+"Perhaps Madge is in the same sort of trouble. Who knows?" cried Dorothy,
+laughing heartily. Madge blushed painfully. "But," continued Dorothy,
+seriously, "I am not ashamed of it; I am proud of it. For what else, my
+dear aunt, was I created but to be in love? Tell me, dear aunt, for what
+else was I created?"
+
+"Perhaps you are right," returned the old lady, who in fact was
+sentimentally inclined.
+
+"The chief end of woman, after all, is to love," said Dorothy. "What would
+become of the human race if it were not?"
+
+"Child, child," cried the aunt, "where learned you such things?"
+
+"They were written upon my mother's breast," continued Dorothy, "and I
+learned them when I took in my life with her milk. I pray they may be
+written upon my breast some day, if God in His goodness shall ever bless
+me with a baby girl. A man child could not read the words."
+
+"Dorothy, Dorothy!" cried Lady Crawford, "you shock me. You pain me."
+
+"Again I ask," responded Dorothy, "for what else was I created? I tell
+you, Aunt Dorothy, the world decrees that women shall remain in ignorance,
+or in pretended ignorance--in silence at least--regarding the things
+concerning which they have the greatest need to be wise and talkative."
+
+"At your age, Dorothy, I did not have half your wisdom on the subject,"
+answered Lady Crawford.
+
+"Tell me, my sweet Aunt Dorothy, were you really in a state of ignorance
+such as you would have me believe?"
+
+"Well," responded the old lady, hesitatingly, "I did not speak of such
+matters."
+
+"Why, aunt, did you not?" asked Dorothy. "Were you ashamed of what God had
+done? Were you ashamed of His great purpose in creating you a woman, and
+in creating your mother and your mother's mother before you?"
+
+"No, no, child; no, no. But I cannot argue with you. Perhaps you are
+right," said Aunt Dorothy.
+
+"Then tell me, dear aunt, that I am not immodest and bold when I speak
+concerning that of which my heart is full to overflowing. God put it
+there, aunt, not I. Surely I am not immodest by reason of His act."
+
+"No, no, my sweet child," returned Aunt Dorothy, beginning to weep softly.
+"No, no, you are not immodest. You are worth a thousand weak fools such as
+I was at your age."
+
+Poor Aunt Dorothy had been forced into a marriage which had wrecked her
+life. Dorothy's words opened her aunt's eyes to the fact that the girl
+whom she so dearly loved was being thrust by Sir George into the same
+wretched fate through which she had dragged her own suffering heart for so
+many years. From that hour she was Dorothy's ally.
+
+"Good night, Malcolm," said Lady Crawford, offering me her hand. I kissed
+it tenderly; then I kissed the sweet old lady's cheek and said:--
+
+"I love you with all my heart, Aunt Dorothy."
+
+"I thank you, Malcolm," she returned.
+
+I took my leave, and soon Madge went to her room, leaving Dorothy and Lady
+Crawford together.
+
+When Madge had gone the two Dorothys, one at each end of life, spanned the
+long years that separated them, and became one in heart by reason of a
+heartache common to both.
+
+Lady Crawford seated herself and Dorothy knelt by her chair.
+
+"Tell me, Dorothy," said the old lady, "tell me, do you love this man so
+tenderly, so passionately that you cannot give him up?"
+
+"Ah, my dear aunt," the girl responded, "words cannot tell. You cannot
+know what I feel."
+
+"Alas! I know only too well, my child. I, too, loved a man when I was your
+age, and none but God knows what I suffered when I was forced by my
+parents and the priests to give him up, and to wed one whom--God help
+me--I loathed."
+
+"Oh, my sweet aunt!" cried Dorothy softly, throwing her arms about the old
+lady's neck and kissing her cheek. "How terribly you must have suffered!"
+
+"Yes," responded Lady Crawford, "and I am resolved you shall not endure
+the same fate. I hope the man who has won your love is worthy of you. Do
+not tell me his name, for I do not wish to practise greater deception
+toward your father than I must. But you may tell me of his station in
+life, and of his person, that I may know he is not unworthy of you."
+
+"His station in life," answered Dorothy, "is far better than mine. In
+person he is handsome beyond any woman's wildest dream of manly beauty. In
+character he is noble, generous, and good. He is far beyond my deserts,
+Aunt Dorothy."
+
+"Then why does he not seek your hand from your father?" asked the aunt.
+
+"That I may not tell you, Aunt Dorothy," returned the girl, "unless you
+would have me tell you his name, and that I dare not do. Although he is
+vastly my superior in station, in blood, and in character, still my father
+would kill me before he would permit me to marry this man of my choice;
+and I, dear aunt, fear I shall die if I have him not."
+
+Light slowly dawned upon Aunt Dorothy's mind, and she exclaimed in a
+terrified whisper:--
+
+"My God, child, is it he?"
+
+"Yes," responded the girl, "yes, it is he."
+
+"Do not speak his name, Dorothy," the old lady said. "Do not speak his
+name. So long as you do not tell me, I cannot know with certainty who he
+is." After a pause Aunt Dorothy continued, "Perhaps, child, it was his
+father whom I loved and was compelled to give up."
+
+"May the blessed Virgin pity us, sweet aunt," cried Dorothy, caressingly.
+
+"And help us," returned Lady Crawford. "I, too, shall help you," she
+continued. "It will be through no fault of mine if your life is wasted as
+mine has been."
+
+Dorothy kissed her aunt and retired.
+
+Next morning when Dorothy arose a song came from her heart as it comes
+from the skylark when it sees the sun at dawn--because it cannot help
+singing. It awakened Aunt Dorothy, and she began to live her life anew, in
+brightness, as she steeped her soul in the youth and joyousness of Dorothy
+Vernon's song.
+
+I have spoken before in this chronicle of Will Dawson. He was a Conformer.
+Possibly it was by reason of his religious faith that he did not share the
+general enmity that existed in Haddon Hall against the house of Rutland.
+He did not, at the time of which I speak, know Sir John Manners, and he
+did not suspect that the heir to Rutland was the man who had of late been
+causing so much trouble to the house of Vernon. At least, if he did
+suspect it, no one knew of his suspicions.
+
+Sir George made a great effort to learn who the mysterious interloper was,
+but he wholly failed to obtain any clew to his identity. He had jumped to
+the conclusion that Dorothy's mysterious lover was a man of low degree. He
+had taken for granted that he was an adventurer whose station and person
+precluded him from openly wooing his daughter. He did not know that the
+heir to Rutland was in the Derbyshire country; for John, after his first
+meeting with Dorothy, had carefully concealed his presence from everybody
+save the inmates of Rutland. In fact, his mission to Rutland required
+secrecy, and the Rutland servants and retainers were given to understand
+as much. Even had Sir George known of John's presence at Rutland, the old
+gentleman's mind could not have compassed the thought that Dorothy, who,
+he believed, hated the race of Manners with an intensity equalled only by
+his own feelings, could be induced to exchange a word with a member of the
+house. His uncertainty was not the least of his troubles; and although
+Dorothy had full liberty to come and go at will, her father kept constant
+watch over her. As a matter of fact, Sir George had given Dorothy liberty
+partly for the purpose of watching her, and he hoped to discover thereby
+and, if possible, to capture the man who had brought trouble to his
+household. Sir George had once hanged a man to a tree on Bowling Green
+Hill by no other authority than his own desire. That execution was the
+last in England under the old Saxon law of Infangthef and Outfangthef. Sir
+George had been summoned before Parliament for the deed; but the writ had
+issued against the King of the Peak, and that being only a sobriquet, was
+neither Sir George's name nor his title. So the writ was quashed, and the
+high-handed act of personal justice was not farther investigated by the
+authorities. Should my cousin capture his daughter's lover, there would
+certainly be another execution under the old Saxon law. So you see that my
+friend Manners was tickling death with a straw for Dorothy's sake.
+
+One day Dawson approached Sir George and told him that a man sought
+employment in the household of Haddon Hall. Sir George placed great
+confidence in his forester; so he told Dawson to employ the man if his
+services were needed. The new servant proved to be a fine, strong fellow,
+having a great shock of carrot-colored hair and a bushy beard of rusty
+red.
+
+Dawson engaged the newcomer, and assigned to him the duty of kindling the
+fires in the family apartments of the Hall. The name of the new servant
+was Thomas Thompson, a name that Dorothy soon abbreviated to Tom-Tom.
+
+One day she said to him, by way of opening the acquaintance, "Thomas, you
+and I should be good friends; we have so much in common."
+
+"Thank you, my lady," responded Thomas, greatly pleased. "I hope we shall
+be good friends; indeed, indeed I do, but I cannot tell wherein I am so
+fortunate as to have anything in common with your Ladyship. What is it,
+may I ask, of which we have so much in common?"
+
+"So much hair," responded Dorothy, laughing.
+
+"It were blasphemy, lady, to compare my hair with yours," returned Thomas.
+"Your hair, I make sure, is such as the blessed Virgin had. I ask your
+pardon for speaking so plainly; but your words put the thought into my
+mind, and perhaps they gave me license to speak."
+
+Thomas was on his knees, placing wood upon the fire.
+
+"Thomas," returned Dorothy, "you need never apologize to a lady for making
+so fine a speech. I declare a courtier could not have made a better one."
+
+"Perhaps I have lived among courtiers, lady," said Thomas.
+
+"I doubt not," replied Dorothy, derisively. "You would have me believe you
+are above your station. It is the way with all new servants. I suppose
+you have seen fine company and better days."
+
+"I have never seen finer company than now, and I have never known better
+days than this," responded courtier Thomas. Dorothy thought he was
+presuming on her condescension, and was about to tell him so when he
+continued: "The servants at Haddon Hall are gentlefolk compared with
+servants at other places where I have worked, and I desire nothing more
+than to find favor in Sir George's eyes. I would do anything to achieve
+that end."
+
+Dorothy was not entirely reassured by Thomas's closing words; but even if
+they were presumptuous, she admired his wit in giving them an inoffensive
+turn. From that day forth the acquaintance grew between the servant and
+mistress until it reached the point of familiarity at which Dorothy dubbed
+him Tom-Tom.
+
+Frequently Dorothy was startled by remarks made by Thomas, having in them
+a strong dash of familiarity; but he always gave to his words a harmless
+turn before she could resent them. At times, however, she was not quite
+sure of his intention.
+
+Within a week after Thomas's advent to the hall, Dorothy began to suspect
+that the new servant looked upon her with eyes of great favor. She
+frequently caught him watching her, and at such times his eyes, which
+Dorothy thought were really very fine, would glow with an ardor all too
+evident. His manner was cause for amusement rather than concern, and since
+she felt kindly toward the new servant, she thought to create a faithful
+ally by treating him graciously. She might, she thought, need Thomas's
+help when the time should come for her to leave Haddon Hall with John, if
+that happy time should ever come. She did not realize that the most
+dangerous, watchful enemy to her cherished scheme would be a man who was
+himself in love with her, even though he were a servant, and she looked on
+Thomas's evident infatuation with a smile. She did not once think that in
+the end it might cause her great trouble, so she accepted his mute
+admiration, and thought to make use of it later on. To Tom, therefore,
+Dorothy was gracious.
+
+John had sent word to Dorothy, by Jennie Faxton, that he had gone to
+London, and would be there for a fortnight or more.
+
+Sir George had given permission to his daughter to ride out whenever she
+wished to do so, but he had ordered that Dawson or I should follow in the
+capacity of spy, and Dorothy knew of the censorship, though she pretended
+ignorance of it. So long as John was in London she did not care who
+followed her; but I well knew that when Manners should return, Dorothy
+would again begin manoeuvring, and that by some cunning trick she would
+see him.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+One afternoon I was temporarily absent from the Hall and Dorothy wished to
+ride. Dawson was engaged, and when Dorothy had departed, he ordered Tom to
+ride after his mistress at a respectful distance. Nearly a fortnight had
+passed since John had gone to London, and when Dorothy rode forth that
+afternoon she was beginning to hope he might have returned, and that by
+some delightful possibility he might then be loitering about the old
+trysting-place at Bowling Green Gate. There was a half-unconscious
+conviction in her heart that he would be there. She determined therefore,
+to ride toward Rowsley, to cross the Wye at her former fording-place, and
+to go up to Bowling Green Gate on the Devonshire side of the Haddon wall.
+She had no reason, other than the feeling born of her wishes, to believe
+that John would be there; but she loved the spot for the sake of the
+memories which hovered about it. She well knew that some one would follow
+her from the Hall; but she felt sure that in case the spy proved to be
+Dawson or myself, she could easily arrange matters to her satisfaction, if
+by good fortune she should find her lover at the gate.
+
+Tom rode so far behind his mistress that she could not determine who was
+following her. Whenever she brought Dolcy to a walk, Tom-Tom also walked
+his horse. When Dorothy galloped, he galloped; but after Dorothy had
+crossed the Wye and had taken the wall over into the Devonshire lands, Tom
+also crossed the river and wall and quickly rode to her side. He uncovered
+and bowed low with a familiarity of manner that startled her. The act of
+riding up to her and the manner in which he took his place by her side
+were presumptuous to the point of insolence, and his attitude, although
+not openly offensive, was slightly alarming. She put Dolcy to a gallop;
+but the servant who, she thought, was presuming on her former
+graciousness, kept close at Dolcy's heels. The man was a stranger, and she
+knew nothing of his character. She was alone in the forest with him, and
+she did not know to what length his absurd passion for her might lead him.
+She was alarmed, but she despised cowardice, although she knew herself to
+be a coward, and she determined to ride to the gate, which was but a short
+distance ahead of her. She resolved that if the insolent fellow continued
+his familiarity, she would teach him a lesson he would never forget. When
+she was within a short distance of the gate she sprang from Dolcy and
+handed her rein to her servant. John was not there, but she went to the
+gate in the hope that a letter might be hidden beneath the stone bench
+where Jennie was wont to find them in times past. Dorothy found no letter,
+but she could not resist the temptation to sit down upon the bench where
+he and she had sat, and to dream over the happy moments she had spent
+there. Tom, instead of holding the horses, hitched them, and walked toward
+Dorothy. That act on the part of her servant was effrontery of the most
+insolent sort. Will Dawson himself would not have dared do such a thing.
+It filled her with alarm, and as Tom approached she was trying to
+determine in what manner she would crush him. But when the audacious
+Thomas, having reached the gate, seated himself beside his mistress on the
+stone bench, the girl sprang to her feet in fright and indignation. She
+began to realize the extent of her foolhardiness in going to that secluded
+spot with a stranger.
+
+"How dare you approach me in this insolent fashion?" cried Dorothy,
+breathless with fear.
+
+"Mistress Vernon," responded Thomas, looking boldly up into her pale face,
+"I wager you a gold pound sterling that if you permit me to remain here by
+your side ten minutes you will be unwilling--"
+
+"John, John!" cried the girl, exultantly. Tom snatched the red beard from
+his face, and Dorothy, after one fleeting, luminous look into his eyes,
+fell upon her knees and buried her face in her hands. She wept, and John,
+bending over the kneeling girl, kissed her sunlit hair.
+
+"Cruel, cruel," sobbed Dorothy. Then she lifted her head and clasped her
+hands about his neck. "Is it not strange," she continued, "that I should
+have felt so sure of seeing you? My reason kept telling me that my hopes
+were absurd, but a stronger feeling full of the breath of certainty seemed
+to assure me that you would be here. It impelled me to come, though I
+feared you after we crossed the wall. But reason, fear, and caution were
+powerless to keep me away."
+
+"You did not know my voice," said John, "nor did you penetrate my
+disguise. You once said that you would recognize me though I wore all the
+petticoats in Derbyshire."
+
+"Please don't jest with me now," pleaded Dorothy. "I cannot bear it. Great
+joy is harder to endure than great grief. Why did you not reveal yourself
+to me at the Hall?" she asked plaintively.
+
+"I found no opportunity," returned John, "others were always present."
+
+I shall tell you nothing that followed. It is no affair of yours nor of
+mine.
+
+They were overjoyed in being together once more. Neither of them seemed to
+realize that John, while living under Sir George's roof, was facing death
+every moment. To Dorothy, the fact that John, who was heir to one of
+England's noblest houses, was willing for her sake to become a servant, to
+do a servant's work, and to receive the indignities constantly put upon a
+servant, appealed most powerfully. It added to her feeling for him a
+tenderness which is not necessarily a part of passionate love.
+
+It is needless for me to tell you that while John performed faithfully the
+duty of keeping bright the fires in Haddon Hall, he did not neglect the
+other flame--the one in Dorothy's heart--for the sake of whose warmth he
+had assumed the leathern garb of servitude and had placed his head in the
+lion's mouth.
+
+At first he and Dorothy used great caution in exchanging words and
+glances, but familiarity with danger breeds contempt for it. So they
+utilized every opportunity that niggard chance offered, and blinded by
+their great longing soon began to make opportunities for speech with each
+other, thereby bringing trouble to Dorothy and deadly peril to John. Of
+that I shall soon tell you.
+
+During the period of John's service in Haddon Hall negotiations for
+Dorothy's marriage with Lord Stanley were progressing slowly but surely.
+Arrangements for the marriage settlement by the Stanleys, and for
+Dorothy's dower to be given by Sir George, were matters that the King of
+the Peak approached boldly as he would have met any other affair of
+business. But the Earl of Derby, whose mind moved slowly, desiring that a
+generous portion of the Vernon wealth should be transferred with Dorothy
+to the Stanley holdings without the delay incident to Sir George's death,
+put off signing the articles of marriage in his effort to augment the cash
+payment. In truth, the great wealth which Dorothy would bring to the house
+of Stanley was the earl's real reason for desiring her marriage with his
+son. The earl was heavily in debt, and his estate stood in dire need of
+help.
+
+Sir George, though attracted by the high nobility of the house of Stanley,
+did not relish the thought that the wealth he had accumulated by his own
+efforts, and the Vernon estates which had come down to him through
+centuries, should go to pay Lord Derby's debts. He therefore insisted that
+Dorothy's dower should be her separate estate, and demanded that it should
+remain untouched and untouchable by either of the Stanleys. That
+arrangement did not suit my lord earl, and although the son since he had
+seen Dorothy at Derby-town was eager to possess the beautiful girl, his
+father did not share his ardor. Lawyers were called in who looked
+expensively wise, but they accomplished the purpose for which they were
+employed. An agreement of marriage was made and was drawn up on an
+imposing piece of parchment, brave with ribbons, pompous with seals, and
+fair in clerkly penmanship.
+
+One day Sir George showed me the copy of the contract which had been
+prepared for him. That evening at the cost of much labor he and I went
+over the indenture word for word, and when we had finished Sir George
+thought it was very good indeed. He seemed to think that all difficulties
+in the way of the marriage were overcome when the agreement that lay
+before us on the table had been achieved between him and the earl. I knew
+Sir George's troubles had only begun; for I was aware of a fact which it
+seemed impossible for him to learn, though of late Dorothy had given him
+much teaching thereto. I knew that he had transmitted to his daughter a
+large portion of his own fierce, stubborn, unbreakable will, and that in
+her it existed in its most deadly form--the feminine. To me after supper
+that night was assigned the task of reading and rereading many times to
+Sir George the contents of the beautiful parchment. When I would read a
+clause that particularly pleased my cousin, he insisted on celebrating the
+event by drinking a mug of liquor drawn from a huge leather stoup which
+sat upon the table between us. By the time I had made several readings of
+the interesting document the characters began to mingle in a way that did
+not impart ease and clearness to my style. Some of the strange
+combinations which I and the liquor extracted from amid the seals and
+ribbons puzzled Sir George not a little. But with each new libation he
+found new clauses and fresh causes for self-congratulation, though to
+speak exact truth I more than once married Sir George to the Earl of
+Derby, and in my profanity gave Lord James Stanley to the devil to have
+and to hold.
+
+Sir George was rapidly falling before his mighty enemy, drink, and I was
+not far behind him, though I admit the fault with shame. My cousin for a
+while was mightily pleased with the contract; but when the liquor had
+brought him to a point where he was entirely candid with himself, he let
+slip the fact that after all there was regret at the bottom of the goblet,
+metaphorically and actually. Before his final surrender to drink he
+dropped the immediate consideration of the contract and said:--
+
+"Malcolm, I have in my time known many fools, but if you will permit an
+old man, who loves you dearly, to make a plain statement of his
+conviction--"
+
+"Certainly," I interrupted.
+
+"It would be a great relief to me," he continued, "to say that I believe
+you to be the greatest fool the good God ever permitted to live."
+
+"I am sure, Sir George, that your condescending flattery is very
+pleasing," I said.
+
+Sir George, unmindful of my remark, continued, "Your disease is not
+usually a deadly malady, as a look about you will easily show; but,
+Malcolm, if you were one whit more of a fool, you certainly would perish."
+
+I was not offended, for I knew that my cousin meant no offence.
+
+"Then, Sir George, if the time ever comes when I wish to commit suicide, I
+have always at hand an easy, painless mode of death. I shall become only a
+little more of a fool." I laughingly said, "I will do my utmost to absorb
+a little wisdom now and then as a preventive."
+
+"Never a bit of wisdom will you ever absorb. A man who would refuse a girl
+whose wealth and beauty are as great as Dorothy's, is past all hope. I
+often awaken in the dark corners of the night when a man's troubles stalk
+about his bed like livid demons; and when I think that all of this evil
+which has come up between Dorothy and me, and all of this cursed
+estrangement which is eating out my heart could have been averted if you
+had consented to marry her, I cannot but feel--"
+
+"But, Sir George," I interrupted, "it was Dorothy, not I, who refused. She
+could never have been brought to marry me."
+
+"Don't tell me, Malcolm; don't tell me," cried the old man, angrily. Drink
+had made Sir George sullen and violent. It made me happy at first; but
+with liquor in excess there always came to me a sort of frenzy.
+
+"Don't tell me," continued Sir George. "There never lived a Vernon who
+couldn't win a woman if he would try. But put all that aside. She would
+have obeyed me. I would have forced her to marry you, and she would have
+thanked me afterward."
+
+"You could never have forced her to marry me," I replied.
+
+"But that I could and that I would have done," said Sir George. "The like
+is done every day. Girls in these modern times are all perverse, but they
+are made to yield. Take the cases of Sir Thomas Mobley, Sir Grant Rhodas,
+and William Kimm. Their daughters all refused to marry the men chosen for
+them, but the wenches were made to yield. If I had a daughter who refused
+to obey me, I would break her; I would break her. Yes, by God, I would
+break her if I had to kill her," and the old man brought his clenched hand
+down upon the oak table with a crash. His eyes glared frightfully, and his
+face bore a forbidding expression which boded no good for Dorothy.
+
+"She will make trouble in this matter," Sir George continued, tapping the
+parchment with his middle finger.
+
+"She will make trouble about this; but, by God, Malcolm, she shall obey
+me."
+
+He struck the oaken table another great blow with his fist, and glared
+fiercely across at me.
+
+"Lord Wyatt had trouble with his daughter when he made the marriage with
+Devonshire," continued Sir George.
+
+"A damned good match it was, too, for the girl. But she had her heart set
+on young Gillman, and she refused to obey her father. She refused, by God,
+point blank, to obey her father. She refused to obey the man who had given
+her life. What did Wyatt do? He was a man who knew what a child owes to
+its father, and, by God, Malcolm, after trying every other means to bring
+the wench to her senses, after he had tried persuasion, after having in
+two priests and a bishop to show her how badly she was acting, and after
+he had tried to reason with her, he whipped her; yes, he whipped her till
+she bled--till she bled, Malcolm, I tell you. Ah, Wyatt knew what is due
+from a child to its parents. The whipping failed to bring the perverse
+huzzy to obedience, so Wyatt threw her into a dungeon and starved her
+till--till--"
+
+"Till she died," I interrupted.
+
+"Yes, till she died," mumbled Sir George, sullenly, "till she died, and it
+served her right, by God, served her right."
+
+The old man was growing very drunk, and everything was beginning to
+appear distorted to me. Sir George rose to his feet, leaned toward me with
+glaring eyes, struck the table a terrible blow with his fist, and said:--
+
+"By the blood of God I swear that if Doll refuses to marry Stanley, and
+persists in her refusal, I'll whip her. Wyatt is a man after my own heart.
+I'll starve her. I'll kill her. Ay, if I loved her ten thousand times more
+than I do, I would kill her or she should obey me."
+
+Then dawned upon me a vision of terrible possibilities. I was sure Sir
+George could not force Dorothy to marry against her will; but I feared
+lest he might kill her in his effort to "break her." I do not mean that I
+feared he would kill her by a direct act, unless he should do so in a
+moment of frenzy induced by drink and passion, but I did fear for the
+results of the breaking process. The like had often happened. It had
+happened in the case of Wyatt's daughter. Dorothy under the intoxicating
+influence of her passion might become so possessed by the spirit of a
+martyr that she could calmly take a flogging, but my belief was that
+should matters proceed to that extreme, should Sir George flog his
+daughter, the chords of her highly strung nature would snap under the
+tension, and she would die. I loved Dorothy for the sake of her fierce,
+passionate, tender heart, and because she loved me; and even in my sober,
+reflective moments I had resolved that my life, ay, and Sir George's life
+also, should stand between the girl and the lash. If in calmness I could
+deliberately form such a resolution, imagine the effect on my
+liquor-crazed brain of Sir George's words and the vista of horrors they
+disclosed. I was intoxicated. I was drunk. I say it with shame; and on
+hearing Sir George's threat my half-frenzied imagination ran riot into the
+foreboding future.
+
+All the candles, save one tottering wick, were dead in their sockets, and
+the room was filled with lowering phantom-like shadows from oaken floor
+to grimy vaulted roof beams. Sir George, hardly conscious of what he did
+and said, all his evil passions quickened with drink, leaned his hands
+upon the table and glared across at me. He seemed to be the incarnation of
+rage and ferocity, to so great a pitch had he wrought himself. The
+sputtering candle feebly flickered, and seemed to give its dim light only
+that the darksome shadows might flit and hover about us like vampires on
+the scent of blood. A cold perspiration induced by a nameless fear came
+upon me, and in that dark future to which my heated imagination travelled
+I saw, as if revealed by black magic, fair, sweet, generous Dorothy,
+standing piteously upon Bowling Green hillside. Over her drooping form
+there hung in air a monster cloudlike image of her father holding in its
+hand a deadly bludgeon. So black, so horrid was this shadow-demon that I
+sprang from my chair with a frightful oath, and shrieked:--
+
+"Hell is made for man because of his cruelty to woman."
+
+Sir George had sunk into his chair. Liquor had finished its work, and the
+old man, resting his head upon his folded arms, leaned forward on the
+table. He was drunk--dead to the world. How long I stood in frenzied
+stupor gazing at shadow-stricken Dorothy upon the hillside I do not know.
+It must have been several minutes. Blood of Christ, how vividly I remember
+the vision! The sunny radiance of the girl's hair was darkened and dead.
+Her bending attitude was one of abject grief. Her hands covered her face,
+and she was the image of woe. Suddenly she lifted her head with the quick
+impulsive movement so familiar in her, and with a cry eloquent as a
+child's wail for its mother called, "John," and held out her arms
+imploringly toward the dim shadowy form of her lover standing upon the
+hill crest. Then John's form began to fade, and as its shadowy essence
+grew dim, despair slowly stole like a mask of death over Dorothy's face.
+She stood for a moment gazing vacantly into space. Then she fell to the
+ground, the shadow of her father hovering over her prostrate form, and the
+words, "Dead, dead, dead," came to me in horrifying whispers from every
+dancing shadow-demon in the room.
+
+In trying to locate the whispers as they reverberated from floor to oaken
+rafters, I turned and saw Sir George. He looked as if he were dead.
+
+"Why should you not be dead in fact?" I cried. "You would kill your
+daughter. Why should I not kill you? That will solve the whole question."
+
+I revelled in the thought; I drank it in; I nursed it; I cuddled it; I
+kissed it. Nature's brutish love for murder had deluged my soul. I put my
+hand to my side for the purpose of drawing my sword or my knife. I had
+neither with me. Then I remember staggering toward the fireplace to get
+one of the fire-irons with which to kill my cousin. I remember that when I
+grasped the fire-iron, by the strange working of habit I employed it for
+the moment in its proper use; and as I began to stir the embers on the
+hearth, my original purpose was forgotten. That moment of habit-wrought
+forgetfulness saved me and saved Sir George's life. I remember that I sank
+into the chair in front of the fireplace, holding the iron, and I thank
+God that I remember nothing more.
+
+During the night the servants aroused me, and I staggered up the stone
+stairway of Eagle Tower and clambered into my room.
+
+The next morning I awakened feeling ill. There was a taste in my mouth as
+If I had been chewing a piece of the devil's boot over night. I wanted no
+breakfast, so I climbed to the top of the tower, hoping the fresh morning
+breeze might cool my head and cleanse my mouth. For a moment or two I
+stood on the tower roof bareheaded and open-mouthed while I drank in the
+fresh, purifying air. The sweet draught helped me physically; but all the
+winds of Boreas could not have blown out of my head the vision of the
+previous night. The question, "Was it prophetic?" kept ringing in my ears,
+answerless save by a superstitious feeling of fear. Then the horrid
+thought that I had only by a mere chance missed becoming a murderer came
+upon me, and again was crowded from my mind by the memory of Dorothy and
+the hovering spectre which had hung over her head on Bowling Green
+hillside.
+
+I walked to the north side of the tower and on looking down the first
+person I saw was our new servant, Thomas, holding two horses at the
+mounting stand. One of them was Dolcy, and I, feeling that a brisk ride
+with Dorothy would help me to throw off my wretchedness, quickly descended
+the tower stairs, stopped at my room for my hat and cloak, and walked
+around to the mounting block. Dorothy was going to ride, and I supposed
+she would prefer me to the new servant as a companion.
+
+I asked Thomas if his mistress were going out for a ride, and he replied
+affirmatively.
+
+"Who is to accompany her?" I asked.
+
+"She gave orders for me to go with her," he answered.
+
+"Very well," I responded, "take your horse back to the stable and fetch
+mine." The man hesitated, and twice he began to make reply, but finally he
+said:--
+
+"Very well, Sir Malcolm."
+
+He hitched Dolcy to the ring in the mounting block and started back toward
+the stable leading his own horse. At that moment Dorothy came out of the
+tower gate, dressed for the ride. Surely no woman was ever more beautiful
+than she that morning.
+
+"Tom-Tom, where are you taking the horse?" she cried.
+
+"To the stable, Mistress," answered the servant. "Sir Malcolm says he will
+go with you."
+
+Dorothy's joyousness vanished. From radiant brightness her expression
+changed in the twinkling of an eye to a look of disappointment so
+sorrowful that I at once knew there was some great reason why she did not
+wish me to ride with her. I could not divine the reason, neither did I
+try. I quickly said to Thomas:--
+
+"Do not bring my horse. If Mistress Vernon will excuse me, I shall not
+ride with her this morning. I forgot for the moment that I had not
+breakfasted."
+
+Again came to Dorothy's face the radiant look of joy as if to affirm what
+it had already told me. I looked toward Thomas, and his eyes, too, were
+alight. I could make nothing of it. Thomas was a fine-looking fellow,
+notwithstanding his preposterous hair and beard; but I felt sure there
+could be no understanding between the man and his mistress.
+
+When Thomas and Dorothy had mounted, she timidly ventured to say:--
+
+"We are sorry, Cousin Malcolm, that you cannot ride with us."
+
+She did not give me an opportunity to change my mind, but struck Dolcy a
+sharp blow with her whip that sent the spirited mare galloping toward the
+dove-cote, and Thomas quickly followed at a respectful distance. From the
+dove-cote Dorothy took the path down the Wye toward Rowsley. I, of course,
+connected her strange conduct with John. When a young woman who is well
+balanced physically, mentally, and morally acts in a strange, unusual
+manner, you may depend on it there is a man somewhere behind her motive.
+
+I knew that John was in London. Only the night before I had received word
+from Rutland Castle that he had not returned, and that he was not expected
+home for many days.
+
+So I concluded that John could not be behind my fair cousin's motive. I
+tried to stop guessing at the riddle Dorothy had set me, but my effort was
+useless. I wondered and thought and guessed, but I brought to myself only
+the answer, "Great is the mystery of womanhood."
+
+After Dorothy had ridden away I again climbed to the top of Eagle Tower
+and saw the riders cross the Wye at Dorothy's former fording-place, and
+take the wall. I then did a thing that fills me with shame when I think of
+it. For the only time in my whole life I acted the part of a spy. I
+hurried to Bowling Green Gate, and horror upon horror, there I beheld my
+cousin Dorothy in the arms of Thomas, the man-servant. I do not know why
+the truth of Thomas's identity did not dawn upon me, but it did not, and I
+stole away from the gate, thinking that Dorothy, after all, was no better
+than the other women I had known at various times in my life, and I
+resolved to tell John what I had seen. You must remember that the women I
+had known were of the courts of Mary Stuart and of Guise, and the less we
+say about them the better. God pity them! Prior to my acquaintance with
+Dorothy and Madge I had always considered a man to be a fool who would put
+his faith in womankind. To me women were as good as men,--no better, no
+worse. But with my knowledge of those two girls there had grown up in me a
+faith in woman's virtue which in my opinion is man's greatest comforter;
+the lack of it his greatest torment.
+
+I went back to Eagle Tower and stood at my window looking down the Wye,
+hoping soon to see Dorothy returning home. I did not feel jealousy in the
+sense that a lover would feel it; but there was a pain in my heart, a
+mingling of grief, anger, and resentment because Dorothy had destroyed not
+only my faith in her, but, alas! my sweet, new-born faith in womankind.
+Through her fault I had fallen again to my old, black belief that virtue
+was only another name for the lack of opportunity. It is easy for a man
+who has never known virtue in woman to bear and forbear the lack of it;
+but when once he has known the priceless treasure, doubt becomes
+excruciating pain.
+
+After an hour or two Dorothy and her servant appeared at the ford and took
+the path up the Wye toward Haddon. Thomas was riding a short distance
+behind his accommodating mistress, and as they approached the Hall, I
+recognized something familiar in his figure. At first, the feeling of
+recognition was indistinct, but when the riders drew near, something about
+the man--his poise on the horse, a trick with the rein or a turn with his
+stirrup, I could not tell what it was--startled me like a flash in the
+dark, and the word "John!" sprang to my lips. The wonder of the thing
+drove out of my mind all power to think. I could only feel happy, so I lay
+down upon my bed and soon dropped off to sleep.
+
+When I awakened I was rapt in peace, for I had again found my treasured
+faith in womankind. I had hardly dared include Madge in my backsliding,
+but I had come perilously near doing it, and the thought of my narrow
+escape from such perfidy frightened me. I have never taken the risk since
+that day. I would not believe the testimony of my own eyes against the
+evidence of my faith in Madge.
+
+I knew that Thomas was Sir John Manners, and yet I did not know it
+certainly. I determined, if possible, to remain in partial ignorance,
+hoping that I might with some small show of truth be able to plead
+ignorance should Sir George accuse me of bad faith in having failed to
+tell him of John's presence in Haddon Hall. That Sir George would sooner
+or later discover Thomas's identity I had little doubt. That he would kill
+him should he once have him in his power, I had no doubt at all. Hence,
+although I had awakened in peace concerning Dorothy, you may understand
+that I awakened to trouble concerning John.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE COST MARK OF JOY
+
+
+Peace had been restored between Dorothy and her father. At least an
+armistice had been tacitly declared. But, owing to Dorothy's knowledge of
+her father's intention that she should marry Lord Stanley, and because of
+Sir George's feeling that Dorothy had determined to do nothing of the
+sort, the belligerent powers maintained a defensive attitude which
+rendered an absolute reconciliation impossible. They were ready for war at
+a moment's notice.
+
+The strangest part of their relation was the failure of each to comprehend
+and fully to realize the full strength of the other's purpose. Dorothy
+could not bring herself to believe that her father, who had until within
+the last few weeks, been kind and indulgent to her, seriously intended to
+force her into marriage with a creature so despicable as Stanley. In fact,
+she did not believe that her father could offer lasting resistance to her
+ardent desire in any matter. Such an untoward happening had never befallen
+her. Dorothy had learned to believe from agreeable experience that it was
+a crime in any one, bordering on treason, to thwart her ardent desires. It
+is true she had in certain events, been compelled to coax and even to weep
+gently. On a few extreme occasions she had been forced to do a little
+storming in order to have her own way; but that any presumptuous
+individuals should resist her will after the storming had been resorted
+to was an event of such recent happening in her life that she had not
+grown familiar with the thought of it. Therefore, while she felt that her
+father might seriously annoy her with the Stanley project, and while she
+realized that she might be compelled to resort to the storming process in
+a degree thitherto uncalled for, she believed that the storm she would
+raise would blow her father entirely out of his absurd and utterly
+untenable position. On the other hand, while Sir George anticipated
+trouble with Dorothy, he had never been able to believe that she would
+absolutely refuse to obey him. In those olden times--now nearly half a
+century past--filial disobedience was rare. The refusal of a child to obey
+a parent, and especially the refusal of a daughter to obey her father in
+the matter of marriage, was then looked upon as a crime and was frequently
+punished in a way which amounted to barbarous ferocity. Sons, being of the
+privileged side of humanity, might occasionally disobey with impunity, but
+woe to the poor girl who dared set up a will of her own. A man who could
+not compel obedience from his daughter was looked upon as a poor weakling,
+and contempt was his portion in the eyes of his fellow-men--in the eyes of
+his fellow-brutes, I should like to say.
+
+Growing out of such conditions was the firm belief on the part of Sir
+George that Dorothy would in the end obey him; but if by any hard chance
+she should be guilty of the high crime of disobedience--Well! Sir George
+intended to prevent the crime. Perhaps mere stubborness and fear of the
+contempt in which he would be held by his friends in case he were defeated
+by his own daughter were no small parts of Sir George's desire to carry
+through the enterprise in which he had embarked with the Stanleys.
+Although there was no doubt in Sir George's mind that he would eventually
+conquer in the conflict with Dorothy, he had a profound respect for the
+power of his antagonist to do temporary battle, and he did not care to
+enter into actual hostilities until hostilities should become actually
+necessary.
+
+Therefore, upon the second day after I had read the beribboned, besealed
+contract to Sir George, he sent an advance guard toward the enemy's line.
+He placed the ornamental piece of parchment in Lady Crawford's hands and
+directed her to give it to Dorothy.
+
+But before I tell you of the parchment I must relate a scene that occurred
+in Aunt Dorothy's room a few hours after I recognized John as he rode up
+the Wye with Dorothy. It was late in the afternoon of the day after I read
+the contract to Sir George and saw the horrid vision on Bowling Green.
+
+I was sitting with Madge at the west window of Dorothy's parlor. We were
+watching the sun as it sank in splendor beneath Overhaddon Hill.
+
+I should like first to tell you a few words--only a few, I pray
+you--concerning Madge and myself. I will.
+
+I have just said that Madge and I were watching the sun at the west
+window, and I told you but the truth, for Madge had learned to see with my
+eyes. Gladly would I have given them to her outright, and willingly would
+I have lived in darkness could I have given light to her. She gave light
+to me--the light of truth, of purity, and of exalted motive. There had
+been no words spoken by Madge nor me to any one concerning the strange and
+holy chain that was welding itself about us, save the partial confession
+which she had whispered to Dorothy. But notwithstanding our silence, our
+friends in the Hall understood that Madge and I were very dear to each
+other. I, of course, saw a great deal of her; but it was the evening hour
+at the west window to which I longingly looked forward all the day. I am
+no poet, nor do my words and thoughts come with the rhythmic flow and
+eloquent imagery of one to whom the talent of poesy is given. But during
+those evening hours it seemed that with the soft touch of Madge's hand
+there ran through me a current of infectious dreaming which kindled my
+soul till thoughts of beauty came to my mind and words of music sprang to
+my lips such as I had always considered not to be in me. It was not I who
+spoke; it was Madge who saw with my eyes and spoke with my voice. To my
+vision, swayed by Madge's subtle influence, the landscape became a thing
+of moving beauty and of life, and the floating clouds became a panorama of
+ever shifting pictures. I, inspired by her, described so eloquently the
+wonders I saw that she, too, could see them. Now a flock of white-winged
+angels rested on the low-hung azure of the sky, watching the glory of
+Phoebus as he drove his fiery steeds over the western edge of the world.
+Again, Mount Olympus would grow before my eyes, and I would plainly see
+Jove sitting upon his burnished throne, while gods and goddesses floated
+at his feet and revelled on the fleecy mountain sides. Then would
+mountain, gods, and goddesses dissolve,--as in fact they did dissolve ages
+ago before the eyes of millions who had thought them real,--and in their
+places perhaps would come a procession of golden-maned lions, at the
+description of which would Madge take pretended fright. Again, would I see
+Madge herself in flowing white robes made of the stuff from which fleecy
+clouds are wrought. All these wonders would I describe, and when I would
+come to tell her of the fair cloud image of herself I would seize the
+joyous chance to make her understand in some faint degree how altogether
+lovely in my eyes the vision was. Then would she smile and softly press my
+hand and say:--
+
+"Malcolm, it must be some one else you see in the cloud," though she was
+pleased.
+
+But when the hour was done then came the crowning moment of the day, for
+as I would rise to take my leave, if perchance we were alone, she would
+give herself to my arms for one fleeting instant and willingly would her
+lips await--but there are moments too sacred for aught save holy thought.
+The theme is sweet to me, but I must go back to Dorothy and tell you of
+the scene I have promised you.
+
+As I have already said, it was the evening following that upon which I had
+read the marriage contract to Sir George, and had seen the vision on the
+hillside. Madge and I were sitting at the west window. Dorothy, in
+kindness to us, was sitting alone by the fireside in Lady Crawford's
+chamber. Thomas entered the room with an armful of fagots, which he
+deposited in the fagot-holder. He was about to replenish the fire, but
+Dorothy thrust him aside, and said:--
+
+"You shall kindle no more fires for me. At least you shall not do so when
+no one else is by. It pains me that you, at whose feet I am unworthy to
+kneel, should be my servant"
+
+Thereupon she took in her hands the fagot John had been holding. He
+offered to prevent her, but she said:--
+
+"Please, John, let me do this."
+
+The doors were open, and we heard all that was said by Dorothy and Tom.
+Madge grasped my hand in surprise and fear.
+
+"Please, John," said Dorothy, "if it gives me pleasure to be your servant,
+you should not wish to deny me. There lives but one person whom I would
+serve. There, John, I will give you another, and you shall let me do as I
+will."
+
+Dorothy, still holding the fagot in her hands, pressed it against John's
+breast and gently pushed him backward toward a large armchair, in which
+she had been sitting by the west side of the fireplace.
+
+"You sit there, John, and we will make believe that this is our house, and
+that you have just come in very cold from a ride, and that I am making a
+fine fire to warm you. Isn't it pleasant, John? There, you sit and warm
+yourself--my--my--husband," she said laughingly. "It is fine sport even to
+play at. There is one fagot on the fire," she said, as she threw the wood
+upon the embers, causing them to fly in all directions. John started up to
+brush the scattered embers back into the fireplace, but Dorothy stopped
+him.
+
+"I will put them all back," she said. "You know you are cold and very
+tired. You have been overseeing the tenantry and have been hunting. Will
+you have a bowl of punch, my--my husband?" and she laughed again and
+kissed him as she passed to the holder for another fagot.
+
+"I much prefer that to punch," said John, laughing softly. "Have you
+more?"
+
+"Thousands of them, John, thousands of them." She rippled forth a little
+laugh and continued: "I occupy my time nowadays in making them that I may
+always have a great supply when we are--that is, you know, when you--when
+the time comes that you may require a great many to keep you in good
+humor." Again came the laugh, merry and clear as the tinkle of sterling
+silver.
+
+She laughed again within a minute or two; but when the second laugh came,
+it sounded like a knell.
+
+Dorothy delighted to be dressed in the latest fashion. Upon this occasion
+she wore a skirt vast in width, of a pattern then much in vogue. The
+sleeves also were preposterously large, in accordance with the custom of
+the times. About her neck a beautiful white linen ruff stood out at least
+the eighth part of an ell. The day had been damp and cold, and the room in
+which she had been sitting was chilly. For that reason, most fortunately,
+she had thrown over her shoulders a wide sable cloak broad enough to
+enfold her many times and long enough to reach nearly to her knees:
+Dorothy thus arrayed was standing in front of John's chair. She had just
+spoken the words "good humor," when the door leading to her father's room
+opened and in walked Sir George. She and her ample skirts and broad
+sleeves were between John and the door. Not one brief instant did Dorothy
+waste in thought. Had she paused to put in motion the machinery of reason,
+John would have been lost. Thomas sitting in Lady Crawford's chair and
+Dorothy standing beside him would have told Sir George all he needed to
+know. He might not have discovered John's identity, but a rope and a tree
+in Bowling Green would quickly have closed the chapter of Dorothy's
+mysterious love affair. Dorothy, however, did not stop to reason nor to
+think. She simply acted without preliminary thought, as the rose unfolds
+or as the lightning strikes. She quietly sat down upon John's knees,
+leaned closely back against him, spread out the ample folds of her skirt,
+threw the lower parts of her broad cape over her shoulders and across the
+back of the chair, and Sir John Manners was invisible to mortal eyes.
+
+"Come in, father," said Dorothy, in dulcet tones that should have betrayed
+her.
+
+"I heard you laughing and talking," said Sir George, "and I wondered who
+was with you."
+
+"I was talking to Madge and Malcolm who are in the other room," replied
+Dorothy.
+
+"Did not Thomas come in with fagots?" asked Sir George.
+
+"I think he is replenishing the fire in the parlor, father, or he may have
+gone out. I did not notice. Do you want him?"
+
+"I do not especially want him," Sir George answered.
+
+"When he finishes in the parlor I will tell him that you want him," said
+Dorothy.
+
+"Very well," replied Sir George.
+
+He returned to his room, but he did not close the door.
+
+The moment her father's back was turned Dorothy called:--
+
+"Tom--Tom, father wants you," and instantly Thomas was standing
+deferentially by her side, and she was seated in the great chair. It was a
+rapid change, I assure you. But a man's life and his fortune for good or
+ill often hang upon a tiny peg--a second of time protruding from the wall
+of eternity. It serves him briefly; but if he be ready for the vital
+instant, it may serve him well.
+
+"Yes, mistress," said Thomas, "I go to him at once."
+
+John left the room and closed the door as he passed out. Then it was that
+Dorothy's laugh sounded like the chilling tones of a knell. It was the
+laugh of one almost distraught. She came to Madge and me laughing, but the
+laugh quickly changed to convulsive sobs. The strain of the brief moment
+during which her father had been in Lady Crawford's room had been too
+great for even her strong nerves to bear. She tottered and would have
+fallen had I not caught her. I carried her to the bed, and Madge called
+Lady Crawford. Dorothy had swooned.
+
+When she wakened she said dreamily:--
+
+"I shall always keep this cloak and gown."
+
+Aunt Dorothy thought the words were but the incoherent utterances of a
+dimly conscious mind, but I knew they were the deliberate expression of a
+justly grateful heart.
+
+The following evening trouble came about over the matter of the marriage
+contract.
+
+You remember I told you that Sir George had sent Lady Crawford as an
+advance guard to place the parchment in the enemy's hands. But the advance
+guard feared the enemy and therefore did not deliver the contract directly
+to Dorothy. She placed it conspicuously upon the table, knowing well that
+her niece's curiosity would soon prompt an examination.
+
+I was sitting before the fire in Aunt Dorothy's room, talking to Madge
+when Lady Crawford entered, placed the parchment on the table, and took a
+chair by my side. Soon Dorothy entered the room. The roll of parchment,
+brave with ribbons, was lying on the table. It attracted her attention at
+once, and she took it in her hands.
+
+"What is this?" she asked carelessly. Her action was prompted entirely by
+idle curiosity. That, by the way, was no small motive with Dorothy. She
+had the curiosity of a young doe. Receiving no answer, she untied the
+ribbons and unrolled the parchment to investigate its contents for
+herself. When the parchment was unrolled, she began to read:--
+
+"In the name of God, amen. This indenture of agreement, looking to union
+in the holy bonds of marriage between the Right Honorable Lord James
+Stanley of the first part, and Mistress Dorothy Vernon of Haddon of the
+second part--"
+
+She read no farther. She crumpled the beautiful parchment in her hands,
+walked over to the fire, and quietly placed the sacred instrument in the
+midst of the flames. Then she turned away with a sneer of contempt upon
+her face and--again I grieve to tell you this--said:--
+
+"In the name of God, amen. May this indenture be damned."
+
+"Dorothy!" exclaimed Lady Crawford, horrified at her niece's profanity. "I
+feel shame for your impious words."
+
+"I don't care what you feel, aunt," retorted Dorothy, with a dangerous
+glint in her eyes. "Feel as you wish, I meant what I said, and I will say
+it again if you would like to hear it. I will say it to father when I see
+him. Now, Aunt Dorothy, I love you and I love my father, but I give you
+fair warning there is trouble ahead for any one who crosses me in this
+matter."
+
+She certainly looked as if she spoke the truth. Then she hummed a tune
+under her breath--a dangerous signal in Dorothy at certain times. Soon the
+humming turned to whistling. Whistling in those olden days was looked upon
+as a species of crime in a girl.
+
+Dorothy stood by the window for a short time and then taking up an
+embroidery frame, drew a chair nearer to the light and began to work at
+her embroidery. In a moment or two she stopped whistling, and we could
+almost feel the silence in the room. Madge, of course, only partly knew
+what had happened, and her face wore an expression of expectant, anxious
+inquiry. Aunt Dorothy looked at me, and I looked at the fire. The
+parchment burned slowly. Lady Crawford, from a sense of duty to Sir George
+and perhaps from politic reasons, made two or three attempts to speak, and
+after five minutes of painful silence she brought herself to say:--
+
+"Dorothy, your father left the contract here for you to read. He will be
+angry when he learns what you have done. Such disobedience is sure to--"
+
+"Not another word from you," screamed Dorothy, springing like a tigress
+from her chair. "Not another word from you or I will--I will scratch you.
+I will kill some one. Don't speak to me. Can't you see that I am trying to
+calm myself for an interview with father? An angry brain is full of
+blunders. I want to make none. I will settle this affair with father. No
+one else, not even you, Aunt Dorothy, shall interfere." The girl turned to
+the window, stood beating a tattoo upon the glass for a moment or two,
+then went over to Lady Crawford and knelt by her side. She put her arms
+about Aunt Dorothy's neck, softly kissed her, and said:--
+
+"Forgive me, dear aunt; forgive me. I am almost crazed with my troubles. I
+love you dearly indeed, indeed I do."
+
+Madge gropingly went to Dorothy's side and took her hand. Dorothy kissed
+Madge's hand and rose to her feet.
+
+"Where is my father?" asked Dorothy, to whom a repentant feeling toward
+Lady Crawford had brought partial calmness. "I will go to him immediately
+and will have this matter over. We might as well understand each other at
+once. Father seems very dull at understanding me. But he shall know me
+better before long."
+
+Sir George may have respected the strength of his adversary, but Dorothy
+had no respect for the strength of her foe. She was eager for the fray.
+When she had a disagreeable thing to do, she always wanted to do it
+quickly.
+
+Dorothy was saved the trouble of seeking her father, for at that moment he
+entered the room.
+
+"You are welcome, father," said Dorothy in cold, defiant tones. "You have
+come just in time to see the last flickering flame of your fine marriage
+contract." She led him to the fireplace. "Does it not make a beautiful
+smoke and blaze?"
+
+"Did you dare--"
+
+"Ay, that I did," replied Dorothy.
+
+"You dared?" again asked her father, unable to believe the evidence of his
+eyes.
+
+"Ay, so I said; that I did," again said Dorothy.
+
+"By the death of Christ--" began Sir George.
+
+"Now be careful, father, about your oaths," the girl interrupted. "You
+must not forget the last batch you made and broke."
+
+Dorothy's words and manner maddened Sir George. The expression of her
+whole person, from her feet to her hair, breathed defiance. The poise of
+her body and of her limbs, the wild glint in her eyes, and the turn of her
+head, all told eloquently that Sir George had no chance to win and that
+Dorothy was an unconquerable foe. It is a wonder he did not learn in that
+one moment that he could never bring his daughter to marry Lord Stanley.
+
+"I will imprison you," cried Sir George, gasping with rage.
+
+"Very well," responded Dorothy, smilingly. "You kept me prisoner for a
+fortnight. I did not ask you to liberate me. I am ready to go back to my
+apartments."
+
+"But now you shall go to the dungeon," her father said.
+
+"Ah, the dungeon!" cried the girl, as if she were delighted at the
+thought. "The dungeon! Very well, again. I am ready to go to the dungeon.
+You may keep me there the remainder of my natural life. I cannot prevent
+you from doing that, but you cannot force me to marry Lord Stanley."
+
+"I will starve you until you obey me!" retorted her father. "I will starve
+you!"
+
+"That, again, you may easily do, my dear father; but again I tell you I
+will never marry Stanley. If you think I fear to die, try to kill me. I do
+not fear death. You have it not in your power to make me fear you or
+anything you can do. You may kill me, but I thank God it requires my
+consent for my marriage to Stanley, and I swear before God that never
+shall be given."
+
+The girl's terrible will and calm determination staggered Sir George, and
+by its force beat down even his strong will. The infuriated old man
+wavered a moment and said:--
+
+"Fool, I seek only your happiness in this marriage. Only your happiness.
+Why will you not consent to it?"
+
+I thought the battle was over, and that Dorothy was the victor. She
+thought so, too, but was not great enough to bear her triumph silently.
+She kept on talking and carried her attack too far.
+
+"And I refuse to obey because of my happiness. I refuse because I hate
+Lord Stanley, and because, as you already know, I love another man."
+
+When she spoke the words "because I love another man," the cold, defiant
+expression of her face changed to one of ecstasy.
+
+"I will have you to the dungeon this very hour, you brazen huzzy," cried
+Sir George.
+
+"How often, father, shall I repeat that I am ready to go to the dungeon? I
+am eager to obey you in all things save one."
+
+"You shall have your wish," returned Sir George. "Would that you had died
+ere you had disgraced your house with a low-bred dog whose name you are
+ashamed to utter."
+
+"Father, there has been no disgrace," Dorothy answered, and her words bore
+the ring of truth.
+
+"You have been meeting the fellow at secluded spots in the forest--how
+frequently you have met him God only knows--and you lied to me when you
+were discovered at Bowling Green Gate."
+
+"I would do it again gladly if I but had the chance," answered the girl,
+who by that time was reckless of consequences.
+
+"But the chance you shall not have," retorted Sir George.
+
+"Do not be too sure, father," replied Dorothy. She was unable to resist
+the temptation to mystify him. "I may see him before another hour. I will
+lay you this wager, father, if I do not within one hour see the man--the
+man whom I love--I will marry Lord Stanley. If I see him within that time
+you shall permit me to marry him. I have seen him two score times since
+the day you surprised me at the gate."
+
+That was a dangerous admission for the girl to make, and she soon
+regretted it with all her heart. Truly she was right. An angry brain is
+full of blunders.
+
+Of course Dorothy's words, which were so full of meaning to Madge and me,
+meant little to Sir George. He looked upon them only as irritating
+insolence on her part. A few minutes later, however, they became full of
+significance.
+
+Sir George seemed to have forgotten the Stanley marriage and the burning
+of the contract in his quarrel with Dorothy over her unknown lover.
+
+Conceive, if you can, the situation in Haddon Hall at that time. There was
+love-drunk Dorothy, proud of the skill which had enabled her to outwit her
+wrathful father. There was Sir George, whose mental condition, inflamed by
+constant drinking, bordered on frenzy because he felt that his child, whom
+he had so tenderly loved from the day of her birth, had disgraced herself
+with a low-born wretch whom she refused to name. And there, under the same
+roof, lived the man who was the root and source of all the trouble. A
+pretty kettle of fish!
+
+"The wager, father, will you take it?" eagerly asked Dorothy.
+
+Sir George, who thought that her words were spoken only to anger him,
+waved her off with his hands and said:--
+
+"I have reason to believe that I know the wretch for whose sake you have
+disgraced yourself. You may be sure that I shall soon know him with
+certainty. When I do, I will quickly have him in my power. Then I will
+hang him to a tree on Bowling Green, and you shall see the low-born dog
+die."
+
+"He is better born than any of our house," retorted Dorothy, who had lost
+all sense of caution. "Ay, he is better born than any with whom we claim
+kin."
+
+Sir George stood in open-eyed wonder, and Dorothy continued: "You cannot
+keep him from me. I shall see him, and I will have him despite you. I tell
+you again, I have seen him two score times since you tried to spy upon us
+at Bowling Green Gate, and I will see him whenever I choose, and I will
+wed him when I am ready to do so. You cannot prevent it. You can only be
+forsworn, oath upon oath; and if I were you, I would stop swearing."
+
+Sir George, as was usual with him in those sad times, was inflamed with
+drink, and Dorothy's conduct, I must admit, was maddening. In the midst of
+her taunting Thomas stepped into the room bearing an armful of fagots. Sir
+George turned to him and said:--
+
+"Go and tell Welch to bring a set of manacles."
+
+"For Mistress Dorothy?" Thomas asked, surprised into the exclamation.
+
+"Curse you, do you mean to bandy words with me, you scum?" cried Sir
+George.
+
+He snatched a fagot from John and drew back his arm to strike him. John
+took one step back from Sir George and one step nearer to Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, Thomas," said Dorothy, sneeringly, "bring Welch with the manacles
+for me. My dear father would put me in the dungeon out of the reach of
+other men, so that he may keep me safely for my unknown lover. Go, Thomas.
+Go, else father will again be forsworn before Christ and upon his
+knighthood."
+
+"This before a servant! I'll gag you, you hellish vixen," cried Sir
+George. Then I am sure he knew not what he did. "Curse you!" he cried, as
+he held the fagot upraised and rushed upon Dorothy. John, with his arms
+full of fagots, could not avert the blow which certainly would have killed
+the girl, but he could take it. He sprang between Dorothy and her father,
+the fagot fell upon his head, and he sank to the floor. In his fall John's
+wig dropped off, and when the blood began to flow from the wound Dorothy
+kneeled beside his prostrate form. She snatched the great bush of false
+beard from his face and fell to kissing his lips and his hands in a
+paroxysm of passionate love and grief. Her kisses she knew to be a panacea
+for all ills John could be heir to, and she thought they would heal even
+the wound her father had given, and stop the frightful outpouring of
+John's life-blood. The poor girl, oblivious of all save her wounded
+lover, murmured piteously:--
+
+"John, John, speak to me; 'tis Dorothy." She placed her lips near his ear
+and whispered: "'Tis Dorothy, John. Speak to her." But she received no
+response. Then came a wild light to her eyes and she cried aloud: "John,
+'tis Dorothy. Open your eyes. Speak to me, John! oh, for God's sake speak
+to me! Give some little sign that you live," but John was silent. "My God,
+my God! Help, help! Will no one help me save this man? See you not that
+his life is flowing away? This agony will kill me. John, my lover, my
+lord, speak to me. Ah, his heart, his heart! I will know." She tore from
+his breast the leathern doublet and placed her ear over his heart. "Thank
+God, it beats!" she cried in a frenzied whisper, as she kissed his breast
+and turned her ear again to hear his heart's welcome throbbing. Then she
+tried to lift him in her arms and succeeded in placing his head in her
+lap. It was a piteous scene. God save me from witnessing another like it.
+
+After Dorothy lifted John's head to her lap he began to breathe
+perceptibly, and the girl's agitation passed away as she gently stroked
+his hair and kissed him over and over again, softly whispering her love to
+his unresponsive ear in a gentle frenzy of ineffable tenderness such as
+was never before seen in this world, I do believe. I wish with all my
+heart that I were a maker of pictures so that I might draw for you the
+scene which is as clear and vivid in every detail to my eyes now as it was
+upon that awful day in Haddon Hall. There lay John upon the floor and by
+his side knelt Dorothy. His head was resting in her lap. Over them stood
+Sir George with the murderous fagot raised, as if he intended again to
+strike. I had sprung to his side and was standing by him, intending to
+fell him to the floor should he attempt to repeat the blow upon either
+Dorothy or John. Across from Sir George and me, that is, upon the opposite
+side of Dorothy and John, stood Lady Crawford and Madge, who clung to each
+other in terror. The silence was heavy, save when broken by Dorothy's sobs
+and whispered ejaculations to John. Sir George's terrible deed had
+deprived all of us, including himself, of the power to speak. I feared to
+move from his side lest he should strike again. After a long agony of
+silence he angrily threw the fagot away from him and asked:--
+
+"Who is this fellow? Can any one tell me?"
+
+Only Madge, Dorothy, and I could have given him true answer. By some
+strange power of divination Madge had learned all that had happened, and
+she knew as well as I the name of the man who lay upon the floor battling
+with death. Neither Madge nor I answered.
+
+"Who is this fellow?" again demanded Sir George.
+
+Dorothy lifted her face toward her father.
+
+"He is the man whom you seek, father," she answered, in a low, tearful
+voice. "He is my lover; he is my life; he is my soul, and if you have
+murdered him in your attempt to kill your own child, all England shall
+hear of it and you shall hang. He is worth more in the eyes of the queen
+than we and all our kindred. You know not whom you have killed."
+
+Sir George's act had sobered him.
+
+"I did not intend to kill him--in that manner," said Sir George, dropping
+his words absent-mindedly. "I hoped to hang him. Where is Dawson? Some one
+fetch Dawson."
+
+Several of the servants had gathered about the open door in the next room,
+and in obedience to Sir George's command one of them went to seek the
+forester. I feared that John would die from the effects of the blow; but I
+also knew from experience that a man's head may receive very hard knocks
+and life still remain. Should John recover and should Sir George learn
+his name, I was sure that my violent cousin would again attempt the
+personal administration of justice and would hang him, under the old Saxon
+law. In that event Parliament would not be so easily pacified as upon the
+occasion of the former hanging at Haddon; and I knew that if John should
+die by my cousin's hand, Sir George would pay for the act with his life
+and his estates. Fearing that Sir George might learn through Dawson of
+John's identity, I started out in search of Will to have a word with him
+before he could see his master. I felt sure that for many reasons Will
+would be inclined to save John; but to what extent his fidelity to the
+cause of his master might counteract his resentment of Sir George's act, I
+did not know. I suspected that Dawson was privy to John's presence in
+Haddon Hall, but I was not sure of it, so I wished to prepare the forester
+for his interview with Sir George and to give him a hint of my plans for
+securing John's safety, in the event he should not die in Aunt Dorothy's
+room.
+
+When I opened the door in the Northwest Tower I saw Dawson coming toward
+the Hall from the dove-cote, and I hastened forward to meet him. It was
+pitiful that so good a man as Sir George Vernon was, should have been
+surrounded in his own house by real friends who were also traitors. That
+was the condition of affairs in Haddon Hall, and I felt that I was the
+chief offender. The evil, however, was all of Sir George's making. Tyranny
+is the father of treason.
+
+When I met Dawson I said: "Will, do you know who Tom-Tom is?"
+
+The forester hesitated for a moment, and said, "Well, Sir Malcolm, I
+suppose he is Thomas--"
+
+"No, no, Will, tell me the truth. Do you know that he is--or perhaps by
+this time I should say he was--Sir John Manners?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Was?" cried Will. "Great God! Has Sir George discovered--is he dead? If
+he is dead, it will be a sad day for Sir George and for Haddon Hall. Tell
+me quickly."
+
+I at once knew Will Dawson was in the secret. I answered:--
+
+"I hope he is not dead. Sir George attempted to strike Dorothy with a
+fagot, but Thomas stepped in front of her and received the blow. He is
+lying almost, if not quite, dead in Lady Crawford's room. Sir George knows
+nothing about him, save that he is Dorothy's lover. But should Thomas
+revive I feel sure my cousin will hang him in the morning unless steps are
+taken to prevent the deed."
+
+"Sir Malcolm, if you will stand by me," said Dawson, "Sir George will not
+hang him."
+
+"I certainly will stand by you, Dawson. Have no doubt on that score. Sir
+George intends to cast John into the dungeon, and should he do so I want
+you to send Jennie Faxton to Rutland and have her tell the Rutlanders to
+rescue John to-night. To-morrow morning I fear will be too late. Be on
+your guard, Will. Do not allow Sir George to discover that you have any
+feeling in this matter. Above all, lead him from the possibility of
+learning that Thomas is Sir John Manners. I will contrive to admit the
+Rutland men at midnight."
+
+I hastened with Dawson back to the Hall, where we found the situation as I
+had left it. John's head was lying on Dorothy's lap, and she was trying to
+dress his wound with pieces of linen torn from her clothing. Sir George
+was pacing to and fro across the room, breaking forth at times in curses
+against Dorothy because of her relations with a servant.
+
+When Dawson and I entered the room, Sir George spoke angrily to Will:--
+
+"Who is this fellow? You employed him. Who is he?"
+
+"He gave me his name as Thomas Thompson," returned Will, "and he brought
+me a favorable letter of recommendation from Danford."
+
+Danford was forester to the Duke of Devonshire, and lived at Chatsworth.
+
+"There was naught in the letter save that he was a good servant and an
+honest man. That is all we can ask of any man."
+
+"But who is he?" again demanded Sir George.
+
+"Your worship may perhaps learn from Danford more than I can tell you,"
+replied the forester, adroitly avoiding a lie.
+
+"Think of it, Malcolm," said Sir George, speaking to me. "Think of it. My
+daughter, my only child, seeks for her husband this low-born serving man.
+I have always been sure that the fellow would prove to be such." Then he
+turned to Dawson: "Throw the fellow into the dungeon. If he lives till
+morning, I will have him hanged. To the dungeon with him."
+
+Sir George waved his hand toward Dawson and Tom Welch, and then stepped
+aside. Will made an effort to hide his feelings, and without a word or
+gesture that could betray him, he and Welch lifted John to carry him away.
+Then it was piteous to see Dorothy. She clung to John and begged that he
+might be left with her. Sir George violently thrust her away from John's
+side, but she, still upon her knees, grasped her father's hand and cried
+out in agony:--
+
+"Father, let me remain with him. If you have ever felt love for me, and if
+my love for you has ever touched one tender spot in your heart, pity me
+now and leave this man with me, or let me go with him. I beg you, father;
+I plead; I implore. He may be dying. We know not. In this hour of my agony
+be merciful to me."
+
+But Sir George rudely repulsed her and left the room, following Welch and
+Dawson, who bore John's unconscious form between them. Dorothy rose to her
+feet screaming and tried to follow John. I, fearing that in her frenzy of
+grief she might divulge John's name, caught her in my arms and detained
+her by force. She turned upon me savagely and struck me in her effort to
+escape. She called me traitor, villain, dog, but I lifted her in my arms
+and carried her struggling to her bedroom. I wanted to tell her of the
+plans which Dawson and I had made, but I feared to do so, lest she might
+in some way betray them, so I left her in the room with Lady Crawford and
+Madge. I told Lady Crawford to detain Dorothy at all hazards, and I
+whispered to Madge asking her to tell Dorothy that I would look to John's
+comfort and safety. I then hastily followed Sir George, Dawson, and Welch,
+and in a few moments I saw them leave John, bleeding and senseless, upon
+the dungeon floor. When Sir George's back was turned, Dawson by my orders
+brought the surgeon from the stable where he had been working with the
+horses. The surgeon bound up the wound in John's head and told me, to my
+great joy, that it was not fatal. Then he administered a reviving potion
+and soon consciousness returned. I whispered to John that Dawson and I
+would not forsake him, and, fearing discovery by Sir George, hurriedly
+left the dungeon.
+
+I believe there is a certain amount of grief and sorrow which comes with
+every great joy to give it a cost mark whereby we may always know its
+value. The love between Dorothy and John indeed was marked in plain
+figures of high denominations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE LEICESTER POSSIBILITY
+
+
+On leaving the dungeon I sought Madge, and after I had whispered a word to
+her from my heart I asked her to tell Dorothy the encouraging words of the
+surgeon, and also to tell her that she should not be angry with me until
+she was sure she had good cause. I dared not send a more explicit message,
+and I dared not go to Dorothy, for Sir George was in a suspicious mood and
+I feared ruin not only for myself but for John, should my violent cousin
+suspect me of sympathy with his daughter and her lover.
+
+I also sought Aunt Dorothy and whispered a word to her of which you shall
+hear more presently.
+
+"Ah, I cannot do it," cried the trembling old lady in response to my
+whispered request. "I cannot do it."
+
+"But you must, Aunt Dorothy," I responded. "Upon it depend three lives:
+Sir George's, Dorothy's, and her lover's. You must do it."
+
+"I will try," she replied.
+
+"That assurance will not suit me," I responded. "You must promise upon
+your salvation that you will not fail me."
+
+"I promise upon my salvation," replied Aunt Dorothy.
+
+That evening of course we did not see the ladies at supper. Sir George and
+I ate in silence until my cousin became talkative from drink. Then he
+spoke bitterly of Dorothy's conduct, and bore with emphasis upon the fact
+that the lover to whom Dorothy had stooped was a low-born serving man.
+
+"But Dorothy declares he is noble," I responded.
+
+"She has lied to me so often that I do not believe a word she says,"
+returned Sir George.
+
+He swore oath upon oath that the wretch should hang in the morning, and
+for the purpose of carrying into effect his intention he called in Joe the
+butcher and told him to make all things ready for the execution.
+
+I did not attempt to thwart his purpose by word or gesture, knowing it
+would be useless, but hoped that John would be out of his reach long ere
+the cock would crow his first greeting to the morrow's sun.
+
+After Sir George had drunk far into the night the servants helped him to
+bed, and he carried with him the key to the dungeon together with the keys
+to all the outer doors and gates of Haddon Hall, as was his custom. The
+keys were in a bunch, held together by an iron ring, and Sir George always
+kept them under his pillow at night.
+
+I sought my bed in Eagle Tower and lay down in my clothes to rest and
+wait. The window of my room was open.
+
+Within an hour after midnight I heard the hooting of an owl. The doleful
+sound came up to me from the direction of the stone footbridge at the
+southwest corner of the Hall below the chapel. I went to my window and
+looked out over the courts and terrace. Haddon Hall and all things in and
+about it were wrapped in slumbrous silence. I waited, and again I heard
+the hooting of the owl. Noiselessly leaving my room I descended the stone
+steps to an unused apartment in the tower from which a window opened upon
+the roof of the north wing of the Hall. Along that roof I crept with bared
+feet, till I reached another roof, the battlements of which at the lowest
+point were not more than twenty feet from the ground. Thence I clambered
+down to a window cornice five or six feet lower, and jumped, at the risk
+of my limbs, the remaining distance of fifteen or sixteen feet to the soft
+sod beneath. I ran with all haste, took my stand under Aunt Dorothy's
+window, and whistled softly. The window casing opened and I heard the
+great bunch of keys jingling and clinking against the stone wall as Aunt
+Dorothy paid them out to me by means of a cord. After I had secured the
+keys I called in a whisper to Lady Crawford and directed her to leave the
+cord hanging from the window. I also told her to remain in readiness to
+draw up the keys when they should have served their purpose. Then I took
+them and ran to the stone footbridge where I found four Rutland men who
+had come in response to the message Dawson had sent by Jennie Faxton. Two
+of the men went with me, and we entered the lower garden by the southwest
+postern. Thence we crept noiselessly to the terrace and made our entrance
+into the Hall by "Dorothy's Postern." I had in my life engaged in many
+questionable and dangerous enterprises, but this was my first attempt at
+house-breaking. To say that I was nervous would but poorly define the
+state of my feelings. Since that day I have respected the high calling of
+burglary and regard with favor the daring knights of the skeleton key. I
+was frightened. I, who would feel no fear had I to fight a dozen men,
+trembled with fright during this adventure. The deathlike silence and the
+darkness in familiar places seemed uncanny to me. The very chairs and
+tables appeared to be sleeping, and I was fearful lest they should awaken.
+I cannot describe to you how I was affected. Whether it was fear or awe or
+a smiting conscience I cannot say, but my teeth chattered as if they were
+in the mouth of a fool, and my knees quaked as if they supported a coward.
+Still I knew I was doing my duty, though one's conscience sometimes smites
+him when his reason tells him he is acting righteously. It is more
+dangerous to possess a sensitive conscience which cannot be made to hear
+reason than to have none at all. But I will make short my account of that
+night's doings. The two Rutland men and I groped our way to the dungeon
+and carried forth John, who was weak from loss of blood. I told them to
+lock the door of the Hall as they passed out and to attach the keys to the
+cord hanging from Lady Crawford's window. Then I climbed to my room again,
+feeling in conscience like a criminal because I had done the best act of
+my life.
+
+Early next morning I was awakened by a great noise in the upper court.
+When I looked out at my window I beheld Sir George. He was half dressed
+and was angrily questioning the servants and retainers. I knew that he had
+discovered John's escape, but I did not know all, nor did I know the
+worst. I dressed and went to the kitchen, where I bathed my hands and
+face. There I learned that the keys to the hall had been stolen from under
+Sir George's pillow, and that the prisoner had escaped from the dungeon.
+Old Bess, the cook, nodded her head wisely and whispered to me the words,
+"Good for Mistress Doll."
+
+Bess's unsought confidence alarmed me. I did not relish the thought that
+Bess nor any one else should believe me to be in sympathy with Dorothy,
+and I said:--
+
+"If Mistress Vernon had aught to do with last night's affairs, she should
+be full of shame. I will not believe that she knew of it at all. My
+opinion is that one of the servants was bribed by some person interested
+in Tom-Tom's escape."
+
+"Believe nothing of the sort," retorted Bess. "It is the mistress and not
+the servant who stole the keys and liberated Tom-Tom. But the question is,
+who may Tom-Tom be? and the servants' hall is full of it. We are not
+uncertain as to the manner of his escape. Some of the servants do say that
+the Earl of Leicester be now visiting the Duke of Devonshire; and some
+also do say that his Lordship be fond of disguises in his gallantry. They
+do also say that the queen is in love with him, and that he must disguise
+himself when he woos elsewhere, or she be's famously jealous. It would be
+a pretty mess the master has brought us all into should Tom-Tom prove to
+be my lord Earl of Leicester. We'd all hang and to hell."
+
+"Bess, that tongue of yours will cost you your head one of these good
+times," I remarked, while I rubbed my face with the towel.
+
+"I would sooner lose my head," retorted Bess, "than have my mouth shut by
+fear. I know, Sir Malcolm, that I'll not die till my time comes; but
+please the good God when my time does come I will try to die talking."
+
+"That you will," said I.
+
+"True word, Sir Malcolm," she answered, and I left her in possession of
+the field.
+
+I went into the courtyard, and when Sir George saw me he said, "Malcolm,
+come with me to my room; I want a word with you."
+
+We went to his room.
+
+"I suppose you know of the fellow's escape last night?" he said.
+
+"Yes," I replied, "Bess told me about it in the kitchen."
+
+It seemed to me that my words said, "I did it."
+
+"Not only was the fellow liberated," said my cousin, "but the keys to all
+the outer gates and doors of the Hall have been stolen and carried away.
+Can you help me unravel this affair?"
+
+"Do you suspect any one of having stolen the keys?" I asked.
+
+"I know, of course, that Dorothy did it. Who her accomplices were, if any
+she had, I do not know. I have catechized the servants, but the question
+is bottomless to me."
+
+"Have you spoken to Dorothy on the subject?" I asked.
+
+"No," he replied, "but I have sent word to her by the Faxton girl that I
+am going to see her at once. Come with me."
+
+We went into Lady Crawford's room. She was ill and in bed. I did not
+wonder that she was ill after the experiences of the previous night. Sir
+George asked her if she had heard or seen Dorothy pass through her room
+during the night. She said:--
+
+"Dorothy did not pass through this room last night. I did not once close
+my eyes in sleep, and I should have seen her had she been here at all."
+
+Sir George entered Dorothy's bedroom, and Lady Crawford beckoned me to go
+to her side.
+
+"I waited till sunrise," she said, "that I might draw up the keys."
+
+"Hush!" said I, "the cord?"
+
+"I burned it," she replied.
+
+Then I followed Sir George into Dorothy's room. Madge was dressed for the
+day, and Dorothy, who had been helping her, was making her own toilet. Her
+hair hung loose and fell like a cataract of sunshine over her bare
+shoulders. But no words that I can write would give you a conception of
+her wondrous beauty, and I shall not waste them in the attempt. When we
+entered the room she was standing at the mirror. She turned, comb in hand,
+toward Sir George and said:--
+
+"I suppose, father, you will accuse me of liberating Thomas."
+
+"You must know that I will accuse you," replied Sir George.
+
+"Then, father, for once you will accuse me falsely. I am overjoyed that he
+has escaped, and I certainly should have tried to liberate him had I
+thought it possible to do so. But I did not do it, though to tell you the
+truth I am sorry I did not."
+
+"I do not believe you," her father replied.
+
+"I knew you would not believe me," answered Dorothy. "Had I liberated him
+I should probably have lied to you about it; therefore, I wonder not that
+you should disbelieve me. But I tell you again upon my salvation that I
+know nothing of the stealing of the keys nor of Tom-Tom's escape. Believe
+me or not, I shall deny it no more."
+
+Madge gropingly went to Sir George's side, and he tenderly put his arms
+about her, saying:--
+
+"I would that you were my daughter." Madge took his hand caressingly.
+
+"Uncle, I want to tell you that Dorothy speaks the truth," she said. "I
+have been with her every moment since the terrible scene of yesterday
+evening. Neither Dorothy nor I closed our eyes in sleep all night long.
+She lay through the dark hours moaning, and I tried to comfort her. Our
+door was locked, and it was opened only by your messenger who brought the
+good news of Tom-Tom's escape. I say good news, uncle, because his escape
+has saved you from the stain of murder. You are too brave a man to do
+murder, uncle."
+
+"How dare you," said Sir George, taking his arm from Madge's waist, "how
+dare you defend--"
+
+"Now, uncle, I beg you pause and take a moment's thought," said Madge,
+interrupting him. "You have never spoken unkindly to me."
+
+"Nor will I, Madge, so long as I live. I know there is not a lie in you,
+and I am sure you believe to be true all you tell me, but Dorothy has
+deceived you by some adroit trick."
+
+"If she deceived me, she is a witch," retorted Madge, laughing softly.
+
+"That I am almost ready to believe is the case," said Sir George.
+Dorothy, who was combing her hair at the mirror, laughed softly and
+said:--
+
+"My broomstick is under the bed, father."
+
+Sir George went into Lady Crawford's room and shut the door, leaving me
+with the girls.
+
+When her father had left, Dorothy turned upon me with fire in her eyes:--
+
+"Malcolm Vernon, if you ever lay hands upon me again as you did last
+night, I will--I will scratch you. You pretended to be his friend and
+mine, but for a cowardly fear of my father you came between us and you
+carried me to this room by force. Then you locked the door and--and"--
+
+"Did not Madge give you my message?" I asked, interrupting her.
+
+"Yes, but did you not force me away from him when, through my fault, he
+was almost at death's door?"
+
+"Have your own way, Dorothy," I said. "There lives not, I hope, another
+woman in the world so unreasoning and perverse as you."
+
+She tossed her head contemptuously and continued to comb her hair.
+
+"How, suppose you," I asked, addressing Dorothy's back, as if I were
+seeking information, "how, suppose you, the Rutland people learned that
+John was confined in the Haddon dungeon, and how did they come by the
+keys?"
+
+The girl turned for a moment, and a light came to her anger-clouded face
+as the rainbow steals across the blackened sky.
+
+"Malcolm, Malcolm," she cried, and she ran to me with her bare arms
+outstretched.
+
+"Did you liberate him?" she asked. "How did you get the keys?"
+
+"I know nothing of it, Dorothy, nothing," I replied.
+
+"Swear it, Malcolm, swear it," she said.
+
+"I will swear to nothing," I said, unclasping her arms from my neck.
+
+"Then I will kiss you," she answered, "for you are my dear good brother,
+and never so long as I live will I again doubt you."
+
+But she did before long doubt me again, and with good cause.
+
+Dorothy being in a gentle humor; I took advantage of the opportunity to
+warn her against betraying John's name to her father. I also told her to
+ask her father's forgiveness, and advised her to feign consent to the
+Stanley marriage. Matters had reached a point where some remedy, however
+desperate, must be applied.
+
+Many persons, I fear, will condemn me for advising Dorothy to deceive her
+father; but what would you have had me do? Should I have told her to marry
+Stanley? Certainly not. Had I done so, my advice would have availed
+nothing. Should I have advised her to antagonize her father, thereby
+keeping alive his wrath, bringing trouble to herself and bitter regret to
+him? Certainly not. The only course left for me to advise was the least of
+three evils--a lie. Three evils must be very great indeed when a lie is
+the least of them. In the vast army of evils with which this world swarms
+the lie usually occupies a proud position in the front rank. But at times
+conditions arise when, coward-like, he slinks to the rear and evils
+greater than he take precedence. In such sad case I found Dorothy, and I
+sought help from my old enemy, the lie. Dorothy agreed with me and
+consented to do all in her power to deceive her father, and what she could
+not do to that end was not worth doing.
+
+Dorothy was anxious about John's condition, and sent Jennie Faxton to
+Bowling Green, hoping a letter would be there for her. Jennie soon
+returned with a letter, and Dorothy once more was full of song, for
+John's letter told her that he was fairly well and that he would by some
+means see her soon again despite all opposition.
+
+"At our next meeting, my fair mistress," John said in the letter, "you
+must be ready to come with me. I will wait no longer for you. In fairness
+to me and to yourself you shall not ask me to wait. I will accept no more
+excuses. You must come with me when next we meet."
+
+"Ah, well," said Dorothy to Madge, "if I must go with him, I must. Why did
+he not talk in that fashion when we rode out together the last time? I
+like to be made to do what I want to do. He was foolish not to make me
+consent, or better still would it have been had he taken the reins of my
+horse and ridden off with me, with or against my will. I might have
+screamed, and I might have fought him, but I could not have hurt him, and
+he would have had his way, and--and," with a sigh, "I should have had my
+way."
+
+After a brief pause devoted to thought, she continued:--
+
+"If I were a man and were wooing a woman, I would first learn what she
+wanted to do and then--and then, by my word, I would make her do it."
+
+I went from Dorothy's room to breakfast, where I found Sir George. I took
+my seat at the table and he said:--
+
+"Who, in God's name, suppose you, could have taken the keys from my
+pillow?"
+
+"Is there any one whom you suspect?" I asked for lack of anything else to
+say.
+
+"I at first thought, of course, that Dorothy had taken them," he answered.
+"But Madge would not lie, neither would my sister. Dorothy would not
+hesitate to lie herself blue in the face, but for some reason I believed
+her when she told me she knew nothing of the affair. Her words sounded
+like truth for once."
+
+"I think, Sir George," said I, "you should have left off 'for once.'
+Dorothy is not a liar. She has spoken falsely to you only because she
+fears you. I am sure that a lie is hateful to her."
+
+"Malcolm, I wish I could have your faith," he responded. "By the way,
+Malcolm, have you ever seen the Earl of Leicester?"
+
+"I saw him only once. He visited Scotland during the ceremonies at Queen
+Mary's return from France. I saw him once, and then but briefly. Why do
+you ask?"
+
+"It is whispered among the servants," said Sir George, "that Leicester is
+at Chatsworth in disguise."
+
+Chatsworth was the home of the Duke of Devonshire, and was but a short
+distance from Haddon. After Sir George spoke, I remembered the words of
+old Bess.
+
+"Still, I do not know why you ask." I said.
+
+"My reason is this," replied Sir George; "Dorothy declared the fellow was
+of noble blood. It is said that Leicester loves gallant adventure
+incognito. He fears her Majesty's jealousy if in such matters he acts
+openly. You remember the sad case of Mistress Robsart. I wonder what
+became of the girl? He made way with her in some murderous fashion, I am
+sure." Sir George remained in revery for a moment, and then the poor old
+man cried in tones of distress: "Malcolm, if that fellow whom I struck
+last night was Leicester, and if he has been trying his hellish tricks on
+my Doll I--I should pity her; I should not abuse her. I may have been
+wrong. If he has wronged Doll--if he has wronged my girl, I will pursue
+him to the ends of the earth for vengeance. That is why I ask if you have
+ever seen the Earl of Leicester. Was the man who lay upon the floor last
+night Robert Dudley? If it were he, and if I had known it, I would have
+beaten him to death then and there. Poor Doll!"
+
+Any one hearing the old man speak would easily have known that Doll was
+all that life held for him to love.
+
+"I do not distinctly remember Leicester's face," I answered, "but since
+you speak of it, I believe there is a resemblance between him and the man
+we called Thomas. But even were it he, Sir George, you need have no fear
+for Dorothy. She of all women is able and willing to protect herself."
+
+"I will go to Dorothy and ask her to tell me the truth. Come with me."
+
+We again went to Dorothy's room. She had, since I last saw her, received
+the letter from John of which I have spoken, and when we entered her
+parlor where she and Madge were eating breakfast we found her very happy.
+As a result she was willing and eager to act upon my advice.
+
+She rose and turned toward her father.
+
+"You told me, Doll, that the fellow was of noble blood. Did you speak the
+truth?"
+
+"Yes, father, I spoke the truth. There is no nobler blood in England than
+his, save that of our royal queen. In that you may believe me, father, for
+I speak the truth."
+
+Sir George remained silent for a moment and then said:--
+
+"If the man is he whom I believe him to be he can have no true purpose
+with you. Tell me, my child--the truth will bring no reproaches from
+me--tell me, has he misused you in any way?"
+
+"No, father, before God, he has been a true gentleman to me."
+
+The poor old man struggled for a moment with his emotions; then tears came
+to his eyes and he covered his face with his hands as he started to leave
+the room.
+
+Dorothy ran to him and clasped her arms about his neck. Those two, father
+and child, were surely of one blood as shown in the storms of violence and
+tenderness by which their natures were alternately swept.
+
+"Father, you may believe me; you do believe me," said Dorothy.
+"Furthermore, I tell you that this man has treated me with all courtesy,
+nay, more: he has treated me with all the reverence he would have shown
+our queen."
+
+"He can have no true purpose with you, Doll," said Sir George, who felt
+sure that Leicester was the man.
+
+"But he has, father, a true purpose with me. He would make me his wife
+to-day would I consent."
+
+"Why then does he not seek you openly?"
+
+"That he cannot do," Dorothy responded hesitatingly.
+
+"Tell me, Doll, who is the man?" asked Sir George.
+
+I was standing behind him and Dorothy's face was turned toward me. She
+hesitated, and I knew by her expression that she was about to tell all.
+Sir George, I believe, would have killed her had she done so. I placed my
+finger on my lips and shook my head.
+
+Dorothy said: "That I cannot tell you, father. You are wasting words in
+asking me."
+
+"Is it because of his wish that you refuse to tell me his name?" asked Sir
+George. I nodded my head.
+
+"Yes, father," softly responded Dorothy in the old dangerous, dulcet
+tones.
+
+"That is enough; I know who the man is."
+
+Dorothy kissed her father. He returned the caress, much to my surprise,
+and left the room.
+
+When I turned to follow Sir George I glanced toward Dorothy. Her eyes were
+like two moons, so full were they of wonderment and inquiry.
+
+I stopped with Sir George in his room. He was meditative and sad.
+
+"I believe my Doll has told me the truth," he said.
+
+"Have no doubt of it, Sir George," I replied.
+
+"But what good intent can Leicester have toward my girl?" he asked.
+
+"Of that I cannot say," I replied; "but my dear cousin, of this fact be
+sure: if he have evil intent toward Dorothy, he will fail."
+
+"But there was the Robsart girl," he replied.
+
+"Ay," said I, "but Dorothy Vernon is not Amy Robsart. Have no fear of your
+daughter. She is proof against both villany and craft. Had she been in
+Mistress Robsart's place, Leicester would not have deserted her. Dorothy
+is the sort of woman men do not desert. What say you to the fact that
+Leicester might wish to make her his wife?"
+
+"He may purpose to do so secretly, as in the case of the Robsart girl,"
+returned Sir George. "Go, Malcolm, and ask her if he is willing to make
+her his wife before the world."
+
+I was glad of an opportunity for a word with Dorothy, so I hastily went to
+her. I told her of the Leicester phase of the situation, and I also told
+her that her father had asked me if the man whom she loved was willing to
+make her his wife before the world.
+
+"Tell my father," said she, "that I will be no man's wife save before all
+the world. A man who will not acknowledge me never shall possess me."
+
+I went back to Sir George and delivered the message word for word.
+
+"She is a strange, strong girl, isn't she, Malcolm?" said her father.
+
+"She is her father's child," I replied.
+
+"By my spurs she is. She should have been a man," said Sir George, with a
+twinkle of admiration in his eyes. He admired a good fight even though he
+were beaten in it.
+
+It is easy to be good when we are happy. Dorothy, the great disturber,
+was both. Therefore, peace reigned once more in Haddon Hall.
+
+Letters frequently passed between John and Dorothy by the hand of Jennie
+Faxton, but John made no attempt to meet his sweetheart. He and Dorothy
+were biding their time.
+
+A fortnight passed during which Cupid confined his operations to Madge and
+myself. For her sweet sake he was gracious and strewed our path with
+roses. I should delight to tell you of our wooing. She a fair young
+creature of eighteen, I a palpitating youth of thirty-five. I should love
+to tell you of Madge's promise to be my wife, and of the announcement in
+the Hall of our betrothal; but there was little of interest in it to any
+one save ourselves, and I fear lest you should find it very sentimental
+and dull indeed. I should love to tell you also of the delightful walks
+which Madge and I took together along the sweet old Wye and upon the crest
+of Bowling Green; but above all would I love to tell you of the delicate
+rose tints that came to her cheek, and how most curiously at times, when
+my sweetheart's health was bounding, the blessed light of day would
+penetrate the darkened windows of her eyes, and how upon such occasions
+she would cry out joyously, "Oh, Malcolm, I can dimly see." I say I should
+love to tell you about all those joyous happenings, but after all I fear I
+should shrink from doing so in detail, for the feelings and sayings of our
+own hearts are sacred to us. It is much easier to tell of the love affairs
+of others.
+
+A fortnight or three weeks passed quietly in Haddon Hall. Sir George had
+the notion firmly fixed in his head that the man whom Dorothy had been
+meeting held honorable intentions toward the girl. He did her the justice
+to believe that by reason of her strength and purity she would tolerate
+none other. At times he felt sure that the man was Leicester, and again
+he flouted the thought as impossible. If it were Leicester, and if he
+wished to marry Dorothy, Sir George thought the match certainly would be
+illustrious. Halting between the questions, "Is he Leicester?" and "Is he
+not Leicester?" Sir George did not press the Stanley nuptials, nor did he
+insist upon the signing of the contract. Dorothy received from her father
+full permission to go where and when she wished. But her father's
+willingness to give her liberty excited her suspicions. She knew he would
+permit her to leave the Hall only that he might watch her, and, if
+possible, entrap her and John. Therefore, she rode out only with Madge and
+me, and sought no opportunity to see her lover. It may be that her
+passiveness was partly due to the fact that she knew her next meeting with
+John would mean farewell to Haddon Hall. She well knew she was void of
+resistance when in John's hands. And his letter had told her frankly what
+he would expect from her when next they should meet. She was eager to go
+to him; but the old habit of love for home and its sweet associations and
+her returning affection for her father, now that he was kind to her, were
+strong cords entwining her tender heart, which she could not break
+suddenly even for the sake of the greater joy.
+
+One day Dorothy received from John a letter telling her he would on the
+following morning start for the Scottish border with the purpose of
+meeting the queen of Scotland. A plan had been formed among Mary's friends
+in Scotland to rescue her from Lochleven Castle, where she was a prisoner,
+and to bring her incognito to Rutland. John had been chosen to escort her
+from the English border to his father's castle. From thence, when the
+opportunity should arise, she was to escape to France, or make her peace
+with Elizabeth. The adventure was full of peril both for her Scottish and
+English friends. The Scottish regent Murray surely would hang all the
+conspirators whom he might capture, and Elizabeth would probably inflict
+summary punishment upon any of her subjects whom she could convict of
+complicity in the plot.
+
+In connection with this scheme to rescue Mary it was said there was also
+another conspiracy. There appeared to be a plot within a plot which had
+for its end the enthronement of Mary in Elizabeth's stead.
+
+The Rutlands knew nothing of this subplot.
+
+Elizabeth had once or twice expressed sympathy with her Scottish cousin.
+She had said in John's presence that while she could not for reasons of
+state _invite_ Mary to seek refuge in England, still if Mary would come
+uninvited she would be welcomed. Therefore, John thought he was acting in
+accord with the English queen's secret wish when he went to Rutland with
+the purpose of being in readiness to meet Mary at the Scottish border.
+
+There were two elements in Elizabeth's character on which John had not
+counted. One was her royal prerogative to speak words she did not mean;
+and the other was the universal feminine privilege to change her mind. Our
+queen did not want Mary to visit England, nor had she any knowledge of the
+plot to induce that event. She did, however, fear that Mary's unwise
+friends among the Catholics cherished the purpose of making Mary queen of
+England. Although John had heard faint rumors of such a plot, he had been
+given to understand that Mary had no share in it, and he believed that the
+adventure in which he was about to embark had for its only purpose her
+liberation from a cruel and unjust imprisonment. Her cause appealed to
+John's chivalrous nature as it appealed to so many other good though
+mistaken men who sought to give help to the Scottish queen, and brought
+only grief to her and ruin to themselves.
+
+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."
+
+My reply certainly was not comforting.
+
+"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.
+
+"He is all yours, Dorothy," I answered, "all yours, as surely as that
+death will some day come to all of us. Promise me, Dorothy, that you will
+never again allow a jealous thought to enter your heart. You have no cause
+for jealousy, nor will you ever have. If you permit that hateful passion
+to take possession of you, it will bring ruin in its wake."
+
+"It was, indeed, foolish in me," cried Dorothy, springing to her feet and
+clasping her hands tightly; "and I promise never again to feel jealousy.
+Malcolm, its faintest touch tears and gnaws at my heart and racks me with
+agony. But I will drive it out of me. Under its influence I am not
+responsible for my acts. It would quickly turn me mad. I promise, oh, I
+swear, that I never will allow it to come to me again."
+
+Poor Dorothy's time of madness was not far distant nor was the evil that
+was to follow in its wake.
+
+John in writing to Dorothy concerning his journey to Scotland had
+unhesitatingly intrusted to her keeping his honor, and, unwittingly, his
+life. It did not once occur to him that she could, under any conditions,
+betray him. I trusted her as John did until I saw her vivid flash of
+burning jealousy. But by the light of that flash I saw that should the
+girl, with or without reason, become convinced that Mary Stuart was her
+rival, she would quickly make Derbyshire the warmest locality in
+Christendom, and John's life might pay the cost of her folly. Dorothy
+would brook no rival--no, not for a single hour. Should she become jealous
+she would at once be swept beyond the influence of reason or the care for
+consequences. It were safer to arouse a sleeping devil than Dorothy
+Vernon's jealousy. Now about the time of John's journey to the Scottish
+border, two matters of importance arose at Haddon Hall. One bore directly
+upon Dorothy, namely, the renewal by the Stanleys of their suit for her
+hand. The other was the announcement by the queen that she would soon do
+Sir George Vernon the honor of spending a fortnight under the roof of
+Haddon Hall. Each event was of great importance to the King of the Peak.
+He had concluded that Thomas, the man-servant, was not the Earl of
+Leicester in disguise, and when the Earl of Derby again came forward with
+his marriage project, Sir George fell back into his old hardness toward
+Dorothy, and she prepared her armament, offensive and defensive, for
+instant use if need should arise. I again began my machinations, since I
+can call my double dealing by no other name. I induced Dorothy to agree to
+meet the earl and his son James. Without promising positively to marry
+Lord Stanley, she, at my suggestion, led her father to believe she was
+ready to yield to his wishes. By this course she gained time and liberty,
+and kept peace with her father. Since you have seen the evils that war
+brought to Haddon, you well know how desirable peace was. In time of war
+all Haddon was a field of carnage and unrest. In time of peace the dear
+old Hall was an ideal home. I persuaded Sir George not to insist on a
+positive promise from Dorothy, and I advised him to allow her yielding
+mood to grow upon her. I assured him evasively that she would eventually
+succumb to his paternal authority and love.
+
+What an inherent love we all have for meddling in the affairs of others,
+and what a delicious zest we find in faithfully applying our surplus
+energies to business that is not strictly our own! I had become a part of
+the Sir George-Dorothy-John affair, and I was like the man who caught the
+bear: I could not loose my hold.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+PROUD DAYS FOR THE OLD HALL
+
+
+Of course the queen's approaching visit threw Haddon Hall into a frenzy of
+scrubbing and furbishing. Aunt Dorothy was the busiest woman in England.
+Floors were newly polished. Draperies were taken down and were carefully
+washed with mysterious concoctions warranted to remove dirt without injury
+to color. Superfine wax was bought in great boxes, and candles were made
+for all the chandeliers and candelabra in the house. Perfumed oil was
+purchased for the lamp in the state bedroom. Elizabeth, by the way, when
+she came, did not like the odor of the oil, and with an oath tossed both
+the oil and the lamp out of the window. The fattest sheep, kine, and hogs
+were chosen from the flocks and were brought in to be stall-fed in such
+numbers that one might have supposed we were expecting an ogress who could
+eat an ox at a meal. Pipers and dancers were engaged, and a merry fool was
+brought down from London. At last the eventful day came and with it came
+our queen. She brought with her a hundred yeomen of her guard and a score
+of ladies and gentlemen. Among the latter was the Earl of Leicester, who
+was the queen's prime favorite.
+
+Prior to the queen's announcement of her intention to visit Haddon Sir
+George had, with Dorothy's tacit consent, fixed a day upon which the Earl
+of Derby and his son, Lord James, should be received at the Hall for the
+purpose of signing the marriage contract. Dorothy, of course, had no
+intention of signing the contract, but she put off the evil hour of
+refusal as far as possible, hoping something might occur in the meantime
+to help her out of the dilemma. Something did occur at the last moment. I
+am eager to tell you about it, but it must wait its turn. Truly would the
+story of this ingenious girl's life make a romance if it were written by a
+poet. In her Guinevere and Elaine were moulded into one person with the
+tenderness, purity, and fierceness of each.
+
+To postpone further the time of the Stanley visit, Dorothy suggested that
+the betrothal should take place in the presence of the queen. Sir George
+acquiesced, and in his heart grew less eager for the Stanley match as
+Dorothy apparently became more tractable. He was, however, engaged with
+the earl to an extent that forbade withdrawal, even had he been sure that
+he wished to withdraw.
+
+At the time of which I speak the Earl of Leicester was the most exalted
+subject of the realm. He was ardently devoted to the cause of the ladies,
+and, although he had fixed his hope on Elizabeth and longed for a seat
+beside her on the throne, his inflammable heart was constantly catching
+fire from other eyes. He, of course, made desperate efforts to conceal
+these manifold conflagrations from the queen, but the inflammable tow of
+his heart was always bringing him into trouble with his fiery mistress.
+
+The earl's first glance toward Dorothy was full of admiration. The second
+glance was full of conflagration. The second day of the queen's residence
+in Haddon I was astonished, grieved, and angered to see that our girl had
+turned her powerful batteries upon the earl with the evident purpose of
+conquest. At times her long lashes would fall before him, and again her
+great luminous eyes would open wide, shedding a soft radiance which no man
+could withstand. Once I saw her walking alone with him upon the terrace.
+Her head was drooped shamelessly, and the earl was ardent though restless,
+being fearful of the queen. I boiled with rage against Dorothy, but by a
+strong effort I did not boil over until I had better cause. The better
+cause came later.
+
+I failed to tell you of a brief conversation which occurred between Sir
+George and me after my cousin first saw the Earl of Leicester. Sir George
+had gallantly led the queen to her apartments, and I had conducted
+Leicester and several of the gentlemen to their various rooms. Sir George
+and I met at the staircase after we had quitted our guests.
+
+He said: "Malcolm, that fellow Thomas whom I knocked in the head looked no
+more like Leicester than I do. Why did you tell me there was resemblance?"
+
+"I do not know," I answered. "Perhaps your words suggested the thought of
+a resemblance. Perhaps I had lost all memory of Leicester's features. I
+cannot answer your question."
+
+Then an expression of anger came to Sir George's face, and he said:--
+
+"I believe Dorothy lied to me when she said that the fellow Thomas was of
+noble blood."
+
+The next day a servant reported that Thomas had been seen loitering near
+Bowling Green Gate, and Sir George ordered Dorothy not to leave the Hall
+without his permission.
+
+Dorothy replied to her father's command, "I shall obey you, father."
+
+To me there was a note of danger in her voice. Such docile submissiveness
+was not natural to the girl. Of course all appearance of harshness toward
+Dorothy was suppressed by Sir George during the queen's visit to the Hall.
+In truth, he had no reason to be harsh, for Dorothy was a meek,
+submissive, and obedient daughter. Her meekness, however, as you may well
+surmise, was but the forerunner of dire rebellion.
+
+The fourth day of the queen's presence at Haddon Hall was the one
+appointed for the visit of the Stanleys, and Sir George thought to make a
+great event of the betrothal by having the queen act as a witness to the
+marriage contract. As the day approached Sir George became thoughtful,
+while Dorothy grew gleeful. The girl was frequently seen with Leicester,
+and Sir George could not help noticing that nobleman's pronounced
+admiration for his daughter. These exhibitions of gallantry were never
+made in the presence of the queen. The morning of the day when the
+Stanleys were expected Sir George called me to his room for a private
+consultation. The old gentleman was in a state of excitement, not unmixed
+with perplexity and trouble.
+
+He said, "I have great and good news to impart to you, Malcolm; yet I am
+in a dilemma growing out of it."
+
+"Tell me the good news first, Sir George," I replied. "The dilemma may
+wait."
+
+"Is Doll a very beautiful girl?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"I believe she is the most beautiful woman in the world," I answered.
+
+"Good, good," he replied, rubbing his hands. "Is she so fascinating,
+brilliant, and attractive, think you--of course I speak in jest--but think
+you she might vie with the court ladies for beauty, and think you she
+might attract--for the sake of illustration I will say--might she attract
+a man like Leicester?"
+
+"Unless I am much mistaken," I answered, "Leicester is over his ears in
+love with the girl now."
+
+"Ah, do you believe so, Malcolm?" replied Sir George, laughing and
+slapping his thigh, as he walked to and fro across the room. "You have
+seen so much of that sort of thing that you should know it when it comes
+under your nose. Eh, Malcolm, eh?"
+
+"I should suppose that any one, however inexperienced in such matters,
+could easily see Leicester's infatuation for Dorothy. If you wish me to
+tell you what I really believe--"
+
+"I do, I do," interrupted Sir George.
+
+"I should say," I continued, "that Dorothy has deliberately gone in for
+conquest. Leave the girl to herself, Sir George. She can conduct the
+campaign without help from any one. She understands the art of such
+warfare as well as if she were a veteran."
+
+"Gad, but she does, but she does. I believe she could give Venus herself
+some good points in the matter. But let me tell you, Malcolm,"--the old
+man dropped his voice to a whisper,--"I questioned Doll this morning, and
+she confessed that Leicester had spoken words of love to her. Would it not
+be a great match for our house?"
+
+He said "our house," mind you, not "our Doll." I might call his condition
+of mind patrimonial selfishness. Simple old man! He did not know that
+words of love are not necessarily words of marriage.
+
+"Has Leicester spoken to you?" I asked in alarm for John's sake.
+
+"No, no, he has not spoken," returned my cousin; "for that, of course, he
+must have the queen's consent. But he will speak, I am sure, all in good
+time, Malcolm, all in good time."
+
+"How about the Stanleys?" I asked. "They will be here this afternoon."
+
+"That's the devil's finger in the matter," cried Sir George. "That's where
+my dilemma lies. How shall I put them off, and still retain them in case
+nothing should come from Leicester? Besides, I am in honor bound to the
+earl."
+
+"I have a plan," I replied. "You carry out your part of the agreement
+with the earl, but let Dorothy, at the last moment, refuse to give her
+consent. Let her ask for more time, on the plea that she does not know her
+mind. I will suggest to her, if you wish, the part she is to play; but I
+will conceal from her the fact that you are a party to it."
+
+"No," said the old man, "that would be bad faith toward the earl." After a
+pause he continued doubtingly: "No, do not speak to Doll. I believe she
+needs no suggestions in the matter. I fear that mischief is in her mind
+already. Her easy acquiescence in my wishes have of late had a suspicious
+appearance. No, don't speak to her, Malcolm. If ever there lived a girl
+who could be perverse and wilful on her own account, without help from any
+one, it is my girl Doll. God bless you, man, if she but knew that I wanted
+her to reject Stanley, she would have him in spite of hell itself. I
+wonder what she means by her docility and obedience? No, don't speak a
+word to her on the subject. Let her believe I am serious regarding this
+marriage, and she will have some plan of her own to raise the devil. I
+have been expecting signs of it every day. I had determined not to bear
+with her perversity, but now that the Leicester possibility has come up
+we'll leave Doll to work out her own salvation, Malcolm. Don't interfere.
+No man living can teach that girl a new trick in deviltry. Gods, Malcolm!
+I am curious to know what she will be doing, for she certainly will be
+doing something rather than sign that contract of betrothal."
+
+"But suppose out of obedience to you she should sign the contract?" I
+asked.
+
+"Malcolm, you don't know Doll," he replied. Then, after a pause, "Neither
+do I. I wish she were well married."
+
+When I left Sir George, I found Dorothy in close consultation with the
+queen and two of her ladies. I heard the name of Lord James Stanley spoken
+amid suppressed laughter, and I suspected Dorothy had on foot some prank
+touching that young man, to which her Majesty was a party.
+
+After dinner the Stanleys came a-wooing. The party consisted of father,
+son, and four retainers, who looked as if they had been preserved in
+alcohol for the occasion, so red were their faces.
+
+The Earl of Derby was a fine old gentleman of the rural type. His noble
+son was an uncouth rustic, who had no thought above a stable boy or tavern
+maid, nor any ambition above horse trading. His attire was a wonder to
+behold. He wore a ruff of stupendous proportions. His trunks were so
+puffed out and preposterous in size that they looked like a great painted
+knot on a tree; and the many-colored splendors of his sleeves, his hat,
+his hose, and his shoes were dazzling to the eye. Add to this wondrous
+raiment feet and hands that could not be satisfactorily disposed of, and
+an unrest of manner painful to behold, and you may possibly conceive the
+grandiose absurdity of Dorothy's wooer. The sight of him almost made Sir
+George ill; and his entrance into the long gallery, where the queen was
+seated with her ladies and gentlemen, and Sir George and his friends
+standing about her, was a signal for laughter in which her Majesty openly
+joined.
+
+I shall not lead you through the tedious ceremony of presentation and
+introduction, nor shall I tell you of the pompous manner in which one of
+the earl's retinue, a lawyer, read the marriage contract. The fact that
+the contract was read without the presence of Dorothy, whom it so nearly
+concerned, was significant of the small consideration which at that time
+was given to a girl's consent. When all was ready for the signing, Dorothy
+was summoned.
+
+Sir George stood beside the Stanleys, and his nervousness was painfully
+apparent. Two servants opened the great doors at the end of the long
+gallery, and Dorothy, holding up the skirt of her gown, bounded into the
+room. She kneeled to the queen, and turned toward her uncle Stanley and
+her lover-cousin with a low bow. Then she courtesied and said--
+
+"Good even, uncle, and how do you do, cousin. Have you come to inspect me,
+and, perchance, to buy?"
+
+Sir George's face bore an expression of mingled shame, wonder, and alarm,
+and the queen and her suite laughed behind their fans.
+
+"It is well," continued Dorothy. "Here am I, ready for inspection."
+Thereupon she began to disrobe herself before the entire company.
+Leicester laughed outright, and the queen and her ladies suppressed their
+merriment for a moment, and then sent forth peals of laughter without
+restraint. Sir George stepped toward the girl and raised his hand
+warningly, but the queen interposed:--
+
+"Silence, Sir George, I command you;" and Sir George retreated to his
+former place beside the Earl of Derby. Dorothy first removed her bodice,
+showing her shoulders and a part of her arms, clothed in the fashion of a
+tavern maid.
+
+Leicester, who stood by me, whispered, "God never made anything more
+beautiful than Mistress Vernon's arms."
+
+Sir George again spoke angrily, "Doll, what are you doing?" But the queen
+by a wave of her hand commanded silence. Then the girl put her hands
+behind her, and loosened the belt which held her skirt in place. The skirt
+fell to the floor, and out of it bounded Dorothy in the short gown of a
+maid.
+
+"You will be better able to judge of me in this costume, cousin," said
+Dorothy. "It will be more familiar to you than the gowns which ladies
+wear."
+
+"I will retract," said Leicester, whispering to me, and gazing ardently
+at Dorothy's ankles. "God has made something more beautiful than Mistress
+Vernon's arms. By Venus! I suppose that in His omnipotence He might be
+able to create something more beautiful than her ankles, but up to this
+time He has not vouchsafed to me a vision of it. Ah! did any one ever
+behold such strength, such perfect symmetry, such--St. George! the gypsy
+doesn't live who can dance like that."
+
+Sure enough, Dorothy was dancing. The pipers in the balcony had burst
+forth in a ribald jig of a tune, and the girl was whirling in a wild,
+weird, and wondrous dance before her lover-cousin. Sir George ordered the
+pipers to cease playing; but again Elizabeth, who was filled with mirth,
+interrupted, and the music pealed forth in wanton volumes which flooded
+the gallery. Dorothy danced like an elfin gypsy to the inspiring strains.
+Soon her dance changed to wondrous imitations of the movements of a horse.
+She walked sedately around in an ever increasing circle; she trotted and
+paced; she gave the single foot and racked; she galloped, slowly for a
+while, and then the gallop merged into a furious run which sent the blood
+of her audience thrilling through their veins with delight. The wondrous
+ease and grace, and the marvellous strength and quickness of her
+movements, cannot be described. I had never before thought the human body
+capable of such grace and agility as she displayed.
+
+After her dance was finished she stepped in front of her cousin and
+delivered herself as follows:--
+
+"I am sound from ear tip to fetlock. There is not a blemish in me."
+
+"No, by my faith, I will swear there is not!" cried the Earl of Leicester.
+
+"I have good wind," continued Dorothy, "two good eyes. By night or by day
+I can see everything within the range of my vision, and a great deal that
+is not. I shy, at times, when an uncouth object suddenly comes upon me. I
+am warranted gentle if properly handled, but otherwise it is unsafe to
+curry my heels."
+
+Sir George could no longer restrain himself, and again tried to prevent
+Dorothy from proceeding with her terrible insult to the Stanleys. The
+queen, however, was determined to see the end of the frolic, and she
+said:--
+
+"Proceed, Mistress Vernon, proceed."
+
+Dorothy, nothing loath, continued: "As for my disposition, it might be
+better. It probably will improve with age, if it doesn't grow worse. I
+have all the gaits a horse should have. I am four years old, I have never
+been trained to work double, and I think I never shall be. What think you?
+Now what have you to offer in exchange? Step out and let me see you move."
+
+She took the poor youth by the hand and led him to the middle of the
+floor.
+
+"How old are you? Show me your teeth," she said. The heir to Derby smiled
+uneasily, and drew his hand across his nose.
+
+"Ah, you have a touch of the distemper, I see. Are you subject to it?"
+
+Stanley smiled, and the earl said:--
+
+"Sir George, this insult has gone far enough."
+
+"Stand back, my Lord Derby," said the queen. "Do not interfere with this
+interesting barter."
+
+The earl reluctantly lapsed into silence. He remembered the insult of her
+Majesty's words all his life.
+
+"Now step off," said Dorothy to Lord James.
+
+The young man stood in helpless confusion. Dorothy took a step backward
+from him, and after watching Stanley a moment said:--
+
+"What! You can neither trot, pace, nor gallop? I don't believe you can
+even walk alone." Then she turned toward Sir George. A smile was on her
+lips, but a look from hell was in her eyes as she said:--
+
+"Father, take a lesson from this day. I gave you fair warning. Bring me no
+more scurvy cobs for barter nor trade." Then she turned to the Earl of
+Derby and to her cousin Lord James, made a deep courtesy, and said:--
+
+"You can have no barter with me. Good day."
+
+She ran from the room, and a great peal of laughter from all save Sir
+George and the Stanleys followed her as she passed out through the double
+door. When the laughter had subsided, the Earl of Derby turned to Sir
+George and said:--
+
+"Sir George, this insult is unbearable, and I shall expect satisfaction
+for it." Then he turned to the queen: "I beg that your Majesty will give
+me leave to depart with my son."
+
+"Granted," answered Elizabeth, and father and son started to leave the
+room, moving backward toward the great doors. Sir George asked the earl
+and Lord Stanley to remain, and in the presence of the company who had
+witnessed the insult, he in the humblest manner made abject apology for
+the treatment his distinguished guests had received at the hands of his
+daughter. He very honestly and in all truth disclaimed any sympathy with
+Dorothy's conduct, and offered, as the only reparation he could make, to
+punish her in some way befitting the offence. Then he conducted the guests
+to the mounting block near the entrance tower and saw them depart. Dorothy
+had solved her father's dilemma with a vengeance.
+
+Sir George was not sure that he wanted to be angry at Dorothy, though he
+felt it was a duty he owed to himself and to the Stanleys. He had wished
+that the girl would in some manner defer the signing of the contract, but
+he had not wanted her to refuse young Stanley's hand in a manner so
+insulting that the match would be broken off altogether.
+
+As the day progressed, and as Sir George pondered over Dorothy's conduct,
+he grew more inclined to anger; but during the afternoon she kept well
+under the queen's wing, and he found no opportunity to give vent to his
+ill-temper.
+
+Late that night he called me to his room. He had been drinking during the
+evening and was poised between good-humored hilarity and ill-tempered
+ferocity. The latter condition was usually the result of his libations.
+When I entered the room it was evident he was amused.
+
+"Did you ever hear or see such brazen effrontery?" he asked, referring to
+Dorothy's treatment of the Stanleys. "Is there another girl on earth who
+would have conceived the absurd thought, or, having conceived it, would
+have dared to carry it out?"
+
+I took a chair and replied, "I think there is not another."
+
+"I hope not," continued Sir George. He sat in thought for a moment, and
+then broke forth into a great laugh. When he had finished laughing he
+said: "I admit it was laughable and--and pretty--beautiful. Damme, I
+didn't know the girl could do it, Malcolm! I didn't know she had it in
+her. There is not another girl living could have carried the frolic
+through." Then he spoke seriously, "But I will make her smart for it when
+the queen leaves Haddon."
+
+"Sir George, if you will allow me to suggest what I feel on the subject, I
+would say that you have no reason whatever for desiring to make Dorothy
+smart. She may have deeper designs than we can see."
+
+"What designs do you suppose she can have? Tell me, Malcolm," asked Sir
+George.
+
+I remained silent for a moment, hardly knowing how to express my thought.
+"Certainly she could not have appeared to a better advantage than in her
+tavern maid's costume," I said.
+
+"That is true," answered Sir George. "Though she is my own daughter, I
+must admit that I have never seen any woman so beautiful as she." The old
+gentleman laughed softly for a moment and said: "But wasn't it brazen?
+Wasn't it shameless? I have always given the girl credit for modesty,
+but--damme, damme--"
+
+"Her beauty in the tavern maid's costume fired Leicester's heart as
+nothing else could have done," I said. "He stood by my side, and was in
+raptures over her charms."
+
+Sir George mused a moment and said something about the "Leicester
+possibility," which I knew to be an impossibility, and before I left him
+he had determined to allow the matter to drop for the present. "I am
+making a damned pretty mess of the whole affair, I fear, Malcolm," he
+said.
+
+"You don't seem to be clearing it up, Sir George," I responded.
+
+After talking over some arrangements for the queen's entertainment, I said
+good night, and left my cousin brooding over as complicated a problem as
+man ever tried to solve.
+
+The next morning I told Dorothy how her father felt with respect to the
+"Leicester possibility." She laughed and said:--
+
+"I will encourage father in that matter, and," with a saucy twinkle in her
+eye, "incidentally I will not discourage my proud lord of Leicester. I
+will make the most of the situation, fear not, Malcolm."
+
+"I do not fear," said I, emphatically.
+
+There it was: the full-blown spirit of conquest, strong even in a
+love-full heart. God breathed into Adam the breath of life; but into Eve
+he breathed the love of conquest, and it has been growing stronger in the
+hearts of her daughters with each recurring generation.
+
+"How about John?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, John?" she answered, throwing her head contemplatively to one side.
+"He is amply able to protect his own interests. I could not be really
+untrue to him if I wished to be. It is I who am troubled on the score of
+infidelity. John will be with the most beautiful queen--" She broke off in
+the midst of her sentence, and her face became clouded with an expression
+of anger and hatred. "God curse her! I wish she were dead, dead, dead.
+There! you know how I feel toward your English-French-Scottish beauty.
+Curse the mongrel--" She halted before the ugly word she was about to use;
+but her eyes were like glowing embers, and her cheeks were flushed by the
+heat of anger.
+
+"Did you not promise me, Dorothy, that you would not again allow yourself
+to become jealous of Queen Mary?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, I promised, but I cannot prevent the jealousy, and I do not intend
+to try. I hate her, and I love to hate her."
+
+"Why should you hate her?" I asked. "If John remains true to you, there is
+certainly no cause for you to hate any one. If he should be untrue to you,
+you should hate him."
+
+"Hate him?" she exclaimed. "That, indeed, is pretty reasoning. If he
+should be untrue to me, I should of course hate her. I could not hate him.
+I did not make myself love him. I would never have been so great a fool as
+to bring that pain upon myself intentionally. I suppose no girl would
+deliberately make herself love a man and bring into her heart so great an
+agony. I feel toward John as I do, because I must; and I hate your
+Scottish mongrel because I must. I tell you, Malcolm, when she comes to
+Rutland, if I hear of her trying any of her wanton tricks on John there
+will be trouble--mark my words!"
+
+"I ask you to promise me this, Dorothy: that you will do nothing
+concerning John and Queen Mary without first speaking to me."
+
+She paced across the room angrily. "I promise you nothing, Malcolm, save
+that I shall not allow that woman to come between John and me. That I
+promise you, on my oath."
+
+Dorothy continued to shed her luminous smiles on Leicester, though she was
+careful not to shine in the queen's presence. My lord was dazzled by the
+smiles, and continually sought opportunities to bask in their dangerous
+light. As a result of this smiling and basking the great London
+heart-breaker was soon helplessly caught in the toils of Doll, the country
+maiden. She played him as an angler plays a trout. The most experienced
+court coquette could not have done the part better than did this girl,
+whose knowledge of the subject was wholly intuitive, for her life had all
+been spent amid the green hills and groves of Derbyshire. She so managed
+the affair that her father should see enough of Leicester's preference to
+keep alive in Sir George's mind the hope for the "Leicester possibility."
+Those words had become with her a phrase slyly to play upon.
+
+One afternoon when the sun was graciously warm and bright, I induced Madge
+to walk with me upon the terrace, that I might for a few moments feel the
+touch of her hand and hear her whispered words. We took a seat by a large
+holly bush, which effectually concealed us from view. We had been there
+but a few moments when we heard footsteps approaching. Looking between the
+branches of the holly bush I saw Dorothy and Leicester coming toward us
+from the north end of the terrace. Dorothy's eyes were cast down demurely,
+and her head hung in the attitude of a shy, modest girl, who listens
+timidly to words that are music in her ears. Never have I seen an attitude
+more indicative of the receptive mood than that which Dorothy assumed
+toward Leicester.
+
+"Ah," thought I, "poor John has given his heart and has risked his life
+for the sake of Doll, and Doll is a miserable coquette."
+
+But there was conduct still more objectionable to come from Dorothy.
+
+Unconscious of our presence, Leicester said, "My fair beauty, my Venus,
+here is a settle under this holly bush, well hidden from prying eyes. It
+invites us. Will you sit here with me for one happy moment, and give me a
+taste of Paradise?"
+
+"I fear I should not sit with you, my lord, however much I--may--may wish
+to do so. My father or the queen might observe us." The black lashes fell
+upon the fair cheek, and the red golden head with its crown of glory hung
+forward convincingly.
+
+"You false jade," thought I.
+
+"I ask for but one moment," pleaded Leicester. "The queen sleeps at this
+time after dinner, and perhaps your father would not object if you were to
+grant this little favor to the first nobleman of the realm."
+
+"You do not know my father, my lord. He is very strict regarding my
+conduct," murmured the drooping head.
+
+"I ask for but one little moment," continued the earl, "in which to tell
+you that you have filled my heart with adoration and love."
+
+"I should not listen to you, my lord. Were I mindful of my happiness, I
+should return to the Hall at once," said the drooping lashes and hanging
+head.
+
+"You lying wench," thought I. By that time I was thoroughly angered.
+
+"Only one little moment on the settle," pleaded Leicester, "that I may
+speak to you that which I wish so ardently to say."
+
+"Can you not speak while we walk, my lord?" asked Dorothy.
+
+I felt a bitter desire to curse the girl.
+
+"It is difficult for me to speak while we walk," said Leicester,
+cautiously taking the girl's hand; so she permitted him to lead her to the
+settle under the holly bush, on the opposite side of which Madge and I
+were sitting.
+
+The earl retained the hand for a moment after he and Dorothy were seated,
+but she gently drew it away and moved a little distance from his Lordship.
+Still, her eyes were drooped, her head hung low, and her bosom actually
+heaved as if with emotion.
+
+"I will tell John of your shamelessness," I said to myself. "He shall feel
+no more heartaches for you--you wanton huzzy."
+
+Then Leicester poured forth his passion most eloquently. Poesy, verse, and
+rhetoric all came to help him in his wooing. Now and then the girl would
+respond to his ardor with "Please, my lord," or "I pray you, my lord," and
+when he would try to take her hand she would say, "I beg you, my lord, do
+not." But Leicester evidently thought that the "do not" meant "do," for
+soon he began to steal his arm about her waist, and she was so slow in
+stopping him that I thought she was going to submit. She, however, arose
+gently to her feet and said:--
+
+"My lord, I must return to the Hall. I may not longer remain here with
+you."
+
+The earl caught her hand and endeavored to kiss it, but she adroitly
+prevented him, and stepping out into the path, started slowly toward the
+Hall. She turned her head slightly toward Leicester in a mute but eloquent
+invitation, and he quickly followed her.
+
+I watched the pair walk up the terrace. They descended the steps to the
+garden, and from thence they entered the Hall by way of the porch.
+
+"Was it not very wicked in Dorothy to listen to such words from
+Leicester?" asked Madge. "I do not at all understand her."
+
+Madge, of course, knew only a part of what had happened, and a very small
+part at that, for she had not seen Dorothy. Madge and I returned to the
+Hall, and we went at once to Dorothy's room, hoping to see her, and
+intending to tell her our opinion of the shameless manner in which she had
+acted.
+
+Dorothy was in her room alone when we entered. She clapped her hands, ran
+to the door, bolted it, and bounded back toward us.
+
+"I have the greatest news to tell you," she cried laughingly,--"the
+greatest news and the greatest sport of which you ever heard. My lord
+Leicester is in love with me."
+
+"Indeed, that is very fine," I responded; but my irony met its usual fate.
+She did not see it.
+
+"Yes," continued Dorothy, brimming over with mirth, "you should have heard
+him pleading with me a few moments since upon the terrace."
+
+"We did hear him," said Madge.
+
+"You heard him? Where? How?" Her eyes were wide with wonder.
+
+"We were on the opposite side of the holly bush from you," I answered. "We
+heard him and we saw you."
+
+"Did you? Good. I am glad of it," said Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, we saw and we heard all, and we think that your conduct was
+shameless," I responded severely.
+
+"Shameless?" demanded Dorothy. "Now pray tell me what I did or said that
+was shameless.".
+
+I was at a loss to define the wrong in her conduct, for it had been of an
+intangible quality which in itself was nothing, but notwithstanding meant
+a great deal.
+
+"You permitted him to hold your hand," I said, trying to fix on something
+real with which to accuse her.
+
+"I did nothing of the sort," said Dorothy, laughingly. "He caught my hand
+several times, but I withdrew it from him"
+
+I knew she spoke the truth regarding her hand, so I tried again.
+
+"You--you hung your head and kept your eyes cast down, and you looked--"
+
+"Oh, I hung my head, I cast down my eyes, and I looked?" she answered,
+laughing heartily. "Pray let me ask you, Master Fault-finder, for what use
+else are heads and eyes made?"
+
+I was not prepared to say that the uses to which Dorothy had put her head
+and eyes were not some of the purposes for which they were created. They
+are good purposes, too, I admit, although I would not have conceded as
+much to Dorothy. I knew the girl would soon wheedle me into her way of
+thinking, so I took a bold stand and said:--
+
+"It is my intention to tell John about your conduct with Leicester, and I
+shall learn for what purpose he thinks eyes and heads are created."
+
+"Tell John?" cried Dorothy. "Of course you may tell John. He well knows
+the purposes of heads and eyes, and their proper uses. He has told me many
+times his opinion on the subject." She laughed for a moment, and then
+continued: "I, too, shall tell John all that happened or shall happen
+between Lord Leicester and me. I wish I could tell him now. How I wish I
+could tell him now." A soft light came to her eyes, and she repeated
+huskily: "If I might tell him now; if I might tell him now. Why, Malcolm,
+I despise Leicester. He is a poor, weak fool. He has no more force nor
+strength than I have. He is not a man. He is no more attractive than a
+woman. He wanted to kiss me. He begged me to give him but one. It is but a
+poor kiss which a man gets by begging. Think you I would give him one? Had
+he but touched my lips, think you I would ever allow John to soil himself
+again by kissing them? Fear not, Malcolm. Fear not for John nor for me.
+No man will ever receive from me a favor, the granting of which would make
+me unfit to be John's--John's wife. I have paid too dearly for him to
+throw him away for a penny whistle that I do not want." Then she grew
+earnest, with a touch of anger: "Leicester! What reason, suppose you,
+Malcolm, have I for treating him as I do? Think you I act from sheer
+wantonness? If there were one little spot of that fault upon my soul, I
+would tear myself from John, though I should die for it."
+
+Her laughing mood had passed away, and I feared to say that I could see no
+reason other than coquetry for her conduct, I feared the red-haired
+tigress would scratch my eyes out.
+
+"I have wanted to see you," she continued, "that I might tell you of my
+plans and of the way they are working out, but now since you have spoken
+to me in this manner, Sir Malcolm François de Lorraine Vernon, I shall
+tell you nothing. You suspect me. Therefore, you shall wait with the rest
+of the world to learn my purposes. You may tell John all you have seen and
+heard. I care not how quickly you do it." Then with a sigh: "I pray God it
+may be very soon. He will wish for no explanation, and he shall one day
+have in me a rich reward for his faith."
+
+"Do you trust him as he trusts you?" I asked, "and would you demand an
+explanation were he to act toward Mary Stuart as you have acted toward
+Leicester?"
+
+"He could not act toward her as I did toward Lord Leicester," she said
+thoughtfully. Then after a moment she laughingly continued: "John
+can't--he can't hang his head and--droop his eyes and look."
+
+"But if--" I began.
+
+"I want no more of your hellish 'ifs,'" cried the girl in sudden fury. "If
+John were to--to look at that Scottish mongrel as I looked at Leicester, I
+would--I would kill the royal wanton. I would kill her if it cost my
+life. Now, for God's sake, leave me. You see the state into which you
+have wrought me." I left Madge with Dorothy and walked out upon Bowling
+Green to ponder on the events that were passing before me.
+
+From the time we learned that John had gone to fetch the Scottish queen I
+had fears lest Dorothy's inflammable jealousy might cause trouble, and now
+those fears were rapidly transforming themselves into a feeling of
+certainty. There is nothing in life so sweet and so dangerous as the love
+of a hot-blooded woman.
+
+I soon saw Dorothy again. "Tell me," said I, in conciliation, "tell me,
+please, what is your reason for acting as you do toward Leicester, and why
+should you look differently upon similar conduct on John's part?"
+
+"I will not tell you my plans," she responded,--"not now, at least.
+Perhaps I shall do so when I have recovered from my ill-temper. It is hard
+for me to give my reasons for feeling differently about like conduct on
+John's part. Perhaps I feel as I do because--because--It is this way:
+While I might do little things--mere nothings--such as I have done--it
+would be impossible for me to do any act of unfaithfulness to John. Oh, it
+could not be. But with him, he--he--well, he is a man and--and--oh, don't
+talk to me! Don't talk to me! You are driving me mad. Out of my sight! Out
+of my room! Holy Virgin! I shall die before I have him; I know I shall."
+
+There it was again. The thought of Mary Stuart drove her wild. Dorothy
+threw herself on her face upon the bed, and Madge went over and sat by her
+side to soothe her. I, with a feeling of guilt, so adroit had been
+Dorothy's defence, left the girls and went to my room in the tower to
+unravel, by the help of my pipe, the tangled web of woman's
+incomprehensibility. I failed, as many another man had failed before me,
+and as men will continue to fail to the end of time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+MARY STUART
+
+
+And now I come to an event in this history which I find difficult to place
+before you in its true light. For Dorothy's sake I wish I might omit it
+altogether. But in true justice to her and for the purpose of making you
+see clearly the enormity of her fault and the palliating excuses therefor,
+if any there were, I shall pause briefly to show the condition of affairs
+at the time of which I am about to write--a time when Dorothy's madness
+brought us to the most terrible straits and plunged us into deepest
+tribulations.
+
+Although I have been unable to show you as much of John as I have wished
+you to see, you nevertheless must know that he, whose nature was not like
+the shallow brook but was rather of the quality of a deep, slow-moving
+river, had caught from Dorothy an infection of love from which he would
+never recover. His soul was steeped in the delicious essence of the girl.
+I would also call your attention to the conditions under which his passion
+for Dorothy had arisen. It is true he received the shaft when first he saw
+her at the Royal Arms in Derby-town, but the shaft had come from Dorothy's
+eyes. Afterward she certainly had done her full part in the wooing. It was
+for her sake, after she had drawn him on to love her, that he became a
+servant in Haddon Hall. For her sake he faced death at the hands of her
+father. And it was through her mad fault that the evil came upon him of
+which I shall now tell you. That she paid for her fault in suffering does
+not excuse her, since pain is but the latter half of evil.
+
+During the term of Elizabeth's residence in Haddon Hall John returned to
+Rutland with Queen Mary Stuart, whose escape from Lochleven had excited
+all England. The country was full of rumors that Mary was coming to
+England not so much for sanctuary as to be on the ground ready to accept
+the English crown when her opportunity to do so should occur. The
+Catholics, a large and powerful party, flushed with their triumphs under
+the "Bloody Queen," were believed to sympathize with Mary's cause.
+Although Elizabeth said little on the subject, she felt deeply, and she
+feared trouble should the Scottish queen enter her dominion. Another cause
+of annoyance to Elizabeth was the memory that Leicester had once been
+deeply impressed with Mary's charms, and had sought her hand in marriage.
+Elizabeth's prohibition alone had prevented the match. That thought
+rankled in Elizabeth's heart, and she hated Mary, although her hatred, as
+in all other cases, was tempered with justice and mercy. This great queen
+had the brain of a man with its motives, and the heart of a woman with its
+emotions.
+
+When news of Mary's escape reached London, Cecil came in great haste to
+Haddon. During a consultation with Elizabeth he advised her to seize Mary,
+should she enter England, and to check the plots made in Mary's behalf by
+executing the principal friends of the Scottish queen. He insistently
+demanded that Elizabeth should keep Mary under lock and key, should she be
+so fortunate as to obtain possession of her person, and that the men who
+were instrumental in bringing her into England should be arraigned for
+high treason.
+
+John certainly had been instrumental in bringing her into England, and if
+Cecil's advice were taken by the queen, John's head would pay the forfeit
+for his chivalric help to Mary.
+
+Elizabeth was loath to act on this advice, but Cecil worked upon her fears
+and jealousies until her mind and her heart were in accord, and she gave
+secret orders that his advice should be carried out. Troops were sent to
+the Scottish border to watch for the coming of the fugitive queen. But
+Mary was already ensconced, safely, as she thought, in Rutland Castle
+under the assumed name of Lady Blanche. Her presence at Rutland was, of
+course, guarded as a great secret.
+
+Dorothy's mind dwelt frequently upon the fact that John and the beautiful
+young Scottish queen lived under the same roof, for John had written to
+Dorothy immediately after his return. Nothing so propagates itself as
+jealousy. There were in Haddon Hall two hearts in which this
+self-propagating process was rapidly progressing--Elizabeth's and
+Dorothy's. Each had for the cause of her jealousy the same woman.
+
+One night, soon after Cecil had obtained from Elizabeth the order for
+Mary's arrest, Dorothy, on retiring to her room at a late hour found
+Jennie Faxton waiting for her with a precious letter from John. Dorothy
+drank in the tenderness of John's letter as the thirsty earth absorbs the
+rain; but her joy was neutralized by frequent references to the woman who
+she feared might become her rival. One-half of what she feared, she was
+sure had been accomplished: that is, Mary's half. She knew in her heart
+that the young queen would certainly grow fond of John. That was a
+foregone conclusion. No woman could be with him and escape that fate,
+thought Dorothy. Her hope as to the other half--John's part--rested solely
+upon her faith in John, which was really great, and her confidence in her
+own charms and in her own power to hold him, which in truth, and with good
+reason, was not small, Dorothy went to bed, and Jennie, following her
+usual custom, when at Haddon, lay upon the floor in the same room. John's
+letter, with all its tenderness, had thrown Dorothy into an inquisitive
+frame of mind. After an hour or two of restless tossing upon the bed she
+fell asleep, but soon after midnight she awakened, and in her drowsy
+condition the devil himself played upon the strings of her dream-charged
+imagination. After a time she sprang from the bed, lighted a candle at the
+rush light, and read John's letter in a tremor of dream-wrought fear. Then
+she aroused Jennie Faxton and asked:--
+
+"When were you at Rutland?"
+
+"I spent yesterday and to-day there, mistress," answered Jennie.
+
+"Did you see a strange lady?" asked Dorothy.
+
+"Oh, yes, mistress, I did see her three or four times," answered Jennie.
+"Lady Blanche is her name, and she be a cousin of Sir John's. She do come,
+they say, from France, and do speak only in the tongue of that country."
+
+"I--I suppose that this--this Lady Blanche and--and Sir John are very good
+friends? Did you--did you--often see them together?" asked Dorothy. She
+felt guilty in questioning Jennie for the purpose of spying upon her
+lover. She knew that John would not pry into her conduct.
+
+"Indeed, yes, mistress," returned Jennie, who admired John greatly from
+her lowly sphere, and who for her own sake as well as Dorothy's was
+jealous of Queen Mary. "They do walk together a great deal on the
+ramparts, and the white snaky lady do look up into Sir John's face like
+this"--here Jennie assumed a lovelorn expression. "And--and once,
+mistress, I thought--I thought--"
+
+"Yes, yes, Jesu!" hissed Dorothy, clutching Jennie by the arm, "you
+thought, you thought. Tell me! Tell me! What in hell's name did you think?
+Speak quickly, wench."
+
+"I be not sure, mistress, but I thought I saw his arm about her waist one
+evening on the ramparts. It was dark, and for sure I could not tell,
+but--"
+
+"God's curse upon the white huzzy!" screamed Dorothy. "God's curse upon
+her! She is stealing him from me, and I am helpless."
+
+She clasped her hands over the top of her head and ran to and fro across
+the room uttering inarticulate cries of agony. Then she sat upon the
+bedside and threw herself into Madge's arms, crying under her breath: "My
+God! My God! Think of it, Madge. I have given him my heart, my soul, O
+merciful God, my love--all that I have worth giving, and now comes this
+white wretch, and because she is a queen and was sired in hell she tries
+to steal him from me and coaxes him to put his arm around her waist."
+
+"Don't feel that way about it, Dorothy," said Madge, soothingly. "I know
+Sir John can explain it all to you when you see him. He is true to you, I
+am sure."
+
+"True to me, Madge! How can he be true to me if she coaxes him to woo her
+and if he puts his arm--I am losing him; I know it. I--I--O God, Madge, I
+am smothering; I am strangling! Holy Virgin! I believe I am about to die."
+She threw herself upon the bed by Madge's side, clutching her throat and
+breast, and her grand woman's form tossed and struggled as if she were in
+convulsions.
+
+"Holy mother!" she cried, "take this frightful agony from my breast.
+Snatch this terrible love from my heart. God! If you have pity, give it
+now. Help me! Help me! Ah, how deeply I love. I never loved him so much as
+I do at this awful moment. Save me from doing that which is in my heart.
+If I could have him for only one little portion of a minute. But that is
+denied me whose right it is, and is given to her who has no right. Ah,
+God is not just. If he were he would strike her dead. I hate her and I
+hate--hate him."
+
+She arose to a sitting posture on the edge of the bed and held out her
+arms toward Madge.
+
+"Madge," she continued, frenzied by the thought, "his arm was around her
+waist. That was early in the evening. Holy Virgin! What may be happening
+now?"
+
+Dorothy sprang from the bed and staggered about the room with her hands
+upon her throbbing temples.
+
+"I cannot bear this agony. God give me strength." Soon she began to gasp
+for breath. "I can--see--them now--together, together. I hate her; I hate
+him. My love has turned bitter. What can I do? What can I do? I will do
+it. I will. I will disturb their sweet rest. If I cannot have him, she
+shall not. I'll tell the queen, I'll tell the queen."
+
+Dorothy acted on her resolution the moment it was taken, and at once began
+to unbolt the door.
+
+"Stay, Dorothy, stay!" cried Madge. "Think on what you are about to do. It
+will cost John his life. Come to me for one moment, Dorothy, I pray you."
+Madge arose from the bed and began groping her way toward Dorothy, who was
+unbolting the door.
+
+Madge could have calmed the tempest-tossed sea as easily as she could have
+induced Dorothy to pause in her mad frenzy. Jennie Faxton, almost
+paralyzed by fear of the storm she had raised, stood in the corner of the
+room trembling and speechless. Dorothy was out of the room before poor
+blind Madge could reach her. The frenzied girl was dressed only in her
+night robes and her glorious hair hung dishevelled down to her waist. She
+ran through the rooms of Lady Crawford and those occupied by her father
+and the retainers. Then she sped down the long gallery and up the steps to
+Elizabeth's apartment.
+
+She knocked violently at the queen's door.
+
+"Who comes?" demanded one of her Majesty's ladies.
+
+"I, Dorothy," was the response. "I wish to speak to her Majesty at once
+upon a matter of great importance to her."
+
+Elizabeth ordered her ladies to admit Dorothy, and the girl ran to the
+queen, who had half arisen in her bed.
+
+"You must have affairs of great moment, indeed," cried Elizabeth, testily,
+"if they induce you to disturb me in this manner."
+
+"Of great moment, indeed, your Majesty," replied Dorothy, endeavoring to
+be calm, "of moment to you and to me. Mary Stuart is in England at this
+instant trying to steal your crown and my lover. She is now sleeping
+within five leagues of this place. God only knows what she is doing. Let
+us waste no time, your Majesty."
+
+The girl was growing wilder every second.
+
+"Let us go--you and I--and seize this wanton creature. You to save your
+crown; I to save my lover and--my life."
+
+"Where is she?" demanded Elizabeth, sharply. "Cease prattling about your
+lover. She would steal both my lover and my crown if she could. Where is
+she?"
+
+"She is at Rutland Castle, your Majesty," answered Dorothy.
+
+"Ah, the Duke of Rutland and his son John," said Elizabeth. "I have been
+warned of them. Send for my Lord Cecil and Sir William St. Loe."
+
+Sir William was in command of the yeoman guards.
+
+"Is Sir John Manners your lover?" asked Elizabeth, turning to Dorothy.
+
+"Yes," answered the girl.
+
+"You may soon seek another," replied the queen, significantly.
+
+Her Majesty's words seemed to awaken Dorothy from her stupor of frenzy,
+and she foresaw the result of her act. Then came upon her a reaction worse
+than death.
+
+"You may depart," said the queen to Dorothy, and the girl went back to
+her room hardly conscious that she was moving.
+
+At times we cannot help feeling that love came to the human breast through
+a drop of venom shot from the serpent's tongue into the heart of Eve.
+Again we believe it to be a spark from God's own soul. Who will solve me
+this riddle?
+
+Soon the hard, cold ringing of arms, and the tramp of mailed feet
+resounded through Haddon Hall, and the doom-like din reached Dorothy's
+room in the tones of a clanging knell. There seemed to be a frightful
+rhythm in the chaos of sounds which repeated over and over again the
+words: "John will die, John will die," though the full import of her act
+and its results did nor for a little time entirely penetrate her
+consciousness. She remembered the queen's words, "You may soon seek
+another." Elizabeth plainly meant that John was a traitor, and that John
+would die for his treason. The clanking words, "John will die, John will
+die," bore upon the girl's ears in ever increasing volume until the agony
+she suffered deadened her power to think. She wandered aimlessly about the
+room, trying to collect her senses, but her mind was a blank. After a few
+minutes she ran back to the queen, having an undefined purpose of doing
+something to avert the consequences of her mad act. She at first thought
+to tell the queen that the information she had given concerning Mary
+Stuart's presence in Rutland was false, but she well knew that a lie
+seldom succeeds; and in this case, even through her clouded mentality, she
+could see that a lie would surely fail. She determined to beg the queen to
+spare John's life. She did not know exactly what she would do, but she
+hoped by the time she should reach the queen's room to hit upon some plan
+that would save him. When she knocked at Elizabeth's door it was locked
+against her. Her Majesty was in consultation with Cecil, Sir William St.
+Loe, and a few other gentlemen, among whom was Sir George Vernon.
+
+Dorothy well knew there was no help for John if her father were of the
+queen's council. She insisted upon seeing the queen, but was rudely
+repulsed. By the time she again reached her room full consciousness had
+returned, and agony such as she had never before dreamed of overwhelmed
+her soul. Many of us have felt the same sort of pain when awakened
+suddenly to the fact that words we have spoken easily may not, by our
+utmost efforts, be recalled, though we would gladly give our life itself
+to have them back. If suffering can atone for sin, Dorothy bought her
+indulgence within one hour after sinning. But suffering cannot atone for
+sin; it is only a part of it--the result.
+
+"Arise, Madge, and dress," said Dorothy, gently. "I have made a terrible
+mistake. I have committed a frightful crime. I have betrayed John to
+death. Ah, help me, Madge, if you can. Pray God to help me. He will listen
+to you. I fear to pray to Him. He would turn my prayers to curses. I am
+lost." She fell for a moment upon the bed and placed her head on Madge's
+breast murmuring, "If I could but die."
+
+"All may turn out better than it now appears," said Madge. "Quiet yourself
+and let us consider what may be done to arrest the evil of your--your
+act."
+
+"Nothing can be done, nothing," wailed Dorothy, as she arose from the bed
+and began to dress. "Please arise, Madge, and dress yourself. Here are
+your garments and your gown."
+
+They hastily dressed without speaking, and Dorothy began again to pace the
+floor.
+
+"He will die hating me," said Dorothy. "If he could live I willingly would
+give him to the--the Scottish woman. Then I could die and my suffering
+would cease. I must have been mad when I went to the queen. He trusted me
+with his honor and his life, and I, traitress that I am, have betrayed
+both. Ah, well, when he dies I also shall die. There is comfort at least
+in that thought. How helpless I am."
+
+She could not weep. It seemed as if there were not a tear in her. All was
+hard, dry, burning agony. She again fell upon the bed and moaned piteously
+for a little time, wringing her hands and uttering frantic ejaculatory
+prayers for help.
+
+"My mind seems to have forsaken me," she said hoarsely to Madge. "I cannot
+think. What noise is that?"
+
+She paused and listened for a moment. Then she went to the north window
+and opened the casement.
+
+"The yeoman guards from Bakewell are coming," she said. "I recognize them
+by the light of their flambeaux. They are entering the gate at the
+dove-cote."
+
+A part of the queen's guard had been quartered in the village of Bakewell.
+
+Dorothy stood at the window for a moment and said: "The other guards are
+here under our window and are ready to march to Rutland. There is Lord
+Cecil, and Sir William St. Loe, and Malcolm, and there is my father. Now
+they are off to meet the other yeomen at the dove-cote. The stable boys
+are lighting their torches and flambeaux. They are going to murder John,
+and I have sent them."
+
+Dorothy covered her face with her hands and slowly walked to and fro
+across the room.
+
+"Call Malcolm," said Madge. "Perhaps he can help us. Lead me to the
+window, Dorothy, and I will call him." Dorothy led Madge to the window,
+and above the din of arms I heard her soft voice calling, "Malcolm,
+Malcolm."
+
+The order to march had been given before Madge called, but I sought Sir
+William and told him I would return to the Hall to get another sword and
+would soon overtake him on the road to Rutland.
+
+I then hastened to Dorothy's room. I was ignorant of the means whereby
+Elizabeth had learned of Mary's presence at Rutland. The queen had told no
+one how the information reached her. The fact that Mary was in England was
+all sufficient for Cecil, and he proceeded to execute the order Elizabeth
+had given for Mary's arrest, without asking or desiring any explanation.
+I, of course, was in great distress for John's sake, since I knew that he
+would be attainted of treason. I had sought in vain some plan whereby I
+might help him, but found none. I, myself, being a Scottish refugee,
+occupied no safe position, and my slightest act toward helping John or
+Mary would be construed against me.
+
+When I entered Dorothy's room, she ran to me and said: "Can you help me,
+Malcolm? Can you help me save him from this terrible evil which I have
+brought upon him?"
+
+"How did you bring the evil upon him?" I asked, in astonishment. "It was
+not your fault that he brought Mary Stuart to--"
+
+"No, no," she answered; "but I told the queen she was at Rutland."
+
+"You told the queen?" I exclaimed, unwilling to believe my ears. "You
+told--How--why--why did you tell her?"
+
+"I do not know why I told her," she replied. "I was mad with--with
+jealousy. You warned me against it, but I did not heed you. Jennie Faxton
+told me that she saw John and--but all that does not matter now. I will
+tell you hereafter if I live. What we must now do is to save him--to save
+him if we can. Try to devise some plan. Think--think, Malcolm."
+
+My first thought was to ride to Rutland Castle and give the alarm. Sir
+George would lead the yeomen thither by the shortest route--the road by
+way of Rowsley. There was another route leading up the Lathkil through the
+dale, and thence by a road turning southward to Rutland. That road was
+longer by a league than the one Sir George would take, but I could put my
+horse to his greatest speed, and I might be able to reach the castle in
+time to enable John and Mary to escape. I considered the question a
+moment. My own life certainly would pay the forfeit in case of failure;
+but my love for John and, I confess it with shame, the memory of my old
+tenderness for Mary impelled me to take the risk. I explained the plan
+upon which I was thinking, and told them of my determination. When I did
+so, Madge grasped me by the arm to detain me, and Dorothy fell upon her
+knees and kissed my hand.
+
+I said, "I must start at once; for, ride as I may, I fear the yeomen will
+reach Rutland gates before I can get there."
+
+"But If the guards should be at the gates when you arrive, or if you
+should be missed by Cecil, you, a Scottish refugee and a friend of Queen
+Mary, would be suspected of treason, and you would lose your life," said
+Madge, who was filled with alarm for my sake.
+
+"That is true," I replied; "but I can think of no other way whereby John
+can possibly be saved."
+
+Dorothy stood for a moment in deep thought, and said:--
+
+"I will ride to Rutland by way of Lathkil Dale--I will ride in place of
+you, Malcolm. It is my duty and my privilege to do this if I can."
+
+I saw the truth of her words, and felt that since Dorothy had wrought the
+evil, it was clearly her duty to remedy it if she could. If she should
+fail, no evil consequences would fall upon her. If I should fail, it would
+cost me my life; and while I desired to save John, still I wished to save
+myself. Though my conduct may not have been chivalric, still I was willing
+that Dorothy should go in my place, and I told her so. I offered to ride
+with her as far as a certain cross-road a league distant from Rutland
+Castle. There I would leave her, and go across the country to meet the
+yeomen on the road they had taken. I could join them before they reached
+Rutland, and my absence during the earlier portion of the march would not
+be remarked, or if noticed it could easily be explained.
+
+This plan was agreed upon, and after the guards had passed out at
+Dove-cote Gate and were well down toward Rowsley, I rode out from the
+Hall, and waited for Dorothy at an appointed spot near Overhaddon.
+
+Immediately after my departure Dolcy was saddled, and soon Dorothy rode
+furiously up to me. Away we sped, Dorothy and I, by Yulegrave church, down
+into the dale, and up the river. Never shall I forget that mad ride. Heavy
+rains had recently fallen, and the road in places was almost impassable.
+The rivers were in flood, but when Dorothy and I reached the ford, the
+girl did not stop to consider the danger ahead of her. I heard her
+whisper, "On, Dolcy, on," and I heard the sharp "whisp" of the whip as she
+struck the trembling, fearful mare, and urged her into the dark flood.
+Dolcy hesitated, but Dorothy struck her again and again with the whip and
+softly cried, "On, Dolcy, on." Then mare and rider plunged into the
+swollen river, and I, of course, followed them. The water was so deep that
+our horses were compelled to swim, and when we reached the opposite side
+of the river we had drifted with the current a distance of at least three
+hundred yards below the road. We climbed the cliff by a sheep path. How
+Dorothy did it I do not know; and how I succeeded in following her I know
+even less. When we reached the top of the cliff, Dorothy started off at
+full gallop, leading the way, and again I followed. The sheep path
+leading up the river to the road followed close the edge of the cliff,
+where a false step by the horse would mean death to both horse and rider.
+But Dorothy feared not, or knew not, the danger, and I caught her ever
+whispered cry,--"On, Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy, on." Ashamed to fall behind,
+yet fearing to ride at such a pace on such a path, I urged my horse
+forward. He was a fine, strong, mettlesome brute, and I succeeded in
+keeping the girl's dim form in sight. The moon, which was rapidly sinking
+westward, still gave us light through rifts in the black bank of floating
+clouds, else that ride over the sheep path by the cliff would have been
+our last journey in the flesh.
+
+Soon we reached the main road turning southward. It was a series of rough
+rocks and mudholes, and Dorothy and Dolcy shot forward upon it with the
+speed of the tempest, to undo, if possible, the evil which a dozen words,
+untimely spoken, had wrought. I urged my horse until his head was close by
+Dolcy's tail, and ever and anon could I hear the whispered cry,--"On,
+Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy, sweet Dolcy, good Dolcy; on, my pet, on."
+
+No word was spoken between Dorothy and me; but I could hear Dolcy panting
+with her mighty effort, and amid the noise of splashing water and the
+thud, thud, thud of our horses' hoofs came always back to me from
+Dorothy's lips the sad, sad cry, full of agony and longing,--"On, Dolcy,
+on; on Dolcy, on."
+
+The road we took led us over steep hills and down through dark,
+shadow-crowded ravines; but up hill, down hill, and on the level the
+terrible girl before me plunged forward with unabated headlong fury until
+I thought surely the flesh of horse, man, and woman could endure the
+strain not one moment longer. But the horses, the woman, and--though I say
+it who should not--the man were of God's best handiwork, and the cords of
+our lives did not snap. One thought, and only one, held possession of the
+girl, and the matter of her own life or death had no place in her mind.
+
+When we reached the cross-road where I was to leave her, we halted while I
+instructed Dorothy concerning the road she should follow from that point
+to Rutland, and directed her how to proceed when she should arrive at the
+castle gate. She eagerly listened for a moment or two, then grew
+impatient, and told me to hasten in my speech, since there was no time to
+lose. Then she fearlessly dashed away alone into the black night; and as I
+watched her fair form fade into the shadows, the haunting cry came faintly
+back to me,--"On, Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy on," and I was sick at heart. I was
+loath to leave her thus in the inky gloom. The moon had sunk for the
+night, and the clouds had banked up without a rift against the hidden
+stars; but I could give her no further help, and my life would pay the
+forfeit should I accompany her. She had brought the evil upon herself. She
+was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain. She was fulfilling her
+destiny. She was doing that which she must do: nothing more, nothing less.
+She was filling her little niche in the universal moment. She was a part
+of the infinite kaleidoscope--a fate-charged, fate-moved, fragile piece of
+glass which might be crushed to atoms in the twinkling of an eye, in the
+sounding of a trump.
+
+After leaving Dorothy I rode across the country and soon overtook the
+yeoman guard whom I joined unobserved. Then I marched with them, all too
+rapidly to suit me, to Rutland. The little army had travelled with greater
+speed than I had expected, and I soon began to fear that Dorothy would not
+reach Rutland Castle in time to enable its inmates to escape.
+
+Within half an hour from the time I joined the yeomen we saw the dim
+outlines of the castle, and Sir William St. Loe gave the command to hurry
+forward. Cecil, Sir William, Sir George, and myself rode in advance of the
+column. As we approached the castle by the road leading directly to the
+gate from the north, I saw for a moment upon the top of the hill west of
+the castle gate the forms of Dorothy and Dolcy in dim silhouette against
+the sky. Then I saw them plunge madly down the hill toward the gate. I
+fancied I could hear the girl whispering in frenzied hoarseness,--"On,
+Dolcy, on," and I thought I could catch the panting of the mare. At the
+foot of the hill, less than one hundred yards from the gate, poor Dolcy,
+unable to take another step, dropped to the ground. Dolcy had gone on to
+her death. She had filled her little niche in the universe and had died at
+her post Dorothy plunged forward over the mare's head, and a cry of alarm
+came from my lips despite me. I was sure the girl had been killed. She,
+however, instantly sprang to her feet. Her hair was flying behind her and
+she ran toward the gate crying: "John, John, fly for your life!" And then
+she fell prone upon the ground and did not rise.
+
+We had all seen the mare fall, and had seen the girl run forward toward
+the gates and fall before reaching them. Cecil and Sir William rode to the
+spot where Dorothy lay, and dismounted.
+
+In a moment Sir William called to Sir George:--
+
+"The lady is your daughter, Mistress Dorothy."
+
+"What in hell's name brings her here?" cried Sir George, hurriedly riding
+forward, "and how came she?"
+
+I followed speedily, and the piteous sight filled my eyes with tears. I
+cannot describe it adequately to you, though I shall see it vividly to the
+end of my days. Dorothy had received a slight wound upon the temple, and
+blood was trickling down her face upon her neck and ruff. Her hair had
+fallen from its fastenings. She had lost her hat, and her gown was torn in
+shreds and covered with mud. I lifted the half-conscious girl to her feet
+and supported her; then with my kerchief I bound up the wound upon her
+temple.
+
+"Poor Dolcy," she said, almost incoherently, "I have killed her and I have
+failed--I have failed. Now I am ready to die. Would that I had died with
+Dolcy. Let me lie down here, Malcolm,--let me lie down."
+
+I still held her in my arms and supported her half-fainting form.
+
+"Why are you here?" demanded Sir George.
+
+"To die," responded Dorothy.
+
+"To die? Damned nonsense!" returned her father.
+
+"How came you here, you fool?"
+
+"On Dolcy. She is dead," returned Dorothy.
+
+"Were you not at Haddon when we left there?" asked her father.
+
+"Yes," she replied.
+
+"Did you pass us on the road?" he asked.
+
+"How came you here?" Sir George insisted.
+
+"Oh, I flew hither. I am a witch. Don't question me, father. I am in no
+temper to listen to you. I warn you once and for all, keep away from me;
+beware of me. I have a dagger in my bosom. Go and do the work you came to
+do; but remember this, father, if harm comes to him I will take my own
+life, and my blood shall be upon your soul."
+
+"My God, Malcolm, what does she mean?" asked Sir George, touched with fear
+by the strength of his daughter's threat. "Has she lost her wits?"
+
+"No," the girl quickly responded, "I have only just found them."
+
+Sir George continued to question Dorothy, but he received no further
+response from her. She simply held up the palm of her hand warningly
+toward him, and the gesture was as eloquent as an oration. She leaned
+against me, and covered her face with her hands, while her form shook and
+trembled as if with a palsy.
+
+Cecil and Sir William St. Loe then went toward the gate, and Sir George
+said to me:--
+
+"I must go with them. You remain with Doll, and see that she is taken
+home. Procure a horse for her. If she is unable to ride, make a litter, or
+perhaps there is a coach in the castle; if so, take possession of it. Take
+her home by some means when we return. What, think you, could have brought
+her here?"
+
+I evaded the question by replying, "I will probably be able to get a coach
+in the castle, Sir George. Leave Dorothy with me."
+
+Soon, by the command of Sir William, the yeomen rode to the right and to
+the left for the purpose of surrounding the castle, and then I heard Cecil
+at the gates demanding:--
+
+"Open in the name of the queen."
+
+"Let us go to the gates," said Dorothy, "that we may hear what they say
+and see what they do. Will they kill him here, think you?" she asked,
+looking wildly into my face.
+
+The flambeaux on the castle gate and those which the link-boys had brought
+with them from Haddon were lighted, and the scene in front of the gate was
+all aglow.
+
+"No, no, my sweet one," I answered, "perhaps they will not kill him at
+all. Certainly they will not kill him now. They must try him first."
+
+I tried to dissuade her from going to the gates, but she insisted, and I
+helped her to walk forward.
+
+When Dorothy and I reached the gates, we found that Cecil and Lord Rutland
+were holding a consultation through the parley-window. The portcullis was
+still down, and the gates were closed; but soon the portcullis was
+raised, a postern was opened from within, and Sir William entered the
+castle with two score of the yeomen guards.
+
+Sir George approached and again plied Dorothy with questions, but she
+would not speak. One would have thought from her attitude that she was
+deaf and dumb. She seemed unconscious of her father's presence.
+
+"She has lost her mind," said Sir George, in tones of deep trouble, "and I
+know not what to do."
+
+"Leave her with me for a time, cousin. I am sure she will be better if we
+do not question her now."
+
+Then Dorothy seemed to awaken. "Malcolm is right, father. Leave me for a
+time, I pray you."
+
+Sir George left us, and waited with a party of yeomen a short distance
+from the gate for the return of Sir William with his prisoners.
+
+Dorothy and I sat upon a stone bench, near the postern through which Sir
+William and the guardsmen had entered, but neither of us spoke.
+
+After a long, weary time of waiting Sir William came out of the castle
+through the postern, and with him came Mary Stuart. My heart jumped when I
+saw her in the glare of the flambeaux, and the spirit of my dead love for
+her came begging admission to my heart. I cannot describe my sensations
+when I beheld her, but this I knew, that my love for her was dead past
+resurrection.
+
+Following Mary came Lord Rutland, and immediately following his Lordship
+walked John. When he stepped through the postern, Dorothy sprang to her
+feet and ran to him with a cry, "John, John!"
+
+He looked at her in surprise, and stepped toward her with evident intent
+to embrace her. His act was probably the result of an involuntary impulse,
+for he stopped before he reached the girl.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Sir George had gone at Sir William's request to arrange the guards for
+the return march.
+
+Dorothy and John were standing within two yards of each other.
+
+"Do not touch me," cried Dorothy, "save to strike me If you will. The evil
+which has come upon you is of my doing. I betrayed you to the queen."
+
+I saw Mary turn quickly toward the girl when she uttered those words.
+
+"I was insane when I did it," continued Dorothy. "They will take your
+life, John. But when you die I also shall die. It is a poor reparation, I
+know, but it is the only one I can make."
+
+"I do not understand you, Dorothy," said John. "Why should you betray me?"
+
+"I cannot tell you," she answered. "All I know is that I did betray you
+and I hardly know how I did it. It all seems like a dream--like a fearful
+monster of the night. There is no need for me to explain. I betrayed you
+and now I suffer for it, more a thousand-fold than you can possibly
+suffer. I offer no excuse. I have none. I simply betrayed you, and ask
+only that I may die with you."
+
+Then was manifest in John's heart the noblest quality which God has given
+to man--charity, strengthened by reason. His face glowed with a light that
+seemed saintlike, and a grand look of ineffable love and pity came to his
+eyes. He seemed as if by inspiration to understand all that Dorothy had
+felt and done, and he knew that if she had betrayed him she had done it at
+a time when she was not responsible for her acts. He stepped quickly to
+the girl's side, and caring naught that we all should see him, caught her
+to his breast. He held her in his arms, and the light of the flambeaux
+fell upon her upturned face.
+
+"Dorothy," he said, "it matters not what you have done; you are my only
+love. I ask no explanation. If you have betrayed me to death, though I
+hope it will not come to that evil, you did not do it because you did not
+love me."
+
+"No, no, John, you know that," sobbed the girl.
+
+"I do know it, Dorothy; I know all that I wish to know. You would not
+intentionally bring evil upon me while you love me."
+
+"Ah, that I do, John; only God knows how deeply, how desperately. My love
+was the cause--my love was my curse--it was your curse."
+
+"Do not weep, Dorothy," said John, interrupting her. "I would that I could
+take all your suffering upon myself. Do not weep."
+
+Dorothy buried her face upon his breast and tears came to her relief. She
+was not alone in her weeping, for there stood I like a very woman, and by
+my side stood rough old Sir William. Tears were coursing down the bronzed
+cheek of the grand old warrior like drops of glistening dew upon the
+harrowed face of a mountain rock. When I saw Sir William's tears, I could
+no longer restrain my emotions, and I frankly tell you that I made a
+spectacle of myself in full view of the queen's yeoman guard.
+
+Sir George approached our little group, and when he saw Dorothy in John's
+arms, he broke forth into oaths and stepped toward her intending to force
+her away. But John held up the palm of his free hand warningly toward Sir
+George, and drawing the girl's drooping form close to his breast he spoke
+calmly:--
+
+"Old man, if you but lay a finger on this girl, I will kill you where you
+stand. No power on earth can save you."
+
+There was a tone in John's voice that forced even Sir George to pause.
+Then Sir George turned to me.
+
+"This is the man who was in my house. He is the man who called himself
+Thomas. Do you know him?"
+
+Dorothy saved me from the humiliation of an answer.
+
+She took one step from John's side and held him by the hand while she
+spoke.
+
+"Father," she said, "this man is Sir John Manners. Now you may understand
+why he could not seek my hand openly, and you also know why I could not
+tell you his name." She again turned to John, and he put his arm about
+her. You can imagine much better that I can describe Sir George's fury. He
+snatched a halberd from the hands of a yeoman who was standing near by and
+started toward John and Dorothy. Thereupon the hard old warrior, Sir
+William St. Loe, whose heart one would surely say was the last place where
+sentiment could dwell, performed a little act of virtue which will balance
+many a page on the debtor side of his ledger of life. He lifted his sword
+and scabbard and struck Sir George's outstretched hand, causing the
+halberd to fall to the ground.
+
+"Don't touch the girl," cried Sir William, hoarsely.
+
+"She is my daughter," retorted Sir George, who was stunned mentally as
+well as physically by Sir William's blow.
+
+"I care not whose daughter she is," returned Sir William. "You shall not
+touch her. If you make but one other attempt, I will use my blade upon
+you."
+
+Sir William and John had been warm friends at London court, and the old
+captain of the guards quickly guessed the true situation when he saw
+Dorothy run to John's arms.
+
+"Sir, you shall answer for this," said Sir George, angrily, to Sir
+William.
+
+"With pleasure," returned Sir William. "I will give you satisfaction
+whenever you wish it, save this present time. I am too busy now."
+
+Blessed old Sir William! You have been dead these many winters; and were I
+a priest, I would say a mass for your soul gratis every day in the year.
+
+"Did the girl betray us?" asked Queen Mary.
+
+No one answered her question. Then she turned toward Sir John and touched
+him upon the shoulder. He turned his face toward her, signifying that he
+was listening.
+
+"Who is this girl?" Mary demanded.
+
+"My sweetheart, my affianced wife," John answered.
+
+"She says she betrayed us," the queen responded.
+
+"Yes," said John.
+
+"Did you trust her with knowledge of our presence in Rutland?" Mary
+demanded angrily.
+
+"I did," he answered.
+
+"You were a fool," said Mary.
+
+"I know it," responded John.
+
+"You certainly bear her no resentment for her treason," said Mary.
+
+"I certainly do not," quietly answered John. "Her suffering is greater
+than mine. Can you not see that it is?"
+
+"It is your privilege," said Mary, scornfully, "to intrust your own
+secrets to whomsoever you may choose for your confidant, and it is quite
+saintlike in you to forgive this person for betraying you; but what think
+you of the hard case in which her treason and your folly have placed me?"
+
+"That is my greatest grief, save for Dorothy," answered John, softly.
+Lived there ever a man possessed of broader charity or deeper love than
+John? God surely made him of gold dust, not of common clay.
+
+Queen Mary stepped away from John in disgust, and when she turned she saw
+me for the first time. She started and was about to speak, but I placed my
+fingers warningly upon my lips and she remained silent.
+
+"Where do you take us, Sir William?" asked John.
+
+"To Haddon Hall. There you will await the commands of the queen."
+
+"How came you here?" John asked gently of Dorothy.
+
+"I rode Dolcy," she whispered. "She dropped dead at the foot of the hill.
+Yonder she lies. I came up the Lathkil by the long road, and I hoped that
+I might reach you in time to give warning. When the guard left Haddon I
+realized the evil that would come upon you by reason of my base betrayal."
+Here she broke down and for a moment could not proceed in the narrative.
+She soon recovered and continued: "Then I mounted Dolcy, and tried to
+reach here by way of the long road. Poor Dolcy seemed to understand my
+trouble and my despair, and she brought me with all the speed that a horse
+could make; but the road was too long and too rough; and she failed, and I
+failed. Would that I could have died in her place. She gave her life in
+trying to remedy my fault."
+
+Dorothy again began to weep, and John tenderly whispered:--
+
+"All will yet come right" Then he kissed her before us all, and handed her
+to me saying, "Care for her, I pray you, sir."
+
+John spoke a few words to Sir William, and in a moment they both went back
+to the castle.
+
+In a short time the gates were opened, and the Rutland coach drawn by four
+horses emerged from the castle grounds. Sir William then directed Mary and
+Dorothy to enter the coach and requested me to ride with them to Haddon
+Hall.
+
+The yeoman guards were in marching order, and I took my seat in the coach.
+The fates surely were in a humorous mood when they threw Dorothy, Queen
+Mary, and myself together. Pause for a moment and consider the situation.
+You know all the facts and you can analyze it as well as I. I could not
+help laughing at the fantastic trick of destiny.
+
+Soon after I entered the coach Sir William gave the word, and the yeomen
+with Lord Rutland and John moved forward on the road to Haddon.
+
+The coach at once followed the guard and a score of yeomen followed us.
+
+Queen Mary occupied the back seat of the coach, and Dorothy and I sat upon
+the front seat facing her.
+
+Dorothy was exhausted, and her head lay upon my shoulder. Now and again
+she would softly moan and sob, but she said nothing.
+
+After a few minutes of silence Queen Mary spoke:--
+
+"Why did you betray me, you miserable wretch? Why did you betray me?"
+
+Dorothy did not answer. Mary continued:--
+
+"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.
+
+"I can easily believe you," said Mary, sharply. "Did you expect to injure
+me?"
+
+No answer came from Dorothy.
+
+"If you expect to injure me," Mary continued, "you will be disappointed. I
+am a queen, and my Cousin Elizabeth would not dare to harm me, even though
+she might wish to do so. We are of the same blood, and she will not wish
+to do me injury. Your doting lover will probably lose his head for
+bringing me to England without his queen's consent. He is her subject. I
+am not. I wish you joy of the trouble you have brought upon him and upon
+yourself."
+
+"Upon him!" cried Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, upon him," continued Mary, relishing the torture she was inflicting.
+"You will enjoy seeing him beheaded, will you not, you fool, you huzzy,
+you wretch? I hope his death will haunt you till the end of your days."
+
+Poor Dorothy, leaning against me, said faintly:--
+
+"It will--it will. You--you devil."
+
+The girl was almost dead from exhaustion and anguish, but she would have
+been dead indeed had she lacked the power to strike back. I believe had it
+not been for Dorothy's physical weakness she would have silenced Mary with
+her hands.
+
+After a little time Dorothy's heavy breathing indicated that she had
+fallen asleep. Her head rested upon my shoulder, and the delicious perfume
+of her hair and the sweet warm breath from her lips were almost
+intoxicating even to me, though I was not in love with her. How great must
+their effect have been coming upon John hot from her intense young soul!
+
+As the link-boys passed the coach some and some with their flambeaux I
+could see Dorothy's sweet pale face, almost hidden in the tangled golden
+red hair which fell in floods about her. The perfect oval of her cheek,
+the long wet lashes, the arched eyebrows, the low broad forehead, the
+straight nose, the saucy chin--all presented a picture of beauty and
+pathos sufficient to soften a heart of stone. Mary had no heart of any
+sort, therefore she was not moved to pity. That emotion, I am sure, she
+never felt from the first to the last day of her life. She continued to
+probe Dorothy's wound until I told her the girl was asleep. I changed
+Dorothy's position and placed her head against the corner cushion of the
+coach that she might rest more comfortably. She did not awaken when I
+moved her. She slept and looked like a child. For a little time after I
+had changed Dorothy's position Mary and I sat in silence. She was the
+first to speak. She leaned forward and placing her hands upon mine,
+whispered my name:--
+
+"Malcolm!"
+
+After a brief silence I said:--
+
+"What would you, your Majesty?"
+
+"Not 'your Majesty'" said Mary, softly, "but Mary, as of old."
+
+She remained for a moment with her hand upon my knee, and then
+whispered:--
+
+"Will you not sit by me, Malcolm?"
+
+I believe that Mary Stuart's voice was the charm wherewith she fascinated
+men. I resisted to my utmost strength, but that seemed to be little more
+than utter weakness; so I took a seat by her side, and she gently placed
+her hand in mine. The warm touch of her strong, delicate fingers gave me a
+familiar thrill. She asked me to tell her of my wanderings since I had
+left Scotland, and I briefly related all my adventures. I told her of my
+home at Haddon Hall and of the welcome given me by my cousin, Sir George.
+
+"Malcolm, have you forgotten?" she whispered, leaning gently against me.
+"Have you forgotten our old-time vows and love? Have you forgotten all
+that passed between us in the dear old château, when I gave to you my
+virgin love, fresh from my virgin heart?" I sighed and tried to harden my
+heart to her blandishments, for I knew she wished to use me and was
+tempting me to that end. She continued, "I was then only fourteen years
+old--ten years ago. You said that you loved me and I believed you. You
+could not doubt, after the proof I gave to you, that my heart was all
+yours. We were happy, oh, so happy. Do you remember, Malcolm?"
+
+She brought her face close to mine while she spoke, and pressed my hand
+upon her breast.
+
+My reason told me that it was but the song of the siren she was singing to
+my ears. My memory told me that she had been false to me twice two score
+times, and I knew full well she would again be false to me, or to any
+other man whom she could use for her purposes, and that she cared not the
+price at which she purchased him. Bear in mind, you who would blame me for
+my fall, that this woman not only was transcendently beautiful and fatally
+fascinating, but she was a queen and had held undisputed sway over my
+heart for more years than I could accurately number. As I said, added to
+all her beauty, she was a queen. If you have never known royalty, you
+cannot understand its enthralling power.
+
+"I remember it all, madam," I replied, trying to hold myself away from
+her. "It is fresh to me as if it all had happened yesterday." The queen
+drew my arm closely to her side and nestled her cheek for an instant upon
+my shoulder.
+
+"I remember also," I continued, "your marriage with Darnley when I had
+your promise that you would marry me; and, shame upon shame, I remember
+your marriage with Darnley's murderer, Bothwell."
+
+"Cruel, cruel, Malcolm," she said. "You well know the overpowering
+reasons of state which impelled me to sacrifice my own happiness by
+marrying Darnley. I told you at the time that I hated the marriage more
+than I dreaded death. But I longed to quiet the factions in Scotland, and
+I hoped to save my poor bleeding people from the evils of war. You know I
+hated Darnley. You know I loved you. You knew then and you know now that
+you are the only man who has ever possessed my heart. You know that my
+words are true. You know that you, alone, have had my love since the time
+when I was a child."
+
+"And Rizzio?" I asked.
+
+"Ah, Malcolm," she answered tearfully, "I hope you, of all men, do not
+believe that I ever gave a thought of love to Rizzio. He was to me like my
+pet monkey or my favorite falcon. He was a beautiful, gentle, harmless
+soul. I loved him for his music. He worshipped me as did my spaniel."
+
+Still I was determined that her blandishments should not move me.
+
+"And Bothwell?" I asked.
+
+"That is past endurance from you, Malcolm," she said, beginning to weep.
+"You know I was brutally abducted and was forced into marriage with him.
+He was an outlaw, an outcast. He was an uncouth brute whom any woman would
+loathe. I was in his power, and I feigned acquiescence only that I might
+escape and achieve vengeance upon him. Tell me, Malcolm, tell me,"
+continued Mary, placing her arms about my neck and clinging to me, "tell
+me, you, to whom I gave my maiden's love, you who have my woman's heart,
+tell me, do you believe that I could willingly have married Bothwell, even
+though my heart had not been filled with the image of you, who are strong,
+gentle, and beautiful?"
+
+You, if you are a man, may think that in my place you would have resisted
+the attack of this beautiful queen, but if so you think--pardon me, my
+friend--you are a fool. Under the spell of her magic influence I wavered
+in the conviction which had long since come upon me, that I had for years
+been her fool and her dupe. I forgot the former lessons I had learned from
+her perfidy. I forgot my manhood. I forgot all of good that had of late
+grown up in me. God help me, I forgot even Madge.
+
+"If I could only believe you, Mary," I answered, growing insane under the
+influence of her fascinations, "If I could only believe you."
+
+"Give me your lips, Malcolm," she whispered, "give me your lips.--Again,
+my Malcolm.--Ah, now you believe me."
+
+The lying logic of a wanton kiss is irresistible. I was drunk and, alas! I
+was convinced. When I think of that time, Samson is my only
+comfort--Samson and a few hundred million other fools, who like Samson and
+me have been wheedled, kissed, and duped into misery and ruin.
+
+I said: "I do believe you, Mary. I beg you to forgive me for having
+doubted you. You have been traduced and brutally misused."
+
+"It is sweet to hear you speak those words. But it is better to think that
+at last we have come together with nothing to part us save that I am a
+prisoner in the hands of my vindictive, jealous cousin. I thank God that
+my kingdom of Scotland has been taken from me. I ever hated the Scots.
+They are an ignorant, unkempt, wry-necked, stubborn, filthy race. But,
+above all, my crown stood between you and me. I may now be a woman, and
+were it not for Elizabeth, you and I could yet find solace in each other
+for all our past sufferings. Malcolm, I have a sweet thought. If I could
+escape to fair, beautiful France, all would be happiness for us. You could
+claim your mother's estates in the balmy south, and we might live upon
+them. Help me, my Malcolm, to escape, and your reward shall be greater and
+sweeter than man ever before received from woman."
+
+I struggled against her blandishments for a moment, but I was lost.
+
+"You shall escape and I will go with you," said I. Man needs to make but
+one little prayer to God, "Lead me not into temptation." That prayer
+answered, all else of good will follow.
+
+The morning sun had just begun to rise over Bowling Green Hill and the
+shadows of the night were fleeing before his lances, when our cavalcade
+entered the grounds of Haddon at the dove-cote. If there were two suns
+revolving about the earth, one to shine upon us by night and one by day,
+much evil would be averted. Men do evil in the dark because others cannot
+see them; they think evil in the dark because they cannot see themselves.
+
+With the first faint gray of dawn there came to me thoughts of Madge. I
+had forgotten her, but her familiar spirit, the light, brought me back to
+its fair mistress.
+
+When our coach reached the stone bridge I looked up to the Hall and saw
+Madge standing at the open casement of the tower window. She had been
+watching there all night, I learned, hoping for our speedy and safe
+return, and had been warned of our approach by the noise of the tramping
+guard. I drew back from the coach window, feeling that I was an evil shade
+slinking away before the spirit of light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+LIGHT
+
+
+Dorothy had awakened while we were entering Rowsley, and I was glad that
+Mary could not touch me again.
+
+When our coach reached the stone steps of the entrance tower we found Sir
+George, Lady Crawford, and Madge waiting to receive us. The steps and the
+path leading to them had been carpeted with soft rugs, and Mary, although
+a prisoner, was received with ceremonies befitting her rank. It was a
+proud day for Sir George when the roof of his beautiful Hall sheltered the
+two most famous queens of christendom.
+
+Sir George assisted Mary from the coach most graciously, and in knightly
+fashion led her to Lady Crawford and Madge, who were standing at the foot
+of the tower steps. Due presentations were made, and the ladies of Haddon
+having kissed the queen's hand, Mary went into the Hall upon the arm of
+his Majesty, the King of the Peak, who stepped forward most proudly.
+
+His resentment against Dorothy was for the moment neutralized by the great
+honor of which his house and himself were the recipients.
+
+John and Lord Rutland were taken to the dungeon.
+
+I assisted Dorothy from the coach and led her to Madge, who was waiting
+for us upon the lowest of the steps leading to the entrance tower doorway.
+Dorothy took Madge's outstretched hand; but Madge, by some strange
+instinct, knowing of my presence, turned her face toward me. I could not
+lift my eyes to her face, nor could I endure to remain in her presence.
+While we were ascending the steps she held out her hand to me and said:--
+
+"Is all well with you, Malcolm?" Her voice was full of tender concern, and
+it pained me to the heart to hear her speak kindly to me, who was so
+unworthy of her smallest thought.
+
+"Yes, Lady--yes, Madge," I responded; but she knew from the tones of my
+voice that all was not right with me.
+
+"I fear, Malcolm, that you do not tell me the truth. You will come to me
+soon?" she asked.
+
+"I may not be able to go to you soon," I answered, "but I will do so at
+the first opportunity."
+
+The torture of her kindness was almost unbearable to me. One touch of her
+hand, one tone of her rare voice, had made me loathe myself. The powers of
+evil cannot stand for one moment in a fair conflict with the powers of
+good. I felt that I, alone, was to blame for my treason to Madge; but
+despite my effort at self-condemnation there was an under-consciousness
+that Mary Stuart was to blame, and I hated her accordingly. Although
+Madge's presence hurt me, it was not because I wished to conceal my
+conduct from her. I knew that I could be happy again only after I had
+confessed to her and had received forgiveness.
+
+Madge, who was blind of sight, led Dorothy, who was piteously blind of
+soul, and the two girls went to their apartments.
+
+Curiosity is not foreign even to the royal female breast, and while Mary
+Stuart was entering Haddon Hall, I saw the luminous head of the Virgin
+Queen peeked out at a casement on the second floor watching her rival with
+all the curiosity of a Dutch woman sitting by her window mirror.
+
+I went to my room in Eagle Tower, fell upon my bed, and abandoned myself
+to an anguish of soul which was almost luxurious. I shall not tease you
+with the details of my mental and moral processes. I hung in the balance a
+long time undetermined what course I should pursue. The difference between
+the influence of Mary and the effect wrought by Madge was the difference
+between the intoxication and the exhilaration of wine. Following the
+intoxication of Mary's presence ever came a torturing reaction, while the
+exhilarating influence of Madge gave health and strength. I chose the
+latter. I have always been glad I reached that determination without the
+aid of any impulse outside of myself; for events soon happened which again
+drove all faith in Mary from my heart forever. Those events would have
+forced me to abandon my trust in her; but mind you, I took my good resolve
+from inclination rather than necessity before I learned of Mary's perfidy.
+
+The events of the night had exhausted Dorothy, and she was confined to her
+bed by illness for the first time in her life. She believed that she was
+dying, and she did not want to live. I did not go to her apartments. Madge
+remained with her, and I, coward-like, feared to face the girl to whom I
+had been untrue.
+
+Dorothy's one and only desire, of course, was to see John, but that desire
+for a time seemed impossible of accomplishment.
+
+Elizabeth, Cecil, Leicester, and Sir William St. Loe were in secret
+consultation many times during three or four days and nights. Occasionally
+Sir George was called into their councils, and that flattering attention
+so wrought upon the old man's pride that he was a slave to the queen's
+slightest wish, and was more tyrannical and dictatorial than ever before
+to all the rest of mankind. There were, however, two persons besides the
+queen before whom Sir George was gracious: one of these was Mary Stuart,
+whose powers of fascination had been brought to bear upon the King of the
+Peak most effectively. The other was Leicester, to whom, as my cousin
+expressed it, he hoped to dispose of that troublesome and disturbing
+body--Dorothy. These influences, together with the fact that his enemies
+of Rutland were in the Haddon dungeon, had given Sir George a spleen-vent,
+and Dorothy, even in the face of her father's discovery that Manners was
+her mysterious lover, had for once a respite from Sir George's just and
+mighty wrath.
+
+The purpose of Elizabeth's many councils of war was to devise some means
+of obtaining from John and his father, information concerning the plot,
+which had resulted in bringing Mary Stuart into England. The ultimate
+purpose of Mary's visit, Elizabeth's counsellors firmly believed to be the
+dethronement of the English queen and the enthronement of her Scottish
+cousin. Elizabeth, in her heart, felt confident that John and his father
+were not parties to the treasonable plot, although she had been warned
+against each of them. Cecil and Sir William St. Loe also secretly held to
+that opinion, though neither of them expressed it, Elizabeth was conscious
+of having given to John while at London court an intimation that she would
+be willing that Mary should visit England. Of such intimation Cecil and
+Sir William had no knowledge, though they, together with many persons of
+the Court, believed that Elizabeth was not entirely averse to Mary's
+presence.
+
+Lord Rutland and John were questioned by Cecil in the hope of obtaining
+some hints which might lead to the detection of those concerned in the
+chief plot, provided such plot existed. But Lord Rutland knew nothing of
+the affair except that John had brought the Scottish queen from Scotland,
+and John persisted in the statement that he had no confederate and that he
+knew nothing of any plot to place Mary upon the English throne.
+
+John said: "I received from Queen Mary's friends in Scotland letters
+asking me to meet her on the border, and requesting me to conduct her to
+my father's castle. Those letters mentioned no Englishman but myself, and
+they stated that Queen Mary's flight to England was to be undertaken with
+the tacit consent of our gracious queen. That fact, the letters told me,
+our queen wished should not be known. There were reasons of state, the
+letters said, which made it impolitic for our queen openly to invite Queen
+Mary to seek sanctuary in England. I received those letters before I left
+Westminster. Upon the day when I received them, I heard our gracious queen
+say that she would gladly invite Queen Mary to England, were it not for
+the fact that such an invitation would cause trouble between her and the
+regent, Murray. Her Majesty at the same time intimated that she would be
+glad if Mary Stuart should come to England uninvited." John turned to
+Elizabeth, "I beg your Majesty, in justice, to ratify my words." Elizabeth
+hesitated for a moment after John's appeal; but her love of justice came
+to her rescue and she hung her head as she said, "You are right, Sir
+John." Then she looked her counsellors in the face and said, "I well
+remember that I so expressed myself."
+
+"In truth," said John, "I having only an hour before received the letter
+from Scotland, believed that your Majesty's words were meant for my ear. I
+felt that your Majesty knew of the letters, and I thought that I should be
+carrying out your royal wishes should I bring Queen Mary into England
+without your knowledge."
+
+The queen responded: "I then felt that I wished Queen Mary to seek refuge
+in my kingdom, but so many untoward events have transpired since I spoke
+on the subject at Westminster that I have good cause to change my mind,
+though I easily understand how you might have been misled by my words."
+
+"I am sure," replied John, "that your Majesty has had good cause to change
+your mind; but I protest in all sincerity that I considered the Scottish
+letters to be a command from my queen."
+
+Elizabeth was a strange combination of paradoxes. No one could be truer
+than she to a fixed determination once taken. No one could be swayed by
+doubt so easily as she to change her mind sixty times in the space of a
+minute. During one moment she was minded to liberate John and Lord
+Rutland; in the next she determined to hold them in prison, hoping to
+learn from them some substantial fact concerning the plot which, since
+Mary's arrival in England, had become a nightmare to her. But, with all
+her vagaries the Virgin Queen surely loved justice. That quality, alone,
+makes a sovereign great. Elizabeth, like her mother, Anne Boleyn, had
+great faith in her personal beauty; like her father, she had unbounded
+confidence in her powers of mind. She took great pride in the ease with
+which she controlled persons. She believed that no one was so adroit as
+Elizabeth Tudor in extracting secrets from others, and in unravelling
+mysterious situations, nor so cunning in hunting out plots and in running
+down plotters. In all such matters she delighted to act secretly and
+alone.
+
+During the numerous councils held at Haddon, Elizabeth allowed Cecil to
+question John to his heart's content; but while she listened she
+formulated a plan of her own which she was sure would be effective in
+extracting all the truth from John, if all the truth had not already been
+extracted. Elizabeth kept her cherished plan to herself. It was this:--
+
+She would visit Dorothy, whom she knew to be ill, and would by her subtle
+art steal from John's sweetheart all that the girl knew of the case. If
+John had told Dorothy part of the affair concerning Mary Stuart, he had
+probably told her all, and Elizabeth felt confident that she could easily
+pump the girl dry. She did not know Dorothy. Accordingly our queen,
+Elizabeth, the adroit, went to Dorothy's room under the pretence of paying
+the girl a gracious visit. Dorothy wished to arise and receive her royal
+guest, but Elizabeth said gently:--
+
+"Do not arise, Dorothy; rest quietly, and I will sit here beside you on
+the bed. I have come to tell you that you must recover your health at
+once. We miss you greatly in the Hall."
+
+No one could be more gracious than Elizabeth when the humor was upon her;
+though, in truth, the humor was often lacking.
+
+"Let us send all save you and me from the room," said the queen, "that we
+may have a quiet little chat together."
+
+All who were in the room save Dorothy and Elizabeth of course departed at
+once.
+
+When the door was closed, the queen said: "I wish to thank you for telling
+me of the presence of her Scottish Majesty at Rutland. You know there is a
+plot on foot to steal my throne from me."
+
+"God forbid that there should be such a plot," replied Dorothy, resting
+upon her elbow in the bed.
+
+"I fear it is only too true that there is such a plot," returned
+Elizabeth, "and I owe you a great debt of gratitude for warning me of the
+Scottish queen's presence in my kingdom."
+
+"I hope the danger will be averted from your Majesty," said Dorothy; "but
+that which I did will cause my death--it will kill me. No human being ever
+before has lived through the agony I have suffered since that terrible
+night. I was a traitress. I betrayed the man who is dearer to me than my
+immortal soul. He says that he forgives me, but your Majesty knows that my
+fault is beyond forgiveness."
+
+"Sir John is a noble gentleman, child," said the queen. "I hope that he is
+loyal to me, but I fear--I fear."
+
+"Do not doubt, do not fear, my queen," returned Dorothy, eagerly; "there
+is nothing false in him."
+
+"Do you love him deeply, little one?" asked the queen.
+
+"No words can tell you my love for him," answered the girl. "I feel shame
+to say that he has taken even the holy God's place in my heart. Perhaps it
+is for that sin that God now punishes me."
+
+"Fear not on that score, Dorothy," replied the queen. "God will not punish
+you for feeling the love which He Himself has put into your heart. I would
+willingly give my crown could I feel such love for a worthy man who would
+in return love me for myself. But I cannot feel, nor can I have faith.
+Self-interest, which is so dominant in all men, frightens me, and I doubt
+their vows."
+
+"Surely, any man would love you for your own sake," said Dorothy,
+tenderly.
+
+"It may be that you speak truly, child; but I cannot know when men's vows
+are true nor when they are false. The real trouble is within myself. If I
+could but feel truly, I could interpret truthfully."
+
+"Ah, your Majesty," interrupted Dorothy, "you do not know the thing for
+which you are wishing; it is a torture worse than death; it is an ecstasy
+sweeter than heaven. It is killing me. I pity you, though you are a queen,
+if you have never felt it."
+
+"Would you do anything I might ask of you, if you could thereby save Sir
+John's life?" asked the queen.
+
+"Ah, I would gladly give my soul to save him," responded Dorothy, with
+tears in her eyes and eagerness in her voice. "Oh, my queen, do not lead
+me to hope, and then plunge me again into despair. Give me no
+encouragement unless you mean to free him. As for my part, take my life
+and spare John's. Kill me by torture, burn me at the stake, stretch me
+upon the rack till my joints are severed and my flesh is torn asunder. Let
+me die by inches, my queen; but spare him, oh, spare him, and do with me
+as you will. Ask from me what you wish. Gladly will I do all that you may
+demand; gladly will I welcome death and call it sweet, if I can thereby
+save him. The faint hope your Majesty's words hold out makes me strong
+again. Come, come, take my life; take all that I can give. Give me him."
+
+"Do you believe that I am an ogress thirsting for blood, Dorothy, that you
+offer me your life for his? You can purchase Sir John's life at a much
+smaller cost." Dorothy rose to the queen with a cry, and put her arms
+about her neck. "You may purchase his freedom," continued the queen, "and
+you may serve your loving queen at one and the same time, if you wish to
+do so."
+
+Dorothy had sunk back into the bed, and Elizabeth was sitting close by her
+side; but when the queen spoke she turned her head on the pillow and
+kissed the royal hand which was resting upon the coverlid.
+
+"Ah, you are so good, so true, and so beautiful," said Dorothy.
+
+Her familiarity toward the queen was sweet to the woman, to whom it was
+new.
+
+Dorothy did not thank the queen for her graciousness. She did not reply
+directly to her offer. She simply said:--
+
+"John has told me many times that he was first attracted to me because I
+resembled you."
+
+The girl had ample faith in her own beauty, and knew full well the subtle
+flattery which lay in her words. "He said," she continued, "that my hair
+in some faint degree resembled yours, but he said it was not of so
+beautiful a hue. I have loved my hair ever since the day he told me that
+it resembled your Majesty's." The girl leaned forward toward the queen and
+gently kissed the royal locks. They no more resembled Dorothy's hair than
+brick dust resembles the sheen of gold.
+
+The queen glanced at the reflection of her hair in the mirror and it
+flatly contradicted Dorothy. But the girl's words were backed by
+Elizabeth's vanity, and the adroit flattery went home.
+
+"Ah, my child," exclaimed her Majesty softly, as she leaned forward and
+kissed Dorothy's fair cheek.
+
+Dorothy wept gently for a moment and familiarly rested her face upon the
+queen's breast. Then she entwined her white arms about Elizabeth's neck
+and turned her glorious eyes up to the queen's face that her Majesty might
+behold their wondrous beauty and feel the flattery of the words she was
+about to utter.
+
+"He said also," continued Dorothy, "that my eyes in some slight degree
+resembled your Majesty's, but he qualified his compliment by telling
+me--he did not exactly tell me that my eyes were not so large and
+brilliant as your Majesty's, for he was making love to me, and of course
+he would not have dared to say that my eyes were not the most perfect on
+earth; but he did say that--at least I know that he meant--that my eyes,
+while they resembled yours, were hardly so glorious, and--and I am very
+jealous of your Majesty. John will be leaving me to worship at your feet."
+
+Elizabeth's eyes were good enough. The French called them "marcassin,"
+that is, wild boar's eyes. They were little and sparkling; they were not
+luminous and large like Dorothy's, and the girl's flattery was rank.
+Elizabeth, however, saw Dorothy's eyes and believed her words rather than
+the reply of the lying mirror, and her Majesty's heart was soft from the
+girl's kneading. Consider, I pray you, the serpent-like wisdom displayed
+by Dorothy's method of attack upon the queen. She did not ask for John's
+liberty. She did not seek it. She sought only to place John softly on
+Elizabeth's heart. Some natures absorb flattery as the desert sands absorb
+the unfrequent rain, and Elizabeth--but I will speak no ill of her. She is
+the greatest and the best sovereign England has ever had. May God send to
+my beloved country others like her. She had many small shortcomings; but I
+have noticed that those persons who spend their evil energies in little
+faults have less force left for greater ones. I will show you a mystery:
+Little faults are personally more disagreeable and rasping to us than
+great ones. Like flying grains of sand upon a windy day, they vex us
+constantly. Great faults come like an avalanche, but they come less
+frequently, and we often admire their possessor, who sooner or later is
+apt to become our destroyer.
+
+"I can hardly tell you," said Dorothy in response to a question by
+Elizabeth, "I can hardly tell you why I informed your Majesty of Queen
+Mary's presence at Rutland. I did it partly for love of your Majesty and
+partly because I was jealous of that white, plain woman from Scotland."
+
+"She is not a plain woman, is she?" said Elizabeth, delighted to hear Mary
+of Scotland so spoken of for once. One way to flatter some women is to
+berate those whom they despise or fear. Elizabeth loved Dorothy better for
+the hatred which the girl bore to Mary. Both stood upon a broad plane of
+mutual sympathy-jealousy of the same woman. It united the queen and the
+maiden in a common heart-touching cause.
+
+Dorothy's confidence grew apace. "She is plain," replied Dorothy,
+poutingly. "She appears plain, colorless, and repulsive by the side of
+your Majesty."
+
+"No, no, Dorothy, that cannot be," returned Queen Elizabeth, gently
+patting. Dorothy's cheek and glancing stealthily at the reflection of her
+own face in the mirror. At this point Dorothy considered that the time had
+come for a direct attack.
+
+"Your Majesty need have no fear of a plot to place Queen Mary upon your
+throne. The English people would not endure her wicked pale face for a
+moment."
+
+"But there is such a plot in existence," said Elizabeth.
+
+"What you say may be true," returned Dorothy; "but, your Majesty, John is
+not in the plot, and he knows nothing of it."
+
+"I hope--I believe--he is not in the plot," said Elizabeth, "but I fear--"
+
+The girl kissed the sleeve of Elizabeth's gown, and then she drew the
+queen closer to her and kissed her hair and her face.
+
+"Ah, my beauteous queen," said Dorothy, "I thank you for those words. You
+must know that John loves you, and is your loyal subject. Take pity upon
+me. Help me. Hold out your gracious hand and lift me from my despair."
+
+Dorothy slipped from the bed and fell on her knees, burying her face in
+the queen's lap.
+
+Elizabeth was touched by the girl's appeal, and caressingly stroked her
+hair, as she said: "I believe he is innocent, but I fear he knows or
+suspects others who harbor treasonable designs. Tell me, Dorothy, do you
+know of any such persons? If you can tell me their names, you will serve
+your queen, and will save your lover. No harm shall come to Sir John, and
+no one save myself shall have knowledge of any word that you may speak. If
+I do not learn the names of the traitors through you or through Sir John,
+I may be compelled to hold him a prisoner until I discover them. If
+through you I learn them, Sir John shall go free at once."
+
+"Gladly, for your Majesty's sake alone would I tell you the names of such
+traitorous men, did I know them;" replied Dorothy, "and thrice gladly
+would I do so if I might thereby liberate John. Your Majesty must see that
+these motives are strong enough to induce me to speak if I knew aught to
+tell you. I would betray the whole world to save him, of that you may be
+sure. But alas! I know no man whom I can betray. John told me nothing of
+his expedition to the Scottish border save what was in two letters which
+he sent to me. One of these I received before he left Rutland, and the
+other after his return."
+
+She fetched the letters to the queen, who read them carefully.
+
+"Perhaps if I were to see him, he might, upon my importunity, tell me all
+he knows concerning the affair and those connected with it if he knows
+anything more than he has already told," said Dorothy, by a great effort
+suppressing her eagerness. "I am sure, your Majesty, he would tell me all
+Should he tell me the names of any persons connected with any treasonable
+plot, I will certainly tell you. It would be base in me again to betray
+John's confidence; but your Majesty has promised me his life and liberty,
+and to obtain those I would do anything, however evil it might be. If I
+may see John, I promise to learn all that he knows, if he knows anything;
+and I also promise to tell you word for word all that he says."
+
+The girl felt safe in making these promises, since she was sure that John
+knew nothing of a treasonable character.
+
+The queen, thinking that she had adroitly led Dorothy up to making the
+offer, said, "I accept the conditions. Be in readiness to visit Sir John,
+upon my command."
+
+Thus the compact was sealed, and the queen, who thought herself wise, was
+used by the girl, who thought herself simple.
+
+For the purpose of hiding her exultation, Dorothy appeared to be ill, but
+when the queen passed out at the door and closed it behind her, the girl
+sprang from the bed and danced around the room as if she were a
+bear-baiter. From the depths of despair she flew to the pinnacle of hope.
+She knew, however, that she must conceal her happiness; therefore she went
+back to bed and waited impatiently the summons of Elizabeth requiring her
+to go to John.
+
+But now I must pause to tell you of my troubles which followed so swiftly
+upon the heels of my fault that I was fairly stunned by them. My narrative
+will be brief, and I shall soon bring you back again to Dorothy.
+
+Queen Mary had no sooner arrived at Haddon Hall than she opened an attack
+upon Leicester, somewhat after the same plan, I suppose, which she had
+followed with me in the coach. She could no more easily resist inviting
+homage from men than a swallow can refrain from flying. Thus, from
+inclination and policy, she sought Leicester and endeavored by the
+pleasant paths of her blandishments to lead him to her cause. There can be
+no doubt concerning Leicester's wishes in the premises. Had Mary's cause
+held elements of success, he would have joined her; but he feared
+Elizabeth, and he hoped some day to share her throne. He would, however,
+prefer to share the throne with Mary.
+
+Mary told him of her plans and hopes. She told him that I had ridden with
+Dorothy for the purpose of rescuing John and herself, and that I had
+promised to help her to escape to France. She told him she would use me
+for her tool in making her escape, and would discard me when once she
+should be safe out of England. Then would come Leicester's turn. Then
+should my lord have his recompense, and together they would regain the
+Scottish crown.
+
+How deeply Leicester became engaged in the plot I cannot say, but this I
+know: through fear of Elizabeth, or for the purpose of winning her favor,
+he unfolded to our queen all the details of Mary's scheme, together with
+the full story of my ride with Dorothy to Rutland, and my return with
+Dorothy and Mary in the coach. Thereupon Mary was placed under strict
+guard. The story spread quickly through the Hall, and Dawson brought it to
+me. On hearing it, my first thought was of Madge. I knew it would soon
+reach her. Therefore I determined to go to her at once and make a clean
+breast of all my perfidy. Had I done so sooner, I should at least have had
+the benefit of an honest, voluntary confession; but my conscience had made
+a coward of me, and the woman who had been my curse for years had so
+completely disturbed my mind that I should have been quite as well off
+without any at all. It led me from one mistake into another.
+
+After Dawson told me that my miserable story was known throughout the
+Hall, I sought Madge, and found her with Aunt Dorothy. She was weeping,
+and I at once knew that I was too late with my confession. I spoke her
+name, "Madge," and stood by her side awaiting her reply.
+
+"Is it true, Malcolm?" she asked. "I cannot believe it till I hear it from
+your lips."
+
+"It was true," I responded. "I promised to help Queen Mary escape, and I
+promised to go with her; but within one hour of the time when I gave my
+word I regretted it as I have never regretted anything else in all my
+life. I resolved that, while I should, according to my promise, help the
+Scottish queen escape, I would not go with her. I resolved to wait here at
+Haddon to tell all to you and to our queen, and then I would patiently
+take my just punishment from each. My doom from the queen, I believed,
+would probably be death; but I feared more your--God help me! It is
+useless for me to speak." Here I broke down and fell upon my knees,
+crying, "Madge, Madge, pity me, pity me! Forgive me if you can, and, if
+our queen decrees it, I shall die happy."
+
+In my desperation I caught the girl's hand, but she drew it quickly from
+me, and said:--
+
+"Do not touch me!"
+
+She arose to her feet, and groped her way to her bedroom. We were in Aunt
+Dorothy's room. I watched Madge as she sought with her outstretched hand
+the doorway; and when she passed slowly through it, the sun of my life
+seemed to turn black. Just as Madge passed from the room, Sir William St.
+Loe, with two yeomen, entered by Sir George's door and placed irons upon
+my wrist and ankles. I was led by Sir William to the dungeon, and no word
+was spoken by either of us.
+
+I had never in my life feared death, and now I felt that I would welcome
+it. When a man is convinced that his life is useless, through the dire
+disaster that he is a fool, he values it little, and is even more than
+willing to lose it.
+
+Then there were three of us in the dungeon,--John, Lord Rutland, and
+myself; and we were all there because we had meddled in the affairs of
+others, and because Dorothy had inherited from Eve a capacity for insane,
+unreasoning jealousy.
+
+Lord Rutland was sitting on the ground in a corner of the dungeon. John,
+by the help of a projecting stone in the masonry, had climbed to the small
+grated opening which served to admit a few straggling rays of light into
+the dungeon's gloom. He was gazing out upon the fair day, whose beauty he
+feared would soon fade away from him forever.
+
+Elizabeth's coldness had given him no hope. It had taken all hope from his
+father.
+
+The opening of the door attracted John's attention, and he turned his face
+toward me when I entered. He had been looking toward the light, and his
+eyes, unaccustomed for the moment to the darkness, failed at first to
+recognize of me. When the dungeon door had closed behind me, he sprang
+down from his perch by the window, and came toward me with outstretched
+hands. He said sorrowfully:--
+
+"Malcolm, have I brought you here, too? Why are you in irons? It seems
+that I am destined to bring calamity upon all whom I love."
+
+"It is a long story," I replied laughingly. "I will tell it to you when
+the time begins to drag; but I tell you now it is through no fault of
+yours that I am here. No one is to blame for my misfortune but myself."
+Then I continued bitterly, "Unless it be the good God who created me a
+fool."
+
+John went to his father's side and said:--
+
+"Sir Malcolm is here, father. Will you not rise and greet him?"
+
+John's voice aroused his father, and the old lord came to the little patch
+of light in which I was standing and said: "A terrible evil has fallen
+upon us, Sir Malcolm, and without our fault. I grieve to learn that you
+also are entangled in the web. The future looks very dark."
+
+"Cheer up, father," said John, taking the old man's hand. "Light will soon
+come; I am sure it will."
+
+"I have tried all my life to be a just man," said Lord Rutland. "I have
+failed at times, I fear, but I have tried. That is all any man can do. I
+pray that God in His mercy will soon send light to you, John, whatever of
+darkness there may be in store for me."
+
+I thought, "He will surely answer this just man's prayer," and almost
+before the thought was completed the dungeon door turned upon its hinges
+and a great light came with glorious refulgence through the open
+portal--Dorothy.
+
+"John!"
+
+Never before did one word express so much of mingled joy and grief. Fear
+and confidence, and, greater than all, love unutterable were blended in
+its eloquent tones. She sprang to John as the lightning leaps from cloud
+to cloud, and he caught her to his heart. He gently kissed her hair, her
+face being hidden in the folds of his doublet.
+
+"Let me kneel, John, let me kneel," she murmured.
+
+"No, Dorothy, no," he responded, holding her closely in his arms.
+
+"But one moment, John," she pleased.
+
+"No, no; let me see your eyes, sweet one," said John, trying to turn her
+face upward toward his own.
+
+"I cannot yet, John, I cannot. Please let me kneel for one little moment
+at your feet."
+
+John saw that the girl would find relief in self-abasement, so he relaxed
+his arms, and she sank to her knees upon the dungeon floor. She wept
+softly for a moment, and then throwing back her head with her old
+impulsive manner looked up into his face.
+
+"Oh, forgive me, John! Forgive me! Not that I deserve your forgiveness,
+but because you pity me."
+
+"I forgave you long ago, Dorothy. You had my full forgiveness before you
+asked it."
+
+He lifted the weeping girl to her feet and the two clung together in
+silence. After a pause Dorothy spoke:--
+
+"You have not asked me, John, why I betrayed you."
+
+"I want to know nothing, Dorothy, save that you love me."
+
+"That you already know. But you cannot know how much I love you. I myself
+don't know. John, I seem to have turned all to love. 'However much there
+is of me, that much there is of love for you. As the salt is in every drop
+of the sea, so love is in every part of my being; but John," she
+continued, drooping her head and speaking regretfully, "the salt in the
+sea is not unmixed with many things hurtful." Her face blushed with shame
+and she continued limpingly: "And my love is not--is not without evil. Oh,
+John, I feel deep shame in telling you, but my love is terribly jealous.
+At times a jealousy comes over me so fierce and so distracting that under
+its influence I am mad, John, mad. I then see nothing in its true light;
+my eyes seem filled with--with blood, and all things appear red or black
+and--and--oh! John, I pray you never again cause me jealousy. It makes a
+demon of me."
+
+You may well know that John was nonplussed.
+
+"I cause you jealousy?" he asked in surprise. "When did I--" But Dorothy
+interrupted him, her eyes flashing darkly and a note of fierceness in her
+voice. He saw for himself the effects of jealousy upon her.
+
+"That white--white Scottish wanton! God's curse be upon her! She tried to
+steal you from me."
+
+"Perhaps she did," replied John, smilingly, "of that I do not know. But
+this I do know, and you, Dorothy, must know it too henceforth and for all
+time to come. No woman can steal my love from you. Since I gave you my
+troth I have been true to you; I have not been false even in one little
+thought."
+
+"I feel sure, John, that you have not been untrue to me," said the girl
+with a faint smile playing about her lips; "but--but you remember the
+strange woman at Bowling Green Gate whom you would have--"
+
+"Dorothy, I hope you have not come to my dungeon for the purpose of making
+me more wretched than I already am?"
+
+"No, no, John, forgive me," she cried softly; "but John, I hate her, I
+hate her! and I want you to promise that you too will hate her."
+
+"I promise," said John, "though, you have had no cause for jealousy of
+Queen Mary."
+
+"Perhaps--not," she replied hesitatingly. "I have never thought," the
+girl continued poutingly, "that you did anything of which I should be
+jealous; but she--she--oh, I hate her! Let us not talk about her. Jennie
+Faxton told me--I will talk about her, and you shall not stop me--Jennie
+Faxton told me that the white woman made love to you and caused you to put
+your arm about her waist one evening on the battlements and-"
+
+"Jennie told you a lie," said John.
+
+"Now don't interrupt me," the girl cried nervously, almost ready for
+tears, "and I will try to tell you all. Jennie told me the--the white
+woman looked up to you this fashion," and the languishing look she gave
+John in imitation of Queen Mary was so beautiful and comical that he could
+do nothing but laugh and cover her face with kisses, then laugh again and
+love the girl more deeply and yet more deeply with each new breath he
+drew. Dorothy was not sure whether she wanted to laugh or to cry, so she
+did both.
+
+"Jennie told me in the middle of the night," continued Dorothy, "when all
+things seem so vivid and appear so distorted and--and that terrible
+blinding jealousy of which I told you came upon me and drove me mad. I
+really thought, John, that I should die of the agony. Oh, John, if you
+could know the anguish I suffered that night you would pity me; you would
+not blame me."
+
+"I do not blame you, Dorothy."
+
+"No, no, there-" she kissed him softly, and quickly continued: "I felt
+that I must separate her from you at all cost. I would have done murder to
+accomplish my purpose. Some demon whispered to me, 'Tell Queen Elizabeth,'
+and--and oh, John, let me kneel again."
+
+"No, no, Dorothy, let us talk of something else," said John, soothingly.
+
+"In one moment, John. I thought only of the evil that would come to
+her--her of Scotland. I did not think of the trouble I would bring to
+you, John, until the queen, after asking me if you were my lover, said
+angrily: 'You may soon seek another.' Then, John, I knew that I had also
+brought evil upon you. Then I _did_ suffer. I tried to reach Rutland, and
+you know all else that happened on that terrible night. Now John, you know
+all--all. I have withheld nothing. I have, confessed all, and I feel that
+a great weight is taken from my heart. You will not hate me, will you,
+John?"
+
+He caught the girl to his breast and tried to turn her face toward his.
+
+"I could not hate you if I would," he replied, with quick-coming breath,
+"and God knows I would not. To love you is the sweetest joy in life," and
+he softly kissed the great lustrous eyes till they closed as if in sleep.
+Then he fiercely sought the rich red lips, waiting soft and passive for
+his caresses, while the fair head fell back upon the bend of his elbow in
+a languorous, half-conscious sweet surrender to his will. Lord Rutland and
+I had turned our backs on the shameless pair, and were busily discussing
+the prospect for the coming season's crops.
+
+Remember, please, that Dorothy spoke to John of Jennie Faxton. Her doing
+so soon bore bitter fruit for me.
+
+Dorothy had been too busy with John to notice any one else, but he soon
+presented her to his father. After the old lord had gallantly kissed her
+hand, she turned scornfully to me and said:--
+
+"So you fell a victim to her wanton wiles? If it were not for Madge's
+sake, I could wish you might hang."
+
+"You need not balk your kindly desire for Madge's sake," I answered. "She
+cares little about my fate. I fear she will never forgive me."
+
+"One cannot tell what a woman will do," Dorothy replied. "She is apt to
+make a great fool of herself when it comes to forgiving the man she
+loves."
+
+"Men at times have something to forgive," I retorted, looking with a
+smile toward John. The girl made no reply, but took John's hand and looked
+at him as if to say, "John, please don't let this horrid man abuse me."
+
+"But Madge no longer cares for me," I continued, wishing to talk upon the
+theme, "and your words do not apply to her."
+
+The girl turned her back disdainfully on me and said, "You seem to be
+quite as easily duped by the woman who loves you and says she doesn't as
+by the one who does not care for you but says she does."
+
+"Damn that girl's tongue!" thought I; but her words, though biting,
+carried joy to my heart and light to my soul.
+
+After exchanging a few words with Lord Rutland, Dorothy turned to John and
+said:--
+
+"Tell me upon your knightly honor, John, do you know aught of a wicked,
+treasonable plot to put the Scottish woman on the English throne?"
+
+I quickly placed my finger on my lips and touched my ear to indicate that
+their words would be overheard; for a listening-tube connected the dungeon
+with Sir George's closet.
+
+"Before the holy God, upon my knighthood, by the sacred love we bear each
+other, I swear I know of no such plot," answered John. "I would be the
+first to tell our good queen did I suspect its existence."
+
+Dorothy and John continued talking upon the subject of the plot, but were
+soon interrupted by a warning knock upon the dungeon door.
+
+Lord Rutland, whose heart was like twenty-two carat gold, soft, pure, and
+precious, kissed Dorothy's hand when she was about to leave, and said:
+"Dear lady, grieve not for our sake. I can easily see that more pain has
+come to you than to us. I thank you for the great fearless love you bear
+my son. It has brought him trouble, but it is worth its cost. You have my
+forgiveness freely, and I pray God's choicest benediction may be with
+you." She kissed the old lord and said, "I hope some day to make you love
+me."
+
+"That will be an easy task," said his Lordship, gallantly. Dorothy was
+about to leave. Just at the doorway she remembered the chief purpose of
+her visit; so she ran back to John, put her hand over his mouth to insure
+silence, and whispered in his ear.
+
+On hearing Dorothy's whispered words, signs of joy were so apparent in
+John's face that they could not be mistaken. He said nothing, but kissed
+her hand and she hurriedly left the dungeon.
+
+After the dungeon door closed upon Dorothy, John went to his father and
+whispered a few words to him. Then he came to me, and in the same
+secretive manner said:--
+
+"The queen has promised Dorothy our liberty." I was not at all sure that
+"our liberty" included me,--I greatly doubted it,--but I was glad for the
+sake of my friends, and, in truth, cared little for myself.
+
+Dorothy went from our dungeon to the queen, and that afternoon, according
+to promise, Elizabeth gave orders for the release of John and his father.
+Sir George, of course, was greatly chagrined when his enemies slipped from
+his grasp; but he dared not show his ill humor in the presence of the
+queen nor to any one who would be apt to enlighten her Majesty on the
+subject.
+
+Dorothy did not know the hour when her lover would leave Haddon; but she
+sat patiently at her window till at last John and Lord Rutland appeared.
+She called to Madge, telling her of the joyous event, and Madge, asked:--
+
+"Is Malcolm with them?"
+
+"No," replied Dorothy, "he has been left in the dungeon, where he
+deserves to remain."
+
+After a short pause, Madge said:--
+
+"If John had acted toward the Scottish queen as Malcolm did, would you
+forgive him?"
+
+"Yes, of course. I would forgive him anything."
+
+"Then why shall we not forgive Malcolm?" asked Madge.
+
+"Because he is not John," was the absurd reply.
+
+"No," said Madge, promptly; "but he is 'John' to me."
+
+"That is true," responded Dorothy, "and I will forgive him if you will."
+
+"I don't believe it makes much difference to Malcolm whether or not you
+forgive him," said Madge, who was provoked at Dorothy's condescending
+offer. "My forgiveness, I hope, is what he desires."
+
+"That is true, Madge," replied Dorothy, laughingly; "but may not I, also,
+forgive him?"
+
+"If you choose," responded Madge, quietly; "as for me, I know not what I
+wish to do."
+
+You remember that Dorothy during her visit to the dungeon spoke of Jennie
+Faxton. The girl's name reached Sir George's ear through the
+listening-tube and she was at once brought in and put to the question.
+
+Jennie, contrary to her wont, became frightened and told all she knew
+concerning John and Dorothy, including my part in their affairs. In Sir
+George's mind, my bad faith to him was a greater crime than my treason to
+Elizabeth, and he at once went to the queen with his tale of woe.
+
+Elizabeth, the most sentimental of women, had heard from Dorothy the story
+of her tempestuous love, and also of mine, and the queen was greatly
+interested in the situation.
+
+I will try to be brief.
+
+Through the influence of Dorothy and Madge, as I afterward learned, and
+by the help of a good word from Cecil, the queen was induced to order my
+liberation on condition that I should thenceforth reside in France. So one
+morning, three days after John's departure from Haddon, I was overjoyed to
+hear the words, "You are free."
+
+I did not know that Jennie Faxton had given Sir George her large stock of
+disturbing information concerning my connection with the affairs of
+Dorothy and John. So when I left the dungeon, I, supposing that my stormy
+cousin would be glad to forgive me if Queen Elizabeth would, sought and
+found him in Aunt Dorothy's room. Lady Crawford and Sir George were
+sitting near the fire and Madge was standing near the door in the next
+room beyond. When I entered, Sir George sprang to his feet and cried out
+angrily:--
+
+"You traitorous dog, the queen has seen fit to liberate you, and I cannot
+interfere with her orders; but if you do not leave my Hall at once I shall
+set the hounds on you. Your effects will be sent to The Peacock, and the
+sooner you quit England the safer you will be." There was of course
+nothing for me to do but to go.
+
+"You once told me, Sir George--you remember our interview at The
+Peacock--that if you should ever again order me to leave Haddon, I should
+tell you to go to the devil. I now take advantage of your kind permission,
+and will also say farewell."
+
+I kissed Aunt Dorothy's cheek, took my leave, and sought Cecil, from whom
+I obtained a passport to France. Then I asked Dawson to fetch my horse.
+
+I longed to see Madge before I left Haddon, but I knew that my desire
+could not be gratified; so I determined to stop at Rowsley and send back a
+letter to her which Dawson undertook to deliver. In my letter I would ask
+Madge's permission to return for her from France and to take her home
+with me as my wife. After I had despatched my letter I would wait at The
+Peacock for an answer.
+
+Sore at heart, I bade good-by to Dawson, mounted my horse, and turned his
+head toward the Dove-cote Gate. As I rode under Dorothy's window she was
+sitting there. The casement was open, for the day was mild, although the
+season was little past midwinter. I heard her call to Madge, and then she
+called to me:--
+
+"Farewell, Malcolm! Forgive me for what I said to you in the dungeon. I
+was wrong, as usual. Forgive me, and God bless you. Farewell!"
+
+While Dorothy was speaking, and before I replied, Madge came to the open
+casement and called:--
+
+"Wait for me, Malcolm, I am going down to you."
+
+Great joy is a wonderful purifier, and Madge's cry finished the work of
+the past few months and made a good man of me, who all my life before had
+known little else than evil.
+
+Soon Madge's horse was led by a groom to the mounting block, and in a few
+minutes she emerged gropingly from the great door of Entrance Tower.
+Dorothy was again a prisoner in her rooms and could not come down to bid
+me farewell. Madge mounted, and the groom led her horse to me and placed
+the reins in my hands.
+
+"Is it you, Malcolm?" asked Madge.
+
+"Yes," I responded, in a voice husky with emotion. "I cannot thank you
+enough for coming to say farewell. You have forgiven me?"
+
+"Yes," responded Madge, almost in tears, "but I have not come to say
+farewell."
+
+I did not understand her meaning.
+
+"Are you going to ride part of the way with me--perhaps to Rowsley?" I
+asked, hardly daring to hope for so much.
+
+"To France, Malcolm, if you wish to take me," she responded murmuringly.
+
+For a little time I could not feel the happiness that had come upon me in
+so great a flood. But when I had collected my scattered senses, I said:--
+
+"I thank God that He has turned your heart again to me. May I feel His
+righteous anger if ever I give you cause to regret the step you are
+taking."
+
+"I shall never regret it, Malcolm," she answered softly, as she held out
+her hand to me.
+
+Then we rode by the dove-cote, out from Haddon Hall, never to see its
+walls again.
+
+We went to Rutland, whence after a fortnight we journeyed to France. There
+I received my mother's estates, and never for one moment, to my knowledge,
+has Madge regretted having intrusted her life and happiness to me. I need
+not speak for myself.
+
+Our home is among the warm, sunlit, vine-covered hills of southern France,
+and we care not for the joys of golden streets so long as God in His
+goodness vouchsafes to us our earthly paradise. Age, with the heart at
+peace, is the fairest season of life; and love, leavened of God, robs even
+approaching death of his sting and makes for us a broad flower-strewn path
+from the tempestuous sea of time to the calm, sweet ocean of eternity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE
+
+
+I shall now tell you of the happenings in Haddon Hall during the fortnight
+we spent at Rutland before our departure for France.
+
+We left Dorothy, you will remember, a prisoner in her rooms.
+
+After John had gone Sir George's wrath began to gather, and Dorothy was
+not permitted to depart from the Hall for even a walk upon the terrace,
+nor could she leave her own apartments save when the queen requested her
+presence.
+
+A few days after my departure from Haddon, Sir George sent Dawson out
+through the adjoining country to invite the nobility and gentry to a grand
+ball to be given at the Hall in honor of Queen Elizabeth. Queen Mary had
+been sent a prisoner to Chatsworth.
+
+Tom Shaw, the most famous piper of his times, and a choice company of
+musicians to play with him were hired for the occasion, and, in short, the
+event was so glorious that its wonders have been sung in minstrelsy
+throughout Derbyshire ever since.
+
+Dorothy's imprisonment saddened Leicester's heart, and he longed to see
+her, for her beauty had touched him nearly. Accordingly, the earl one day
+intimated to Sir George his wish in terms that almost bespoke an intention
+to ask for the girl's hand when upon proper opportunity the queen's
+consent might be sought and perchance obtained. His equivocal words did
+not induce Sir George to grant a meeting by which Dorothy might be
+compromised; but a robust hope for the ultimate accomplishment of the
+"Leicester possibility" was aroused in the breast of the King of the Peak,
+and from hope he could, and soon did, easily step to faith. He saw that
+the earl was a handsome man, and he believed, at least he hoped, that the
+fascinating lord might, if he were given an opportunity, woo Dorothy's
+heart away from the hated scion of a hated race. Sir George, therefore,
+after several interviews with the earl, grew anxious to give his Lordship
+an opportunity to win her. But both Sir George and my lord feared
+Elizabeth's displeasure, and the meeting between Leicester and the girl
+seemed difficult to contrive. Sir George felt confident that Dorothy
+could, if she would, easily capture the great lord in a few private
+interviews; but would she? Dorothy gave her father no encouragement in the
+matter, and took pains to shun Leicester rather than to seek him.
+
+As Dorothy grew unwilling, Leicester and Sir George grew eager, until at
+length the latter felt that it was almost time to exert his parental
+authority. He told Aunt Dorothy his feeling on the subject, and she told
+her niece. It was impossible to know from what source Dorothy might draw
+inspiration for mischief. It came to her with her father's half-command
+regarding Leicester.
+
+Winter had again asserted itself. The weather was bitter cold and snow
+covered the ground to the depth of a horse's fetlock.
+
+The eventful night of the grand ball arrived, and Dorothy's heart throbbed
+till she thought surely it would burst.
+
+At nightfall guests began to arrive, and Sir George, hospitable soul that
+he was, grew boisterous with good humor and delight.
+
+The rare old battlements of Haddon were ablaze with flambeaux, and inside
+the rooms were alight with waxen tapers. The long gallery was brilliant
+with the smiles of bejewelled beauty, and laughter, song, and merriment
+filled the grand old Hall from terrace to Entrance Tower. Dorothy, of
+course, was brought down from her prison to grace the occasion with a
+beauty which none could rival. Her garments were of soft, clinging,
+bright-colored silks and snowy laces, and all who saw her agreed that a
+creature more radiant never greeted the eye of man.
+
+When the guests had all arrived, the pipers in the balcony burst forth in
+heart-swelling strains of music, and every foot in the room longed for the
+dance to begin.
+
+I should like to tell you how Elizabeth most graciously opened the ball
+with his Majesty, the King of the Peak, amid the plaudits of worshipping
+subjects, and I should enjoy describing the riotous glory which
+followed,--for although I was not there, I know intimately all that
+happened,--but I will balk my desire and tell you only of those things
+which touched Dorothy.
+
+Leicester, of course, danced with her, and during a pause in the figure,
+the girl in response to pleadings which she had adroitly incited,
+reluctantly promised to grant the earl the private interview he so much
+desired if he could suggest some means for bringing it about. Leicester
+was in raptures over her complaisance and glowed with triumph and
+delightful anticipation. But he could think of no satisfactory plan
+whereby his hopes might be brought to a happy fruition. He proposed
+several, but all seemed impracticable to the coy girl, and she rejected
+them. After many futile attempts he said:--
+
+"I can suggest no good plan, mistress. I pray you, gracious lady,
+therefore, make full to overflowing the measure of your generosity, and
+tell me how it may be accomplished."
+
+Dorothy hung her head as if in great shame and said: "I fear, my lord, we
+had better abandon the project for a time. Upon another occasion
+perhaps--"
+
+"No, no," interrupted the earl, pleadingly, "do not so grievously
+disappoint me. My heart yearns to have you to myself for one little moment
+where spying eyes cannot see nor prying ears hear. It is cruel in you to
+raise my hopes only to cast them down. I beg you, tell me if you know in
+what manner I may meet you privately."
+
+After a long pause, Dorothy with downcast eyes said, "I am full of shame,
+my lord, to consent to this meeting, and then find the way to it,
+but--but--" ("Yes, yes, my Venus, my gracious one," interrupted the
+earl)--"but if my father would permit me to--to leave the Hall for a few
+minutes, I might--oh, it is impossible, my lord. I must not think of it."
+
+"I pray you, I beg you," pleaded Leicester. "Tell me, at least, what you
+might do if your father would permit you to leave the Hall. I would gladly
+fall to my knees, were it not for the assembled company."
+
+With reluctance in her manner and gladness in her heart, the girl said:--
+
+"If my father would permit me to leave the Hall, I might--only for a
+moment, meet you at the stile, in the northeast corner of the garden back
+of the terrace half an hour hence. But he would not permit me, and--and,
+my lord, I ought not to go even should father consent."
+
+"I will ask your father's permission for you. I will seek him at once,"
+said the eager earl.
+
+"No, no, my lord, I pray you, do not," murmured Dorothy, with distracting
+little troubled wrinkles in her forehead. Her trouble was more for fear
+lest he would not than for dread that he would.
+
+"I will, I will," cried his Lordship, softly; "I insist, and you shall not
+gainsay me."
+
+The girl's only assent was silence, but that was sufficient for so
+enterprising a gallant as the noble Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. So
+he at once went to seek Sir George.
+
+The old gentleman, although anxious to give Leicester a chance to press
+his suit with Dorothy, at first refused, but Leicester said:--
+
+"My intentions are honorable, Sir George. If I can win your daughter's
+heart, it is my wish, if the queen's consent can be obtained, to ask
+Mistress Vernon's hand in marriage."
+
+Sir George's breast swelled with pride and satisfaction, for Leicester's
+words were as near an offer of marriage as it was in his power to make. So
+the earl received, for Dorothy, permission to leave the Hall, and eagerly
+carried it to her.
+
+"Your father consents gladly," said the earl. "Will you meet me half an
+hour hence at the stile?"
+
+"Yes," murmured the girl, with shamelessly cast down eyes and drooping
+head. Leicester bowed himself away, and fully fifteen minutes before the
+appointed time left the Hall to wait in the cold at the stile for Dorothy.
+
+Before the expiration of the tedious half hour our meek maiden went to her
+father and with deep modesty and affected shame said:--
+
+"Father, is it your wish that I go out of the Hall for a few minutes to
+meet--to meet--" She apparently could not finish the sentence, so modest
+and shame-faced was she.
+
+"Yes, Doll, I wish you to go on this condition: if Leicester asks you to
+marry him, you shall consent to be his wife."
+
+"I promise, father," replied the dutiful girl, "if Lord Leicester asks me
+this night, I will be his wife."
+
+"That is well, child, that is well. Once more you are my good, obedient
+daughter, and I love you. Wear your sable cloak, Doll; the weather is very
+cold out of doors."
+
+Her father's solicitude touched her nearly, and she gently led him to a
+secluded alcove near by, threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him
+passionately. The girl's affection was sweet to the old man who had been
+without it so long, and his eyes grew moist as he returned her caresses.
+Dorothy's eyes also were filled with tears. Her throat was choked with
+sobs, and her heart was sore with pain. Poor young heart! Poor old man!
+
+Soon after Dorothy had spoken with her father she left the Hall by
+Dorothy's Postern. She was wrapped in her sable cloak--the one that had
+saved John's life in Aunt Dorothy's room; but instead of going across the
+garden to the stile where Lord Leicester was waiting, which was north and
+east of the terrace, she sped southward down the terrace and did not stop
+till she reached the steps which led westward to the lower garden. She
+stood on the terrace till she saw a man running toward her from the
+postern in the southwest corner of the lower garden. Then down the steps
+she sped with winged feet, and outstretching her arms, fell upon the man's
+breast, whispering: "John, my love! John, my love!"
+
+As for the man--well, during the first minute or two he wasted no time in
+speech.
+
+When he spoke he said:--
+
+"We must not tarry here. Horses are waiting at the south end of the
+footbridge. Let us hasten away at once."
+
+Then happened the strangest of all the strange things I have had to record
+of this strange, fierce, tender, and at time almost half-savage girl.
+
+Dorothy for months had longed for that moment. Her heart had almost burst
+with joy when a new-born hope for it was suggested by the opportunities of
+the ball and her father's desire touching my lord of Leicester. But now
+that the longed-for moment was at hand, the tender heart, which had so
+anxiously awaited it, failed, and the girl broke down weeping
+hysterically.
+
+"Oh, John, you have forgiven so many faults in me," she said between
+sobs, "that I know you will forgive me when I tell you I cannot go with
+you to-night. I thought I could and I so intended when I came out here to
+meet you. But oh, John, my dearest love, I cannot go; I cannot go. Another
+time I will go with you, John. I promise that I will go with you soon,
+very soon, John; but I cannot go now, oh, I cannot. You will forgive me,
+won't you, John? You will forgive me?"
+
+"No," cried John in no uncertain tones, "I will not forgive you. I will
+take you. If you cry out, I will silence you." Thereupon he rudely took
+the girl in his arms and ran with her toward the garden gate near the
+north end of the stone footbridge.
+
+"John, John!" she cried in terror. But he placed his hand over her mouth
+and forced her to remain silent till they were past the south wall. Then
+he removed his hand and she screamed and struggled against him with all
+her might. Strong as she was, her strength was no match for John's, and
+her struggles were in vain.
+
+John, with his stolen bride, hurriedly crossed the footbridge and ran to
+the men who were holding the horses. There he placed Dorothy on her feet
+and said with a touch of anger:--
+
+"Will you mount of your own will or shall I put you in the saddle?"
+
+"I'll mount of my own will, John," she replied submissively, "and John,
+I--I thank you, I thank you for--for--" she stopped speaking and toyed
+with the tufts of fur that hung from the edges of her cloak.
+
+"For what, my love? For what do you thank me?" asked John after a little
+pause.
+
+"For making--me--do--what I--I longed to do. My conscience would not let
+me do it of my own free will."
+
+Then tears came from her eyes in a great flood, and throwing her arms
+about John's neck she gave him herself and her heart to keep forever and
+forever.
+
+And Leicester was shivering at the stile! The girl had forgotten even the
+existence of the greatest lord in the realm.
+
+My wife, Lord Rutland, and I waited in the watch-room above the castle
+gates for the coming of Dorothy and John; and when they came--but I will
+not try to describe the scene. It were a vain effort. Tears and laughter
+well compounded make the sweetest joy; grief and joy the truest happiness;
+happiness and pain the grandest soul, and none of these may be described.
+We may analyze them, and may take them part from part; but, like love,
+they cannot be compounded. We may know all the component parts, but when
+we try to create these great emotions in description, we lack the subtle
+compounding flux to unite the ingredients, and after all is done, we have
+simply said that black is black and that white is white.
+
+Next day, in the morning, Madge and I started for our new home in France.
+We rode up the hill down which poor Dolcy took her last fatal plunge, and
+when we reached the crest, we paused to look back. Standing on the
+battlements, waving a kerchief in farewell to us, was the golden-crowned
+form of a girl. Soon she covered her face with her kerchief, and we knew
+she was weeping Then we, also, wept as we turned away from the fair
+picture; and since that far-off morning--forty long, long years ago--we
+have not seen the face nor heard the voice of our sweet, tender friend.
+Forty years! What an eternity it is if we tear it into minutes!
+
+
+
+
+L'ENVOI
+
+
+The fire ceases to burn; the flames are sucked back into the earth; the
+doe's blood has boiled away; the caldron cools, and my shadowy friends--so
+real to me--whom I love with a passionate tenderness beyond my power to
+express, have sunk into the dread black bank of the past, and my poor,
+weak wand is powerless to recall them for the space of even one fleeting
+moment. So I must say farewell to them; but all my life I shall carry a
+heart full of tender love and pain for the fairest, fiercest, gentlest,
+weakest, strongest of them all--Dorothy Vernon.
+
+
+
+
+MALCOLM POSSIBLY IN ERROR
+
+
+Malcolm Vernon is the only writer on the life of Dorothy Vernon who speaks
+of Rutland Castle. All others writing on the subject say that Belvoir
+Castle was the home of the Earl of Rutland.
+
+No other writer mentions the proposed marriage, spoken of by Malcolm,
+between Dorothy and Lord Derby's son. They do, however, say that Dorothy
+had an elder sister who married a Stanley, but died childless, leaving
+Dorothy sole heiress to Sir George Vernon's vast estate.
+
+All writers agree with Malcolm upon the main fact that brave Dorothy
+eloped with John Manners and brought to him the fair estate of Haddon,
+which their descendant, the present Duke of Rutland, now possesses.
+
+No other writer speaks of Mary Stuart having been at Haddon, and many
+chroniclers disagree with Malcolm as to the exact date of her imprisonment
+in Lochleven and her escape.
+
+In all other essential respects the history of Dorothy Vernon as told by
+Malcolm agrees with other accounts of her life.
+
+I do not pretend to reconcile the differences between these great
+historical authorities, but I confess to considerable faith in Malcolm.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall, by Charles Major
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL ***
+
+***** This file should be named 14671-8.txt or 14671-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/6/7/14671/
+
+Produced by Rick Niles, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/old/14671-8.zip b/old/14671-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..53dc80f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-8.zip
diff --git a/old/14671-h.zip b/old/14671-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..89a01ec
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-h.zip
diff --git a/old/14671-h/14671-h.htm b/old/14671-h/14671-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d82e3e0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-h/14671-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,11971 @@
+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?>
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+<meta name="generator" content=
+"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Dorothy Vernon of Haddon
+Hall, by Charles Major.</title>
+
+<style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p {  margin-top: .75em;
+         text-align: justify;
+         margin-bottom: .75em;
+         }
+    h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {
+         text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+         clear: both;
+         }
+    hr { width: 33%;
+         margin-top: 2em;
+         margin-bottom: 2em;
+         margin-left: auto;
+         margin-right: auto;
+         clear: both;
+       }
+
+    table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+
+    body{margin-left: 10%;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+        }
+
+    .linenum  {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */
+    .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .pagenum  {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */
+    .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em;
+               padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em;
+               float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em;
+               font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;}
+
+    .bb       {border-bottom: solid 2px;}
+    .bl       {border-left: solid 2px;}
+    .bt       {border-top: solid 2px;}
+    .br       {border-right: solid 2px;}
+    .bbox     {border: solid 2px;}
+
+    .center   {text-align: center;}
+    .smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+    .figcenter   {margin: auto; text-align: center;}
+
+    .figleft     {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top:
+                 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;}
+
+    .figright    {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;
+                 margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;}
+
+    .footnotes        {border: dashed 1px;}
+    .footnote         {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;}
+    .footnote .label  {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;}
+    .fnanchor         {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;}
+
+    .poem             {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;}
+    .poem br          {display: none;}
+    .poem .stanza     {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+    .poem span        {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i2     {display: block; margin-left: 2em;}
+    .poem span.i4     {display: block; margin-left: 4em;}
+    // -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+</style>
+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall, by Charles Major
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall
+
+Author: Charles Major
+
+Release Date: January 11, 2005 [EBook #14671]
+[Last updated: January 11, 2016]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Rick Niles, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v001" id="v001"></a> <img src=
+"images/v001.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<h2>Mary Pickford Edition</h2>
+<h1>Dorothy Vernon of</h1>
+<h1>Haddon Hall</h1>
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>CHARLES MAJOR</h2>
+<p class="center">AUTHOR OF<br />
+WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER,<br />
+YOLANDA, ETC.</p>
+<p class="center">ILLUSTRATED WITH<br />
+SCENES FROM THE PHOTOPLAY<br />
+<br />
+GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP<br />
+PUBLISHERS NEW YORK<br />
+<br />
+Made in the United States of America</p>
+<p class="center">Set up and electrotyped. Published April,
+1908<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Printed in U.S.A.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>To My Wife</h2>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<div style="margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%;">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#A_TOUCH_OF_BLACK_MAGIC"><b>A TOUCH OF
+BLACK MAGIC</b></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'>&nbsp;</td>
+<td align='left'>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>I RIDE DOWN TO HADDON</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THE IRON, THE SEED, THE CLOUD, AND THE
+RAIN</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THE PITCHER GOES TO THE WELL</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THE GOLDEN HEART</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>TRIBULATION IN HADDON</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER
+VIII</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>MALCOLM NO. 2</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>A TRYST AT BOWLING GREEN GATE</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THOMAS THE MAN-SERVANT</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THE COST MARK OF JOY</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>THE LEICESTER POSSIBILITY</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER
+XIII</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>PROUD DAYS FOR THE OLD HALL</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>MARY STUART</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>LIGHT</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><b>LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE</b></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'>&nbsp;</td>
+<td align='left'>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#LENVOI"><b>L'ENVOI</b></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td align='left'><a href="#MALCOLM_POSSIBLY_IN_ERROR"><b>MALCOLM
+POSSIBLY IN ERROR</b></a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_TOUCH_OF_BLACK_MAGIC" id=
+"A_TOUCH_OF_BLACK_MAGIC"></a> <a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a>A
+TOUCH OF BLACK MAGIC</h2>
+<p>I draw the wizard's circle upon the sands, and blue flames
+spring from its circumference. I describe an inner circle, and
+green flames come responsive to my words of magic. I touch the
+common centre of both with my wand, and red flames, like adders'
+tongues, leap from the earth. Over these flames I place my caldron
+filled with the blood of a new-killed doe, and as it boils I speak
+my incantations and make my mystic signs and passes, watching the
+blood-red mist as it rises to meet the spirits of Air. I chant my
+conjurations as I learned them from the Great Key of Solomon, and
+while I speak, the ruddy fumes take human forms. Out of the dark,
+fathomless Past&mdash;the Past of near four hundred years
+ago&mdash;comes a goodly company of simple, pompous folk all having
+a touch of childish savagery which shows itself in the fierceness
+of their love and of their hate.</p>
+<p>The fairest castle-ch&acirc;teau in all England's great domain,
+the walls and halls of which were builded in the depths of time,
+takes on again its olden form quick with quivering life, and from
+the gates of Eagle Tower issues my quaint and radiant company. Some
+are clad in gold lace, silks, and taffetas; some wear leather,
+buckram and clanking steel. While the caldron boils, their
+cloud-forms grow ever more distinct and definite, till at length I
+can trace their every feature. I see the color of their eyes. I
+discern the shades of their hair. Some heads are streaked with
+gray; others are glossy with the sheen of youth.<a name="Page_2"
+id="Page_2"></a> As a climax to my conjurations I speak the word of
+all words magical, "Dorothy," and lo! as though God had said, "Let
+there be light," a fair, radiant girl steps from the portals of
+Haddon Hall and illumines all my ancient company so that I may see
+even the workings of their hearts.</p>
+<p>They, and the events of their lives, their joys and sorrows,
+their virtues and sins, their hatreds, jealousies, and
+loves&mdash;the seven numbers in the total sum of life&mdash;pass
+before me as in a panorama, moving when I bid them move, pausing
+when I bid them pause, speaking when I bid them speak, and alas!
+fading back into the dim gray limbo of the past long, long ere I
+would have them go.</p>
+<p>But hark! my radiant shades are about to speak. The play is
+about to begin.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1>DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL</h1>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h2>I RIDE DOWN TO HADDON</h2>
+<p>Since I play no mean part in the events of this chronicle, a few
+words concerning my own history previous to the opening of the
+story I am about to tell you will surely not be amiss, and they may
+help you to a better understanding of my narrative.</p>
+<p>To begin with an unimportant fact&mdash;unimportant, that is, to
+you&mdash;my name is Malcolm Fran&ccedil;ois de Lorraine Vernon. My
+father was cousin-german to Sir George Vernon, at and near whose
+home, Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, occurred the events which will
+furnish my theme.</p>
+<p>Of the ancient lineage of the house of Vernon I need not speak.
+You already know that the family is one of the oldest in England,
+and while it is not of the highest nobility, it is quite gentle and
+noble enough to please those who bear its honored name. My mother
+boasted nobler blood than that of the Vernons. She was of the
+princely French house of Guise&mdash;a niece and ward to the Great
+Duke, for whose sake I was named.</p>
+<p>My father, being a younger brother, sought adventure in the land
+of France, where his handsome person and engaging manner won the
+smiles of Dame Fortune and my mother at one and the same cast. In
+due time I was born, and upon the day following that great event my
+<a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a>father died. On the day of his
+burial my poor mother, unable to find in me either compensation or
+consolation for the loss of her child's father, also died, of a
+broken heart, it was said. But God was right, as usual, in taking
+my parents; for I should have brought them no happiness, unless
+perchance they could have moulded my life to a better form than it
+has had&mdash;a doubtful chance, since our great virtues and our
+chief faults are born and die with us. My faults, alas! have been
+many and great. In my youth I knew but one virtue: to love my
+friend; and that was strong within me. How fortunate for us it
+would be if we could begin our life in wisdom and end it in
+simplicity, instead of the reverse which now obtains!</p>
+<p>I remained with my granduncle, the Great Duke, and was brought
+up amid the fighting, vice, and piety of his sumptuous court. I was
+trained to arms, and at an early age became Esquire in Waiting to
+his Grace of Guise. Most of my days between my fifteenth and
+twenty-fifth years were spent in the wars. At the age of
+twenty-five I returned to the ch&acirc;teau, there to reside as my
+uncle's representative, and to endure the ennui of peace. At the
+ch&acirc;teau I found a fair, tall girl, fifteen years of age: Mary
+Stuart, Queen of Scotland, soon afterward Queen of France and
+rightful heiress to the English throne. The ennui of peace, did I
+say? Soon I had no fear of its depressing effect, for Mary Stuart
+was one of those women near whose fascinations peace does not
+thrive. When I found her at the ch&acirc;teau, my martial ardor
+lost its warmth. Another sort of flame took up its home in my
+heart, and no power could have turned me to the wars again.</p>
+<p>Ah! what a gay, delightful life, tinctured with bitterness, we
+led in the grand old ch&acirc;teau, and looking back at it how
+heartless, godless, and empty it seems. Do not from these words
+conclude that I am a fanatic, nor that I shall pour into your ears
+a ranter's tale; for cant is more to be despised <a name="Page_5"
+id="Page_5"></a>even than godlessness; but during the period of my
+life of which I shall write I learned&mdash;but what I learned I
+shall in due time tell you.</p>
+<p>While at the court of Guise I, like many another man, conceived
+for Mary Stuart a passion which lay heavy upon my heart for many
+years. Sweethearts I had by the scores, but she held my longings
+from all of them until I felt the touch of a pure woman's love, and
+then&mdash;but again I am going beyond my story.</p>
+<p>I did not doubt, nor do I hesitate to say, that my passion was
+returned by Mary with a fervor which she felt for no other lover;
+but she was a queen, and I, compared with her, was nobody. For this
+difference of rank I have since had good cause to be thankful.
+Great beauty is diffusive in its tendency. Like the sun, it cannot
+shine for one alone. Still, it burns and dazzles the one as if it
+shone for him and for no other; and he who basks in its rays need
+have no fear of the ennui of peace.</p>
+<p>The time came when I tasted the unutterable bitterness of Mary's
+marriage to a simpering fool, Francis II., whom she loathed,
+notwithstanding absurd stories of their sweet courtship and
+love.</p>
+<p>After her marriage to Francis, Mary became hard and callous of
+heart, and all the world knows her sad history. The stories of
+Darnley, Rizzio, and Bothwell will be rich morsels, I suppose, for
+the morbid minds of men and women so long as books are read and
+scandal is loved.</p>
+<p>Ah, well, that was long ago; so long ago that now as I write it
+seems but a shadow upon the horizon of time.</p>
+<p>And so it happened that Francis died, and when the queen went
+back to Scotland to ascend her native throne, I went with her, and
+mothlike hovered near the blaze that burned but did not warm
+me.</p>
+<p>Then in the course of time came the Darnley tragedy. I saw
+Rizzio killed. Gods! what a scene for hell was that!<a name=
+"Page_6" id="Page_6"></a> Then followed the Bothwell disgrace, the
+queen's imprisonment at Lochleven, and my own flight from Scotland
+to save my head.</p>
+<p>You will hear of Mary again in this history, and still clinging
+to her you will find that same strange fatality which during all
+her life brought evils upon her that were infectious to her friends
+and wrought their ruin.</p>
+<p>One evening, in the autumn of the year 1567, I was sitting
+moodily before my fire in the town of Dundee, brooding over Mary's
+disgraceful liaison with Bothwell. I had solemnly resolved that I
+would see her never again, and that I would turn my back upon the
+evil life I had led for so many years, and would seek to acquire
+that quiescence of nature which is necessary to an endurable old
+age. A tumultuous soul in the breast of an old man breeds torture,
+but age, with the heart at rest, I have found is the best season of
+life.</p>
+<p>In the midst of my gloomy thoughts and good resolves my friend,
+Sir Thomas Douglas, entered my room without warning and in great
+agitation.</p>
+<p>"Are you alone?" he asked hurriedly, in a low voice.</p>
+<p>"Save for your welcome presence, Sir Thomas," I answered,
+offering my hand.</p>
+<p>"The queen has been seized," he whispered, "and warrants for
+high treason have been issued against many of her friends&mdash;you
+among the number. Officers are now coming to serve the writ. I rode
+hither in all haste to warn you. Lose not a moment, but flee for
+your life. The Earl of Murray will be made regent to-morrow."</p>
+<p>"My servant? My horse?" I responded.</p>
+<p>"Do not wait. Go at once. I shall try to send a horse for you to
+Craig's ferry. If I fail, cross the firth without one. Here is a
+purse. The queen sends it to you. Go! Go!"</p>
+<p>I acted upon the advice, of Sir Thomas and hurried into the
+street, snatching up my hat, cloak, and sword as I <a name="Page_7"
+id="Page_7"></a>went. Night had fallen, and darkness and rain,
+which at first I was inclined to curse, proved to be my friends. I
+sought the back streets and alleys and walked rapidly toward the
+west gates of the city. Upon arriving at the gates I found them
+closed. I aroused the warden, and with the artful argument of gold
+had almost persuaded him to let me pass. My evident eagerness was
+my undoing, for in the hope of obtaining more gold the warden
+delayed opening the gates till two men approached on horseback,
+and, dismounting, demanded my surrender.</p>
+<p>I laughed and said: "Two against one! Gentlemen, I am caught." I
+then drew my sword as if to offer it to them. My action threw the
+men off their guard, and when I said, "Here it is," I gave it to
+the one standing near me, but I gave it to him point first and in
+the heart.</p>
+<p>It was a terrible thing to do, and bordered so closely on a
+broken parole that I was troubled in conscience. I had not,
+however, given my parole, nor had I surrendered; and if I had done
+so&mdash;if a man may take another's life in self-defence, may he
+not lie to save himself?</p>
+<p>The other man shot at me with his fusil, but missed. He then
+drew his sword; but he was no match for me, and soon I left him
+sprawling on the ground, dead or alive, I knew not which.</p>
+<p>At the time of which I write I was thirty-five years of age, and
+since my fifteenth birthday my occupations had been arms and the
+ladies&mdash;two arts requiring constant use if one would remain
+expert in their practice.</p>
+<p>I escaped, and ran along the wall to a deep breach which had
+been left unrepaired. Over the sharp rocks I clambered, and at the
+risk of breaking my neck I jumped off the wall into the moat, which
+was almost dry. Dawn was breaking when I found a place to ascend
+from the moat, and I hastened to the fields and forests, where all
+day and all night long I wandered without food or drink. Two
+<a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>hours before sunrise next morning
+I reached Craig's Ferry. The horse sent by Douglas awaited me, but
+the ferry-master had been prohibited from carrying passengers
+across the firth, and I could not take the horse in a small boat.
+In truth, I was in great alarm lest I should be unable to cross,
+but I walked up the Tay a short distance, and found a fisherman,
+who agreed to take me over in his frail craft. Hardly had we
+started when another boat put out from shore in pursuit of us. We
+made all sail, but our pursuers overtook us when we were within
+half a furlong of the south bank, and as there were four men in the
+other boat, all armed with fusils, I peaceably stepped into their
+craft and handed my sword to their captain.</p>
+<p>I seated myself on one of the thwarts well forward in the boat.
+By my side was a heavy iron boat-hook. I had noticed that all the
+occupants of the boat, except the fisherman who sailed her, wore
+armor; and when I saw the boat-hook, a diabolical thought entered
+my mind and I immediately acted upon its suggestion. Noiselessly I
+grasped the hook, and with its point pried loose a board in the
+bottom of the boat, first having removed my boots, cloak, and
+doublet. When the board was loosened I pressed my heel against it
+with all the force I could muster, and through an opening six
+inches broad and four feet long came a flood of water that swamped
+the boat before one could utter twenty words. I heard a cry from
+one of the men: "The dog has scuttled the boat. Shoot him!" At the
+same instant the blaze and noise of two fusils broke the still
+blackness of the night, but I was overboard and the powder and lead
+were wasted. The next moment the boat sank in ten fathoms of water,
+and with it went the men in armor. I hope the fisherman saved
+himself. I have often wondered if even the law of self-preservation
+justified my act. It is an awful thing to inflict death, but it is
+worse to endure it, and I feel sure that I am foolish <a name=
+"Page_9" id="Page_9"></a>to allow my conscience to trouble me for
+the sake of those who would have led me back to the scaffold.</p>
+<p>I fear you will think that six dead men in less than as many
+pages make a record of bloodshed giving promise of terrible things
+to come, but I am glad I can reassure you on that point. Although
+there may be some good fighting ahead of us, I believe the last man
+has been killed of whom I shall chronicle&mdash;the last, that is,
+in fight or battle.</p>
+<p>In truth, the history which you are about to read is not my own.
+It is the story of a beautiful, wilful girl, who was madly in love
+with the one man in all the world whom she should have
+avoided&mdash;as girls are wont to be. This perverse tendency,
+philosophers tell us, is owing to the fact that the unattainable is
+strangely alluring to womankind. I, being a man, shall not, of
+course, dwell upon the foibles of my own sex. It were a foolish
+candor.</p>
+<p>As I said, there will be some good fighting ahead of us, for
+love and battle usually go together. One must have warm, rich blood
+to do either well; and, save religion, there is no source more
+fruitful of quarrels and death than that passion which is the
+source of life.</p>
+<p>You, of course, know without the telling, that I reached land
+safely after I scuttled the boat, else I should not be writing this
+forty years afterwards.</p>
+<p>The sun had risen when I waded ashore. I was swordless,
+coatless, hatless, and bootless; but I carried a well-filled purse
+in my belt. Up to that time I had given no thought to my ultimate
+destination; but being for the moment safe, I pondered the question
+and determined to make my way to Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, where I
+was sure a warm welcome would await me from my cousin, Sir George
+Vernon. How I found a peasant's cottage, purchased a poor horse and
+a few coarse garments, and how in the disguise of a peasant I rode
+southward to <a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>the English border,
+avoiding the cities and the main highways, might interest you; but
+I am eager to come to my story, and I will not tell you of my
+perilous journey.</p>
+<p>One frosty morning, after many hairbreadth escapes, I found
+myself well within the English border, and turned my horse's head
+toward the city of Carlisle. There I purchased a fine charger. I
+bought clothing fit for a gentleman, a new sword, a hand-fusil, a
+breastplate, and a steel-lined cap, and feeling once again like a
+man rather than like a half-drowned rat, I turned southward for
+Derbyshire and Haddon Hall.</p>
+<p>When I left Scotland I had no fear of meeting danger in England;
+but at Carlisle I learned that Elizabeth held no favor toward
+Scottish refugees. I also learned that the direct road from
+Carlisle to Haddon, by way of Buxton, was infested with English
+spies who were on the watch for friends of the deposed Scottish
+queen. Several Scotchmen had been arrested, and it was the general
+opinion that upon one pretext or another they would be hanged. I
+therefore chose a circuitous road leading to the town of Derby,
+which lay south of Haddon at a distance of six or seven leagues. It
+would be safer for me to arrive at Haddon travelling from the south
+than from the north. Thus, after many days, I rode into Derby-town
+and stabled my horse at the Royal Arms.</p>
+<p>I called for supper, and while I was waiting for my joint of
+beef a stranger entered the room and gave his orders in a free,
+offhand manner that stamped him a person of quality.</p>
+<p>The night outside was cold. While the stranger and I sat before
+the fire we caught its infectious warmth, and when he showed a
+disposition to talk, I gladly fell in with his humor. Soon we were
+filling our glasses from the same bowl of punch, and we seemed to
+be on good terms with each other. But when God breathed into the
+human <a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>body a part of himself, by
+some mischance He permitted the devil to slip into the tongue and
+loosen it. My tongue, which ordinarily was fairly well behaved,
+upon this occasion quickly brought me into trouble.</p>
+<p>I told you that the stranger and I seemed to be upon good terms.
+And so we were until I, forgetting for the moment Elizabeth's
+hatred of Mary's friends, and hoping to learn the stranger's name
+and quality, said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My name is Vernon&mdash;Sir Malcolm Vernon, knight by the hand
+of Queen Mary of Scotland and of France." This remark, of course,
+required that my companion should in return make known his name and
+degree; but in place of so doing he at once drew away from me and
+sat in silence. I was older than he, and it had seemed to me quite
+proper and right that I should make the first advance. But
+instantly after I had spoken I regretted my words. I remembered not
+only my danger, being a Scottish refugee, but I also bethought me
+that I had betrayed myself. Aside from those causes of uneasiness,
+the stranger's conduct was an insult which I was in duty bound not
+to overlook. Neither was I inclined to do so, for I loved to fight.
+In truth, I loved all things evil.</p>
+<p>"I regret, sir," said I, after a moment or two of embarrassing
+silence, "having imparted information that seems to annoy you. The
+Vernons, whom you may not know, are your equals in blood, it
+matters not who you are."</p>
+<p>"I know of the Vernons," he replied coldly, "and I well know
+that they are of good blood and lineage. As for wealth, I am told
+Sir George could easily buy the estates of any six men in
+Derbyshire."</p>
+<p>"You know Sir George?" I asked despite myself.</p>
+<p>"I do not know him, I am glad to say," returned the
+stranger.</p>
+<p>"By God, sir, you shall answer-"</p>
+<p>"At your pleasure, Sir Malcolm."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>My pleasure is now," I
+retorted eagerly.</p>
+<p>I threw off my doublet and pushed the table and chairs against
+the wall to make room for the fight; but the stranger, who had not
+drawn his sword, said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I have eaten nothing since morning, and I am as hungry as a
+wolf. I would prefer to fight after supper; but if you
+insist&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I do insist," I replied. "Perhaps you will not care for supper
+when I have&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"That may be true," he interrupted; "but before we begin I think
+it right to tell you, without at all meaning to boast of my skill,
+that I can kill you if I wish to do so. Therefore you must see that
+the result of our fight will be disagreeable to you in any case.
+You will die, or you will owe me your life."</p>
+<p>His cool impertinence angered me beyond endurance. He to speak
+of killing me, one of the best swordsmen in France, where the art
+of sword-play is really an art! The English are but bunglers with a
+gentleman's blade, and should restrict themselves to pike and
+quarterstaff.</p>
+<p>"Results be damned!" I answered. "I can kill you if I wish."
+Then it occurred to me that I really did not wish to kill the
+handsome young fellow toward whom I felt an irresistible
+attraction.</p>
+<p>I continued: "But I prefer that you should owe me your life. I
+do not wish to kill you. Guard!"</p>
+<p>My opponent did not lift his sword, but smilingly
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Then why do you insist upon fighting? I certainly do not wish
+to kill you. In truth, I would be inclined to like you if you were
+not a Vernon."</p>
+<p>"Damn your insolence! Guard! or I will run you through where you
+stand," I answered angrily.</p>
+<p>"But why do we fight?" insisted the stubborn fellow, with a
+coolness that showed he was not one whit in fear of me.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>You should know," I replied,
+dropping my sword-point to the floor, and forgetting for the moment
+the cause of our quarrel. "I&mdash;I do not."</p>
+<p>"Then let us not fight," he answered, "until we have discovered
+the matter of our disagreement."</p>
+<p>At this remark neither of us could resist smiling. I had not
+fought since months before, save for a moment at the gates of
+Dundee, and I was loath to miss the opportunity, so I remained in
+thought during the space of half a minute and remembered our cause
+of war.</p>
+<p>"Oh! I recall the reason for our fighting," I replied, "and a
+good one it was. You offered affront to the name of Sir George
+Vernon, and insultingly refused me the courtesy of your name after
+I had done you the honor to tell you mine."</p>
+<p>"I did not tell you my name," replied the stranger, "because I
+believed you would not care to hear it; and I said I was glad not
+to know Sir George Vernon because&mdash;because he is my father's
+enemy. I am Sir John Manners. My father is Lord Rutland."</p>
+<p>Then it was my turn to recede. "You certainly are right. I do
+not care to hear your name."</p>
+<p>I put my sword in its scabbard and drew the table back to its
+former place. Sir John stood in hesitation for a moment or two, and
+then said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm, may we not declare a truce for to-night? There is
+nothing personal in the enmity between us."</p>
+<p>"Nothing," I answered, staring at the fire, half regretful that
+we bore each other enmity at all.</p>
+<p>"You hate me, or believe you do," said Manners, "because your
+father's cousin hates my father; and I try to make myself believe
+that I hate you because my father hates your father's cousin. Are
+we not both mistaken?"</p>
+<p>I was quick to anger and to fight, but no man's heart <a name=
+"Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>was more sensitive than mine to the fair
+touch of a kind word.</p>
+<p>"I am not mistaken, Sir John, when I say that I do not hate
+you," I answered.</p>
+<p>"Nor do I hate you, Sir Malcolm. Will you give me your
+hand?"</p>
+<p>"Gladly," I responded, and I offered my hand to the enemy of my
+house.</p>
+<p>"Landlord," I cried, "bring us two bottles of your best sack.
+The best in the house, mind you."</p>
+<p>After our amicable understanding, Sir John and myself were very
+comfortable together, and when the sack and roast beef, for which
+the Royal Arms was justly famous, were brought in, we sat down to
+an enjoyable meal.</p>
+<p>After supper Sir John lighted a small roll or stick made from
+the leaves of tobacco. The stick was called a cigarro, and I, proud
+not to be behind him in new-fashioned, gentlemanly accomplishments,
+called to the landlord for a pipe. Manners interrupted me when I
+gave the order and offered me a cigarro which I gladly
+accepted.</p>
+<p>Despite my effort to reassure myself, I could not quite throw
+off a feeling of uneasiness whenever I thought of the manner in
+which I had betrayed to Sir John the fact that I was a friend to
+Mary Stuart. I knew that treachery was not native to English blood,
+and my knowledge of mankind had told me that the vice could not
+live in Sir John Manners's heart. But he had told me of his
+residence at the court of Elizabeth, and I feared trouble might
+come to me from the possession of so dangerous a piece of knowledge
+by an enemy of my house.</p>
+<p>I did not speak my thoughts upon the matter, and we sat the
+evening through discussing many subjects. We warmed toward each
+other and became quite confidential. I feel ashamed when I admit
+that one of my many sins was an excessive indulgence in wine. While
+I was not a <a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>drunkard, I was
+given to my cups sometimes in a degree both dangerous and
+disgraceful; and during the evening of which I have just spoken I
+talked to Sir John with a freedom that afterward made me blush,
+although my indiscretion brought me no greater trouble.</p>
+<p>My outburst of confidence was prompted by Sir John's voluntary
+assurance that I need fear nothing from having told him that I was
+a friend of Queen Mary. The Scottish queen's name had been
+mentioned, and Sir John had said&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I take it, Sir Malcolm, that you are newly arrived in England,
+and I feel sure you will accept the advice I am about to offer in
+the kindly spirit in which it is meant. I deem it unsafe for you to
+speak of Queen Mary's friendship in the open manner you have used
+toward me. Her friends are not welcome visitors to England, and I
+fear evil will befall those who come to us as refugees. You need
+have no fear that I will betray you. Your secret is safe with me. I
+will give you hostage. I also am Queen Mary's friend. I would not,
+of course, favor her against the interest of our own queen. To
+Elizabeth I am and always shall be loyal; but the unfortunate
+Scottish queen has my sympathy in her troubles, and I should be
+glad to help her. I hear she is most beautiful and gentle in
+person."</p>
+<p>Thus you see the influence of Mary's beauty reached from
+Edinburgh to London. A few months only were to pass till this
+conversation was to be recalled by each of us, and the baneful
+influence of Mary's beauty upon all whom it touched was to be shown
+more fatally than had appeared even in my own case. In truth, my
+reason for speaking so fully concerning the, Scottish queen and
+myself will be apparent to you in good time.</p>
+<p>When we were about to part for the night, I asked Sir John,
+"What road do you travel to-morrow?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>I am going to Rutland Castle
+by way of Rowsley," he answered.</p>
+<p>"I, too, travel by Rowsley to Haddon Hall. Shall we not extend
+our truce over the morrow and ride together as far as Rowsley?" I
+asked.</p>
+<p>"I shall be glad to make the truce perpetual," he replied
+laughingly.</p>
+<p>"So shall I," was my response.</p>
+<p>Thus we sealed our compact and knitted out of the warp and woof
+of enmity a friendship which became a great joy and a sweet grief
+to each of us.</p>
+<p>That night I lay for hours thinking of the past and wondering
+about the future. I had tasted the sweets&mdash;all flavored with
+bitterness&mdash;of court life. Women, wine, gambling, and fighting
+had given me the best of all the evils they had to offer. Was I now
+to drop that valorous life, which men so ardently seek, and was I
+to take up a browsing, kinelike existence at Haddon Hall, there to
+drone away my remaining days in fat'ning, peace, and quietude? I
+could not answer my own question, but this I knew: that Sir George
+Vernon was held in high esteem by Elizabeth, and I felt that his
+house was, perhaps, the only spot in England where my head could
+safely lie. I also had other plans concerning Sir George and his
+household which I regret to say I imparted to Sir John in the
+sack-prompted outpouring of my confidence. The plans of which I
+shall now speak had been growing in favor with me for several
+months previous to my enforced departure from Scotland, and that
+event had almost determined me to adopt them. Almost, I say, for
+when I approached Haddon Hall I wavered in my resolution.</p>
+<p>At the time when I had last visited Sir George at Haddon, his
+daughter Dorothy&mdash;Sir George called her Doll&mdash;was a
+slipshod girl of twelve. She was exceedingly plain, and gave
+promise of always so remaining. Sir George, <a name="Page_17" id=
+"Page_17"></a>who had no son, was anxious that his vast estates
+should remain in the Vernon name. He had upon the occasion of my
+last visit intimated to me that when Doll should become old enough
+to marry, and I, perchance, had had my fill of knocking about the
+world, a marriage might be brought about between us which would
+enable him to leave his estates to his daughter and still to retain
+the much-loved Vernon name for his descendants.</p>
+<p>Owing to Doll's rusty red hair, slim shanks, and freckled face,
+the proposition had not struck me with favor, yet to please Sir
+George I had feigned acquiescence, and had said that when the time
+should come, we would talk it over. Before my flight from Scotland
+I had often thought of Sir George's proposition made six or seven
+years before. My love for Mary Stuart had dimmed the light of other
+beauties in my eyes, and I had never married. For many months
+before my flight, however, I had not been permitted to bask in the
+light of Mary's smiles to the extent of my wishes. Younger men,
+among them Darnley, who was but eighteen years of age, were
+preferred to me, and I had begun to consider the advisability of an
+orderly retreat from the Scottish court before my lustre should be
+entirely dimmed. It is said that a man is young so long as he is
+strong, and I was strong as in the days of my youth. My cheeks were
+fresh, my eyes were bright, and my hair was red as when I was
+twenty, and without a thread of gray. Still, my temperament was
+more exacting and serious, and the thought of becoming settled for
+life, or rather for old age and death, was growing in favor with
+me. With that thought came always a suggestion of slim, freckled
+Dorothy and Sir George's offer. She held out to me wealth and
+position, a peaceful home for my old age, and a grave with a
+pompous, pious epitaph at Bakewell church, in death.</p>
+<p>When I was compelled to leave Scotland, circumstances <a name=
+"Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>forced me to a decision, and my
+resolution was quickly taken. I would go to Derbyshire and would
+marry Dorothy. I did not expect ever again to feel great love for a
+woman. The fuse, I thought, had burned out when I loved Mary
+Stuart. One woman, I believed, was like another to me, and Dorothy
+would answer as well as any for my wife. I could and would be kind
+to her, and that alone in time would make me fond. It is true, my
+affection would be of a fashion more comfortable than exciting; but
+who, having passed his galloping youth, will contemn the joys that
+come from making others happy? I believe there is no person, past
+the age of forty, at all given to pondering the whys of life, who
+will gainsay that the joy we give to others is our chief source of
+happiness. Why, then, should not a wise man, through purely selfish
+motives, begin early to cultivate the gentle art of giving joy?</p>
+<p>But the fates were to work out the destinies of Dorothy and
+myself without our assistance. Self-willed, arrogant creatures are
+those same fates, but they save us a deal of trouble by assuming
+our responsibilities.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><a name="Page_19" id=
+"Page_19"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h2>THE IRON, THE SEED, THE CLOUD, AND THE RAIN</h2>
+<p>The morning following my meeting with Manners, he and I made an
+early start. An hour before noon we rode into the town of Rowsley
+and halted at The Peacock for dinner.</p>
+<p>When we entered the courtyard of the inn we saw three ladies
+warmly wrapped in rich furs leave a ponderous coach and walk to the
+inn door, which they entered. One of them was an elderly lady whom
+I recognized as my cousin, Lady Dorothy Crawford, sister to Sir
+George Vernon. The second was a tall, beautiful girl, with an
+exquisite ivory-like complexion and a wonderful crown of fluffy red
+hair which encircled her head like a halo of sunlit glory. I could
+compare its wondrous lustre to no color save that of molten gold
+deeply alloyed with copper. But that comparison tells you nothing.
+I can find no simile with which to describe the beauties of its
+shades and tints. It was red, but it also was golden, as if the
+enamoured sun had gilded every hair with its radiance. In all my
+life I had never seen anything so beautiful as this tall girl's
+hair. Still, it was the Vernon red. My cousin, Sir George, and many
+Vernons had hair of the same color. Yet the girl's hair differed
+from all other I had ever seen. It had a light and a lustre of its
+own which was as distinct from the ordinary Vernon red, although
+that is very good and we are proud of it, as the sheen of gold is
+from <a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>the glitter of brass. I
+knew by the girl's hair that she was my cousin, Dorothy Vernon,
+whom I reluctantly had come to wed.</p>
+<p>I asked myself, "Can this be the plain, freckled girl I knew
+seven years ago?" Compared with her beauty even Mary Stuart's was
+pale as the vapid moon at dawn. The girl seemed to be the
+incarnated spirit of universal life and light, and I had
+condescendingly come to marry this goddess. I felt a dash of
+contemptuous pity for my complacent self.</p>
+<p>In my cogitations concerning marriage with Dorothy Vernon, I had
+not at all taken into consideration her personal inclination. A
+girl, after all, is but the chattel of her father, and must,
+perforce, if needs be, marry the man who is chosen for her. But
+leaving parental authority out of the question, a girl with
+brick-red hair and a multitude of freckles need not be considered
+when an agreeable, handsome man offers himself as a husband. She
+usually is willing to the point of eagerness. That is the manner in
+which I had thought about Dorothy Vernon, if I considered her at
+all. But when a man is about to offer himself to a goddess, he is
+apt to pause. In such a case there are always two sides to the
+question, and nine chances to one the goddess will coolly take
+possession of both. When I saw Dorothy in the courtyard of The
+Peacock, I instantly knew that she was a girl to be taken into
+account in all matters wherein she was personally concerned. Her
+every feature, every poise and gesture, unconsciously bore the
+stamp of "I will" or "I will not."</p>
+<p>Walking by Dorothy's side, holding her hand, was a fair young
+woman whose hair was black, and whose skin was of the white, clear
+complexion such as we see in the faces of nuns. She walked with a
+hesitating, cautious step, and clung to Dorothy, who was gentle and
+attentive to her.<a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a> But of this
+fair, pale girl I have so much to say in the pages to come that I
+shall not further describe her here.</p>
+<p>When the ladies had entered the inn, my companion and I
+dismounted, and Manners exclaimed:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Did you see the glorious girl who but now entered the inn door?
+Gods! I never before saw such beauty."</p>
+<p>"Yes," I replied, "I know her."</p>
+<p>"How fortunate I am," said Sir John. "Perhaps I may induce you
+to present me to her. At least you will tell me her name, that I
+may seek her acquaintance by the usual means. I am not susceptible,
+but by my faith, I&mdash;I&mdash;she looked at me from the
+door-steps, and when I caught her eyes it seemed&mdash;that is, I
+saw&mdash;or I felt a stream of burning life enter my soul,
+and&mdash;but you will think I am a fool. I know I am a fool. But I
+feel as if I were&mdash;as if I had been bewitched in one little
+second of time, and by a single glance from a pair of brown eyes.
+You certainly will think I am a fool, but you cannot
+understand&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Why can't I understand?" I asked indignantly. "The thing you
+have seen and felt has been in this world long enough for every man
+to understand. Eve used it upon Adam. I can't understand? Damme,
+sir, do you think I am a clod? I have felt it fifty times."</p>
+<p>"Not&mdash;" began Sir John, hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"Nonsense!" I replied. "You, too, will have the same experience
+fifty times again before you are my age."</p>
+<p>"But the lady," said Sir John, "tell me of her. Will
+you&mdash;can you present me to her? If not, will you tell me who
+she is?"</p>
+<p>I remained for a moment in thought, wondering if it were right
+for me to tell him that the girl whom he so much admired was the
+daughter of his father's enemy. I could see no way of keeping
+Dorothy's name from him, so I determined to tell him.</p>
+<p>"She is my cousin, Mistress Dorothy Vernon," I said.<a name=
+"Page_22" id="Page_22"></a> "The eldest is Lady Dorothy Crawford.
+The beautiful, pale girl I do not know."</p>
+<p>"I am sorry," returned Sir John; "she is the lady whom you have
+come to marry, is she not?"</p>
+<p>"Y-e-s," said I, hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"You certainly are to be congratulated," returned Manners.</p>
+<p>"I doubt if I shall marry her," I replied.</p>
+<p>"Why?" asked Manners.</p>
+<p>"For many reasons, chief among which is her beauty."</p>
+<p>"That is an unusual reason for declining a woman," responded Sir
+John, with a low laugh.</p>
+<p>"I think it is quite usual," I replied, having in mind the
+difficulty with which great beauties are won. But I continued, "A
+woman of moderate beauty makes a safer wife, and in the long run is
+more comforting than one who is too attractive."</p>
+<p>"You are a philosopher, Sir Malcolm," said Manners,
+laughingly.</p>
+<p>"And a liar," I muttered to myself. I felt sure, however, that I
+should never marry Dorothy Vernon, and I do not mind telling you,
+even at this early stage in my history, that I was right in my
+premonition. I did not marry her.</p>
+<p>"I suppose I shall now be compelled to give you up to your
+relatives," said Manners.</p>
+<p>"Yes," I returned, "we must say good-by for the present; but if
+we do not meet again, it shall not be for the lack of my wishing.
+Your father and Sir George would feel deeply injured, should they
+learn of our friendship, therefore&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"You are quite right," he interrupted. "It is better that no one
+should know of it. Nevertheless, between you and me let there be no
+feud."</p>
+<p>"The secrecy of our friendship will give it zest," said I. "That
+is true, but 'good wine needs no bush.' You will not mention my
+name to the ladies?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>No, if you wish that I shall
+not."</p>
+<p>"I do so wish."</p>
+<p>When the stable boys had taken our horses, I gave my hand to Sir
+John, after which we entered the inn and treated each other as
+strangers.</p>
+<p>Soon after I had washed the stains of travel from my hands and
+face, I sent the maid to my cousins, asking that I might be
+permitted to pay my devotions, and Dorothy came to the tap-room in
+response to my message.</p>
+<p>When she entered she ran to me with outstretched hands and a
+gleam of welcome in her eyes. We had been rare friends when she was
+a child.</p>
+<p>"Ah, Cousin Malcolm, what a fine surprise you have given us!"
+she exclaimed, clasping both my hands and offering me her cheek to
+kiss. "Father's delight will be beyond measure when he sees
+you."</p>
+<p>"As mine now is," I responded, gazing at her from head to foot
+and drinking in her beauty with my eyes. "Doll! Doll! What a
+splendid girl you have become. Who would have thought
+that&mdash;that&mdash;" I hesitated, realizing that I was rapidly
+getting myself into trouble.</p>
+<p>"Say it. Say it, cousin! I know what is in your mind. Rusty red
+hair, angular shoulders, sharp elbows, freckles thickly set as
+stars upon a clear night, and so large and brown that they fairly
+twinkled. Great staring green eyes. Awkward!&mdash;" And she threw
+up her hands in mimic horror at the remembrance. "No one could have
+supposed that such a girl would have become&mdash;that is, you
+know," she continued confusedly, "could have changed. I haven't a
+freckle now," and she lifted her face that I might prove the truth
+of her words by examination, and perhaps that I might also observe
+her beauty.</p>
+<p>Neither did I waste the opportunity. I dwelt longingly upon the
+wondrous red golden hair which fringed her low broad forehead, and
+upon the heavy black eyebrows, the <a name="Page_24" id=
+"Page_24"></a>pencilled points of whose curves almost touched
+across the nose. I saw the rose-tinted ivory of her skin and the
+long jet lashes curving in a great sweep from her full white lids,
+and I thought full sure that Venus herself was before me. My gaze
+halted for a moment at the long eyes which changed chameleon-like
+with the shifting light, and varied with her moods from deep
+fathomless green to violet, and from violet to soft voluptuous
+brown, but in all their tints beaming forth a lustre that would
+have stirred the soul of an anchorite. Then I noted the beauty of
+her clean-cut saucy nose and the red arch of her lips, slightly
+parted for the purpose of showing her teeth. But I could not stop
+long to dwell upon any one especial feature, for there were still
+to be seen her divine round chin, her large white throat, and the
+infinite grace in poise and curve of her strong young form. I dared
+not pause nor waste my time if I were to see it all, for such a
+girl as Dorothy waits no man's leisure&mdash;that is, unless she
+wishes to wait. In such case there is no moving her, and patience
+becomes to her a delightful virtue.</p>
+<p>After my prolonged scrutiny Dorothy lowered her face and said
+laughingly:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Now come, cousin, tell me the truth. Who would have thought it
+possible?"</p>
+<p>"Not I, Doll, not I, if you will pardon me the frankness."</p>
+<p>"Oh, that is easily done." Then with a merry ripple of laughter,
+"It is much easier, I fancy, for a woman to speak of the time when
+she was plain than to refer to the time when&mdash;when she was
+beautiful. What an absurd speech that is for me to make," she said
+confusedly.</p>
+<p>"I certainly did not expect to find so great a change," said I.
+"Why, Doll, you are wondrous, glorious, beautiful. I can't find
+words&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Then don't try, Cousin Malcolm," she said with a smile <a name=
+"Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>that fringed her mouth in dimples.
+"Don't try. You will make me vain."</p>
+<p>"You are that already, Doll," I answered, to tease her.</p>
+<p>"I fear I am, cousin&mdash;vain as a man. But don't call me
+Doll. I am tall enough to be called Dorothy."</p>
+<p>She straightened herself up to her full height, and stepping
+close to my side, said: "I am as tall as you. I will now try to
+make you vain. You look just as young and as handsome as when I
+last saw you and so ardently admired your waving black mustachio
+and your curling chin beard."</p>
+<p>"Did you admire them, Doll&mdash;Dorothy?" I asked, hoping,
+though with little faith, that the admiration might still
+continue.</p>
+<p>"Oh, prodigiously," she answered with unassuring candor.
+"Prodigiously. Now who is vain, Cousin Malcolm Fran&ccedil;ois de
+Lorraine Vernon?"</p>
+<p>"I," I responded, shrugging my shoulders and confessing by
+compulsion.</p>
+<p>"But you must remember," she continued provokingly, "that a girl
+of twelve is very immature in her judgment and will fall in love
+with any man who allows her to look upon him twice."</p>
+<p>"Then I am to believe that the fire begins very early to burn in
+the feminine heart," I responded.</p>
+<p>"With birth, my cousin, with birth," she replied; "but in my
+heart it burned itself out upon your curling beard at the mature
+age of twelve."</p>
+<p>"And you have never been in love since that time,
+Doll&mdash;Dorothy?" I asked with more earnestness in my heart than
+in my voice.</p>
+<p>"No, no; by the Virgin, no! Not even in the shadow of a thought.
+And by the help of the Virgin I hope I never shall be; for when it
+comes to me, mark my word, cousin, there will be trouble in
+Derbyshire."</p>
+<p>"By my soul, I believe you speak the truth," I answered,
+<a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>little dreaming how quickly our
+joint prophecy would come true.</p>
+<p>I then asked Dorothy to tell me about her father.</p>
+<p>"Father is well in health," she said. "In mind he has been much
+troubled and disturbed. Last month he lost the lawsuit against
+detestable old Lord Rutland. He was much angered by the loss, and
+has been moody and morose in brooding over it ever since. He tries,
+poor father, to find relief from his troubles, and&mdash;and I fear
+takes too much liquor. Rutland and his friends swore to one lie
+upon another, and father believes that the judge who tried the case
+was bribed. Father intends to appeal to Parliament, but even in
+Parliament he fears he cannot obtain justice. Lord Rutland's
+son&mdash;a disreputable fellow, who for many years has lived at
+court&mdash;is a favorite with the queen, and his acquaintance with
+her Majesty and with the lords will be to father's prejudice."</p>
+<p>"I have always believed that your father stood in the queen's
+good graces?" I said interrogatively.</p>
+<p>"So he does, but I have been told that this son of Lord Rutland,
+whom I have never seen, has the beauty of&mdash;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."</p>
+<p>"The feud still lives between Vernon and Rutland?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p>We changed the topic. I had expected Dorothy to in<a name=
+"Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>vite 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.</p>
+<p>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.</p>
+<p>After a little time she said: "Is it not cool here? Let us go
+over to the fireplace where it is warmer."</p>
+<p>I turned to go with her, and at once saw that it was not the
+fire in the fireplace which had attracted Dorothy, but quite a
+different sort of flame. In short, much to my consternation, I
+discovered that it was nothing less than my handsome new-found
+friend, Sir John Manners, toward whom Dorothy had been
+glancing.</p>
+<p>We walked over to the fireplace, and one of the fires, Sir John,
+moved away. But the girl turned her face that she might see him in
+his new position. The movement, I confess, looked bold to the point
+of brazenness; but if the movement was bold, what shall I say of
+her glances and the expression of her face? She seemed unable to
+take her eager eyes from the stranger, or to think of anything but
+him, and after a few moments she did not try. Soon she stopped
+talking entirely and did not even hear what I was saying. I, too,
+became silent, and after a long pause the girl asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>Cousin, who is the gentleman
+with whom you were travelling?"</p>
+<p>I was piqued by Dorothy's conduct, and answered rather curtly:
+"He is a stranger. I picked him up at Derby, and we rode here
+together."</p>
+<p>A pause followed, awkward in its duration.</p>
+<p>"Did you&mdash;not&mdash;learn&mdash;his&mdash;name?" asked
+Dorothy, hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"Yes," I replied.</p>
+<p>Then came another pause, broken by the girl, who spoke in a
+quick, imperious tone touched with irritation:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Well, what is it?"</p>
+<p>"It is better that I do not tell you," I answered. "It was quite
+by accident that we met. Neither of us knew the other. Please do
+not ask me to tell you his name."</p>
+<p>"Oh, but you make me all the more eager to learn. Mystery, you
+know, is intolerable to a woman, except in the unravelling. Come,
+tell me! Tell me! Not, of course, that I really care a farthing to
+know&mdash;but the mystery! A mystery drives me wild. Tell me,
+please do, Cousin Malcolm."</p>
+<p>She certainly was posing for the stranger's benefit, and was
+doing all in her power, while coaxing me, to display her charms,
+graces, and pretty little ways. Her attitude and conduct spoke as
+plainly as the spring bird's song speaks to its mate. Yet Dorothy's
+manner did not seem bold. Even to me it appeared modest, beautiful,
+and necessary. She seemed to act under compulsion. She would laugh,
+for the purpose, no doubt, of showing her dimples and her teeth,
+and would lean her head to one side pigeon-wise to display her eyes
+to the best advantage, and then would she shyly glance toward Sir
+John to see if he was watching her. It was shameless, but it could
+not be helped by Dorothy nor any one else. After a few <a name=
+"Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>moments of mute pleading by the girl,
+broken now and then by, "Please, please," I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If you give to me your promise that you will never speak of
+this matter to any person, I will tell you the gentleman's name. I
+would not for a great deal have your father know that I have held
+conversation with him even for a moment, though at the time I did
+not know who he was."</p>
+<p>"Oh, this is delightful! He must be some famous, dashing
+highwayman. I promise, of course I promise&mdash;faithfully." She
+was glancing constantly toward Manners, and her face was bright
+with smiles and eager with anticipation.</p>
+<p>"He is worse than a highwayman, I regret to say. The gentleman
+toward whom you are so ardently glancing is&mdash;Sir John
+Manners."</p>
+<p>A shock of pain passed over Dorothy's face, followed by a hard,
+repellent expression that was almost ugly.</p>
+<p>"Let us go to Aunt Dorothy," she said, as she turned and walked
+across the room toward the door.</p>
+<p>When we had closed the door of the tap-room behind us Dorothy
+said angrily:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Tell me, cousin, how you, a Vernon, came to be in his
+company?"</p>
+<p>"I told you that I met him quite by accident at the Royal Arms
+in Derby-town. We became friends before either knew the other's
+name. After chance had disclosed our identities, he asked for a
+truce to our feud until the morrow; and he was so gentle and open
+in his conduct that I could not and would not refuse his proffered
+olive branch. In truth, whatever faults may be attributable to Lord
+Rutland,&mdash;and I am sure he deserves all the evil you have
+spoken of him,&mdash;his son, Sir John, is a noble gentleman, else
+I have been reading the book of human nature all my life in vain.
+Perhaps he is in no way to <a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>blame
+for his father's conduct He may have had no part in it"</p>
+<p>"Perhaps he has not," said Dorothy, musingly.</p>
+<p>It was not a pleasant task for me to praise Sir John, but my
+sense of justice impelled me to do so. I tried to make myself feel
+injured and chagrined because of Dorothy's manner toward him; for
+you must remember I had arranged with myself to marry this girl,
+but I could not work my feelings into a state of indignation
+against the heir to Rutland. The truth is, my hope of winning
+Dorothy had evaporated upon the first sight of her, like the
+volatile essence it really was. I cannot tell you why, but I at
+once seemed to realize that all the thought and labor which I had
+devoted to the arduous task of arranging with myself this marriage
+was labor lost. So I frankly told her my kindly feelings for Sir
+John, and gave her my high estimate of his character.</p>
+<p>I continued: "You see, Dorothy, I could not so easily explain to
+your father my association with Sir John, and I hope you will not
+speak of it to any one, lest the news should reach Sir George's
+ears."</p>
+<p>"I will not speak of it," she returned, sighing faintly. "After
+all, it is not his fault that his father is such a villain. He
+doesn't look like his father, does he?"</p>
+<p>"I cannot say. I never saw Lord Rutland," I replied.</p>
+<p>"He is the most villanous-looking&mdash;" but she broke off the
+sentence and stood for a moment in revery. We were in the darkened
+passage, and Dorothy had taken my hand. That little act in another
+woman of course would have led to a demonstration on my part, but
+in this girl it seemed so entirely natural and candid that it was a
+complete bar to undue familiarity. In truth, I had no such
+tendency, for the childish act spoke of an innocence and faith that
+were very sweet to me who all my life had lived <a name="Page_31"
+id="Page_31"></a>among men and women who laughed at those simple
+virtues. The simple conditions of life are all that are worth
+striving for. They come to us fresh from Nature and from Nature's
+God. The complex are but concoctions of man after recipes in the
+devil's alchemy. So much gold, so much ambition, so much lust. Mix
+well. Product: so much vexation.</p>
+<p>"He must resemble his mother," said Dorothy, after a long pause.
+"Poor fellow! His mother is dead. He is like me in that respect. I
+wonder if his father's villanies trouble him?"</p>
+<p>"I think they must trouble him. He seems to be sad," said I,
+intending to be ironical.</p>
+<p>My reply was taken seriously.</p>
+<p>"I am sorry for him," she said, "it is not right to hate even
+our enemies. The Book tells us that."</p>
+<p>"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," said I, amused and provoked.</p>
+<p>Unexpected and dangerous symptoms were rapidly developing in the
+perverse girl, and trouble was brewing "in Derbyshire."</p>
+<p>The adjective perverse, by the way, usually is superfluous when
+used to modify the noun girl.</p>
+<p>"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," I repeated.</p>
+<p>"Why, y-e-s," she responded. "I cannot help that, but you know
+it would be very wrong to&mdash;to hate all his family. To hate him
+is bad enough."</p>
+<p>I soon began to fear that I had praised Sir John overmuch.</p>
+<p>"I think Sir John is all there is of Lord Rutland's family," I
+said, alarmed yet amused at Dorothy's search for an excuse not to
+hate my new-found friend.</p>
+<p>"Well," she continued after a pause, throwing her head to one
+side, "I am sorry there are no more of that family not to
+hate."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>Dorothy! Dorothy!" I
+exclaimed. "What has come over you? You surprise me."</p>
+<p>"Yes," she answered, with a little sigh, "I certainly have
+surprised myself by&mdash;by my willingness to forgive those who
+have injured my house. I did not know there was so much&mdash;so
+much good in me."</p>
+<p>"Mistress Pharisee," thought I, "you are a hypocrite."</p>
+<p>Again intending to be ironical, I said, "Shall I fetch him from
+the tap-room and present him to you?"</p>
+<p>Once more my irony was lost upon the girl. Evidently that sort
+of humor was not my strong point.</p>
+<p>"No, no," she responded indignantly, "I would not speak to him
+for&mdash;" Again she broke her sentence abruptly, and after a
+little pause, short in itself but amply long for a girl like
+Dorothy to change her mind two score times, she continued: "It
+would not be for the best. What think you, Cousin Malcolm?"</p>
+<p>"Surely the girl has gone mad," thought I. Her voice was soft
+and conciliating as if to say, "I trust entirely to your mature,
+superior judgment."</p>
+<p>My judgment coincided emphatically with her words, and I said:
+"I spoke only in jest. It certainly would not be right. It would be
+all wrong if you were to meet him."</p>
+<p>"That is true," the girl responded with firmness, "but&mdash;but
+no real harm could come of it," she continued, laughing nervously.
+"He could not strike me nor bite me. Of course it would be
+unpleasant for me to meet him, and as there is no need&mdash;I am
+curious to know what one of his race is like. It's the only reason
+that would induce me to consent. Of course you know there could be
+no other reason for me to wish&mdash;that is, you know&mdash;to be
+willing to meet him. Of course you know."</p>
+<p>"Certainly," I replied, still clinging to my unsuccessful irony.
+"I will tell you all I know about him, so that you <a name=
+"Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>may understand what he is like. As for
+his personal appearance, you saw him, did you not?"</p>
+<p>I thought surely that piece of irony would not fail, but it did,
+and I have seldom since attempted to use that form of humor.</p>
+<p>"Yes&mdash;oh, yes, I saw him for a moment."</p>
+<p>"But I will not present him to you, Dorothy, however much you
+may wish to meet him," I said positively.</p>
+<p>"It is almost an insult, Cousin Malcolm, for you to say that I
+wish to meet him," she answered in well-feigned indignation.</p>
+<p>The French blood in my veins moved me to shrug my shoulders. I
+could do nothing else. With all my knowledge of womankind this girl
+had sent me to sea.</p>
+<p>But what shall we say of Dorothy's conduct? I fancy I can hear
+you mutter, "This Dorothy Vernon must have been a bold, immodest,
+brazen girl." Nothing of the sort. Dare you of the cold
+blood&mdash;if perchance there be any with that curse in their
+veins who read these lines&mdash;dare you, I say, lift your voice
+against the blessed heat in others which is but a greater,
+stronger, warmer spark of God's own soul than you possess or than
+you can comprehend? "Evil often comes of it," I hear you say. That
+I freely admit; and evil comes from eating too much bread, and from
+hearing too much preaching. But the universe, from the humblest
+blade of grass to the infinite essence of God, exists because of
+that warmth which the mawkish world contemns. Is the iron immodest
+when it creeps to the lodestone and clings to its side? Is the hen
+bird brazen when she flutters to her mate responsive to his
+compelling woo-song? Is the seed immodest when it sinks into the
+ground and swells with budding life? Is the cloud bold when it
+softens into rain and falls to earth because it has no other
+choice? or is it brazen when it nestles for a time on the bosom of
+heaven's <a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>arched dome and sinking
+into the fathomless depths of a blue black infinity ceases to be
+itself? Is the human soul immodest when, drawn by a force it cannot
+resist, it seeks a stronger soul which absorbs its ego as the blue
+sky absorbs the floating cloud, as the warm earth swells the seed,
+as the magnet draws the iron? All these are of one quality. The
+iron, the seed, the cloud, and the soul of man are <i>what</i> they
+are, do <i>what</i> they do, love as they love, live as they live,
+and die as they die because they must&mdash;because they have no
+other choice. We think we are free because at times we act as we
+please, forgetting that God gives us the "please," and that every
+act of our being is but the result of a dictated motive. Dorothy
+was not immodest. This was her case. She was the iron, the seed,
+the cloud, and the rain. You, too, are the iron, the seed, the
+cloud, and the rain. It is only human vanity which prompts you to
+believe that you are yourself and that you are free. Do you find
+any freedom in this world save that which you fondly believe to
+exist within yourself? Self! There is but one self, God. I have
+been told that the people of the East call Him Brahma. The word, it
+is said, means "Breath," "Inspiration," "All." I have felt that the
+beautiful pagan thought has truth in it; but my conscience and my
+priest tell me rather to cling to truths I have than to fly to
+others that I know not of. As a result, I shall probably die
+orthodox and mistaken.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><a name="Page_35"
+id="Page_35"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h2>THE PITCHER GOES TO THE WELL.</h2>
+<p>Dorothy and I went to the inn parlors, where I received a
+cordial welcome from my cousin, Lady Crawford. After our greeting,
+Dorothy came toward me leading the fair, pale girl whom I had seen
+in the courtyard.</p>
+<p>"Madge, this is my cousin, Malcolm Vernon," said Dorothy. "He
+was a dear friend of my childhood and is much beloved by my father.
+Lady Magdalene Stanley, cousin," and she placed the girl's soft
+white hand in mine. There was a peculiar hesitancy in the girl's
+manner which puzzled me. She did not look at me when Dorothy placed
+her hand in mine, but kept her eyes cast down, the long, black
+lashes resting upon the fair curves of her cheek like a shadow on
+the snow. She murmured a salutation, and when I made a remark that
+called for a response, she lifted her eyes but seemed not to look
+at me. Unconsciously I turned my face toward Dorothy, who closed
+her eyes and formed with her lips the word "blind."</p>
+<p>I retained the girl's hand, and she did not withdraw it. When I
+caught Dorothy's unspoken word I led Lady Madge to a chair and
+asked if I might sit beside her.</p>
+<p>"Certainly," she answered smilingly; "you know I am blind, but I
+can hear and speak, and I enjoy having persons I like sit near me
+that I may touch them now and then while we talk. If I could only
+see!" she exclaimed.<a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a> Still,
+there was no tone of complaint in her voice and very little even of
+regret. The girl's eyes were of a deep blue and were entirely
+without scar or other evidence of blindness, except that they did
+not seem to see. I afterward learned that her affliction had come
+upon her as the result of illness when she was a child. She was
+niece to the Earl of Derby, and Dorothy's mother had been her aunt.
+She owned a small estate and had lived at Haddon Hall five or six
+years because of the love that existed between her and Dorothy. A
+strong man instinctively longs to cherish that which needs his
+strength, and perhaps it was the girl's helplessness that first
+appealed to me. Perhaps it was her rare, peculiar beauty, speaking
+eloquently of virtue such as I had never known, that touched me. I
+cannot say what the impelling cause was, but this I know: my heart
+went out in pity to her, and all that was good within
+me&mdash;good, which I had never before suspected&mdash;stirred in
+my soul, and my past life seemed black and barren beyond endurance.
+Even Dorothy's marvellous beauty lacked the subtle quality which
+this simple blind girl possessed. The first step in regeneration is
+to see one's faults; the second is to regret them; the third is to
+quit them. The first and second steps constitute repentance; the
+second and third regeneration. One hour within the radius of Madge
+Stanley's influence brought me to repentance. But repentance is an
+everyday virtue. Should I ever achieve regeneration? That is one of
+the questions this history will answer. To me, Madge Stanley's
+passive force was the strongest influence for good that had ever
+impinged on my life. With respect to her, morally, I was the iron,
+the seed, the cloud, and the rain, for she, acting unconsciously,
+moved me with neither knowledge nor volition on my part.</p>
+<p>Soon after my arrival at the ladies' parlor dinner was served,
+and after dinner a Persian merchant was ushered <a name="Page_37"
+id="Page_37"></a>in, closely followed by his servants bearing bales
+of rare Eastern fabrics. A visit and a dinner at the inn were
+little events that made a break in the monotony of life at the
+Hall, and the ladies preferred to visit the merchant, who was
+stopping at The Peacock for a time, rather than to have him take
+his wares to Haddon.</p>
+<p>While Lady Crawford and Dorothy were revelling in Persian silks,
+satins, and gold cloths, I sat by Lady Madge and was more than
+content that we were left to ourselves. My mind, however, was as
+far from thoughts of gallantry as if she had been a black-veiled
+nun. I believe I have not told you that I was of the Holy Catholic
+Faith. My religion, I may say, has always been more nominal and
+political than spiritual, although there ran through it a strong
+vein of inherited tendencies and superstitions which were highly
+colored by contempt for heresy and heretics. I was Catholic by
+habit. But if I analyzed my supposed religious belief, I found that
+I had none save a hatred for heresy. Heretics, as a rule, were
+low-born persons, vulgarly moral, and as I had always thought,
+despisedly hypocritical. Madge Stanley, however, was a Protestant,
+and that fact shook the structure of my old mistakes to its
+foundation, and left me religionless.</p>
+<p>After the Persian merchant had packed his bales and departed,
+Dorothy and Lady Crawford joined Madge and me near the fireplace.
+Soon Dorothy went over to the window and stood there gazing into
+the courtyard.</p>
+
+<p>After a few minutes Lady Crawford said, "Dorothy,
+had we not better order Dawson to bring out the horses and coach?"
+Will Dawson was Sir George's forester.</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford repeated her
+question, but Dorothy was too intently watching the scene in the
+courtyard to hear. I went over to her, and looking out at the
+window discovered the object of Dorothy's rapt attention. There is
+no need for me to tell you who it was. Irony, as you know, <a name=
+"Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>and as I had learned, was harmless
+against this thick-skinned nymph. Of course I had no authority to
+scold her, so I laughed. The object of Dorothy's attention was
+about to mount his horse. He was drawing on his gauntleted gloves
+and held between his teeth a cigarro. He certainly presented a
+handsome figure for the eyes of an ardent girl to rest upon while
+he stood beneath the window, clothed in a fashionable Paris-made
+suit of brown, doublet, trunks, and hose. His high-topped boots
+were polished till they shone, and his broad-rimmed hat, of soft
+beaver, was surmounted by a flowing plume. Even I, who had no
+especial taste nor love for masculine beauty, felt my sense of the
+beautiful strongly moved by the attractive picture my new-found
+friend presented. His dress, manner, and bearing, polished by the
+friction of life at a luxurious court, must have appeared god-like
+to Dorothy. She had never travelled farther from home than Buxton
+and Derby-town, and had met only the half-rustic men belonging to
+the surrounding gentry and nobility of Derbyshire, Nottingham, and
+Stafford. She had met but few even of them, and their lives had
+been spent chiefly in drinking, hunting, and
+gambling&mdash;accomplishments that do not fine down the texture of
+a man's nature or fit him for a lady's bower. Sir John Manners was
+a revelation to Dorothy; and she, poor girl, was bewildered and
+bewitched by him.</p>
+<p>When John had mounted and was moving away, he looked up to the
+window where Dorothy stood, and a light came to her eyes and a
+smile to her face which no man who knows the sum of two and two can
+ever mistake if he but once sees it.</p>
+<p>When I saw the light in Dorothy's eyes, I knew that all the
+hatred that was ever born from all the feuds that had ever lived
+since the quarrelling race of man began its feuds in Eden could not
+make Dorothy Vernon hate the son of her father's enemy.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>I
+was&mdash;was&mdash;watching him draw smoke through the&mdash;the
+little stick which he holds in his mouth, and&mdash;and blow it out
+again," said Dorothy, in explanation of her attitude. She blushed
+painfully and continued, "I hope you do not think&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I do not think," I answered. "I would not think of
+thinking."</p>
+<p>"Of course not," she responded, with a forced smile, as she
+watched Sir John pass out of sight under the arch of the innyard
+gate. I did not think. I knew. And the sequel, so full of trouble,
+soon proved that I was right. After John had passed through the
+gate, Dorothy was willing to go home; and when Will Dawson brought
+the great coach to the inn door, I mounted my horse and rode beside
+the ladies to Haddon Hall, two miles north from Rowsley.</p>
+<p>I shall not stop to tell you of the warm welcome given me by Sir
+George Vernon, nor of his delight when I briefly told him my
+misfortunes in Scotland&mdash;misfortunes that had brought me to
+Haddon Hall. Nor shall I describe the great boar's head supper
+given in my honor, at which there were twenty men who could have
+put me under the table. I thought I knew something of the art of
+drinking, but at that supper I soon found I was a mere tippler
+compared with these country guzzlers. At that feast I learned also
+that Dorothy, when she had hinted concerning Sir George's excessive
+drinking, had told the truth. He, being the host, drank with all
+his guests. Near midnight he grew distressingly drunk, talkative,
+and violent, and when toward morning he was carried from the room
+by his servants, the company broke up. Those who could do so reeled
+home; those who could not walk at all were put to bed by the
+retainers at Haddon Hall. I had chosen my bedroom high up in Eagle
+Tower. At table I had tried to remain sober. That, however, was an
+impossible task, for at the <a name="Page_40" id=
+"Page_40"></a>upper end of the hall there was a wrist-ring placed
+in the wainscoting at a height of ten or twelve inches above the
+head of an ordinary man, and if he refused to drink as much as the
+other guests thought he should, his wrist was fastened above his
+head in the ring, and the liquor which he should have poured down
+his throat was poured down his sleeve. Therefore to avoid this
+species of rustic sport I drank much more than was good for me.
+When the feast closed I thought I was sober enough to go to my room
+unassisted; so I took a candle, and with a great show of
+self-confidence climbed the spiral stone stairway to the door of my
+room. The threshold of my door was two or three feet above the
+steps of the stairway, and after I had contemplated the distance
+for a few minutes, I concluded that it would not be safe for me to
+attempt to climb into my sleeping apartments without help.
+Accordingly I sat down upon the step on which I had been standing,
+placed my candle beside me, called loudly for a servant, received
+no response, and fell asleep only to be awakened by one of Sir
+George's retainers coming downstairs next morning.</p>
+<p>After that supper, in rapid succession, followed hunting and
+drinking, feasting and dancing in my honor. At the dances the
+pipers furnished the music, or, I should rather say, the noise.
+Their miserable wailings reminded me of Scotland. After all,
+thought I, is the insidious, polished vice of France worse than the
+hoggish, uncouth practices of Scotland and of English country life?
+I could not endure the latter, so I asked Sir George, on the
+pretext of ill health, to allow me to refuse invitations to other
+houses, and I insisted that he should give no more entertainments
+at Haddon Hall on my account. Sir George eagerly acquiesced in all
+my wishes. In truth, I was treated like an honored guest and a
+member of the family, and I congratulated myself that my life had
+fallen in such pleasant lines. Dorothy and Madge became my constant
+com<a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>panions, for Sir George's
+time was occupied chiefly with his estates and with his duties as
+magistrate. A feeling of rest and contentment came over me, and my
+past life drifted back of me like an ever receding cloud.</p>
+<p>Thus passed the months of October and November.</p>
+<p>In the meantime events in Scotland and in England proved my
+wisdom in seeking a home at Haddon Hall, and showed me how great
+was my good fortune in finding it.</p>
+<p>Queen Mary was a prisoner at Lochleven Castle, and her brother
+Murray had beheaded many of her friends. Elizabeth, hating Mary as
+only a plain, envious woman can hate one who is transcendently
+beautiful, had, upon different pretexts, seized many of Mary's
+friends who had fled to England for sanctuary, and some of them had
+suffered imprisonment or death.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth, in many instances, had good cause for her attitude
+toward Mary's friends, since plots were hatching thick and fast to
+liberate Mary from Lochleven; and many such plots, undoubtedly, had
+for their chief end the deposition of Elizabeth, and the
+enthronement of Mary as Queen of England.</p>
+<p>As a strict matter of law, Mary was rightful heir to the English
+throne, and Elizabeth was an usurper. Parliament, at Henry's
+request, had declared that Elizabeth, his issue by Anne Boleyn, was
+illegitimate, and that being true, Mary was next in line of
+descent. The Catholics of England took that stand, and Mary's
+beauty and powers of fascination had won for her friends even in
+the personal household of the Virgin Queen. Small cause for wonder
+was it that Elizabeth, knowing all these facts, looked with
+suspicion and fear upon Mary's refugee friends.</p>
+<p>The English queen well knew that Sir George Vernon was her
+friend, therefore his house and his friendship were <a name=
+"Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>my sanctuary, without which my days
+certainly would have been numbered in the land of Elizabeth, and
+their number would have been small. I was dependent on Sir George
+not only for a roof to shelter me, but for my very life. I speak of
+these things that you may know some of the many imperative reasons
+why I desired to please and conciliate my cousin. In addition to
+those reasons, I soon grew to love Sir George, not only because of
+his kindness to me, but because he was a lovable man. He was
+generous, just, and frank, and although at times he was violent
+almost to the point of temporary madness, his heart was usually
+gentle, and was as easily touched by kindness as it was quickly
+moved to cruelty by injury, fancied or actual. I have never known a
+more cruel, tender man than he. You will see him in each of his
+natures before you have finished this history. But you must judge
+him only after you have considered his times, which were forty
+years ago, his surroundings, and his blood.</p>
+<p>During those two months remarkable changes occurred within the
+walls of Haddon, chief of which were in myself, and, alas! in
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>My pilgrimage to Haddon, as you already know, had been made for
+the purpose of marrying my fair cousin; for I did not, at the time
+I left Scotland, suppose I should need Sir George's protection
+against Elizabeth. When I met Dorothy at Rowsley, my desire to
+marry her became personal, in addition to the mercenary motives
+with which I had originally started. But I quickly recognized the
+fact that the girl was beyond my reach. I knew I could not win her
+love, even though I had a thousand years to try for it; and I would
+not accept her hand in marriage solely at her father's command. I
+also soon learned that Dorothy was the child of her father, gentle,
+loving, and tender beyond the naming, but also wilful, violent, and
+fierce to the extent that no command could influence her.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>First I shall speak of the
+change within myself. I will soon be done with so much "I" and
+"me," and you shall have Dorothy to your heart's content, or
+trouble, I know not which.</p>
+<p>Soon after my arrival at Haddon Hall the sun ushered in one of
+those wonderful days known only to the English autumn, when the
+hush of Nature's drowsiness, just before her long winter's sleep,
+imparts its soft restfulness to man, as if it were a lotus feast.
+Dorothy was ostentatiously busy with her household matters, and was
+consulting with butler, cook, and steward. Sir George had ridden
+out to superintend his men at work, and I, wandering aimlessly
+about the hail, came upon Madge Stanley sitting in the chaplain's
+room with folded hands.</p>
+<p>"Lady Madge, will you go with me for a walk this beautiful
+morning?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Gladly would I go, Sir Malcolm," she responded, a smile
+brightening her face and quickly fading away, "but I&mdash;I cannot
+walk in unfamiliar places. I should fail. You would have to lead me
+by the hand, and that, I fear, would mar the pleasure of your
+walk."</p>
+<p>"Indeed, it would not, Lady Madge. I should enjoy my walk all
+the more."</p>
+<p>"If you really wish me to go, I shall be delighted," she
+responded, as the brightness came again to her face. "I sometimes
+grow weary, and, I confess, a little sad sitting alone when Dorothy
+cannot be with me. Aunt Dorothy, now that she has her magnifying
+glasses,&mdash;spectacles, I think they are called,&mdash;devotes
+all her time to reading, and dislikes to be interrupted."</p>
+<p>"I wish it very much," I said, surprised by the real eagerness
+of my desire, and unconsciously endeavoring to keep out of the
+tones of my voice a part of that eagerness.</p>
+<p>"I shall take you at your word," she said. "I will go to my room
+to get my hat and cloak."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>She rose and began to grope
+her way toward the door, holding out her white, expressive hands in
+front of her. It was pitiful and beautiful to see her, and my
+emotions welled up in my throat till I could hardly speak.</p>
+<p>"Permit me to give you my hand," I said huskily. How I longed to
+carry her! Every man with the right sort of a heart in his breast
+has a touch of the mother instinct in him; but, alas I only a
+touch. Ah, wondrous and glorious womanhood! If you had naught but
+the mother instinct to lift you above your masters by the hand of
+man-made laws, those masters were still unworthy to tie the strings
+of your shoes.</p>
+<p>"Thank you," said the girl, as she clasped my hand, and moved
+with confidence by my side. "This is so much better than the
+dreadful fear of falling. Even through these rooms where I have
+lived for many years I feel safe only in a few places,&mdash;on the
+stairs, and in my rooms, which are also Dorothy's. When Dorothy
+changes the position of a piece of furniture in the Hall, she leads
+me to it several times that I may learn just where it is. A long
+time ago she changed the position of a chair and did not tell me. I
+fell against it and was hurt. Dorothy wept bitterly over the
+mishap, and she has never since failed to tell me of such changes.
+I cannot make you know how kind and tender Dorothy is to me. I feel
+that I should die without her, and I know she would grieve terribly
+were we to part."</p>
+<p>I could not answer. What a very woman you will think I was! I,
+who could laugh while I ran my sword through a man's heart, could
+hardly restrain my tears for pity of this beautiful blind girl.</p>
+<p>"Thank you; that will do," she said, when we came to the foot of
+the great staircase. "I can now go to my rooms alone."</p>
+<p>When she reached the top she hesitated and groped for <a name=
+"Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>a moment; then she turned and called
+laughingly to me while I stood at the bottom of the steps, "I know
+the way perfectly well, but to go alone in any place is not like
+being led."</p>
+<p>"There are many ways in which one may be led, Lady Madge," I
+answered aloud. Then I said to myself, "That girl will lead you to
+Heaven, Malcolm, if you will permit her to do so."</p>
+<p>But thirty-five years of evil life are hard to neutralize. There
+is but one subtle elixir that can do it&mdash;love; and I had not
+thought of that magic remedy with respect to Madge.</p>
+<p>I hurriedly fetched my hat and returned to the foot of the
+staircase. Within a minute or two Madge came down stairs holding up
+the skirt of her gown with one hand, while she grasped the banister
+with the other. As I watched her descending I was enraptured with
+her beauty. Even the marvellous vital beauty of Dorothy could not
+compare with this girl's fair, pale loveliness. It seemed to be
+almost a profanation for me to admire the sweet oval of her face.
+Upon her alabaster skin, the black eyebrows, the long lashes, the
+faint blue veins and the curving red lips stood in exquisite
+relief. While she was descending the stairs, I caught a gleam of
+her round, snowy forearm and wrist; and when my eyes sought the
+perfect curves of her form disclosed by the clinging silk gown she
+wore, I felt that I had sinned in looking upon her, and I was
+almost glad she could not see the shame which was in my face.</p>
+<p>"Cousin Malcolm, are you waiting?" she asked from midway in the
+staircase.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I am at the foot of the steps," I answered.</p>
+<p>"I called you 'Cousin Malcolm,'" she said, holding out her hand
+when she came near me. "Pardon me; it was a slip of the tongue. I
+hear 'Cousin Malcolm' so frequently from Dorothy that the name is
+familiar to me."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>I shall be proud if you will
+call me 'Cousin Malcolm' always. I like the name better than any
+that you can use."</p>
+<p>"If you wish it," she said, in sweet, simple candor, "I will
+call you 'Cousin Malcolm,' and you may call me 'Cousin Madge' or
+'Madge,' just as you please."</p>
+<p>"'Cousin Madge' it shall be; that is a compact," I answered, as
+I opened the door and we walked out into the fresh air of the
+bright October morning.</p>
+<p>"That will stand for our first compact; we are progressing
+famously," she said, with a low laugh of delight.</p>
+<p>Ah, to think that the blind can laugh. God is good.</p>
+<p>We walked out past the stables and the cottage, and crossed the
+river on the great stone bridge. Then we took our way down the
+babbling Wye, keeping close to its banks, while the dancing waters
+and even the gleaming pebbles seemed to dimple and smile as they
+softly sang their song of welcome to the fair kindred spirit who
+had come to visit them. If we wandered from the banks for but a
+moment, the waters seemed to struggle and turn in their course
+until they were again by her side, and then would they gently flow
+and murmur their contentment as they travelled forward to the sea,
+full of the memory of her sweet presence. And during all that time
+I led her by the hand. I tell you, friends, 'tis sweet to write of
+it.</p>
+<p>When we returned we crossed the Wye by the stone footbridge and
+entered the garden below the terrace at the corner postern. We
+remained for an hour resting upon the terrace balustrade, and
+before we went indoors Madge again spoke of Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed this walk, nor how
+thankful I am to you for taking me," she said.</p>
+<p>I did not interrupt her by replying, for I loved to hear her
+talk.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy sometimes takes me with her for a short <a name=
+"Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>walk, but I seldom have that pleasure.
+Walking is too slow for Dorothy. She is so strong and full of life.
+She delights to ride her mare Dolcy. Have you seen Dolcy?"</p>
+<p>"No," I responded.</p>
+<p>"You must see her at once. She is the most beautiful animal in
+the world. Though small of limb, she is swift as the wind, and as
+easy as a cradle in her gaits. She is mettlesome and fiery, but
+full of affection. She often kisses Dorothy. Mare and rider are
+finely mated. Dorothy is the most perfect woman, and Dolcy is the
+most perfect mare. 'The two D's,' we call them. But Dorothy says we
+must be careful not to put a&mdash;a dash between them," she said
+with a laugh and a blush.</p>
+<p>Then I led Madge into the hall, and she was blithe and happy as
+if the blessed light of day were in her eyes. It was in her soul,
+and that, after all, is where it brings the greatest good.</p>
+<p>After that morning, Madge and I frequently walked out when the
+days were pleasant. The autumn was mild, well into winter time, and
+by the end of November the transparent cheeks of the blind girl
+held an exquisite tinge of color, and her form had a new grace from
+the strength she had acquired in exercise. We had grown to be dear
+friends, and the touch of her hand was a pleasure for which I
+waited eagerly from day to day. Again I say thoughts of love for
+her had never entered my mind. Perhaps their absence was because of
+my feeling that they could not possibly exist in her heart for
+me.</p>
+<p>One evening in November, after the servants had all gone to bed,
+Sir George and I went to the kitchen to drink a hot punch before
+retiring for the night. I drank a moderate bowl and sat in a large
+chair before the fire, smoking a pipe of tobacco, while Sir George
+drank brandy toddy at the massive oak table in the middle of the
+room.</p>
+<p>Sir George was rapidly growing drunk. He said:<a name="Page_48"
+id="Page_48"></a> "Dawson tells me that the queen's officers
+arrested another of Mary Stuart's damned French friends at
+Derby-town yesterday,&mdash;Count somebody; I can't pronounce their
+miserable names."</p>
+<p>"Can you not remember his name?" I asked. "He may be a friend of
+mine." My remark was intended to remind Sir George that his
+language was offensive to me.</p>
+<p>"That is true, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "I beg your
+pardon. I meant to speak ill only of Mary's meddlesome friends, who
+are doing more injury than good to their queen's cause by their
+plotting."</p>
+<p>I replied: "No one can regret these plots more than I do. They
+certainly will work great injury to the cause they are intended to
+help. But I fear many innocent men are made to suffer for the few
+guilty ones. Without your protection, for which I cannot
+sufficiently thank you, my life here would probably be of short
+duration. After my misfortunes in Scotland, I know not what I
+should have done had it not been for your generous welcome. I lost
+all in Scotland, and it would now be impossible for me to go to
+France. An attempt on my part to escape would result in my arrest.
+Fortune certainly has turned her capricious back upon me, with the
+one exception that she has left me your friendship."</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, my boy," said Sir George, drawing his chair toward me,
+"that which you consider your loss is my great gain. I am growing
+old, and if you, who have seen so much of the gay world, will be
+content to live with us and share our dulness and our cares, I
+shall be the happiest man in England."</p>
+<p>"I thank you more than I can tell," I said, careful not to
+commit myself to any course.</p>
+<p>"Barring my quarrel with the cursed race of Manners," continued
+Sir George, "I have little to trouble me; and if you will remain
+with us, I thank God I may leave the feud <a name="Page_49" id=
+"Page_49"></a>in good hands. Would that I were young again only for
+a day that I might call that scoundrel Rutland and his imp of a son
+to account in the only manner whereby an honest man may have
+justice of a thief. There are but two of them,
+Malcolm,&mdash;father and son,&mdash;and if they were dead, the
+damned race would be extinct."</p>
+<p>I believe that Sir George Vernon when sober could not have
+spoken in that fashion even of his enemies.</p>
+<p>I found difficulty in replying to my cousin's remarks, so I said
+evasively:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I certainly am the most fortunate of men to find so warm a
+welcome from you, and so good a home as that which I have at Haddon
+Hall. When I met Dorothy at the inn, I knew at once by her kindness
+that my friends of old were still true to me. I was almost stunned
+by Dorothy's beauty."</p>
+<p>My mention of Dorothy was unintentional and unfortunate. I had
+shied from the subject upon several previous occasions, but Sir
+George was continually trying to lead up to it. This time my lack
+of forethought saved him the trouble.</p>
+<p>"Do you really think that Doll is very beautiful&mdash;so very
+beautiful? Do you really think so, Malcolm?" said the old
+gentleman, rubbing his hands in pride and pleasure.</p>
+<p>"Surprisingly beautiful," I answered, seeking hurriedly through
+my mind for an excuse to turn the conversation. I had within two
+months learned one vital fact: beautiful as Dorothy was, I did not
+want her for my wife, and I could not have had her even were I
+dying for love. The more I learned of Dorothy and myself during the
+autumn through which I had just passed&mdash;and I had learned more
+of myself than I had been able to discover in the thirty-five
+previous years of my life&mdash;the more clearly I saw the utter
+unfitness of marriage between us.</p>
+<p>"In all your travels," asked Sir George, leaning his <a name=
+"Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>elbows upon his knees and looking at his
+feet between his hands, "in all your travels and court life have
+you ever seen a woman who was so beautiful as my girl Doll?"</p>
+<p>His pride in Dorothy at times had a tinge of egotism and
+selfishness. It seemed to be almost the pride of possession and
+ownership. "My girl!" The expression and the tone in which the
+words were spoken sounded as if he had said: "My fine horse," "My
+beautiful Hall," or "My grand estates." Dorothy was his property.
+Still, he loved the girl passionately. She was dearer to him than
+all his horses, cattle, halls, and estates put together, and he
+loved even them to excess. He loved all that he possessed; whatever
+was his was the best of the sort. Such a love is apt to grow up in
+the breasts of men who have descended from a long line of
+proprietary ancestors, and with all its materialism it has in it
+possibilities of great good. The sturdy, unflinching patriotism of
+the English people springs from this source. The thought, "That
+which I possess is the best," has beauty and use in it, though it
+leads men to treat other men, and, alas! women, as mere chattels.
+All this was passing through my mind, and I forgot to answer Sir
+George's question.</p>
+<p>"Have you ever seen a woman more beautiful than Doll?" he again
+asked.</p>
+<p>"I certainly have never seen one whose beauty may even be
+compared with Dorothy's," I answered.</p>
+<p>"And she is young, too," continued Sir George; "she is not yet
+nineteen."</p>
+<p>"That is very young," I answered, not knowing what else to
+say.</p>
+<p>"And she will be rich some day. Very rich. I am called 'King of
+the Peak,' you know, and there are not three estates in Derbyshire
+which, if combined, would equal mine."</p>
+<p>"That is true, cousin," I answered, "and I rejoice in your good
+fortune."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>Dorothy will have it all one
+of these days&mdash;all, all," continued my cousin, still looking
+at his feet.</p>
+<p>After a long pause, during which Sir George took several
+libations from his bowl of toddy, he cleared his throat and said,
+"So Dorothy is the most beautiful girl and the richest heiress you
+know?"</p>
+<p>"Indeed she is," I responded, knowing full well what he was
+leading up to. Realizing that in spite of me he would now speak his
+mind, I made no attempt to turn the current of the
+conversation.</p>
+<p>After another long pause, and after several more draughts from
+the bowl, my old friend and would-be benefactor said: "You may
+remember a little conversation between us when you were last at
+Haddon six or seven years ago, about&mdash;about Dorothy? You
+remember?"</p>
+<p>I, of course, dared not pretend that I had forgotten.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I remember," I responded.</p>
+<p>"What do you think of the proposition by this time?" asked Sir
+George. "Dorothy and all she will inherit shall be
+yours&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Stop, stop, Sir George!" I exclaimed. "You do not know what you
+say. No one but a prince or a great peer of the realm is worthy of
+aspiring to Dorothy's hand. When she is ready to marry you should
+take her to London court, where she can make her choice from among
+the nobles of our land. There is not a marriageable duke or earl in
+England who would not eagerly seek the girl for a wife. My dear
+cousin, your generosity overwhelms me, but it must not be thought
+of. I am utterly unworthy of her in person, age, and position. No!
+no!"</p>
+<p>"But listen to me, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "Your
+modesty, which, in truth, I did not know you possessed, is pleasing
+to me; but I have reasons of my own for wishing that you should
+marry Dorothy. I want my estates to remain in the Vernon name, and
+one day <a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>you or your children
+will make my house and my name noble. You and Dorothy shall go to
+court, and between you&mdash;damme! if you can't win a dukedom, I
+am no prophet. You would not object to change your faith, would
+you?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, no," I responded, "of course I should not object to
+that."</p>
+<p>"Of course not. I knew you were no fool," said Sir George. "Age!
+why, you are only thirty-five years old&mdash;little more than a
+matured boy. I prefer you to any man in England for Dorothy's
+husband."</p>
+<p>"You overwhelm me with your kindness," I returned, feeling that
+I was being stranded on a very dangerous shore, amidst wealth and
+beauty.</p>
+<p>"Tut, tut, there's no kindness in it," returned my cousin. "I do
+not offer you Dorothy's hand from an unselfish motive. I have told
+you one motive, but there is another, and a little condition
+besides, Malcolm." The brandy Sir George had been drinking had sent
+the devil to his brain.</p>
+<p>"What is the condition?" I asked, overjoyed to hear that there
+was one.</p>
+<p>The old man leaned toward me and a fierce blackness overclouded
+his face. "I am told, Malcolm, that you have few equals in
+swordsmanship, and that the duello is not new to you. Is it
+true?"</p>
+<p>"I believe I may say it is true," I answered. "I have fought
+successfully with some of the most noted duellists of&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Enough, enough! Now, this is the condition, Malcolm,&mdash;a
+welcome one to you, I am sure; a welcome one to any brave man." His
+eyes gleamed with fire and hatred. "Quarrel with Rutland and his
+son and kill both of them."</p>
+<p>I felt like recoiling from the old fiend. I had often <a name=
+"Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>quarrelled and fought, but, thank God,
+never in cold blood and with deliberate intent to do murder.</p>
+<p>"Then Dorothy and all I possess shall be yours," said Sir
+George. "The old one will be an easy victim. The young one, they
+say, prides himself on his prowess. I do not know with what cause,
+I have never seen him fight. In fact, I have never seen the fellow
+at all. He has lived at London court since he was a child, and has
+seldom, if ever, visited this part of the country. He was a page
+both to Edward VI. and to Queen Mary. Why Elizabeth keeps the
+damned traitor at court to plot against her is more than I can
+understand. Do the conditions suit you, Malcolm?" asked Sir George,
+piercing me with his eyes.</p>
+<p>I did not respond, and he continued: "All I ask is your promise
+to kill Rutland and his son at the first opportunity. I care not
+how. The marriage may come off at once. It can't take place too
+soon to please me."</p>
+<p>I could not answer for a time. The power to speak and to think
+had left me. To accept Sir George's offer was out of the question.
+To refuse it would be to give offence beyond reparation to my only
+friend, and you know what that would have meant to me. My refuge
+was Dorothy. I knew, however willing I might be or might appear to
+be, Dorothy would save me the trouble and danger of refusing her
+hand. So I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"We have not consulted Dorothy. Perhaps her
+inclinations&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Doll's inclinations be damned. I have always been kind and
+indulgent to her, and she is a dutiful, obedient daughter. My wish
+and command in this affair will furnish inclinations enough for
+Doll."</p>
+<p>"But, Sir George," I remonstrated, "I would not accept the hand
+of Dorothy nor of any woman unless she desired it. I could not. I
+could not."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>If Doll consents, I am to
+understand that you accept?" asked Sir George.</p>
+<p>I saw no way out of the dilemma, and to gain time I said, "Few
+men in their right mind would refuse so flattering an offer unless
+there were a most potent reason, and I&mdash;I&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Good! good! I shall go to bed happy to-night for the first time
+in years. The Rutlands will soon be out of my path."</p>
+<p>There is a self-acting retribution in our evil passions which
+never fails to operate. One who hates must suffer, and Sir George
+for years had paid the penalty night and day, unconscious that his
+pain was of his own making.</p>
+<p>Before we parted I said, "This is a delicate matter, with
+reference to Dorothy, and I insist that you give me time to win, if
+possible, her kindly regard before you express to her your
+wish."</p>
+<p>"Nonsense, nonsense, Malcolm! I'll tell the girl about it in the
+morning, and save you the trouble. The women will want to make some
+new gowns and&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"But," I interrupted emphatically, "I will not have it so. It is
+every man's sweet privilege to woo the woman of his choice in his
+own way. It is not a trouble to me; it is a pleasure, and it is
+every woman's right to be wooed by the man who seeks her. I again
+insist that I only shall speak to Dorothy on this subject. At
+least, I demand that I be allowed to speak first."</p>
+<p>"That's all damned nonsense," responded Sir George; "but if you
+will have it so, well and good. Take your own course. I suppose
+it's the fashion at court. The good old country way suits me. A
+girl's father tells her whom she is to marry, and, by gad, she does
+it without a word and is glad to get a man. English girls obey
+their parents. They know what to expect if they don't&mdash;the
+lash, by God and the dungeon under the keep. Your <a name="Page_55"
+id="Page_55"></a>roundabout method is all right for tenants and
+peasants; but among people who possess estates and who control vast
+interests, girls are&mdash;girls are&mdash;Well, they are born and
+brought up to obey and to help forward the interests of their
+houses." The old man was growing very drunk, and after a long pause
+he continued: "Have your own way, Malcolm, but don't waste time.
+Now that the matter is settled, I want to get it off my hands
+quickly."</p>
+<p>"I shall speak to Dorothy on the subject at the first favorable
+opportunity," I responded; "but I warn you, Sir George, that if
+Dorothy proves disinclined to marry me, I will not accept her
+hand."</p>
+<p>"Never fear for Doll; she will be all right," and we parted.</p>
+<p>Doll all right! Had he only known how very far from "all right"
+Dorothy was, he would have slept little that night.</p>
+<p>This brings me to the other change of which I spoke&mdash;the
+change in Dorothy. Change? It was a metamorphosis.</p>
+<p>A fortnight after the scene at The Peacock I accidentally
+discovered a drawing made by Dorothy of a man with a cigarro in his
+mouth. The girl snatched the paper from my hands and blushed
+convincingly.</p>
+<p>"It is a caricature of&mdash;of him," she said. She smiled, and
+evidently was willing to talk upon the subject of "him." I declined
+the topic.</p>
+<p>This happened a month or more previous to my conversation with
+Sir George concerning Dorothy. A few days after my discovery of the
+cigarro picture, Dorothy and I were out on the terrace together.
+Frequently when she was with me she would try to lead the
+conversation to the topic which I well knew was in her mind, if not
+in her heart, at all times. She would speak of our first meeting
+<a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>at The Peacock, and would use
+every artifice to induce me to bring up the subject which she was
+eager to discuss, but I always failed her. On the day mentioned
+when we were together on the terrace, after repeated failures to
+induce me to speak upon the desired topic, she said, "I suppose you
+never meet&mdash;meet&mdash;him when you ride out?"</p>
+<p>"Whom, Dorothy?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"The gentleman with the cigarro," she responded, laughing
+nervously.</p>
+<p>"No," I answered, "I know nothing of him."</p>
+<p>The subject was dropped.</p>
+<p>At another time she said, "He was in the
+village&mdash;Overhaddon&mdash;yesterday."</p>
+<p>Then I knew who "him" was.</p>
+<p>"How do you know?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Jennie Faxton, the farrier's daughter, told me. She often comes
+to the Hall to serve me. She likes to act as my maid, and is
+devoted to me."</p>
+<p>"Did he send any word to you?" I asked at a venture. The girl
+blushed and hung her head. "N-o," she responded.</p>
+<p>"What was it, Dorothy?" I asked gently. "You may trust me."</p>
+<p>"He sent no word to me," the girl responded. "Jennie said she
+heard two gentlemen talking about me in front of the farrier's
+shop, and one of them said something about&mdash;oh, I don't know
+what it was. I can't tell you. It was all nonsense, and of course
+he did not mean it."</p>
+<p>"Tell me all, Dorothy," I said, seeing that she really wanted to
+speak.</p>
+<p>"Oh, he said something about having seen Sir George Vernon's
+daughter at Rowsley, and&mdash;and&mdash;I can't tell you what he
+said, I am too full of shame." If her cheeks told the truth, she
+certainly was "full of shame."</p>
+<p>"Tell me all, sweet cousin; I am sorry for you," I said.<a name=
+"Page_57" id="Page_57"></a> She raised her eyes to mine in quick
+surprise with a look of suspicion.</p>
+<p>"You may trust me, Dorothy. I say it again, you may trust
+me."</p>
+<p>"He spoke of my beauty and called it marvellous," said the girl.
+"He said that in all the world there was not another
+woman&mdash;oh, I can't tell you."</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes, go on, Dorothy," I insisted.</p>
+<p>"He said," she continued, "that he could think of nothing else
+but me day or night since he had first seen me at
+Rowsley&mdash;that I had bewitched him and&mdash;and&mdash;Then the
+other gentleman said, 'John, don't play with fire; it will burn
+you. Nothing good can come of it for you.'"</p>
+<p>"Did Jennie know who the gentleman was?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"No," returned Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"How do you know who he was?"</p>
+<p>"Jennie described him," she said.</p>
+<p>"How did she describe him?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"She said he was&mdash;he was the handsomest man in the world
+and&mdash;and that he affected her so powerfully she fell in love
+with him in spite of herself. The little devil, to dare! You see
+that describes him perfectly."</p>
+<p>I laughed outright, and the girl blushed painfully.</p>
+<p>"It does describe him," she said petulantly. "You know it does.
+No one can gainsay that he is wonderfully, dangerously handsome. I
+believe the woman does not live who could refrain from feasting her
+eyes on his noble beauty. I wonder if I shall ever
+again&mdash;again." Tears were in her voice and almost in her
+eyes.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy! My God, Dorothy!" I exclaimed in terror.</p>
+<p>"Yes! yes! My God, Dorothy!" she responded, covering her face
+with her hands and sighing deeply, as she dropped her head and left
+me.</p>
+<p>Yes, yes, my God, Dorothy! The helpless iron and the <a name=
+"Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>terrible loadstone! The passive seed!
+The dissolving cloud and the falling rain!</p>
+<p>Less than a week after the above conversation, Dorothy, Madge,
+and I were riding from Yulegrave Church up to the village of
+Overhaddon, which lies one mile across the hills from Haddon Hall.
+My horse had cast a shoe, and we stopped at Faxton's shop to have
+him shod. The town well is in the middle of an open space called by
+the villagers "The Open," around which are clustered the half-dozen
+houses and shops that constitute the village. The girls were
+mounted, and I was standing beside them in front of the farrier's,
+waiting for my horse. Jennie Faxton, a wild, unkempt girl of
+sixteen, was standing in silent admiration near Dorothy. Our backs
+were turned toward the well. Suddenly a light came into Jennie's
+face, and she plucked Dorothy by the skirt of her habit.</p>
+<p>"Look, mistress, look! Look there by the well!" said Jennie in a
+whisper. Dorothy looked toward the well. I also turned my head and
+beheld my friend, Sir John, holding a bucket of water for his horse
+to drink. I had not seen him since we parted at The Peacock, and I
+did not show that I recognized him. I feared to betray our
+friendship to the villagers. They, however, did not know Sir John,
+and I need not have been so cautious. But Dorothy and Madge were
+with me, and of course I dared not make any demonstration of
+acquaintanceship with the enemy of our house.</p>
+<p>Dorothy watched John closely, and when he was ready to mount she
+struck her horse with the whip, and boldly rode to the well.</p>
+<p>"May I ask you to give my mare water?" she said.</p>
+<p>"Certainly. Ah, I beg pardon. I did not understand," answered
+Sir John, confusedly. John, the polished, self-poised courtier,
+felt the confusion of a country rustic in the presence of this
+wonderful girl, whose knowledge of <a name="Page_59" id=
+"Page_59"></a>life had been acquired within the precincts of Haddon
+Hall. Yet the inexperienced girl was self-poised and unconfused,
+while the wits of the courtier, who had often calmly flattered the
+queen, had all gone wool-gathering.</p>
+<p>She repeated her request.</p>
+<p>"Certainly," returned John, "I&mdash;I knew what you
+said&mdash;but&mdash;but you surprise me."</p>
+<p>"Yes," said brazen Dorothy, "I have surprised myself."</p>
+<p>John, in his haste to satisfy Dolcy's thirst, dashed the water
+against the skirt of Dorothy's habit, and was profuse in his
+apologies.</p>
+<p>"Do not mention it," said Dorothy. "I like a damp habit. The
+wind cannot so easily blow it about," and she laughed as she shook
+the garment to free it of the water. Dolcy refused to drink, and
+Dorothy having no excuse to linger at the well, drew up her reins
+and prepared to leave. While doing so, she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Do you often come to Overhaddon?" Her eager eyes shone like red
+coals, and looking at John, she awaited smilingly his response.</p>
+<p>"Seldom," answered John; "not often. I mean every day&mdash;that
+is, if I may come."</p>
+<p>"Any one may come to the village whenever he wishes to do so,"
+responded Dorothy, laughing too plainly at Sir John's confusion.
+"Is it seldom, or not often, or every day that you come?" In her
+overconfidence she was chaffing him. He caught the tone, and looked
+quickly into the girl's eyes. Her gaze could not stand against
+John's for a moment, and the long lashes drooped to shade her eyes
+from the fierce light of his.</p>
+<p>"I said I would come to Overhaddon every day," he returned; "and
+although I must have appeared very foolish in my confusion, you
+cannot misunderstand the full meaning of my words."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>In John's boldness and in the
+ring of his voice Dorothy felt the touch of her master, against
+whom she well knew all the poor force she could muster would be
+utterly helpless. She was frightened, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I must go. Good-by."</p>
+<p>When she rode away from him she thought: "I believed because of
+his confusion that I was the stronger. I could not stand against
+him for a moment. Holy Virgin! what have I done, and to what am I
+coming?"</p>
+<p>You may now understand the magnitude of the task which Sir
+George had set for me when he bade me marry his daughter and kill
+the Rutlands. I might perform the last-named feat, but dragon
+fighting would be mere child's play compared with the first, while
+the girl's heart was filled with the image of another man.</p>
+<p>I walked forward to meet Dorothy, leaving Madge near the
+farrier's shop.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, are you mad? What have you been doing?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Could you not see?" she answered, under her breath, casting a
+look of warning toward Madge and a glance of defiance at me. "Are
+you, too, blind? Could you not see what I was doing?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," I responded.</p>
+<p>"Then why do you ask?"</p>
+<p>As I went back to Madge I saw John ride out of the village by
+the south road. I afterward learned that he rode gloomily back to
+Rutland Castle cursing himself for a fool. His duty to his father,
+which with him was a strong motive, his family pride, his self
+love, his sense of caution, all told him that he was walking
+open-eyed into trouble. He had tried to remain away from the
+vicinity of Haddon Hall, but, despite his self-respect and
+self-restraint, he had made several visits to Rowsley and to
+Overhaddon, and at one time had ridden to Bakewell, <a name=
+"Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>passing Haddon Hall on his way thither.
+He had as much business in the moon as at Overhaddon, yet he told
+Dorothy he would be at the village every day, and she, it seemed,
+was only too willing to give him opportunities to transact his
+momentous affairs.</p>
+<p>As the floating cloud to the fathomless blue, as the seed to the
+earth, as the iron to the lodestone, so was Dorothy unto John.</p>
+<p>Thus you see our beautiful pitcher went to the well and was
+broken.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><a name="Page_62" id=
+"Page_62"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h2>THE GOLDEN HEART</h2>
+<p>The day after Dorothy's first meeting with Manners at Overhaddon
+she was restless and nervous, and about the hour of three in the
+afternoon she mounted Dolcy and rode toward Bakewell. That
+direction, I was sure, she took for the purpose of misleading us at
+the Hall, and I felt confident she would, when once out of sight,
+head her mare straight for Overhaddon. Within an hour Dorothy was
+home again, and very ill-tempered.</p>
+<p>The next day she rode out in the morning. I asked her if I
+should ride with her, and the emphatic "No" with which she answered
+me left no room for doubt in my mind concerning her desire for my
+company or her destination. Again she returned within an hour and
+hurried to her apartments. Shortly afterward Madge asked me what
+Dorothy was weeping about; and although in my own mind I was
+confident of the cause of Dorothy's tears, I, of course, did not
+give Madge a hint of my suspicion. Yet I then knew, quite as well
+as I now know, that John, notwithstanding the important business
+which he said would bring him to Overhaddon every day, had forced
+himself to remain at home, and Dorothy, in consequence, suffered
+from anger and wounded pride. She had twice ridden to Overhaddon to
+meet him. She had done for his sake that which she knew she should
+have left undone, <a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>and he had
+refused the offering. A smarting conscience, an aching heart, and a
+breast full of anger were Dorothy's rewards for her evil doing. The
+day after her second futile trip to Overhaddon, I, to test her,
+spoke of John. She turned upon me with the black look of a fury,
+and hurled her words at me.</p>
+<p>"Never again speak his despised name in my hearing. Curse him
+and his whole race."</p>
+<p>"Now what has he been doing?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"I tell you, I will not speak of him, nor will I listen to you,"
+and she dashed away from me like a fiery whirlwind.</p>
+<p>Four or five days later the girl rode out again upon Dolcy. She
+was away from home for four long hours, and when she returned she
+was so gentle, sweet, and happy that she was willing to kiss every
+one in the household from Welch, the butcher, to Sir George. She
+was radiant. She clung to Madge and to me, and sang and romped
+through the house like Dorothy of old.</p>
+<p>Madge said, "I am so glad you are feeling better, Dorothy."
+Then, speaking to me: "She has been ill for several days. She could
+not sleep."</p>
+<p>Dorothy looked quickly over to me, gave a little shrug to her
+shoulders, bent forward her face, which was red with blushing, and
+kissed Madge lingeringly upon the lips.</p>
+<p>The events of Dorothy's trip I soon learned from her.</p>
+<p>The little scene between Dorothy, Madge, and myself, after
+Dorothy's joyful return, occurred a week before the momentous
+conversation between Sir George and me concerning my union with his
+house. Ten days after Sir George had offered me his daughter and
+his lands, he brought up the subject again. He and I were walking
+on the ridge of Bowling Green Hill.</p>
+<p>"I am glad you are making such fair progress with<a name=
+"Page_64" id="Page_64"></a> Doll," said Sir George. "Have you yet
+spoken to her upon the subject?"</p>
+<p>I was surprised to hear that I had made any progress. In fact, I
+did not know that I had taken a single step. I was curious to learn
+in what the progress consisted, so I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I have not spoken to Dorothy yet concerning the marriage, and I
+fear that I have made no progress at all. She certainly is friendly
+enough to me, but&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I should say that the gift from you she exhibited would
+indicate considerable progress," said Sir George, casting an
+expressive glance toward me.</p>
+<p>"What gift?" I stupidly inquired.</p>
+<p>"The golden heart, you rascal. She said you told her it had
+belonged to your mother."</p>
+<p>"Holy Mother of Truth!" thought I, "pray give your especial care
+to my cousin Dorothy. She needs it."</p>
+<p>Sir George thrust at my side with his thumb and
+continued:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Don't deny it, Malcolm. Damme, you are as shy as a boy in this
+matter. But perhaps you know better than I how to go at her. I was
+thinking only the other day that your course was probably the right
+one. Doll, I suspect, has a dash of her old father's temper, and
+she may prove a little troublesome unless we let her think she is
+having her own way. Oh, there is nothing like knowing how to handle
+them, Malcolm. Just let them think they are having their own way
+and&mdash;and save trouble. Doll may have more of her father in her
+than I suspect, and perhaps it is well for us to move slowly. You
+will be able to judge, but you must not move too slowly. If in the
+end she should prove stubborn, we will break her will or break her
+neck. I would rather have a daughter in Bakewell churchyard than a
+wilful, stubborn, disobedient huzzy in Haddon Hall."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>Sir George had been drinking,
+and my slip concerning the gift passed unnoticed by him.</p>
+<p>"I am sure you well know how to proceed in this matter, but
+don't be too cautious, Malcolm; the best woman living loves to be
+stormed."</p>
+<p>"Trust me," I answered, "I shall speak&mdash;" and my words
+unconsciously sank away to thought, as thought often, and
+inconveniently at times, grows into words.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, Dorothy," said the thoughts again and again, "where
+came you by the golden heart?" and "where learned you so
+villanously to lie?"</p>
+<p>"From love," was the response, whispered by the sighing winds.
+"From love, that makes men and women like unto gods and teaches
+them the tricks of devils." "From love," murmured the dry rustling
+leaves and the rugged trees. "From love," sighed the fleecy clouds
+as they floated in the sweet restful azure of the vaulted sky.
+"From love," cried the mighty sun as he poured his light and heat
+upon the eager world to give it life. I would not give a fig for a
+woman, however, who would not lie herself black in the face for the
+sake of her lover, and I am glad that it is a virtue few women
+lack. One who would scorn to lie under all other circumstances
+would&mdash;but you understand. I suppose that Dorothy had never
+before uttered a real lie. She hated all that was evil and loved
+all that was good till love came a-teaching.</p>
+<p>I quickly invented an excuse to leave Sir George, and returned
+to the Hall to seek Dorothy. I found her and asked her to accompany
+me for a few minutes that I might speak with her privately. We went
+out upon the terrace and I at once began:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You should tell me when I present you gifts that I may not
+cause trouble by my ignorance nor show surprise when I suddenly
+learn what I have done. You see when a man gives a lady a gift and
+he does not know it, he is apt to&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>Holy Virgin!" exclaimed
+Dorothy, pale with fear and consternation. "Did you&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"No, I did not betray you, but I came perilously near it."</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I wanted to tell you about it. I tried several times to
+do so&mdash;I did so long to tell somebody, but I could not bring
+myself to speak. I was full of shame, yet I was proud and happy,
+for all that happened was good and pure and sacred. You are not a
+woman; you cannot know&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"But I do know. I know that you saw Manners the other day, and
+that he gave you a golden heart."</p>
+<p>"How did you know? Did any one&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Tell me? No. I knew it when you returned after five hours'
+absence, looking radiant as the sun."</p>
+<p>"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, with a startled movement.</p>
+<p>"I also knew," I continued, "that at other times when you rode
+out upon Dolcy you had not seen him."</p>
+<p>"How did you know?" she asked, with quick-coming breath.</p>
+<p>"By your ill-humor," I answered.</p>
+<p>"I knew it was so. I felt that everybody knew all that I had
+been doing. I could almost see father and Madge and you&mdash;even
+the servants&mdash;reading the wickedness written upon my heart. I
+knew that I could hide it from nobody." Tears were very near the
+girl's eyes.</p>
+<p>"We cannot help thinking that our guilty consciences, through
+which we see so plainly our own evil, are transparent to all the
+world. In that fact lies an evil-doer's greatest danger," said I,
+preacher fashion; "but you need have no fear. What you have done I
+believe is suspected by no one save me."</p>
+<p>A deep sigh of relief rose from the girl's heaving breast.</p>
+<p>"Well," she began, "I will tell you all about it, and I am only
+too glad to do so. It is heavy, Malcolm, <a name="Page_67" id=
+"Page_67"></a>heavy on my conscience. But I would not be rid of it
+for all the kingdoms of the earth."</p>
+<p>"A moment since you told me that your conduct was good and pure
+and sacred, and now you tell me that it is heavy on your
+conscience. Does one grieve, Dorothy, for the sake of that which is
+good and pure and sacred?"</p>
+<p>"I cannot answer your question," she replied. "I am no priest.
+But this I know: I have done no evil, and my conscience
+nevertheless is sore. Solve me the riddle, Malcolm, if you
+can."</p>
+<p>"I cannot solve your riddle, Dorothy," I replied; "but I feel
+sure it will be far safer for each of us if you will tell me all
+that happens hereafter."</p>
+<p>"I am sure you are right," she responded; "but some secrets are
+so delicious that we love to suck their sweets alone. I believe,
+however, your advice is good, and I will tell you all that has
+happened, though I cannot look you in the face while doing it." She
+hesitated a moment, and her face was red with tell-tale blushes.
+She continued, "I have acted most unmaidenly."</p>
+<p>"Unmaidenly perhaps, but not unwomanly," said I.</p>
+<p>"I thank you," she said, interrupting my sentence. It probably
+was well that she did so, for I was about to add, "To act womanly
+often means to get yourself into mischief and your friends into as
+much trouble as possible." Had I finished my remark, she would not
+have thanked me.</p>
+<p>"Well," said the girl, beginning her laggard narrative, "after
+we saw&mdash;saw him at Overhaddon, you know, I went to the village
+on each of three days&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Yes, I know that also," I said.</p>
+<p>"How did you&mdash;but never mind. I did not see him, and when I
+returned home I felt angry and hurt and&mdash;and&mdash;but never
+mind that either. One day I found him, and I at once rode to the
+well where he was standing <a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>by
+his horse. He drew water for Dolcy, but the perverse mare would not
+drink."</p>
+<p>"A characteristic of her sex," I muttered.</p>
+<p>"What did you say?" asked the girl.</p>
+<p>"Nothing."</p>
+<p>She continued: "He seemed constrained and distant in his manner,
+but I knew, that is, I thought&mdash;I mean I felt&mdash;oh, you
+know&mdash;he looked as if he were glad to see me and I&mdash;I,
+oh, God! I was so glad and happy to see him that I could hardly
+restrain myself to act at all maidenly. He must have heard my heart
+beat. I thought he was in trouble. He seemed to have something he
+wished to say to me."</p>
+<p>"He doubtless had a great deal he wished to say to you," said I,
+again tempted to futile irony.</p>
+<p>"I was sure he had something to say," the girl returned
+seriously. "He was in trouble. I knew that he was, and I longed to
+help him."</p>
+<p>"What trouble?" I inquired.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I don't know. I forgot to ask, but he looked troubled."</p>
+<p>"Doubtless he was troubled," I responded. "He had sufficient
+cause for trouble," I finished the sentence to myself with the
+words, "in you."</p>
+<p>"What was the cause of his trouble?" she hastily asked, turning
+her face toward me.</p>
+<p>"I do not know certainly," I answered in a tone of irony which
+should have pierced an oak board, while the girl listened and
+looked at me eagerly; "but I might guess."</p>
+<p>"What was it? What was it? Let me hear you guess," she
+asked.</p>
+<p>"You," I responded laconically.</p>
+<p>"I!" she exclaimed in surprise.</p>
+<p>"Yes, you," I responded with emphasis. "You would bring trouble
+to any man, but to Sir John Manners&mdash;well, <a name="Page_69"
+id="Page_69"></a>if he intends to keep up these meetings with you
+it would be better for his peace and happiness that he should get
+him a house in hell, for he would live there more happily than on
+this earth."</p>
+<p>"That is a foolish, senseless remark, Malcolm," the girl
+replied, tossing her head with a show of anger in her eyes. "This
+is no time to jest." I suppose I could not have convinced her that
+I was not jesting.</p>
+<p>"At first we did not speak to each other even to say good day,
+but stood by the well in silence for a very long time. The village
+people were staring at us, and I felt that every window had a
+hundred faces in it, and every face a hundred eyes."</p>
+<p>"You imagined that," said I, "because of your guilty
+conscience."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps so. But it seemed to me that we stood by the well in
+silence a very long time. You see, Cousin Malcolm, I was not the
+one who should speak first. I had done more than my part in going
+to meet him."</p>
+<p>"Decidedly so," said I, interrupting the interesting
+narrative.</p>
+<p>"When I could bear the gaze of the villagers no longer, I drew
+up my reins and started to leave The Open by the north road. After
+Dolcy had climbed halfway up North Hill, which as you know
+overlooks the village, I turned my head and saw Sir John still
+standing by the well, resting his hand upon his horse's mane. He
+was watching me. I grew angry, and determined that he should follow
+me, even if I had to call him. So I drew Dolcy to a stand. Was not
+that bold in me? But wait, there is worse to come, Malcolm. He did
+not move, but stood like a statue looking toward me. I knew that he
+wanted to come, so after a little time I&mdash;I beckoned to him
+and&mdash;and then he came like a thunderbolt. Oh! it was
+delicious. I put Dolcy to a gallop, for when he started toward me I
+was frightened.<a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a> Besides I did
+not want him to overtake me till we were out of the village. But
+when once he had started, he did not wait. He was as swift now as
+he had been slow, and my heart throbbed and triumphed because of
+his eagerness, though in truth I was afraid of him. Dolcy, you
+know, is very fleet, and when I touched her with the whip she soon
+put half a mile between me and the village. Then I brought her to a
+walk and&mdash;and he quickly overtook me.</p>
+<p>"When he came up to me he said: 'I feared to follow you, though
+I ardently wished to do so. I dreaded to tell you my name lest you
+should hate me. Sir Malcolm at The Peacock said he would not
+disclose to you my identity. I am John Manners. Our fathers are
+enemies.'</p>
+<p>"Then I said to him, 'That is the reason I wish to talk to you.
+I wished you to come to meet me because I wanted to tell you that I
+regret and deplore the feud between our fathers.'&mdash;'Ah, you
+wished me to come?' he asked.&mdash;'Of course I did,' I answered,
+'else why should I be here?'&mdash;'No one regrets the feud between
+our houses so deeply as I,' replied Sir John. 'I can think of
+nothing else by day, nor can I dream of anything else by night. It
+is the greatest cause for grief and sorrow that has ever come into
+my life.' You see, Cousin Malcolm," the girl continued, "I was
+right. His father's conduct does trouble him. Isn't he noble and
+broad-minded to see the evil of his father's ways?"</p>
+<p>I did not tell the girl that Sir John's regret for the feud
+between the houses of Manners and Vernon grew out of the fact that
+it separated him from her; nor did I tell her that he did not
+grieve over his "father's ways."</p>
+<p>I asked, "Did Sir John tell you that he grieved because of his
+father's ill-doing?"</p>
+<p>"N-o, not in set terms, but&mdash;that, of course, would have
+been very hard for him to say. I told you what he said, and there
+could be no other meaning to his words."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>Of course not," I
+responded.</p>
+<p>"No, and I fairly longed to reach out my hand and clutch him,
+because&mdash;because I was so sorry for him."</p>
+<p>"Was sorrow your only feeling?" I asked.</p>
+<p>The girl looked at me for a moment, and her eyes filled with
+tears. Then she sobbed gently and said, "Oh, Cousin Malcolm, you
+are so old and so wise." ("Thank you," thought I, "a second Daniel
+come to judgment at thirty-five; or Solomon and Methuselah in
+one.") She continued: "Tell me, tell me, what is this terrible
+thing that has come upon me. I seem to be living in a dream. I am
+burning with a fever, and a heavy weight is here upon my breast. I
+cannot sleep at night. I can do nothing but long and yearn
+for&mdash;for I know not what&mdash;till at times it seems that
+some frightful, unseen monster is slowly drawing the heart out of
+my bosom. I think of&mdash;of him at all times, and I try to recall
+his face, and the tones of his voice until, Cousin Malcolm, I tell
+you I am almost mad. I call upon the Holy Virgin hour by hour to
+pity me; but she is pure, and cannot know what I feel. I hate and
+loathe myself. To what am I coming? Where will it all end? Yet I
+can do nothing to save myself. I am powerless against this terrible
+feeling. I cannot even resolve to resist it. It came upon me mildly
+that day at The Peacock Inn, when I first saw him, and it grows
+deeper and stronger day by day, and, alas! night by night. I seem
+to have lost myself. In some strange way I feel as if I had sunk
+into him&mdash;that he had absorbed me."</p>
+<p>"The iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain," thought I.</p>
+<p>"I believed," continued the girl, "that if he would exert his
+will I might have relief; but there again I find trouble, for I
+cannot bring myself to ask him to will it. The feeling within me is
+like a sore heart: painful as it is, I must keep it. Without it I
+fear I could not live."</p>
+<p>After this outburst there was a long pause during which <a name=
+"Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>she walked by my side, seemingly
+unconscious that I was near her. I had known for some time that
+Dorothy was interested in Manners; but I was not prepared to see
+such a volcano of passion. I need not descant upon the evils and
+dangers of the situation. The thought that first came to me was
+that Sir George would surely kill his daughter before he would
+allow her to marry a son of Rutland. I was revolving in my mind how
+I should set about to mend the matter when Dorothy again spoke.</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Cousin Malcolm, can a man throw a spell over a woman
+and bewitch her?"</p>
+<p>"I do not know. I have never heard of a man witch," I
+responded.</p>
+<p>"No?" asked the girl.</p>
+<p>"But," I continued, "I do know that a woman may bewitch a man.
+John Manners, I doubt not, could also testify knowingly on the
+subject by this time."</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v072" id="v072"></a> <img src=
+"images/v072.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>"Oh, do you think he is bewitched?" cried Dorothy, grasping my
+arm and looking eagerly into my face. "If I could bewitch him, I
+would do it. I would deal with the devil gladly to learn the art. I
+would not care for my soul. I do not fear the future. The present
+is a thousand-fold dearer to me than either the past or the future.
+I care not what comes hereafter. I want him now. Ah, Malcolm, pity
+my shame."</p>
+<p>She covered her face with her hands, and after a moment
+continued: "I am not myself. I belong not to myself. But if I knew
+that he also suffers, I do believe my pain would be less."</p>
+<p>"I think you may set your heart at rest upon that point," I
+answered. "He, doubtless, also suffers."</p>
+<p>"I hope so," she responded, unconscious of the selfish wish she
+had expressed. "If he does not, I know not what will be my
+fate."</p>
+<p>I saw that I had made a mistake in assuring her that<a name=
+"Page_73" id="Page_73"></a> John also suffered, and I determined to
+correct it later on, if possible.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was silent, and I said, "You have not told me about the
+golden heart."</p>
+<p>"I will tell you," she answered. "We rode for two hours or more,
+and talked of the weather and the scenery, until there was nothing
+more to be said concerning either. Then Sir John told me of the
+court in London, where he has always lived, and of the queen whose
+hair, he says, is red, but not at all like mine. I wondered if he
+would speak of the beauty of my hair, but he did not. He only
+looked at it. Then he told me about the Scottish queen whom he once
+met when he was on an embassy to Edinburgh. He described her
+marvellous beauty, and I believe he sympathizes with her
+cause&mdash;that is, with her cause in Scotland. He says she has no
+good cause in England. He is true to our queen. Well&mdash;well he
+talked so interestingly that I could have listened a whole
+month&mdash;yes, all my life."</p>
+<p>"I suppose you could," I said.</p>
+<p>"Yes," she continued, "but I could not remain longer from home,
+and when I left him he asked me to accept a keepsake which had
+belonged to his mother, as a token that there should be no feud
+between him and me." And she drew from her bosom a golden heart
+studded with diamonds and pierced by a white silver arrow.</p>
+<p>"I, of course, accepted it, then we said 'good-by,' and I put
+Dolcy to a gallop that she might speedily take me out of
+temptation."</p>
+<p>"Have you ridden to Overhaddon for the purpose of seeing Manners
+many times since he gave you the heart?" I queried.</p>
+<p>"What would you call 'many times'?" she asked, drooping her
+head.</p>
+<p>"Every day?" I said interrogatively. She nodded.<a name=
+"Page_74" id="Page_74"></a> "Yes. But I have seen him only once
+since the day when he gave me the heart."</p>
+<p>Nothing I could say would do justice to the subject, so I
+remained silent.</p>
+<p>"But you have not yet told me how your father came to know of
+the golden heart," I said.</p>
+<p>"It was this way: One morning while I was looking at the heart,
+father came upon me suddenly before I could conceal it. He asked me
+to tell him how I came by the jewel, and in my fright and confusion
+I could think of nothing else to say, so I told him you had given
+it to me. He promised not to speak to you about the heart, but he
+did not keep his word. He seemed pleased."</p>
+<p>"Doubtless he was pleased," said I, hoping to lead up to the
+subject so near to Sir George's heart, but now farther than ever
+from mine.</p>
+<p>The girl unsuspectingly helped me.</p>
+<p>"Father asked if you had spoken upon a subject of great interest
+to him and to yourself, and I told him you had not. 'When he does
+speak,' said father most kindly, 'I want you to grant his
+request'&mdash;and I will grant it, Cousin Malcolm." She looked in
+my face and continued: "I will grant your request, whatever it may
+be. You are the dearest friend I have in the world, and mine is the
+most loving and lovable father that girl ever had. It almost breaks
+my heart when I think of his suffering should he learn of what I
+have done&mdash;that which I just told to you." She walked beside
+me meditatively for a moment and said, "To-morrow I will return Sir
+John's gift and I will never see him again."</p>
+<p>I felt sure that by to-morrow she would have repented of her
+repentance; but I soon discovered that I had given her much more
+time than she needed to perform that trifling feminine gymnastic,
+for with the next breath she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I have no means of returning the heart. I must see <a name=
+"Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>him once more and I will give&mdash;give
+it&mdash;it&mdash;back to&mdash;to him, and will tell him that I
+can see him never again." She scarcely had sufficient resolution to
+finish telling her intention. Whence, then, would come the will to
+put it in action? Forty thieves could not have stolen the heart
+from her, though she thought she was honest when she said she would
+take it to him.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy," said I, seriously but kindly, "have you and Sir John
+spoken of&mdash;"</p>
+<p>She evidently knew that I meant to say "of love," for she
+interrupted me.</p>
+<p>"N-o, but surely he knows. And I&mdash;I think&mdash;at least I
+hope with all my heart that&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I will take the heart to Sir John," said I, interrupting her
+angrily, "and you need not see him again. He has acted like a fool
+and a knave. He is a villain, Dorothy, and I will tell him as much
+in the most emphatic terms I have at my command."</p>
+<p>"Dare you speak against him or to him upon the subject!" she
+exclaimed, her eyes blazing with anger; "you&mdash;you asked for my
+confidence and I gave it. You said I might trust you and I did so,
+and now you show me that I am a fool indeed. Traitor!"</p>
+<p>"My dear cousin," said I, seeing that she spoke the truth in
+charging me with bad faith, "your secret is safe with me. I swear
+it by my knighthood. You may trust me. I spoke in anger. But Sir
+John has acted badly. That you cannot gainsay. You, too, have done
+great evil. That also you cannot gainsay."</p>
+<p>"No," said the girl, dejectedly, "I cannot deny it; but the
+greatest evil is yet to come."</p>
+<p>"You must do something," I continued. "You must take some
+decisive step that will break this connection, and you must take
+the step at once if you would save yourself from the frightful evil
+that is in store for you. Forgive <a name="Page_76" id=
+"Page_76"></a>me for what I said, sweet cousin. My angry words
+sprang from my love for you and my fear for your future."</p>
+<p>No girl's heart was more tender to the influence of kindness
+than Dorothy's. No heart was more obdurate to unkindness or
+peremptory command.</p>
+<p>My words softened her at once, and she tried to smother the
+anger I had aroused. But she did not entirely succeed, and a spark
+remained which in a moment or two created a disastrous
+conflagration. You shall hear.</p>
+<p>She walked by my side in silence for a little time, and then
+spoke in a low, slightly sullen tone which told of her effort to
+smother her resentment.</p>
+<p>"I do trust you, Cousin Malcolm. What is it that you wish to ask
+of me? Your request is granted before it is made."</p>
+<p>"Do not be too sure of that, Dorothy," I replied. "It is a
+request your father ardently desires me to make, and I do not know
+how to speak to you concerning the subject in the way I wish."</p>
+<p>I could not ask her to marry me, and tell her with the same
+breath that I did not want her for my wife. I felt I must wait for
+a further opportunity to say that I spoke only because her father
+had required me to do so, and that circumstances forced me to put
+the burden of refusal upon her. I well knew that she would refuse
+me, and then I intended to explain.</p>
+<p>"Why, what is it all about?" asked the girl in surprise,
+suspecting, I believe, what was to follow.</p>
+<p>"It is this: your father is anxious that his vast estates shall
+not pass out of the family name, and he wishes you to be my wife,
+so that your children may bear the loved name of Vernon."</p>
+<p>I could not have chosen a more inauspicious time to speak. She
+looked at me for an instant in surprise, <a name="Page_77" id=
+"Page_77"></a>turning to scorn. Then she spoke in tones of
+withering contempt.</p>
+<p>"Tell my father that I shall never bear a child by the name of
+Vernon. I would rather go barren to my grave. Ah! that is why Sir
+John Manners is a villain? That is why a decisive step should be
+taken? That is why you come to my father's house a-fortune-hunting?
+After you have squandered your patrimony and have spent a dissolute
+youth in profligacy, after the women of the class you have known
+will have no more of you but choose younger men, you who are old
+enough to be my father come here and seek your fortune, as your
+father sought his, by marriage. I do not believe that my father
+wishes me to&mdash;to marry you. You have wheedled him into giving
+his consent when he was in his cups. But even if he wished it with
+all his heart, I would not marry you." Then she turned and walked
+rapidly toward the Hall.</p>
+<p>Her fierce words angered me; for in the light of my real
+intentions her scorn was uncalled for, and her language was
+insulting beyond endurance. For a moment or two the hot blood
+rushed to my brain and rendered me incapable of intelligent
+thought. But as Dorothy walked from me I realized that something
+must be done at once to put myself right with her. When my fit of
+temper had cooled, and when I considered that the girl did not know
+my real intentions, I could not help acknowledging that in view of
+all that had just passed between us concerning Sir John Manners,
+and, in fact, in view of all that she had seen and could see, her
+anger was justifiable.</p>
+<p>I called to her: "Dorothy, wait a moment. You have not heard all
+I have to say."</p>
+<p>She hastened her pace. A few rapid strides brought me to her
+side. I was provoked, not at her words, for they were almost
+justifiable, but because she would <a name="Page_78" id=
+"Page_78"></a>not stop to hear me. I grasped her rudely by the arm
+and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Listen till I have finished."</p>
+<p>"I will not," she answered viciously. "Do not touch me."</p>
+<p>I still held her by the arm and said: "I do not wish to marry
+you. I spoke only because your father desired me to do so, and
+because my refusal to speak would have offended him beyond any
+power of mine to make amends. I could not tell you that I did not
+wish you for my wife until you had given me an opportunity. I was
+forced to throw the burden of refusal upon you."</p>
+<p>"That is but a ruse&mdash;a transparent, flimsy ruse," responded
+the stubborn, angry girl, endeavoring to draw her arm from my
+grasp.</p>
+<p>"It is not a ruse," I answered. "If you will listen to me and
+will help me by acting as I suggest, we may between us bring your
+father to our way of thinking, and I may still be able to retain
+his friendship."</p>
+<p>"What is your great plan?" asked Dorothy, in a voice such as one
+might expect to hear from a piece of ice.</p>
+<p>"I have formed no plan as yet," I replied, "although I have
+thought of several. Until we can determine upon one, I suggest that
+you permit me to say to your father that I have asked you to be my
+wife, and that the subject has come upon you so suddenly that you
+wish a short time,&mdash;a fortnight or a month&mdash;in which to
+consider your answer."</p>
+<p>"That is but a ruse, I say, to gain time," she answered
+contemptuously. "I do not wish one moment in which to consider. You
+already have my answer. I should think you had had enough. Do you
+desire more of the same sort? A little of such treatment should go
+a long way with a man possessed of one spark of honor or
+self-respect."</p>
+<p>Her language would have angered a sheep.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>If you will not listen to
+me," I answered, thoroughly aroused and careless of consequences,
+"go to your father. Tell him I asked you to be my wife, and that
+you scorned my suit. Then take the consequences. He has always been
+gentle and tender to you because there has been no conflict. Cross
+his desires, and you will learn a fact of which you have never
+dreamed. You have seen the manner in which he treats others who
+oppose him. You will learn that with you, too, he can be one of the
+cruelest and most violent of men."</p>
+<p>"You slander my father. I will go to him as you advise and will
+tell him that I would not marry you if you wore the English crown.
+I, myself, will tell him of my meeting with Sir John Manners rather
+than allow you the pleasure of doing so. He will be angry, but he
+will pity me."</p>
+<p>"For God's sake, Dorothy, do not tell your father of your
+meetings at Overhaddon. He would kill you. Have you lived in the
+same house with him all these years and do you not better know his
+character than to think that you may go to him with the tale you
+have just told me, and that he will forgive you? Feel as you will
+toward me, but believe me when I swear to you by my knighthood that
+I will betray to no person what you have this day divulged to
+me."</p>
+<p>Dorothy made no reply, but turned from me and rapidly walked
+toward the Hall. I followed at a short distance, and all my anger
+was displaced by fear for her. When we reached the Hall she quickly
+sought her father and approached him in her old free manner, full
+of confidence in her influence over him.</p>
+<p>"Father, this man"&mdash;waving her hand toward me&mdash;"has
+come to Haddon Hall a-fortune-hunting. He has asked me to be his
+wife, and says you wish me to accept him."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a>Yes, Doll, I certainly wish
+it with all my heart," returned Sir George, affectionately, taking
+his daughter's hand.</p>
+<p>"Then you need wish it no longer, for I will not marry him."</p>
+<p>"What?" demanded her father, springing to his feet.</p>
+<p>"I will not. I will not. I will not."</p>
+<p>"You will if I command you to do so, you damned insolent wench,"
+answered Sir George, hoarsely. Dorothy's eyes opened in wonder.</p>
+<p>"Do not deceive yourself, father, for one moment," she retorted
+contemptuously. "He has come here in sheep's clothing and has
+adroitly laid his plans to convince you that I should marry him,
+but&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"He has done nothing of the sort," answered Sir George, growing
+more angry every moment, but endeavoring to be calm. "Nothing of
+the sort. Many years ago I spoke to him on this subject, which is
+very dear to my heart. The project has been dear to me ever since
+you were a child. When I again broached it to Malcolm a fortnight
+or more since I feared from his manner that he was averse to the
+scheme. I had tried several times to speak to him about it, but he
+warded me off, and when I did speak, I feared that he was not
+inclined to it."</p>
+<p>"Yes," interrupted the headstrong girl, apparently bent upon
+destroying both of us. "He pretended that he did not wish to marry
+me. He said he wished me to give a sham consent for the purpose of
+gaining time till we might hit upon some plan by which we could
+change your mind. He said he had no desire nor intention to marry
+me. It was but a poor, lame ruse on his part."</p>
+<p>During Dorothy's recital Sir George turned his face from her to
+me. When she had finished speaking, he looked at me for a moment
+and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Does my daughter speak the truth? Did you say&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>Yes," I promptly replied, "I
+have no intention of marrying your daughter." Then hoping to place
+myself before Sir George in a better light, I continued: "I could
+not accept the hand of a lady against her will. I told you as much
+when we conversed on the subject."</p>
+<p>"What?" exclaimed Sir George, furious with anger. "You too? You
+whom I have befriended?"</p>
+<p>"I told you, Sir George, I would not marry Dorothy without her
+free consent. No gentleman of honor would accept the enforced
+compliance of a woman."</p>
+<p>"But Doll says that you told her you had no intention of
+marrying her even should she consent," replied Sir George.</p>
+<p>"I don't know that I spoke those exact words," I replied, "but
+you may consider them said."</p>
+<p>"You damned, ungrateful, treacherous hound!" stormed Sir George.
+"You listened to me when I offered you my daughter's hand, and you
+pretended to consent without at the time having any intention of
+doing so."</p>
+<p>"That, I suppose, is true, Sir George," said I, making a
+masterful effort against anger. "That is true, for I knew that
+Dorothy would not consent; and had I been inclined to the marriage,
+I repeat, I would marry no woman against her will. No gentleman
+would do it."</p>
+<p>My remark threw Sir George into a paroxysm of rage.</p>
+<p>"I did it, you cur, you dog, you&mdash;you traitorous,
+ungrateful&mdash;I did it."</p>
+<p>"Then, Sir George," said I, interrupting him, for I was no
+longer able to restrain my anger, "you were a cowardly
+poltroon."</p>
+<p>"This to me in my house!" he cried, grasping a chair with which
+to strike me. Dorothy came between us.</p>
+<p>"Yes," said I, "and as much more as you wish to hear." I stood
+my ground, and Sir George put down the chair.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>Leave my house at once," he
+said in a whisper of rage.</p>
+<p>"If you are on my premises in one hour from now I will have you
+flogged from my door by the butcher."</p>
+<p>"What have I done?" cried Dorothy. "What have I done?"</p>
+<p>"Your regrets come late, Mistress Vernon," said I.</p>
+<p>"She shall have more to regret," said Sir George, sullenly. "Go
+to your room, you brazen, disobedient huzzy, and if you leave it
+without my permission, by God, I will have you whipped till you
+bleed. I will teach you to say 'I won't' when I say 'you shall.'
+God curse my soul, if I don't make you repent this day!"</p>
+<p>As I left the room Dorothy was in tears, and Sir George was
+walking the floor in a towering rage. The girl had learned that I
+was right in what I had told her concerning her father's violent
+temper.</p>
+<p>I went at once to my room in Eagle Tower and collected my few
+belongings in a bundle. Pitifully small it was, I tell you.</p>
+<p>Where I should go I knew not, and where I should remain I knew
+even less, for my purse held only a few shillings&mdash;the remnant
+of the money Queen Mary had sent to me by the hand of Sir Thomas
+Douglas. England was as unsafe for me as Scotland; but how I might
+travel to France without money, and how I might without a pass
+evade Elizabeth's officers who guarded every English port, even
+were I supplied with gold, were problems for which I had no
+solution.</p>
+<p>There were but two persons in Haddon Hall to whom I cared to say
+farewell. They were Lady Madge and Will Dawson. The latter was a
+Scot, and was attached to the cause of Queen Mary. He and I had
+become friends, and on several occasions we had talked
+confidentially over Mary's sad plight.</p>
+<p>When my bundle was packed, I sought Madge and <a name="Page_83"
+id="Page_83"></a>found her in the gallery near the foot of the
+great staircase. She knew my step and rose to greet me with a
+bright smile.</p>
+<p>"I have come to say good-by to you, Cousin Madge," said I. The
+smile vanished from her face.</p>
+<p>"You are not going to leave Haddon Hall?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"Yes, and forever," I responded. "Sir George has ordered me to
+go."</p>
+<p>"No, no," she exclaimed. "I cannot believe it. I supposed that
+you and my uncle were friends. What has happened? Tell me if you
+can&mdash;if you wish. Let me touch your hand," and as she held out
+her hands, I gladly grasped them.</p>
+<p>I have never seen anything more beautiful than Madge Stanley's
+hands. They were not small, but their shape, from the fair, round
+forearm and wrist to the ends of the fingers was worthy of a
+sculptor's dream. Beyond their physical beauty there was an
+expression in them which would have belonged to her eyes had she
+possessed the sense of sight. The flood of her vital energy had for
+so many years been directed toward her hands as a substitute for
+her lost eyesight that their sensitiveness showed itself not only
+in an infinite variety of delicate gestures and movements, changing
+with her changing moods, but they had an expression of their own,
+such as we look for in the eyes. I had gazed upon her hands so
+often, and had studied so carefully their varying expression,
+discernible both to my sight and to my touch, that I could read her
+mind through them as we read the emotions of others through the
+countenance. The "feel" of her hands, if I may use the word, I can
+in no way describe. Its effect on me was magical. The happiest
+moments I have ever known were those when I held the fair blind
+girl by the hand and strolled upon the great terrace or followed
+the <a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>babbling winding course of
+dear old Wye, and drank in the elixir of all that is good and pure
+from the cup of her sweet, unconscious influence.</p>
+<p>Madge, too, had found happiness in our strolling. She had also
+found health and strength, and, marvellous to say, there had come
+to her a slight improvement in vision. She had always been able to
+distinguish sunlight from darkness, but with renewed strength had
+come the power dimly to discern dark objects in a strong light, and
+even that small change for the better had brought unspeakable
+gladness to her heart. She said she owed it all to me. A faint pink
+had spread itself in her cheeks and a plumpness had been imparted
+to her form which gave to her ethereal beauty a touch of the
+material. Nor was this to be regretted, for no man can adequately
+make love to a woman who has too much of the angel in her. You must
+not think, however, that I had been making love to Madge. On the
+contrary, I again say, the thought had never entered my mind.
+Neither at that time had I even suspected that she would listen to
+me upon the great theme. I had in my self-analysis assigned many
+reasons other than love for my tenderness toward her; but when I
+was about to depart, and she impulsively gave me her hands, I,
+believing that I was grasping them for the last time, felt the
+conviction come upon me that she was dearer to me than all else in
+life.</p>
+<p>"Do you want to tell me why my uncle has driven you from
+Haddon?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"He wished me to ask Dorothy to be my wife," I returned.</p>
+<p>"And you?" she queried.</p>
+<p>"I did so."</p>
+<p>Instantly the girl withdrew her hands from mine and stepped back
+from me. Then I had another revelation. I knew what she meant and
+felt. Her hands told me all, <a name="Page_85" id=
+"Page_85"></a>even had there been no expression in her movement and
+in her face.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy refused," I continued, "and her father desired to force
+her into compliance. I would not be a party to the transaction, and
+Sir George ordered me to leave his house."</p>
+<p>After a moment of painful silence Madge said:&mdash;"I do not
+wonder that you should wish to marry Dorothy. She&mdash;she must be
+very beautiful."</p>
+<p>"I do not wish to marry Dorothy," said I. I heard a slight noise
+back of me, but gave it no heed. "And I should not have married her
+had she consented. I knew that Dorothy would refuse me, therefore I
+promised Sir George that I would ask her to be my wife. Sir George
+had always been my friend, and should I refuse to comply with his
+wishes, I well knew he would be my enemy. He is bitterly angry
+against me now; but when he becomes calm, he will see wherein he
+has wronged me. I asked Dorothy to help me, but she would not
+listen to my plan."</p>
+<p>"&mdash;and now she begs your forgiveness," cried Dorothy, as
+she ran weeping to me, and took my hand most humbly.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy! Dorothy!" I exclaimed.</p>
+<p>"What frightful evil have I brought upon you?" said she. "Where
+can you go? What will you do?"</p>
+<p>"I know not," I answered. "I shall probably go to the Tower of
+London when Queen Elizabeth's officers learn of my quarrel with Sir
+George. But I will try to escape to France."</p>
+<p>"Have you money?" asked Madge, tightly holding one of my
+hands.</p>
+<p>"A small sum," I answered.</p>
+<p>"How much have you? Tell me. Tell me how much have you,"
+insisted Madge, clinging to my hand and speaking with a force that
+would brook no refusal.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>A very little sum, I am
+sorry to say; only a few shillings," I responded.</p>
+<p>She quickly withdrew her hand from mine and began to remove the
+baubles from her ears and the brooch from her throat. Then she
+nervously stripped the rings from her fingers and held out the
+little handful of jewels toward me, groping for my hands.</p>
+<p>"Take these, Malcolm. Take these, and wait here till I return."
+She turned toward the staircase, but in her confusion she missed
+it, and before I could reach her, she struck against the great
+newel post.</p>
+<p>"God pity me," she said, as I took her hand. "I wish I were
+dead. Please lead me to the staircase, Cousin Malcolm. Thank
+you."</p>
+<p>She was weeping gently when she started up the steps, and I knew
+that she was going to fetch me her little treasure of gold.</p>
+<p>Madge held up the skirt of her gown with one hand while she
+grasped the banister with the other. She was halfway up when
+Dorothy, whose generous impulses needed only to be prompted, ran
+nimbly and was about to pass her on the staircase when Madge
+grasped her gown.</p>
+<p>"Please don't, Dorothy. Please do not. I beg you, do not
+forestall me. Let me do this. Let me. You have all else to make you
+happy. Don't take this from me only because you can see and can
+walk faster than I."</p>
+<p>Dorothy did not stop, but hurried past her. Madge sank upon the
+steps and covered her face with her hands. Then she came gropingly
+back to me just as Dorothy returned.</p>
+<p>"Take these, Cousin Malcolm," cried Dorothy. "Here are a few
+stones of great value. They belonged to my mother."</p>
+<p>Madge was sitting dejectedly upon the lowest step of <a name=
+"Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>the staircase. Dorothy held her
+jewel-box toward me, and in the midst of the diamonds and gold I
+saw the heart John Manners had given her. I did not take the
+box.</p>
+<p>"Do you offer me this, too&mdash;even this?" I said, lifting the
+heart from the box by its chain.&mdash;"Yes, yes," cried Dorothy,
+"even that, gladly, gladly." I replaced it in the box.</p>
+<p>Then spoke Madge, while she tried to check the falling
+tears:&mdash;"Dorothy, you are a cruel, selfish girl."</p>
+<p>"Oh, Madge," cried Dorothy, stepping to her side and taking her
+hand. "How can you speak so unkindly to me?"</p>
+<p>"You have everything good," interrupted Madge. "You have beauty,
+wealth, eyesight, and yet you would not leave to me the joy of
+helping him. I could not see, and you hurried past me that you
+might be first to give him the help of which I was the first to
+think."</p>
+<p>Dorothy was surprised at the outburst from Madge, and kneeled by
+her side.</p>
+<p>"We may both help Cousin Malcolm," she said.</p>
+<p>"No, no," responded Madge, angrily. "Your jewels are more than
+enough. He would have no need of my poor offering."</p>
+<p>I took Madge's hand and said, "I shall accept help from no one
+but you, Madge; from no one but you."</p>
+<p>"I will go to our rooms for your box," said Dorothy, who had
+begun to see the trouble. "I will fetch it for you."</p>
+<p>"No, I will fetch it," answered Madge. She arose, and I led her
+to the foot of the staircase. When she returned she held in her
+hands a purse and a little box of jewels. These she offered to me,
+but I took only the purse, saying: "I accept the purse. It contains
+more money than I shall need. From its weight I should say there
+are twenty gold pounds sterling."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>Twenty-five," answered
+Madge. "I have saved them, believing that the time might come when
+they would be of great use to me. I did not know the joy I was
+saving for myself."</p>
+<p>Tears came to my eyes, and Dorothy wept silently.</p>
+<p>"Will you not take the jewels also?" asked Madge.</p>
+<p>"No," I responded; "the purse will more than pay my expenses to
+France, where I have wealthy relatives. There I may have my
+mother's estate for the asking, and I can repay you the gold. I can
+never repay your kindness."</p>
+<p>"I hope you will never offer to repay the gold," said Madge.</p>
+<p>"I will not," I gladly answered.</p>
+<p>"As to the kindness," she said, "you have paid me in advance for
+that many, many times over."</p>
+<p>I then said farewell, promising to send letters telling of my
+fortune. As I was leaving I bent forward and kissed Madge upon the
+forehead, while she gently pressed my hand, but did not speak a
+word.</p>
+<p>"Cousin Malcolm," said Dorothy, who held my other hand, "you are
+a strong, gentle, noble man, and I want you to say that you forgive
+me."</p>
+<p>"I do forgive you, Dorothy, from my heart. I could not blame you
+if I wished to do so, for you did not know what you were
+doing."</p>
+<p>"Not to know is sometimes the greatest of sins," answered
+Dorothy. I bent forward to kiss her cheek in token of my full
+forgiveness, but she gave me her lips and said: "I shall never
+again be guilty of not knowing that you are good and true and
+noble, Cousin Malcolm, and I shall never again doubt your wisdom or
+your good faith when you speak to me." She did doubt me afterward,
+but I fear her doubt was with good cause. I shall tell you of it in
+the proper place.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>Then I forced myself to leave
+my fair friends and went to the gateway under Eagle Tower, where I
+found Will Dawson waiting for me with my horse.</p>
+<p>"Sir George ordered me to bring your horse," said Will. "He
+seemed much excited. Has anything disagreeable happened? Are you
+leaving us? I see you wear your steel cap and breastplate and are
+carrying your bundle."</p>
+<p>"Yes, Will, your master has quarrelled with me and I must leave
+his house."</p>
+<p>"But where do you go, Sir Malcolm? You remember that of which we
+talked? In England no place but Haddon Hall will be safe for you,
+and the ports are so closely guarded that you will certainly be
+arrested if you try to sail for France."</p>
+<p>"I know all that only too well, Will. But I must go, and I will
+try to escape to France. If you wish to communicate with me, I may
+be found by addressing a letter in care of the Duc de Guise."</p>
+<p>"If I can ever be of help to you," said Will, "personally, or in
+that other matter, Queen Mary, you understand,&mdash;you have only
+to call on me."</p>
+<p>"I thank you, Will," I returned, "I shall probably accept your
+kind offer sooner than you anticipate. Do you know Jennie Faxton,
+the ferrier's daughter?"</p>
+<p>"I do," he responded.</p>
+<p>"I believe she may be trusted," I said.</p>
+<p>"Indeed, I believe she is true as any steel in her father's
+shop," Will responded.</p>
+<p>"Good-by, Will, you may hear from me soon."</p>
+<p>I mounted and rode back of the terrace, taking my way along the
+Wye toward Rowsley. When I turned and looked back, I saw Dorothy
+standing upon the terrace. By her side, dressed in white, stood
+Madge. Her hand was covering her eyes. A step or two below them on
+the <a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a>terrace staircase stood Will
+Dawson. They were three stanch friends, although one of them had
+brought my troubles upon me. After all, I was leaving Haddon Hall
+well garrisoned. My heart also was well garrisoned with a faithful
+troop of pain. But I shall write no more of that time. It was too
+full of bitterness.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><a name="Page_91" id=
+"Page_91"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h2>MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE</h2>
+<p>I rode down the Wye to Rowsley, and by the will of my horse
+rather than by any intention of my own took the road up through
+Lathkil Dale. I had determined if possible to reach the city of
+Chester, and thence to ride down into Wales, hoping to find on the
+rough Welsh coast a fishing boat or a smuggler's craft that would
+carry me to France. In truth, I cared little whether I went to the
+Tower or to France, since in either case I felt that I had looked
+my last upon Haddon Hall, and had spoken farewell to the only
+person in all the world for whom I really cared. My ride from
+Haddon gave me time for deliberate thought, and I fully agreed with
+myself upon two propositions. First, I became thoroughly conscious
+of my real feeling toward Madge, and secondly, I was convinced that
+her kindness and her peculiar attitude toward me when I parted from
+her were but the promptings of a tender heart stirred by pity for
+my unfortunate situation, rather than what I thought when I said
+farewell to her. The sweet Wye and the beautiful Lathkil whispered
+to me as I rode beside their banks, but in their murmurings I heard
+only the music of her voice. The sun shone brightly, but its
+blessed light only served to remind me of the beautiful girl whom I
+had left in darkness. The light were worthless to me if I could not
+share it with her. What a mooning lout was I!</p>
+<p><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>All my life I had been a
+philosopher, and as I rode from Haddon, beneath all my gloominess
+there ran a current of amusement which brought to my lips an
+ill-formed, half-born laugh when I thought of the plight and
+condition in which I, by candid self-communion, found myself. Five
+years before that time I had left France, and had cast behind me
+all the fair possibilities for noble achievement which were offered
+to me in that land, that I might follow the fortunes of a woman
+whom I thought I loved. Before my exile from her side I had begun
+to fear that my idol was but a thing of stone; and now that I had
+learned to know myself, and to see her as she really was, I
+realized that I had been worshipping naught but clay for lo, these
+many years. There was only this consolation in the thought for me:
+every man at some time in his life is a fool&mdash;made such by a
+woman. It is given to but few men to have for their fool-maker the
+rightful queen of three kingdoms. All that was left to me of my
+life of devotion was a shame-faced pride in the quality of my
+fool-maker. "Then," thought I, "I have at last turned to be my own
+fool-maker." But I suppose it had been written in the book of fate
+that I should ride from Haddon a lovelorn youth of thirty-five, and
+I certainly was fulfilling my destiny to the letter.</p>
+<p>I continued to ride up the Lathkil until I came to a fork in the
+road. One branch led to the northwest, the other toward the
+southwest. I was at a loss which direction to take, and I left the
+choice to my horse, in whose wisdom and judgement I had more
+confidence than in my own. My horse, refusing the responsibility,
+stopped. So there we stood like an equestrian statue arguing with
+itself until I saw a horseman riding toward me from the direction
+of Overhaddon. When he approached I recognized Sir John Manners. He
+looked as woebegone as I felt, and I could not help laughing at the
+pair of us, for I knew that his <a name="Page_93" id=
+"Page_93"></a>trouble was akin to mine. The pain of love is
+ludicrous to all save those who feel it. Even to them it is
+laughable in others. A love-full heart has no room for that sort of
+charity which pities for kinship's sake.</p>
+<p>"What is the trouble with you, Sir John, that you look so
+downcast?" said I, offering my hand.</p>
+<p>"Ah," he answered, forcing a poor look of cheerfulness into his
+face, "Sir Malcolm, I am glad to see you. Do I look downcast?"</p>
+<p>"As forlorn as a lover who has missed seeing his sweetheart," I
+responded, guessing the cause of Sir John's despondency.</p>
+<p>"I have no sweetheart, therefore missing her could not have made
+me downcast," he replied.</p>
+<p>"So you really did miss her?" I queried. "She was detained at
+Haddon Hall, Sir John, to bid me farewell."</p>
+<p>"I do not understand&mdash;" began Sir John, growing cold in his
+bearing.</p>
+<p>"I understand quite well," I answered. "Dorothy told me all
+to-day. You need keep nothing from me. The golden heart brought her
+into trouble, and made mischief for me of which I cannot see the
+end. I will tell you the story while we ride. I am seeking my way
+to Chester, that I may, if possible, sail for France. This fork in
+the road has brought me to a standstill, and my horse refuses to
+decide which route we shall take. Perhaps you will direct us."</p>
+<p>"Gladly. The road to the southwest&mdash;the one I shall
+take&mdash;is the most direct route to Chester. But tell me, how
+comes it that you are leaving Haddon Hall? I thought you had gone
+there to marry-" He stopped speaking, and a smile stole into his
+eyes.</p>
+<p>"Let us ride forward together, and I will tell you about it,"
+said I.</p>
+<p>While we travelled I told Sir John the circumstances of my
+departure from Haddon Hall, concealing nothing save <a name=
+"Page_94" id="Page_94"></a>that which touched Madge Stanley. I then
+spoke of my dangerous position in England, and told him of my great
+desire to reach my mother's people in France.</p>
+<p>"You will find difficulty and danger in escaping to France at
+this time," said Sir John, "the guard at the ports is very strong
+and strict, and your greatest risk will be at the moment when you
+try to embark without a passport."</p>
+<p>"That is true," I responded; "but I know of nothing else that I
+can do."</p>
+<p>"Come with me to Rutland Castle," said Sir John. "You may there
+find refuge until such time as you can go to France. I will gladly
+furnish you money which you may repay at your pleasure, and I may
+soon be able to procure a passport for you."</p>
+<p>I thanked him, but said I did not see my way clear to accept his
+kind offer.</p>
+<p>"You are unknown in the neighborhood of Rutland," he continued,
+"and you may easily remain incognito." Although his offer was
+greatly to my liking, I suggested several objections, chief among
+which was the distaste Lord Rutland might feel toward one of my
+name. I would not, of course, consent that my identity should be
+concealed from him. But to be brief&mdash;an almost impossible
+achievement for me, it seems&mdash;Sir John assured me of his
+father's welcome, and it was arranged between us that I should take
+my baptismal name, Fran&ccedil;ois de Lorraine, and passing for a
+French gentleman on a visit to England, should go to Rutland with
+my friend. So it happened through the strange workings of fate that
+I found help and refuge under my enemy's roof-tree.</p>
+<p>Kind old Lord Rutland welcomed me, as his son had foretold, and
+I was convinced ere I had passed an hour under his roof that the
+feud between him and Sir George was of the latter's brewing.</p>
+<p>The happenings in Haddon Hall while I lived at Rutland<a name=
+"Page_95" id="Page_95"></a> I knew, of course, only by the mouth of
+others; but for convenience in telling I shall speak of them as if
+I had seen and heard all that took place. I may now say once for
+all that I shall take that liberty throughout this entire
+history.</p>
+<p>On the morning of the day after my departure from Haddon, Jennie
+Faxton went to visit Dorothy and gave her a piece of information,
+small in itself, but large in its effect upon that ardent young
+lady. Will Fletcher, the arrow-maker at Overhaddon, had observed
+Dorothy's movements in connection with Manners; and although
+Fletcher did not know who Sir John was, that fact added to his
+curiosity and righteous indignation.</p>
+<p>"It do be right that some one should tell the King of the Peak
+as how his daughter is carrying on with a young man who does come
+here every day or two to meet her, and I do intend to tell Sir
+George if she put not a stop to it," said Fletcher to some of his
+gossips in Yulegrave churchyard one Sunday afternoon.</p>
+<p>Dorothy notified John, Jennie being the messenger, of Will's
+observations, visual and verbal, and designated another place for
+meeting,&mdash;the gate east of Bowling Green Hill. This gate was
+part of a wall on the east side of the Haddon estates adjoining the
+lands of the house of Devonshire which lay to the eastward. It was
+a secluded spot in the heart of the forest half a mile distant from
+Haddon Hall.</p>
+<p>Sir George, for a fortnight or more after my disappearance,
+enforced his decree of imprisonment against Dorothy, and she, being
+unable to leave the Hall, could not go to Bowling Green Gate to
+meet Sir John. Before I had learned of the new trysting-place John
+had ridden thither several evenings to meet Dorothy, but had found
+only Jennie bearing her mistress's excuses. I supposed his
+journeyings had been to Overhaddon; but I did not press his
+confidence, nor did he give it.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>Sir George's treatment of
+Dorothy had taught her that the citadel of her father's wrath could
+be stormed only by gentleness, and an opportunity was soon
+presented in which she used that effective engine of feminine
+warfare to her great advantage.</p>
+<p>As I have told you, Sir George was very rich. No man, either
+noble or gentle, in Derbyshire or in any of the adjoining counties,
+possessed so great an estate or so beautiful a hall as did he. In
+France we would have called Haddon Hall a grand ch&acirc;teau.</p>
+<p>Sir George's deceased wife had been a sister to the Earl of
+Derby, who lived at the time of which I am now writing. The earl
+had a son, James, who was heir to the title and to the estates of
+his father. The son was a dissipated, rustic clown&mdash;almost a
+simpleton. He had the vulgarity of a stable boy and the vices of a
+courtier. His associates were chosen from the ranks of gamesters,
+ruffians, and tavern maids. Still, he was a scion of one of the
+greatest families of England's nobility.</p>
+<p>After Sir George's trouble with Dorothy, growing out of his
+desire that I should wed her, the King of the Peak had begun to
+feel that in his beautiful daughter he had upon his hands a
+commodity that might at any time cause him trouble. He therefore
+determined to marry her to some eligible gentleman as quickly as
+possible, and to place the heavy responsibility of managing her in
+the hands of a husband. The stubborn violence of Sir George's
+nature, the rough side of which had never before been shown to
+Dorothy, in her became adroit wilfulness of a quality that no
+masculine mind may compass. But her life had been so entirely
+undisturbed by opposing influences that her father, firm in the
+belief that no one in his household would dare to thwart his will,
+had remained in dangerous ignorance of the latent trouble which
+pervaded his daughter from the soles of her shapely feet to the top
+of her glory-crowned head.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>Sir George, in casting about
+for a son-in-law, had hit upon the heir to the house of Derby as a
+suitable match for his child, and had entered into an alliance
+offensive and defensive with the earl against the common enemy,
+Dorothy. The two fathers had partly agreed that the heir to Derby
+should wed the heiress of Haddon. The heir, although he had never
+seen his cousin except when she was a plain, unattractive girl, was
+entirely willing for the match, but the heiress&mdash;well, she had
+not been consulted, and everybody connected with the affair
+instinctively knew there would be trouble in that quarter. Sir
+George, however, had determined that Dorothy should do her part in
+case the contract of marriage should be agreed upon between the
+heads of the houses. He had fully resolved to assert the majesty of
+the law vested in him as a father and to compel Dorothy to do his
+bidding, if there were efficacy in force and chastisement. At the
+time when Sir George spoke to Dorothy about the Derby marriage, she
+had been a prisoner for a fortnight or more, and had learned that
+her only hope against her father lay in cunning. So she wept, and
+begged for time in which to consider the answer she would give to
+Lord Derby's request. She begged for two months, or even one month,
+in which to bring herself to accede to her father's commands.</p>
+<p>"You have always been so kind and good to me, father, that I
+shall try to obey if you and the earl eventually agree upon terms,"
+she said tearfully, having no intention whatever of trying to do
+anything but disobey.</p>
+<p>"Try!" stormed Sir George. "Try to obey me! By God, girl, I say
+you shall obey!"</p>
+<p>"Oh, father, I am so young. I have not seen my cousin for years.
+I do not want to leave you, and I have never thought twice of any
+man. Do not drive me from you."</p>
+<p>Sir George, eager to crush in the outset any disposition
+<a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>to oppose his will, grew violent
+and threatened his daughter with dire punishment if she were not
+docile and obedient.</p>
+<p>Then said rare Dorothy:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"It would indeed be a great match." Greater than ever will
+happen, she thought. "I should be a countess." She strutted across
+the room with head up and with dilating nostrils. The truth was,
+she desired to gain her liberty once more that she might go to
+John, and was ready to promise anything to achieve that end. "What
+sort of a countess would I make, father?"</p>
+<p>"A glorious countess, Doll, a glorious countess," said her
+father, laughing. "You are a good girl to obey me so readily."</p>
+<p>"Oh, but I have not obeyed you yet," returned Dorothy, fearing
+that her father might be suspicious of a too ready
+acquiescence.</p>
+<p>"But you will obey me," answered Sir George, half in command and
+half in entreaty.</p>
+<p>"There are not many girls who would refuse the coronet of a
+countess." She then seated herself upon her father's knee and
+kissed him, while Sir George laughed softly over his easy
+victory.</p>
+<p>Blessed is the man who does not know when he is beaten.</p>
+<p>Seeing her father's kindly humor, Dorothy said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Father, do you still wish me to remain a prisoner in my
+rooms?"</p>
+<p>"If you promise to be a good, obedient daughter," returned Sir
+George, "you shall have your liberty."</p>
+<p>"I have always been that, father, and I am too old to learn
+otherwise," answered this girl, whose father had taught her
+deception by his violence. You may drive men, but you cannot drive
+any woman who is worth possessing. You may for a time think you
+drive her, but in the end she will have her way.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a>Dorothy's first act of
+obedience after regaining liberty was to send a letter to Manners
+by the hand of Jennie Faxton.</p>
+<p>John received the letter in the evening, and all next day he
+passed the time whistling, singing, and looking now and again at
+his horologue. He walked about the castle like a happy wolf in a
+pen. He did not tell me there was a project on foot, with Dorothy
+as the objective, but I knew it, and waited with some impatience
+for the outcome.</p>
+<p>Long before the appointed time, which was sunset, John galloped
+forth for Bowling Green Gate with joy and anticipation in his heart
+and pain in his conscience. As he rode, he resolved again and again
+that the interview toward which he was hastening should be the last
+he would have with Dorothy. But when he pictured the girl to
+himself, and thought upon her marvellous beauty and infinite
+winsomeness, his conscience was drowned in his longing, and he
+resolved that he would postpone resolving until the morrow.</p>
+<p>John hitched his horse near the gate and stood looking between
+the massive iron bars toward Haddon Hall, whose turrets could be
+seen through the leafless boughs of the trees. The sun was sinking
+perilously low, thought John, and with each moment his heart also
+sank, while his good resolutions showed the flimsy fibre of their
+fabric and were rent asunder by the fear that she might not come.
+As the moments dragged on and she did not come, a hundred alarms
+tormented him. First among these was a dread that she might have
+made resolves such as had sprung up so plenteously in him, and that
+she might have been strong enough to act upon them and to remain at
+home. But he was mistaken in the girl. Such resolutions as he had
+been making and breaking had never come to her at all. The
+difference between the man and the woman was this: he resolved in
+his mind not to see her and failed in keeping to <a name="Page_100"
+id="Page_100"></a>his resolution; while she resolved in her heart
+to see him&mdash;resolved that nothing in heaven or earth or the
+other place could keep her from seeing him, and succeeded in
+carrying out her resolution. The intuitive resolve, the one that
+does not know it is a resolution, is the sort before which
+obstacles fall like corn before the sickle.</p>
+<p>After John had waited a weary time, the form of the girl
+appeared above the crest of the hill. She was holding up the skirt
+of her gown, and glided over the earth so rapidly that she appeared
+to be running. Beat! beat! oh, heart of John, if there is aught in
+womanhood to make you throb; if there is aught in infinite grace
+and winsomeness; if there is aught in perfect harmony of color and
+form and movement; if there is aught of beauty, in God's power to
+create that can set you pulsing, beat! for the fairest creature of
+His hand is hastening to greet you. The wind had dishevelled her
+hair and it was blowing in fluffy curls of golden red about her
+face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed with joy and exercise, her
+red lips were parted, and her eyes&mdash;but I am wasting words. As
+for John's heart it almost smothered him with its beating. He had
+never before supposed that he could experience such violent
+throbbing within his breast and live. But at last she was at the
+gate, in all her exquisite beauty and winsomeness, and something
+must be done to make the heart conform to the usages of good
+society. She, too, was in trouble with her breathing, but John
+thought that her trouble was owing to exertion. However that may
+have been, nothing in heaven or earth was ever so beautiful, so
+radiant, so graceful, or so fair as this girl who had come to give
+herself to John. It seems that I cannot take myself away from the
+attractive theme.</p>
+<p>"Ah, Sir John, you did come," said the girl, joyously.</p>
+<p>"Yes," John succeeded in replying, after an effort, "and
+you&mdash;I thank you, gracious lady, for coming. I do not <a name=
+"Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>deserve&mdash;" the heart again
+asserted itself, and Dorothy stood by the gate with downcast eyes,
+waiting to learn what it was that John did not deserve. She thought
+he deserved everything good.</p>
+<p>"I fear I have caused you fatigue," said John, again thinking,
+and with good reason, that he was a fool.</p>
+<p>The English language, which he had always supposed to be his
+mother tongue, had deserted him as if it were his step-mother.
+After all, the difficulty, as John subsequently said, was that
+Dorothy's beauty had deprived him of the power to think. He could
+only see. He was entirely disorganized by a girl whom he could have
+carried away in his arms.</p>
+<p>"I feel no fatigue," replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I feared that in climbing the hill you had lost your breath,"
+answered disorganized John.</p>
+<p>"So I did," she returned. Then she gave a great sigh and said,
+"Now I am all right again."</p>
+<p>All right? So is the morning sun, so is the arching rainbow, and
+so are the flitting lights of the north in midwinter. All are "all
+right" because God made them, as He made Dorothy, perfect, each
+after its kind.</p>
+<p>A long, uneasy pause ensued. Dorothy felt the embarrassing
+silence less than John, and could have helped him greatly had she
+wished to do so. But she had made the advances at their former
+meetings, and as she had told me, she "had done a great deal more
+than her part in going to meet him." Therefore she determined that
+he should do his own wooing thenceforward. She had graciously given
+him all the opportunity he had any right to ask.</p>
+<p>While journeying to Bowling Green Gate, John had formulated many
+true and beautiful sentiments of a personal nature which he
+intended expressing to Dorothy; but when the opportunity came for
+him to speak, the weather, his horse, Dorothy's mare Dolcy, the
+queens of England and<a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a> Scotland
+were the only subjects on which he could induce his tongue to
+perform, even moderately well.</p>
+<p>Dorothy listened attentively while John on the opposite side of
+the gate discoursed limpingly on the above-named themes; and
+although in former interviews she had found those topics quite
+interesting, upon that occasion she had come to Bowling Green Gate
+to listen to something else and was piqued not to hear it. After
+ten or fifteen minutes she said demurely:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I may not remain here longer. I shall be missed at the Hall. I
+regained my liberty but yesterday, and father will be suspicious of
+me during the next few days. I must be watchful and must have a
+care of my behavior."</p>
+<p>John summoned his wits and might have spoken his mind freely had
+he not feared to say too much. Despite Dorothy's witchery, honor,
+conscience, and prudence still bore weight with him, and they all
+dictated that he should cling to the shreds of his resolution and
+not allow matters to go too far between him and this fascinating
+girl. He was much in love with her; but Dorothy had reached at a
+bound a height to which he was still climbing. Soon John, also, was
+to reach the pinnacle whence honor, conscience, and prudence were
+to be banished.</p>
+<p>"I fear I must now leave you," said Dorothy, as darkness began
+to gather.</p>
+<p>"I hope I may soon see you again," said John.</p>
+<p>"Sometime I will see you if&mdash;if I can," she answered with
+downcast eyes. "It is seldom I can leave the Hall alone, but I
+shall try to come here at sunset some future day." John's silence
+upon a certain theme had given offence.</p>
+<p>"I cannot tell you how greatly I thank you," cried John.</p>
+<p>"I will say adieu," said Dorothy, as she offered him her hand
+through the bars of the gate. John raised the hand gallantly to his
+lips, and when she had withdrawn it there <a name="Page_103" id=
+"Page_103"></a>seemed no reason for her to remain. But she stood
+for a moment hesitatingly. Then she stooped to reach into her
+pocket while she daintily lifted the skirt of her gown with the
+other hand and from the pocket drew forth a great iron key.</p>
+<p>"I brought this key, thinking that you might wish to unlock the
+gate&mdash;and come to&mdash;to this side. I had great difficulty
+in taking it from the forester's closet, where it has been hanging
+for a hundred years or more."</p>
+<p>She showed John the key, returned it to her pocket, made a
+courtesy, and moved slowly away, walking backward.</p>
+<p>"Mistress Vernon," cried John, "I beg you to let me have the
+key."</p>
+<p>"It is too late, now," said the girl, with downcast eyes.
+"Darkness is rapidly falling, and I must return to the Hall."</p>
+<p>John began to climb the gate, but she stopped him. He had thrown
+away his opportunity.</p>
+<p>"Please do not follow me, Sir John," said she, still moving
+backward. "I must not remain longer."</p>
+<p>"Only for one moment," pleaded John.</p>
+<p>"No," the girl responded, "I&mdash;I may, perhaps, bring the key
+when I come again. I am glad, Sir John, that you came to meet me
+this evening." She courtesied, and then hurried away toward Haddon
+Hall. Twice she looked backward and waved her hand, and John stood
+watching her through the bars till her form was lost to view
+beneath the crest of Bowling Green Hill.</p>
+<p>"'I brought this key, thinking that you might wish to unlock the
+gate and come to this side,'" muttered John, quoting the girl's
+words. "Compared with you, John Manners, there is no other fool in
+this world." Then meditatively: "I wonder if she feels toward me as
+I feel toward her? Surely she does. What other reason could bring
+her here to meet me unless she is a brazen, wanton creature who is
+for every man." Then came a jealous <a name="Page_104" id=
+"Page_104"></a>thought that hurt him like the piercing of a knife.
+It lasted but a moment, however, and he continued muttering to
+himself: "If she loves me and will be my wife, I will&mdash;I will
+... In God's name what will I do? If I were to marry her, old
+Vernon would kill her, and I&mdash;I should kill my father."</p>
+<p>Then John mounted his horse and rode homeward the unhappiest
+happy man in England. He had made perilous strides toward that
+pinnacle sans honor, sans caution, sans conscience, sans everything
+but love.</p>
+<p>That evening while we were walking on the battlements, smoking,
+John told me of his interview with Dorothy and extolled her beauty,
+grace, and winsomeness which, in truth, as you know, were
+matchless. But when he spoke of "her sweet, shy modesty," I came
+near to laughing in his face.</p>
+<p>"Did she not write a letter asking you to meet her?" I
+asked.</p>
+<p>"Why&mdash;y-e-s," returned John.</p>
+<p>"And," I continued, "has she not from the first sought you?"</p>
+<p>"It almost seems to be so," answered John, "but notwithstanding
+the fact that one might say&mdash;might call&mdash;that one might
+feel that her conduct is&mdash;that it might be&mdash;you know,
+well&mdash;it might be called by some persons not knowing all the
+facts in the case, immodest&mdash;I hate to use the word with
+reference to her&mdash;yet it does not appear to me to have been at
+all immodest in Mistress Vernon, and, Sir Malcolm, I should be
+deeply offended were any of my friends to intimate&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Now, John," I returned, laughing at him, "you could not, if you
+wished, make me quarrel with you; and if you desire it, I will
+freely avow my firm belief in the fact that my cousin Dorothy is
+the flower of modesty. Does that better suit you?"</p>
+<p><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>I could easily see that my
+bantering words did not suit him at all; but I laughed at him, and
+he could not find it in his heart to show his ill-feeling.</p>
+<p>"I will not quarrel with you," he returned; "but in plain words,
+I do not like the tone in which you speak of her. It hurts me, and
+I do not believe you would wilfully give me pain."</p>
+<p>"Indeed, I would not," I answered seriously.</p>
+<p>"Mistress Vernon's conduct toward me," John continued, "has been
+gracious. There has been no immodesty nor boldness in it."</p>
+<p>I laughed again and said: "I make my humble apologies to her
+Majesty, Queen Dorothy. But in all earnestness, Sir John, you are
+right: Dorothy is modest and pure. As for her conduct toward you,
+there is a royal quality about beauty such as my cousin possesses
+which gives an air of graciousness to acts that in a plainer girl
+would seem bold. Beauty, like royalty, has its own
+prerogatives."</p>
+<p>For a fortnight after the adventures just related, John, in
+pursuance of his oft-repeated resolution not to see Dorothy, rode
+every evening to Bowling Green Gate; but during that time he failed
+to see her, and the resolutions, with each failure, became weaker
+and fewer.</p>
+<p>One evening, after many disappointments, John came to my room
+bearing in his hands a letter which he said Jennie Faxton had
+delivered to him at Bowling Green Gate.</p>
+<p>"Mistress Vernon," said John, "and Lady Madge Stanley will ride
+to Derby-town to-morrow. They will go in the Haddon Hall coach, and
+Dawson will drive. Mistress Vernon writes to me thus:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p>"'To SIR JOHN MANNERS:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"'My good wishes and my kind greeting. Lady Madge Stanley, my
+good aunt, Lady Crawford, and myself do intend journeying to
+Derby-town to-morrow. My aunt,<a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>
+Lady Crawford, is slightly ill, and although I should much regret
+to see her sickness grow greater, yet if ill she must be, I do hope
+that her worst day will be upon the morrow, in which case she could
+not accompany Lady Madge and me. I shall nurse my good aunt
+carefully this day, and shall importune her to take plentifully of
+physic that she may quickly recover her health&mdash;after
+to-morrow. Should a gentleman ask of Will Dawson, who will be in
+the tap-room of the Royal Arms at eleven o'clock of the morning,
+Dawson will be glad to inform the gentleman concerning Lady
+Crawford's health. Let us hope that the physic will cure Lady
+Crawford&mdash;by the day after to-morrow at furthest. The said
+Will Dawson may be trusted. With great respect,</p>
+<p>DOROTHY VERNON.'"</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>"I suppose the gentleman will be solicitous concerning Lady
+Crawford's health to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock," said I.</p>
+<p>"The gentleman is now solicitous concerning Lady Crawford's
+health," answered John, laughingly. "Was there ever a lady more
+fair and gracious than Mistress Vernon?"</p>
+<p>I smiled with a superior air at John's weakness, being, as you
+know, entirely free from his complaint myself, and John
+continued:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Perhaps you would call Mistress Dorothy bold for sending me
+this letter?"</p>
+<p>"It is redolent with shyness," I answered. "But would you really
+wish poor Lady Crawford to be ill that you might witness Mistress
+Dorothy's modesty?"</p>
+<p>"Please don't jest on that subject," said John, seriously. "I
+would wish anything, I fear, that would bring me an opportunity to
+see her, to look upon her face, and to hear her voice. For her I
+believe I would sacrifice every one who is dear to me. One day she
+shall be mine&mdash;mine <a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a>at
+whatever cost&mdash;if she will be. If she will be. Ah, there is
+the rub! If she will be. I dare not hope for that."</p>
+<p>"I think," said I, "that you really have some little cause to
+hope."</p>
+<p>"You speak in the same tone again. Malcolm, you do not
+understand her. She might love me to the extent that I sometimes
+hope; but her father and mine would never consent to our union, and
+she, I fear, could not be induced to marry me under those
+conditions. Do not put the hope into my heart."</p>
+<p>"You only now said she should be yours some day," I
+answered.</p>
+<p>"So she shall," returned John, "so she shall."</p>
+<p>"But Lady Madge is to be with her to-morrow," said I, my own
+heart beating with an ardent wish and a new-born hope, "and you may
+be unable, after all, to see Mistress Dorothy."</p>
+<p>"That is true," replied John. "I do not know how she will
+arrange matters, but I have faith in her ingenuity."</p>
+<p>Well might he have faith, for Dorothy was possessed of that sort
+of a will which usually finds a way.</p>
+<p>"If you wish me to go with you to Derby-town, I will do so.
+Perhaps I may be able to entertain Lady Madge while you have a word
+with Dorothy. What think you of the plan?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"If you will go with me, Malcolm, I shall thank you with all my
+heart."</p>
+<p>And so it was agreed between us that we should both go to
+Derby-town for the purpose of inquiring about Lady Crawford's
+health, though for me the expedition was full of hazard.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><a name="Page_108" id=
+"Page_108"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h2>A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN</h2>
+<p>The next morning broke brightly, but soon clouds began to gather
+and a storm seemed imminent. We feared that the gloomy prospect of
+the sky might keep Dorothy and Madge at home, but long before the
+appointed hour John and I were at the Royal Arms watching eagerly
+for the Haddon coach. At the inn we occupied a room from which we
+could look into the courtyard, and at the window we stood
+alternating between exaltation and despair.</p>
+<p>When my cogitations turned upon myself&mdash;a palpitating youth
+of thirty-five, waiting with beating heart for a simple blind girl
+little more than half my age; and when I remembered how for years I
+had laughed at the tenderness of the fairest women of the French
+and Scottish courts&mdash;I could not help saying to myself, "Poor
+fool! you have achieved an early second childhood." But when I
+recalled Madge in all her beauty, purity, and helplessness, my
+cynicism left me, and I, who had enjoyed all of life's ambitious
+possibilities, calmly reached the conclusion that it is sometimes a
+blessed privilege to be a fool. While I dwelt on thoughts of Madge,
+all the latent good within me came uppermost. There is latent good
+in every man, though it may remain latent all his life. Good
+resolves, pure thoughts, and noble aspirations&mdash;new sensations
+to me, I blush to confess&mdash;bubbled <a name="Page_109" id=
+"Page_109"></a>in my heart, and I made a mental prayer, "If this is
+folly, may God banish wisdom." What is there, after all is said, in
+wisdom, that men should seek it? Has it ever brought happiness to
+its possessor? I am an old man at this writing. I have tasted all
+the cups of life, and from the fulness of my experience I tell you
+that the simple life is the only one wherein happiness is found.
+When you permit your heart and your mind to grow complex and wise,
+you make nooks and crannies for wretchedness to lodge in. Innocence
+is Nature's wisdom; knowledge is man's folly.</p>
+<p>An hour before noon our patience was rewarded when we saw the
+Haddon Hall coach drive into the courtyard with Dawson on the box.
+I tried to make myself believe that I did not wish Lady Crawford
+were ill. But there is little profit in too close scrutiny of our
+deep-seated motives, and in this case I found no comfort in
+self-examination. I really did wish that Aunt Dorothy were ill.</p>
+<p>My motive studying, however, was brought to a joyous end when I
+saw Will Dawson close the coach door after Madge and Dorothy had
+alighted.</p>
+<p>How wondrously beautiful they were! Had we lived in the days
+when Olympus ruled the world, John surely would have had a god for
+his rival. Dorothy seemed luminous, so radiant was she with the
+fire of life. As for Madge, had I beheld a corona hovering over her
+head I should have thought it in all respects a natural and
+appropriate phenomenon&mdash;so fair and saintlike did she appear
+to me. Her warm white furs and her clinging gown of soft
+light-colored woollen stuff seemed to be a saint's robe, and her
+dainty little hat, fashioned with ermine about the edge of the
+rim&mdash;well, that was the corona, and I was ready to
+worship.</p>
+<p>Dorothy, as befitted her, wore a blaze of harmonious colors and
+looked like the spirit of life and youth. I wish<a name="Page_110"
+id="Page_110"></a> I could cease rhapsodizing over those two girls,
+but I cannot. You may pass over it as you read, if you do not like
+it.</p>
+<p>"Ye gods! did ever a creature so perfect as she tread the
+earth?" asked John, meaning, of course, Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"No," answered I, meaning, of course, Madge.</p>
+<p>The girls entered the inn, and John and I descended to the
+tap-room for the purpose of consulting Will Dawson concerning the
+state of Aunt Dorothy's health.</p>
+<p>When we entered the tap-room Will was standing near the
+fireplace with a mug of hot punch in his hand. When I touched him,
+he almost dropped the mug so great was his surprise at seeing
+me.</p>
+<p>"Sir Mal&mdash;" he began to say, but I stopped him by a
+gesture. He instantly recovered his composure and appeared not to
+recognize me.</p>
+<p>I spoke in broken English, for, as you know, I belong more to
+France than to any other country. "I am Sir Fran&ccedil;ois de
+Lorraine," said I. "I wish to inquire if Lady Crawford is in good
+health?"</p>
+<p>"Her ladyship is ill, sir, I am sorry to say," responded Will,
+taking off his hat. "Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge Stanley are at
+the inn. If you wish to inquire more particularly concerning Lady
+Crawford's health, I will ask them if they wish to receive you.
+They are in the parlor."</p>
+<p>Will was the king of trumps!</p>
+<p>"Say to them," said I, "that Sir Fran&ccedil;ois de
+Lorraine&mdash;mark the name carefully, please&mdash;and his friend
+desire to make inquiry concerning Lady Crawford's health, and would
+deem it a great honor should the ladies grant them an
+interview."</p>
+<p>Will's countenance was as expressionless as the face upon the
+mug from which he had been drinking. "I shall inform the ladies of
+your honor's request."<a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a> He
+thereupon placed the half-emptied mug upon the fire-shelf and left
+the room.</p>
+<p>When Will announced his errand to the girls, Dorothy said in
+surprise:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Sir Fran&ccedil;ois de Lorraine? That is the name of the Grand
+Duc de Guise, but surely&mdash;Describe him to me, Will."</p>
+<p>"He is about your height, Mistress Dorothy, and is very
+handsome," responded Will.</p>
+<p>The latter part of Will's description placed me under obligation
+to him to the extent of a gold pound sterling.</p>
+<p>"Ah, it is John!" thought Dorothy, forgetting the fact that John
+was a great deal taller than she, but feeling that Will's
+description of "very handsome" could apply to only one man in the
+world. "He has taken Malcolm's name." Then she said, "Bring him to
+us, Will. But who is the friend? Do you know him? Tell me his
+appearance."</p>
+<p>"I did not notice the other gentleman," replied Will, "and I can
+tell you nothing of him."</p>
+<p>"Will, you are a very stupid man. But bring the gentlemen here."
+Dorothy had taken Will into her confidence to the extent of telling
+him that a gentleman would arrive at the Royal Arms who would
+inquire for Lady Crawford's health, and that she, Dorothy, would
+fully inform the gentleman upon that interesting topic. Will may
+have had suspicions of his own, but if so, he kept them to himself,
+and at least did not know that the gentleman whom his mistress
+expected to see was Sir John Manners. Neither did he suspect that
+fact. Dawson had never seen Manners, and did not know he was in the
+neighborhood of Derby. The fact was concealed from Dawson by
+Dorothy not so much because she doubted him, but for the reason
+that she wished him to be able truthfully to plead innocence in
+case trouble should grow out of the Derby-town escapade.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>I wonder why John did not
+come alone?" thought Dorothy. "This friend of his will be a great
+hindrance."</p>
+<p>Dorothy ran to the mirror and hurriedly gave a few touches to
+her hair, pressing it lightly with her soft flexible fingers here,
+and tucking in a stray curl there, which for beauty's sake should
+have been allowed to hang loose. She was standing at the pier-glass
+trying to see the back of her head when Will knocked to announce
+our arrival.</p>
+<p>"Come," said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Will opened the door and held it for us to pass in. Madge was
+seated near the fire. When we entered Dorothy was standing with
+great dignity in the centre of the floor, not of course intending
+to make an exhibition of delight over John in the presence of a
+stranger. But when she saw that I was the stranger, she ran to me
+with outstretched hands.</p>
+<p>"Good morning, Mistress Vernon," said I, in mock
+ceremoniousness.</p>
+<p>"Oh, Malcolm! Malcolm!" cried Madge, quickly rising from her
+chair. "You are cruel, Dorothy, to surprise me in this
+fashion."</p>
+<p>"I, too, am surprised. I did not know that Malcolm was coming,"
+replied Dorothy, turning to give welcome to John. Then I stepped to
+Madge's side and took her hands, but all I could say was "Madge!
+Madge!" and all she said was "Malcolm! Malcolm!" yet we seemed to
+understand each other.</p>
+<p>John and Dorothy were likewise stricken with a paucity of words,
+but they also doubtless understood each other. After a moment or
+two there fell upon me a shower of questions from Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Did you not go to France? How happens it that you are in
+Derby-town? Where did you meet Sir John? What a delightful surprise
+you have given us! Nothing was wanting to make us happy but your
+presence."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>I am so happy that it
+frightens me," said Dorothy in ecstasy. "Trouble will come, I am
+sure. One extreme always follows another. The pendulum always
+swings as far back as it goes forward. But we are happy now, aren't
+we, Madge? I intend to remain so while I can. The pendulum may
+swing as far backward as it chooses hereafter. Sufficient to the
+day is the evil thereof. Sometimes the joy is almost sufficient,
+isn't it, Madge?"</p>
+<p>"The evil is more than sufficient some days," answered
+Madge.</p>
+<p>"Come, Madge, don't be foreboding."</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, I have not met the other gentleman," said Madge.</p>
+<p>"Ah, pardon me. In my surprise I forgot to present you. Lady
+Madge Stanley, let me present Sir John Manners."</p>
+<p>"Sir John Manners!" cried Madge, taking a step backward. Her
+surprise was so great that she forgot to acknowledge the
+introduction. "Dorothy, what means this?" she continued.</p>
+<p>"It means," replied Dorothy, nervously, "that Sir John is my
+very dear friend. I will explain it to you at another time."</p>
+<p>We stood silently for a few moments, and John said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I hope I may find favor in your heart, Lady Madge. I wish to
+greet you with my sincere homage."</p>
+<p>"Sir John, I am glad to greet you, but I fear the pendulum of
+which Dorothy spoke will swing very far backward erelong."</p>
+<p>"Let it swing as far back as it chooses," answered Dorothy, with
+a toss of her head, "I am ready to buy and to pay for happiness.
+That seems to be the only means whereby we may have it. I am ready
+to buy it with pain any day, and am willing to pay upon demand.
+Pain passes away; joy lasts forever."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a>I know," said Sir John,
+addressing Madge, "I know it is not prudent for Malcolm and me to
+be here to-day; but imprudent things seem to be the most
+delightful."</p>
+<p>"For men, Sir John," returned Madge. "Upon women they leave
+their mark."</p>
+<p>"I fear you are right," he answered. "I had not thought of my
+visit in that light. For Mistress Vernon's sake it is better that I
+do not remain in Derby."</p>
+<p>"For Mistress Vernon's sake you shall remain," cried that
+impetuous young woman, clutching John's arm.</p>
+<p>After a time, Dorothy wishing to visit one of the shops to make
+purchases, it was agreed between us that we should all walk out.
+Neither Dorothy nor Madge had ever before visited Derby-town. John
+and I had visited the place but once; that was upon the occasion of
+our first meeting. No one in the town knew us, and we felt safe in
+venturing forth into the streets. So we helped Dorothy and Madge to
+don their furs, and out we went happier and more reckless than four
+people have any good right to be. But before setting out I went to
+the tap-room and ordered dinner.</p>
+<p>I found the host and directed him to prepare a dozen partridges
+in a pie, a haunch of venison, a few links of German sausage, and a
+capon. The host informed me that he had in his pantry a barrel of
+roots called potatoes which had been sent to him by a sea-captain
+who had recently returned from the new world. He hurried away and
+brought a potato for inspection. It was of a gray brown color and
+near the size of an egg. The landlord assured me that it was
+delicious when baked, and I ordered four, at the cost of a crown
+each. I understand that my Lord Raleigh claims to have brought the
+first potatoes and tobacco into England in '85; but I know that I
+smoked tobacco in '66, and I saw potatoes at the Royal Arms in
+Derby-town in '67. I also ordered another new dish for our famous
+dinner. It was a brown beverage called coffee.<a name="Page_115"
+id="Page_115"></a> The berries from which the beverage is made mine
+host showed to me, and said they had been brought to him by a
+sea-faring man from Arabia. I ordered a pot of the drink at a cost
+of three crowns. I have heard it said that coffee was not known in
+Europe or in England till it was introduced by Rawolf in '73, but I
+saw it at the Royal Arms in '67. In addition to this list, I
+ordered for our drinking sweet wine from Madeira and red wine from
+Burgundy. The latter-named wine had begun to grow in favor at the
+French court when I left France five years before. It was little
+liked in England. All these dainties were rare at the time of which
+I write; but they have since grown into considerable use, and I
+doubt not, as we progress in luxury, they will become common
+articles of food upon the tables of the rich. Prongs, or forks, as
+they are called, which by some are used in cutting and eating one's
+food at table, I also predict will become implements of daily use.
+It is really a filthy fashion, which we have, of handling food with
+our fingers. The Italians have used forks for some time, but our
+preachers speak against them, saying God has given us our fingers
+with which to eat, and that it is impious to thwart his purposes by
+the use of forks. The preachers will probably retard the general
+use of forks among the common people.</p>
+<p>After I had given my order for dinner we started out on our
+ramble through Derby-town.</p>
+<p>Shortly after we left the inn we divided into couples for the
+ostensible reason that we did not wish to attract too much
+attention&mdash;Dorothy and John, Madge and I! Our real reason for
+separating was&mdash;but you understand.</p>
+<p>Madge's hand lay like a span of snow upon my arm, and&mdash;but
+this time I will restrain my tendency to rhapsodize.</p>
+<p>We walked out through those parts of the town which were little
+used, and Madge talked freely and happily.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>She fairly babbled, and to
+me her voice was like the murmurings of the rivers that flowed out
+of paradise.</p>
+<p>We had agreed with John and Dorothy to meet them at the Royal
+Arms in one hour, and that time had almost passed when Madge and I
+turned our faces toward the inn.</p>
+<p>When we were within a short distance of our hostelry we saw a
+crowd gathered around a young man who was standing on a box. He was
+speaking in a mournful, lugubrious voice and accompanied his words
+with violent gesticulations. Out of curiosity we stopped to listen,
+and learned that religion was our orator's theme.</p>
+<p>I turned to a man standing near me and asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Who is the fellow speaking?"</p>
+<p>"The pious man is Robert Brown. He is exhorting in the name of
+the Lord of Hosts."</p>
+<p>"The pious Robert Brown?" I queried, "exhorting in the name
+of&mdash;of the Lord of where, did you say?"</p>
+<p>"Hosts," laconically responded my friend, while listening
+intently to the words of Brown.</p>
+<p>"Hosts, say you? Who is he?" I asked of my interesting neighbor.
+"I know him not."</p>
+<p>"Doubtless you know Him not," responded the man, evidently
+annoyed at my interruption and my flippancy.</p>
+<p>After a moment or two I, desiring to know more concerning the
+orator, asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Robert Brown, say you?"</p>
+<p>"Even he," came the response. "It will be good for your soul if
+you but listen to him in a prayerful mood. He is a young man upon
+whom the Spirit hath descended plenteously."</p>
+<p>"The Spirit?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Ay," returned my neighbor.</p>
+<p>I could not extract another word from him, so I had the worst of
+the encounter.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>We had been standing there
+but a short time when the young exhorter descended from his
+improvised pulpit and passed among the crowd for the purpose of
+collecting money. His harangue had appeared ridiculous to me, but
+Madge seemed interested in his discourse. She said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"He is very earnest, Malcolm," and at once my heart went out to
+the young enthusiast upon the box. One kind word from Madge, and I
+was the fellow's friend for life. I would have remained his friend
+had he permitted me that high privilege. But that he would not do.
+When he came to me, I dropped into his hat a small silver piece
+which shone brightly among a few black copper coins. My liberal
+contribution did not induce him to kindness, but, on the contrary,
+it attracted his attention to the giver. He looked at the silver
+coin, and then turning his solemn gaze upon me, eyed me insolently
+from head to foot. While doing so a look of profound disgust spread
+over his mournful countenance. After a calm survey of my person,
+which to me was uncomfortably long, he turned to the bystanders,
+and in the same high-pitched, lugubrious voice which he had used
+when exhorting, said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Brethren, here behold ye the type of anti-Christ," and he waved
+his thin hand toward me much to my amusement and annoyance. "Here,"
+said he, "we find the leading strings to all that is
+iniquitous&mdash;vanity. It is betokened in his velvets, satins,
+and laces. Think ye, young man," he said, turning to me, "that such
+vanities are not an abomination in the eyes of the God of
+Israel?"</p>
+<p>"I believe that the God of Israel cares nothing about my
+apparel," I replied, more amused than angered. He paid no attention
+to my remark.</p>
+<p>"And this young woman," he continued, pointing to Madge, "this
+young woman, daughter of the Roman harlot, no doubt, she also is
+arrayed in silks, taffetas, and fine cloth. Look ye, friends, upon
+this abominable collar of<a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a>
+Satan; this ruff of fine linen, all smeared in the devil's own
+liquor, starch. Her vanity is an offence in the nostrils of God's
+people."</p>
+<p>As he spoke he stretched forth his hand and caught in his
+clawlike grasp the dainty white ruff that encircled Madge's neck.
+When I saw his act, my first impulse was to run him through, and I
+drew my sword half from its scabbard with that purpose. But he was
+not the sort of a man upon whom I could use my blade. He was hardly
+more than a boy&mdash;a wild, half-crazed fanatic, whose reason, if
+he had ever possessed any, had been lost in the Charybdis of his
+zeal. He honestly thought it was his duty to insult persons who
+apparently disagreed with him. Such a method of proselyting is
+really a powerful means of persuasion among certain classes, and it
+has always been used by men who have successfully founded permanent
+religious sects. To plant successfully a religious thought or
+system requires more violent aggression than to conquer a
+nation.</p>
+<p>Since I could not run the fellow through, I drew back my arm,
+and striking as lightly as possible, I laid our zealous friend
+sprawling on his back. Thus had I the honor of knocking down the
+founder of the Brownists.</p>
+<p>If I mistake not, the time will come, if these men are allowed
+to harangue the populace, when the kings of England will be unable
+to accomplish the feat of knocking down Brown's followers.
+Heresies, like noxious weeds, grow without cultivation, and thrive
+best on barren soil. Or shall I say that, like the goodly vine,
+they bear better fruit when pruned? I cannot fully decide this
+question for myself; but I admire these sturdy fanatics who so
+passionately love their own faith, and so bitterly hate all others,
+and I am almost prepared to say that each new heresy brings to the
+world a better orthodoxy.</p>
+<p>For a little time after my encounter with Brown, all my skill
+was needed to ward off the frantic hero. He <a name="Page_119" id=
+"Page_119"></a>quickly rose to his feet, and, with the help of his
+friends, seemed determined to spread the gospel by tearing me to
+pieces. My sword point kept the rabble at a respectful distance for
+a while, but they crowded closely upon me, and I should have been
+compelled to kill some of them had I not been re&euml;nforced by
+two men who came to my help and laid about them most joyfully with
+their quarterstaffs. A few broken heads stemmed for a moment the
+torrent of religious enthusiasm, and during a pause in the
+hostilities I hurriedly retreated with Madge, ungratefully leaving
+my valiant allies to reap the full reward of victory should the
+fortunes of war favor them.</p>
+<p>Madge was terribly frightened, and with her by my side I, of
+course, would not have remained to fight the redoubtable Bayard
+himself.</p>
+<p>We hurried forward, but before we reached the inn we were
+overtaken by our allies whom we had abandoned. Our friends were
+young men. One wore a rich, half-rustic habit, and the other was
+dressed as a horse boy. Both were intoxicated. I had been thankful
+for their help; but I did not want their company.</p>
+<p>"How now, Cousin Madge?" said our richly dressed ally. "What in
+the devil's name has brought you into this street broil?"</p>
+<p>"Ah, Cousin James, is it you?" replied the trembling girl.</p>
+<p>"Yes, but who is your friend that so cleverly unloaded his
+quarrel upon us? Hell's fires! but they were like a swarm of wasps.
+Who is your friend, Madge?"</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm Vernon," replied Madge. "Let me present you, Sir
+Malcolm, to my cousin, Lord James Stanley."</p>
+<p>I offered my hand to his Lordship, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I thank you much for your timely help. I should not have
+deserted you had I not felt that my first duty was to extricate
+Lady Madge from the disagreeable situation. We <a name="Page_120"
+id="Page_120"></a>must hasten away from here, or the mad rabble
+will follow us."</p>
+<p>"Right you are, my hearty," returned Stanley, slapping me on the
+shoulder. "Of course you had to get the wench away. Where do you
+go? We will bear you company."</p>
+<p>I longed to pay the fellow for his help by knocking him down;
+but the possibilities of trouble ahead of us were already too
+great, and I forced myself to be content with the prowess already
+achieved.</p>
+<p>"But you have not told me what brought you into the broil,"
+asked his Lordship, as we walked toward the inn.</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm and I were walking out to see the town
+and&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"To see the town? By gad, that's good, Cousin Madge. How much of
+it did you see? You are as blind as an owl at noon," answered his
+Lordship.</p>
+<p>"Alas! I am blind," returned Madge, clinging closely to me, and
+shrinking from her cousin's terrible jest. I could not think of
+anything sufficiently holy and sacred upon which to vow my
+vengeance against this fellow, if the time should ever come when I
+dared take it.</p>
+<p>"Are you alone with this&mdash;this gentleman?" asked his
+Lordship, grasping Madge by the arm.</p>
+<p>"No," returned Madge, "Dorothy is with us."</p>
+<p>"She is among the shops," I volunteered reluctantly.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy? Dorothy Vernon? By gad, Tod, we are in luck. I must
+see the wench I am to marry," said his Lordship, speaking to his
+companion, the stable boy. "So Dorothy is with you, is she, cousin?
+I haven't seen her for years. They say she is a handsome filly now.
+By gad, she had room to improve, for she was plain enough, to
+frighten rats away from a barn when I last saw her. We will go to
+the inn and see for ourselves, won't we, Tod? Dad's word won't
+satisfy us when it comes to the matter of marrying, will it,
+Tod?"</p>
+<p><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>Tod was the drunken stable
+boy who had assisted his Lordship and me in our battle with the
+Brownists.</p>
+<p>I was at a loss what course to pursue. I was forced to submit to
+this fellow's company, and to endure patiently his insolence. But
+John and Dorothy would soon return, and there is no need that I
+should explain the dangers of the predicament which would then
+ensue.</p>
+<p>When we were within a few yards of the inn door I looked
+backward and saw Dorothy and John approaching us. I held up my hand
+warningly. John caught my meaning, and instantly leaving Dorothy's
+side, entered an adjacent shop. My movement had attracted Stanley's
+attention, and he turned in the direction I had been looking. When
+he saw Dorothy, he turned again to me and asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Is that Dorothy Vernon?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," I replied.</p>
+<p>"Look at her, Tod!" exclaimed my lord, "look at her, Tod! The
+dad was right about her, after all. I thought the old man was
+hoaxing me when he told me that she was beautiful. Holy Virgin,
+Tod, did you ever see anything so handsome? I will take her quick
+enough; I will take her. Dad won't need to tease me. I'm
+willing."</p>
+<p>Dorothy approached to within a few yards of us, and my Lord
+Stanley stepped forward to meet her.</p>
+<p>"Ye don't know me, do ye?" said Stanley.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was frightened and quickly stepped to my side.</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I believe not," responded Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Lord James Stanley," murmured Madge, who knew of the
+approaching Stanley marriage.</p>
+<p>"Madge is right," returned. Stanley, grinning foolishly. "I am
+your cousin James, but not so much of a cousin that I cannot be
+more than cousin, heh?" He laughed boisterously, and winking at
+Tod, thrust his thumb into <a name="Page_122" id=
+"Page_122"></a>that worthy's ribs. "Say, Tod, something more than
+cousin; that's the thing, isn't it, Tod?"</p>
+<p>John was standing half-concealed at the door of the shop in
+which he had sought refuge. Dorothy well knew the peril of the
+situation, and when I frowned at her warningly, she caught the hint
+that she should not resent Stanley's words, however insulting and
+irritating they might become.</p>
+<p>"Let us go to the inn," said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"That's the thing to do. Let us go to the inn and have dinner,"
+said Stanley. "It's two hours past dinner time now, and I'm almost
+famished. We'll have a famous dinner. Come, cousin," said he,
+addressing Dorothy. "We'll have kidneys and tripe and&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"We do not want dinner," said Dorothy. "We must return home at
+once. Sir Malcolm, will you order Dawson to bring out the
+coach?"</p>
+<p>We went to the inn parlor, and I, loath to do so, left the
+ladies with Stanley and his horse-boy friend while I sought Dawson
+for the purpose of telling him to fetch the coach with all
+haste.</p>
+<p>"We have not dined," said the forester.</p>
+<p>"We shall not dine," I answered. "Fetch the coach with all the
+haste you can make." The bystanders in the tap-room were listening,
+and I continued, "A storm is brewing, and we must hasten home."</p>
+<p>True enough, a storm was brewing.</p>
+<p>When I left Dawson, I hurriedly found John and told him we were
+preparing to leave the inn, and that we would expect him to
+overtake us on the road to Rowsley.</p>
+<p>I returned to the ladies in the parlor and found them standing
+near the window. Stanley had tried to kiss Dorothy, and she had
+slapped his face. Fortunately he had taken the blow good-humoredly,
+and was pouring into her unwilling ear a fusillade of boorish
+compliments when. I entered the parlor.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a>I said, "The coach is
+ready."</p>
+<p>The ladies moved toward the door. "I am going to ride with you,
+my beauty," said his Lordship.</p>
+<p>"That you shall not do," retorted Dorothy, with blazing
+eyes.</p>
+<p>"That I will do," he answered. "The roads are free to all, and
+you cannot keep me from following you."</p>
+<p>Dorothy was aware of her predicament, and I too saw it, but
+could find no way out of it. I was troubled a moment; but my fear
+was needless, for Dorothy was equal to the occasion.</p>
+<p>"We should like your company, Cousin Stanley," replied Dorothy,
+without a trace of anger in her manner, "but we cannot let you ride
+with us in the face of the storm that is brewing."</p>
+<p>"We won't mind the storm, will we, Tod? We are going with our
+cousin."</p>
+<p>"If you insist upon being so kind to us," said Dorothy, "you may
+come. But I have changed my mind about dinner. I am very hungry,
+and we accept your invitation."</p>
+<p>"Now you are coming around nicely," said Lord James, joyfully.
+"We like that, don't we, Tod?"</p>
+<p>Tod had been silent under all circumstances.</p>
+<p>Dorothy continued: "Madge and I will drive in the coach to one
+or two of the shops, and we shall return in one hour. Meantime,
+Cousin Stanley, we wish you to have a fine dinner prepared for us,
+and we promise to do ample justice to the fare."</p>
+<p>"She'll never come back," said silent Tod, without moving a
+muscle.</p>
+<p>"How about it, cousin?" asked Stanley. "Tod says you'll never
+come back; he means that you are trying to give us the slip."</p>
+<p>"Never fear, Cousin Stanley," she returned, "I am too <a name=
+"Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>eager for dinner not to come back. If
+you fail to have a well-loaded table for me, I shall never speak to
+you again."</p>
+<p>We then went to the coach, and as the ladies entered it Dorothy
+said aloud to Dawson:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Drive to Conn's shop."</p>
+<p>I heard Tod say to his worthy master:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"She's a slippin' ye."</p>
+<p>"You're a fool, Tod. Don't you see she wants me more than she
+wants the dinner, and she's hungry, too."</p>
+<p>"Don't see," retorted his laconic friend.</p>
+<p>Of course when the coach was well away from the inn, Dawson
+received new instructions, and took the road to Rowsley. When the
+ladies had departed, I went to the tap-room with Stanley, and after
+paying the host for the coffee, the potatoes, and the dinner which
+alas! we had not tasted, I ordered a great bowl of sack and
+proceeded to drink with my allies in the hope that I might make
+them too drunk to follow us. Within half an hour I discovered that
+I was laboring at a hopeless task. There was great danger that I
+would be the first to succumb; so I, expressing a wish to sleep off
+the liquor before the ladies should return, made my escape from the
+tap-room, mounted my horse, and galloped furiously after Dorothy
+and Madge. John was riding by the coach when I overtook it.</p>
+<p>It was two hours past noon when I came up with John and the
+girls. Snow had been falling softly earlier in the afternoon, but
+as the day advanced the storm grew in violence. A cold, bleak wind
+was blowing from the north, and by reason of the weather and
+because of the ill condition of the roads, the progress of the
+coach was so slow that darkness overtook us before we had finished
+half of our journey to Rowsley. Upon the fall of night the storm
+increased in violence, and the snow came in piercing, horizontal
+shafts which stung like the prick of a needle.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>At the hour of six&mdash;I
+but guessed the time&mdash;John and I, who were riding at the rear
+of the coach, heard close on our heels the trampling of horses. I
+rode forward to Dawson, who was in the coach box, and told him to
+drive with all the speed he could make. I informed him that some
+one was following us, and that I feared highwaymen were on our
+track.</p>
+<p>Hardly had I finished speaking to Dawson when I heard the report
+of a hand-fusil, back of the coach, near the spot where I had left
+John. I quickly drew my sword, though it was a task of no small
+labor, owing to the numbness of my fingers. I breathed along the
+blade to warm it, and then I hastened to John, whom I found in a
+desperate conflict with three ruffians. No better swordsman than
+John ever drew blade, and he was holding his ground in the darkness
+right gallantly. When I rode to his rescue, another hand-fusil was
+discharged, and then another, and I knew that we need have no more
+fear from bullets, for the three men had discharged their weapons,
+and they could not reload while John and I were engaging them. I
+heard the bullets tell upon the coach, and I heard the girls
+screaming lustily. I feared they had been wounded, but you may be
+sure I had no leisure to learn the truth. Three against two was
+terrible odds in the dark, where brute force and luck go for more
+than skill. We fought desperately for a while, but in the end we
+succeeded in beating off the highwaymen. When we had finished with
+the knaves who had attacked us, we quickly overtook our party. We
+were calling Dawson to stop when we saw the coach, careening with
+the slant of the hill, topple over, and fall to the bottom of a
+little precipice five or six feet in height. We at once dismounted
+and jumped down the declivity to the coach, which lay on its side,
+almost covered by drifted snow. The pole had broken in the fall,
+and the horses were standing on the road. We first <a name=
+"Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>saw Dawson. He was swearing like a
+Dutchman, and when we had dragged him from his snowy grave, we
+opened the coach door, lifted out the ladies, and seated them upon
+the uppermost side of the coach. They were only slightly bruised,
+but what they lacked in bruises they made up in fright. In respect
+to the latter it were needless for me to attempt a description.</p>
+<p>We can laugh about it now and speak lightly concerning the
+adventure, and, as a matter of truth, the humor of the situation
+appealed to me even then. But imagine yourself in the predicament,
+and you will save me the trouble of setting forth its real
+terrors.</p>
+<p>The snow was up to our belts, and we did not at first know how
+we were to extricate the ladies. John and Dawson, however, climbed
+to the road, and I carried Dorothy and Madge to the little
+precipice where the two men at the top lifted them from my arms.
+The coach was broken, and when I climbed to the road, John, Dawson,
+and myself held a council of war against the storm. Dawson said we
+were three good miles from Rowsley, and that he knew of no house
+nearer than the village at which we could find shelter. We could
+not stand in the road and freeze, so I got the blankets and robes
+from the coach and made riding pads for Dorothy and Madge. These we
+strapped upon the broad backs of the coach horses, and then
+assisted the ladies to mount. I walked by the side of Madge, and
+John performed the same agreeable duty for Dorothy. Dawson went
+ahead of us, riding my horse and leading John's; and thus we
+travelled to Rowsley, half dead and nearly frozen, over the longest
+three miles in the kingdom.</p>
+<p>John left us before entering the village, and took the road to
+Rutland, intending to stop for the night at a cottage two miles
+distant, upon his father's estates. I was to follow Sir John when
+the ladies were safely lodged at The Peacock.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a>It was agreed between us
+that nothing should be said concerning the presence of any man save
+Dawson and myself in our party.</p>
+<p>When John left us, I rode to The Peacock with Dorothy and Madge,
+and while I was bidding them good-by my violent cousin, Sir George,
+entered the inn. Dorothy ran to her father and briefly related the
+adventures of the night, dwelling with undeserved emphasis upon the
+help I had rendered. She told her father&mdash;the statement was
+literally true&mdash;that she had met me at the Royal Arms, where I
+was stopping, and that she had, through fear of the storm and in
+dread of highwaymen, asked me to ride beside their coach to
+Rowsley.</p>
+<p>When I saw Sir George enter the room, I expected to have trouble
+with him; but after he had spoken with Dorothy, much to my
+surprise, he offered me his hand and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I thank you, Malcolm, for the help you have rendered my girls,
+and I am glad you have come back to us."</p>
+<p>"I have not come back to you, Sir George," said I, withholding
+my hand. "I met Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge at the Royal Arms,
+and escorted them to Rowsley for reasons which she has just given
+to you. I was about to depart when you entered."</p>
+<p>"Tut, tut! Malcolm, you will come with us to Haddon Hall."</p>
+<p>"To be ordered away again, Sir George?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"I did not order you to go. You left in a childish fit of anger.
+Why in the devil's name did you run away so quickly? Could you not
+have given a man time to cool off? You treated me very badly,
+Malcolm."</p>
+<p>"Sir George, you certainly know&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I know nothing of the sort. Now I want not another word from
+you. Damme! I say, not another word. If I ever ordered you to leave
+Haddon Hall, I didn't know what I was doing," cried Sir George,
+heartily.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a>But you may again not
+know," said I.</p>
+<p>"Now, Malcolm, don't be a greater fool than I was. If I say I
+did not order you to leave Haddon Hall, can't you take me at my
+word? My age and my love for you should induce you to let me ease
+my conscience, if I can. If the same illusion should ever come over
+you again&mdash;that is, if you should ever again imagine that I am
+ordering you to leave Haddon Hall&mdash;well, just tell me to go to
+the devil. I have been punished enough already, man. Come home with
+us. Here is Dorothy, whom I love better than I love myself. In
+anger I might say the same thing to her that I said to you,
+but&mdash;Nonsense, Malcolm, don't be a fool. Come home with us.
+Haddon is your home as freely as it is the home of Dorothy, Madge,
+and myself."</p>
+<p>The old gentleman's voice trembled, and I could not withstand
+the double force of his kindness and my desire. So it came about
+that when Madge held out her fair hand appealingly to me, and when
+Dorothy said, "Please come home with us, Cousin Malcolm," I offered
+my hand to Sir George, and with feeling said, "Let us make this
+promise to each other: that nothing hereafter shall come between
+us."</p>
+<p>"I gladly promise," responded the generous, impulsive old man.
+"Dorothy, Madge, and you are all in this world whom I love. Nothing
+shall make trouble between us. Whatever happens, we will each
+forgive."</p>
+<p>The old gentleman was in his kindest, softest mood.</p>
+<p>"Let us remember the words," said I.</p>
+<p>"I give my hand and my word upon it," cried Sir George.</p>
+<p>How easy it is to stake the future upon a present impulse. But
+when the time for reckoning comes,&mdash;when the future becomes
+the present,&mdash;it is sometimes hard to pay the priceless
+present for the squandered past. Next morning we all rode home to
+Haddon,&mdash;how sweet <a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a>the
+words sound even at this distance of time!&mdash;and there was
+rejoicing in the Hall as if the prodigal had returned.</p>
+<p>In the evening I came upon Madge unawares. She was softly
+singing a plaintive little love song. I did not disturb her, and as
+I stole away again I said to myself, "God is good." A realization
+of that great truth had of late been growing upon me. When once we
+thoroughly learn it, life takes on a different color.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><a name="Page_130"
+id="Page_130"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h2>TRIBULATION IN HADDON</h2>
+<p>After I had left Haddon at Sir George's tempestuous order, he
+had remained in a state of furious anger against Dorothy and myself
+for a fortnight or more. But after her adroit conversation with him
+concerning the Stanley marriage, wherein she neither promised nor
+refused, and after she learned that she could more easily cajole
+her father than command him, Dorothy easily ensconced herself again
+in his warm heart, and took me into that capacious abode along with
+her.</p>
+<p>Then came the trip to Derby, whereby his serene Lordship, James
+Stanley, had been enabled to see Dorothy and to fall in love with
+her winsome beauty, and whereby I was brought back to Haddon.
+Thereafter came events crowding so rapidly one upon the heels of
+another that I scarce know where to begin the telling of them. I
+shall not stop to say, "Sir George told me this," or "Madge,
+Dorothy, or John told me that," but I shall write as if I had
+personal knowledge of all that happened. After all, the important
+fact is that I know the truth concerning matters whereof I write,
+and of that you may rest with surety.</p>
+<p>The snow lay upon the ground for a fortnight after the storm in
+which we rode from Derby, but at the end of that time it melted,
+and the sun shone with the brilliancy and warmth of springtide. So
+warm and genial was the weather that the trees, flowers, and shrubs
+were cozened into bud<a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a>ding
+forth. The buds were withered by a killing frost which came upon us
+later in the season at a time when the spring should have been
+abroad in all her graciousness, and that year was called the year
+of the leafless summer.</p>
+<p>One afternoon Sir George received a distinguished guest in the
+person of the Earl of Derby, and the two old gentlemen remained
+closeted together for several hours. That night at supper, after
+the ladies had risen from table, Sir George dismissed the servants
+saying that he wished to speak to me in private. I feared that he
+intended again bringing forward the subject of marriage with
+Dorothy, but he soon relieved my mind.</p>
+<p>"The Earl of Derby was here to-day. He has asked for Doll's hand
+in marriage with his eldest son and heir, Lord James Stanley, and I
+have granted the request."</p>
+<p>"Indeed," I responded, with marvellous intelligence. I could say
+nothing more, but I thought&mdash;in truth I knew&mdash;that it did
+not lie within the power of any man in or out of England to dispose
+of Dorothy Vernon's hand in marriage to Lord James Stanley. Her
+father might make a murderess out of her, but Countess of Derby,
+never.</p>
+<p>Sir George continued, "The general terms of the marriage
+contract have been agreed upon by the earl and me, and the lawyers
+will do the rest."</p>
+<p>"What is your feeling in the matter?" I asked aimlessly.</p>
+<p>"My feeling?" cried Sir George. "Why, sir, my feeling is that
+the girl shall marry Stanley just as soon as arrangements can be
+made for the wedding ceremony. The young fellow, it seems, saw Doll
+at Derby-town the day you came home, and since then he is eager,
+his father tells me, for the union. He is coming to see her when I
+give my permission, and I will send him word at as early a date as
+propriety will admit. I must not let them be seen together too
+soon, you know. There might be a hitch in <a name="Page_132" id=
+"Page_132"></a>the marriage negotiations. The earl is a tight one
+in business matters, and might drive a hard bargain with me should
+I allow his son to place Doll in a false position before the
+marriage contract is signed." He little knew how certainly Dorothy
+herself would avoid that disaster.</p>
+<p>He took a long draught from his mug of toddy and winked
+knowingly at me, saying, "I am too wise for that."</p>
+<p>"Have you told Dorothy?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"No," he replied, "I have not exactly told her. I had a talk
+with her a few days ago on the subject, though the earl and I had
+not, at that time, entirely agreed upon the terms, and I did not
+know that we should agree. But I told her of the pending
+negotiations, because I wished to prepare her for the signing of
+the contract; and also, by gad, Malcolm, I wanted to make the girl
+understand at the outset that I will have no trifling with my
+commands in this matter. I made that feature of the case very
+plain, you may rest assured. She understands me fully, and although
+at first she was a little inclined to fight, she soon&mdash;she
+soon&mdash;well, she knuckled under gracefully when she found she
+must."</p>
+<p>"Did she consent to the marriage?" I asked, well knowing that
+even if she had consented in words, she had no thought of doing so
+in deed.</p>
+<p>"Y-e-s," returned Sir George, hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"I congratulate you," I replied.</p>
+<p>"I shall grieve to lose Doll," the old man slowly continued with
+perceptible signs of emotion. "I shall grieve to lose my girl, but
+I am anxious to have the wedding over. You see, Malcolm, of late I
+have noticed signs of wilfulness in Doll that can be more easily
+handled by a husband than by a father. Marriage and children anchor
+a woman, you know. In truth, I have opened my eyes to the fact that
+Doll is growing dangerous. I'gad, the other day I thought she was a
+child, but suddenly I learn <a name="Page_133" id=
+"Page_133"></a>she is a woman. I had not before noticed the change.
+Beauty and wilfulness, such as the girl has of late developed, are
+powers not to be underestimated by wise men. There is hell in them,
+Malcolm, I tell you there is hell in them." Sir George meditatively
+snuffed the candle with his fingers and continued: "If a horse once
+learns that he can kick&mdash;sell him. Only yesterday, as I said,
+Doll was a child, and now, by Jove, she is a full-blown woman, and
+I catch myself standing in awe of her and calling her Dorothy. Yes,
+damme, standing in awe of my own child! That will never do, you
+know. What has wrought the change? And, after all, what is the
+change? I can't define it, but there has been a great one."</p>
+<p>He was in a revery and spoke more to himself than to me.
+"Yesterday she was my child&mdash;she was a child, and
+now&mdash;and now&mdash;she is&mdash;she is&mdash;Why the devil
+didn't you take her, Malcolm?" cried the old man, awakening. "But
+there, never mind; that is all past and gone, and the future Earl
+of Derby will be a great match for her."</p>
+<p>"Do you know the future Earl of Derby?" I asked. "Have you ever
+seen him?"</p>
+<p>"No," Sir George replied. "I hear he is rather wild and uncouth,
+but&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"My dear cousin," said I, interrupting him, "he is a vulgar,
+drunken clown, whose associates have always been stable boys,
+tavern maids, and those who are worse than either."</p>
+<p>"What?" cried Sir George, hotly, the liquor having reached his
+brain. "You won't have Doll yourself, and you won't consent to
+another&mdash;damme, would you have the girl wither into
+spinsterhood? How, sir, dare you interfere?"</p>
+<p>"I withdraw all I said, Sir George," I replied hastily. "I have
+not a word to say against the match. I thought&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a>Well, damn you, sir, don't
+think."</p>
+<p>"You said you wished to consult me about the affair, and I
+supposed&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Don't suppose either," replied Sir George, sullenly. "Supposing
+and thinking have hanged many a man. I didn't wish to consult you.
+I simply wanted to tell you of the projected marriage." Then after
+a moment of half-maudlin, sullen silence he continued, "Go to bed,
+Malcolm, go to bed, or we'll be quarrelling again."</p>
+<p>I was glad enough to go to bed, for my cousin was growing drunk,
+and drink made a demon of this man, whose violence when sober was
+tempered by a heart full of tenderness and love.</p>
+<p>Next morning Sir George was feeling irritable from the effects
+of the brandy he had drunk over night. At breakfast, in the
+presence of Lady Crawford, Madge, and myself, he abruptly informed
+Dorothy that he was about to give that young goddess to Lord James
+Stanley for his wife. He told her of the arrangement he had made
+the day before with the Earl of Derby. Lady Crawford looked toward
+her brother in surprise, and Madge pushed her chair a little way
+back from the table with a startled movement. Dorothy sprang to her
+feet, her eyes flashing fire and her breast rising and falling like
+the storm-wrought pulsing of the sea. I coughed warningly and
+placed my finger on my lips, making the sign of silence to Dorothy.
+The girl made a wondrous and beautiful struggle against her wrath,
+and in a moment all signs of ill-temper disappeared, and her face
+took on an expression of sweet meekness which did not belong there
+of right. She quietly sat down again, and when I looked at her, I
+would have sworn that Griselda in the flesh was sitting opposite
+me. Sir George was right. "Ways such as the girl had of late
+developed were dangerous." Hell was in them to an extent little
+dreamed of by her father. Breakfast was <a name="Page_135" id=
+"Page_135"></a>finished in silence. Dorothy did not come down to
+dinner at noon, but Sir George did not mark her absence. At supper
+her place was still vacant.</p>
+<p>"Where is Doll?" cried Sir George, angrily. He had been drinking
+heavily during the afternoon. "Where is Doll?" he demanded.</p>
+<p>"She is on the terrace," answered Madge. "She said she did not
+want supper."</p>
+<p>"Tell your mistress to come to supper," said Sir George,
+speaking to one of the servants. "You will find her on the
+terrace."</p>
+<p>The servant left the room, but soon returned, saying that
+Mistress Dorothy wanted no supper.</p>
+<p>"Tell her to come to the table whether she wants supper or not.
+Tell her I will put a stop to her moping about the place like a
+surly vixen," growled Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Don't send such a message by a servant," pleaded Lady
+Crawford.</p>
+<p>"Then take it to her yourself, Dorothy," exclaimed her
+brother.</p>
+<p>Dorothy returned with her aunt and meekly took her place at the
+table.</p>
+<p>"I will have none of your moping and pouting," said Sir George,
+as Dorothy was taking her chair.</p>
+<p>The girl made no reply, but she did not eat.</p>
+<p>"Eat your supper," her father commanded. "I tell you I will have
+no&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"You would not have me eat if I am not hungry, would you,
+father?" she asked softly.</p>
+<p>"I'd have you hungry, you perverse wench."</p>
+<p>"Then make me an appetite," returned the girl. I never heard
+more ominous tones fall from human lips. They betokened a mood in
+which one could easily do murder in cold blood, and I was surprised
+that Sir George did not take warning and remain silent.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a>I cannot make an appetite
+for you, fool," he replied testily.</p>
+<p>"Then you cannot make me eat," retorted Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Ah, you would answer me, would you, you brazen, insolent
+huzzy," cried her father, angrily.</p>
+<p>Dorothy held up her hand warningly to Sir George, and uttered
+the one word, "Father." Her voice sounded like the clear, low ring
+of steel as I have heard it in the stillness of sunrise during a
+duel to the death. Madge gently placed her hand in Dorothy's, but
+the caress met no response.</p>
+<p>"Go to your room," answered Sir George.</p>
+<p>Dorothy rose to her feet and spoke calmly: "I have not said that
+I would disobey you in regard to this marriage which you have
+sought for me; and your harshness, father, grows out of your effort
+to reconcile your conscience with the outrage you would put upon
+your own flesh and blood&mdash;your only child."</p>
+<p>"Suffering God!" cried Sir George, frenzied with anger and
+drink. "Am I to endure such insolence from my own child? The
+lawyers will be here to-morrow. The contract will be signed, and,
+thank God, I shall soon be rid of you. I'll place you in the hands
+of one who will break your damnable will and curb your vixenish
+temper." Then he turned to Lady Crawford. "Dorothy, if there is
+anything to do in the way of gowns and women's trumpery in
+preparation for the wedding, begin at once, for the ceremony shall
+come off within a fortnight."</p>
+<p>This was beyond Dorothy's power to endure. Madge felt the storm
+coming and clutched her by the arm in an effort to stop her, but
+nothing could have done that.</p>
+<p>"I marry Lord Stanley?" she asked in low, bell-like tones, full
+of contempt and disdain. "Marry that creature? Father, you don't
+know me."</p>
+<p>"By God, I know myself," retorted Sir George, "and I
+say&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a>Now hear me, father," she
+interrupted in a manner that silenced even him. She bent forward,
+resting one fair hand upon the table, while she held out her other
+arm bared to the elbow. "Hear what I say and take it for the truth
+as if it had come from Holy Writ. I will open the veins in this arm
+and will strew my blood in a gapless circle around Haddon Hall so
+that you shall tread upon it whenever you go forth into the day or
+into the night before I will marry the drunken idiot with whom you
+would curse me. Ay, I will do more. I will kill you, if need be,
+should you try to force him on me. Now, father, we understand each
+other. At least you cannot fail to understand me. For the last time
+I warn you. Beware of me."</p>
+<p>She gently pushed the chair back from the table, quietly
+adjusted the sleeve which she had drawn upward from her wrist, and
+slowly walked out of the room, softly humming the refrain of a
+roundelay. There was no trace of excitement about the girl. Her
+brain was acting with the ease and precision of a perfectly
+constructed machine. Sir George, by his violence and cruelty, had
+made a fiend of this strong, passionate, tender heart. That was
+all.</p>
+<p>The supper, of course, was quickly finished, and the ladies left
+the room.</p>
+<p>Sir George took to his bottle and remained with it till his
+servants put him to bed. I slipped away from him and smoked a pipe
+in front of the kitchen fire. Then I went early to my bed in Eagle
+Tower.</p>
+<p>Dorothy went to her apartments. There she lay upon her bed, and
+for a time her heart was like flint. Soon she thought of her
+precious golden heart pierced with a silver arrow, and tears came
+to her eyes as she drew the priceless treasure from her breast and
+breathed upon it a prayer to the God of love for help. Her heart
+was soft again, soft only as hers could be, and peace came <a name=
+"Page_138" id="Page_138"></a>to her as she pressed John's golden
+heart to her lips and murmured over and over the words, "My love,
+my love, my love," and murmuring fell asleep.</p>
+<p>I wonder how many of the countless women of this world found
+peace, comfort, and ecstasy in breathing those magic words
+yesterday? How many have found them to-day? How many will find them
+to-morrow? No one can tell; but this I know, they come to every
+woman at some time in her life, righteously or unrighteously, as
+surely as her heart pulses.</p>
+<p>That evening Jennie Faxton bore a letter to John, informing him
+of the projected Stanley marriage. It asked him to meet the writer
+at Bowling Green Gate, and begged him to help her if he could.</p>
+<p>The small and intermittent remnants of conscience, sense of
+duty, and caution which still remained in John's head&mdash;I will
+not say in John's heart, for that was full to overflowing with
+something else&mdash;were quickly banished by the unwelcome news in
+Dorothy's letter. His first impulse was to kill Stanley; but John
+Manners was not an assassin, and a duel would make public all he
+wished to conceal. He wished to conceal, among other things, his
+presence at Rutland. He had two reasons for so desiring. First in
+point of time was the urgent purpose with which he had come to
+Derbyshire. That purpose was to further a plan for the rescue of
+Mary Stuart and to bring her incognito to Rutland Castle as a
+refuge until Elizabeth could be persuaded to receive her. Of this
+plan I knew nothing till after the disastrous attempt to carry it
+out, of which I shall hereafter tell you. The other reason why John
+wished his presence at Rutland unknown was that if he were supposed
+to be in London, no one would suspect him of knowing Dorothy
+Vernon.</p>
+<p>You must remember there had been no overt love-making between
+John and Dorothy up to that time. The <a name="Page_139" id=
+"Page_139"></a>scene at the gate approached perilously near it, but
+the line between concealment and confession had not been crossed.
+Mind you, I say there had been no love-making <i>between</i> them.
+While Dorothy had gone as far in that direction as a maiden should
+dare go&mdash;and to tell the exact truth, a great deal
+farther&mdash;John had remained almost silent for reasons already
+given you. He also felt a fear of the girl, and failed to see in
+her conduct those signs of intense love which would have been
+plainly discernible had not his perceptions been blinded by the
+fury of his own infatuation. He had placed a curb on his passion
+and did not really know its strength and power until he learned
+that another man was soon to possess the girl he loved. Then life
+held but one purpose for him. Thus, you see that when Dorothy was
+moaning, "My love, my love," and was kissing the golden heart, she
+was taking a great deal for granted. Perhaps, however, she better
+understood John's feeling for her than did he himself. A woman's
+sixth sense, intuition, is a great help to her in such cases.
+Perhaps the girl knew with intuitive confidence that her passion
+was returned; and perhaps at first she found John's receptive mode
+of wooing sweeter far than an aggressive attack would have been. It
+may be also there was more of the serpent's cunning than of
+reticence in John's conduct. He knew well the ways of women, and
+perhaps he realized that if he would allow Dorothy to manage the
+entire affair she would do his wooing for him much better than he
+could do it for himself. If you are a man, try the plan upon the
+next woman whom you seek to win. If she happens to be one who has
+full confidence in her charms, you will be surprised at the result.
+Women lacking that confidence are restrained by fear and doubt. But
+in no case have I much faith in the hammer-and-tongs process at the
+opening of a campaign. Later on, of course&mdash;but you doubtless
+are quite as well <a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a>informed
+concerning this important subject as I. There is, however, so much
+blundering in that branch of science that I have a mind to endow a
+college at Oxford or at Paris in which shall be taught the gentle,
+universally needed art of making love. What a noble attendance such
+a college would draw. But I have wandered wofully from my
+story.</p>
+<p>I must go back a short time in my narrative. A few days before
+my return to Haddon Hall the great iron key to the gate in the wall
+east of Bowling Green Hill was missed from the forester's closet
+where it had hung for a century or more. Bowling Green Hill, as you
+know, is eastward from Haddon Hall a distance of the fourth part of
+a mile, and the gate is east of the hill about the same distance or
+less. A wall is built upon the east line of the Haddon estate, and
+east of the wall lies a great trackless forest belonging to the
+house of Devonshire. In olden times there had been a road from
+Bakewell to Rowsley along the east side of the wall; but before Sir
+George's seizin the road had been abandoned and the gate was not
+used. It stood in a secluded, unfrequented spot, and Dorothy
+thought herself very shrewd in choosing it for a
+trysting-place.</p>
+<p>But as I told you, one day the key was missed. It was of no
+value or use, and at first nothing was thought of its loss; but
+from time to time the fact that it could not be found was spoken of
+as curious. All the servants had been questioned in vain, and the
+loss of the key to Bowling Green Gate soon took on the dignity of a
+mystery&mdash;a mystery soon to be solved, alas! to Dorothy's
+undoing.</p>
+<p>The afternoon of the day following the terrible scene between
+Sir George and his daughter at the supper table, Dorothy rode forth
+alone upon her mare Dolcy. From the window of my room in Eagle
+Tower I saw her go down the west side of the Wye toward Rowsley. I
+<a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a>ascended to the roof of the
+tower, and from that elevation I saw her cross the river, and soon
+she was lost to sight in the forest. At that time I knew nothing of
+the new trysting-place, but I felt sure that Dorothy had gone out
+to seek John. The sun shone brightly, and its gentle warmth enticed
+me to remain upon the tower battlements, to muse, and to dream. I
+fetched my pipe and tobacco from my room. I had been smoking at
+intervals for several months, but had not entirely learned to like
+the weed, because of a slight nausea which it invariably caused me
+to feel. But I thought by practice now and again to inure myself to
+the habit, which was then so new and fashionable among modish
+gentlemen. While I smoked I mused upon the past and present, and
+tried to peer into the future&mdash;a fruitless task wherein we
+waste much valuable time; a vain striving, like Eve's, after
+forbidden knowledge, which, should we possess it, would destroy the
+little remnant of Eden still existing on earth. Could we look
+forward only to our joys, a knowledge of the future might be good
+to have; but imagine, if you can, the horror of anticipating evils
+to come.</p>
+<p>After a short time, a lotuslike dreaminess stole over me, and
+past and future seemed to blend in a supreme present of contentment
+and rest. Then I knew I had wooed and won Tobacco and that
+thenceforth I had at hand an ever ready solace in time of trouble.
+At the end of an hour my dreaming was disturbed by voices, which
+came distinctly up to me from the base of the tower. I leaned over
+the battlements to listen, and what I heard gave me alarm and
+concern such as all the tobacco in the world could not assuage. I
+looked down the dizzy heights of Eagle Tower and saw Sir George in
+conversation with Ben Shaw, a woodman. I had not heard the words
+first spoken between them.</p>
+<p>"Ay, ay, Sir George," said Ben, "they be there, by<a name=
+"Page_142" id="Page_142"></a> Bowling Green Gate, now. I saw them
+twenty minutes since,&mdash;Mistress Vernon and a gentleman."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps the gentleman is Sir Malcolm," answered my cousin. I
+drew back from the battlements, and the woodman replied, "Perhaps
+he be, but I doubt it."</p>
+<p>There had been a partial reconciliation&mdash;sincere on Sir
+George's part, but false and hollow on Dorothy's&mdash;which Madge
+had brought about between father and daughter that morning. Sir
+George, who was sober and repentant of his harshness, was inclined
+to be tender to Dorothy, though he still insisted in the matter of
+the Stanley marriage. Dorothy's anger had cooled, and cunning had
+taken its place. Sir George had asked her to forgive him for the
+hard words he had spoken, and she had again led him to believe that
+she would be dutiful and obedient. It is hard to determine, as a
+question of right and wrong, whether Dorothy is to be condemned or
+justified in the woful deception she practised upon her father. To
+use a plain, ugly word, she lied to him without hesitation or pain
+of conscience. Still, we must remember that, forty years ago, girls
+were frequently forced, regardless of cries and piteous agony, into
+marriages to which death would have been preferable. They were
+flogged into obedience, imprisoned and starved into obedience, and
+alas! they were sometimes killed in the course of punishment for
+disobedience by men of Sir George's school and temper. I could give
+you at least one instance in which a fair girl met her death from
+punishment inflicted by her father because she would not consent to
+wed the man of his choice. Can we blame Dorothy if she would lie or
+rob or do murder to avoid a fate which to her would have been worse
+than death? When you find yourself condemning her, now or hereafter
+in this history, if you are a man ask yourself this question: "If I
+had a sweetheart in Dorothy's sad case, should I not wish her to do
+<a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a>as she did? Should I not wish,
+if it were possible by any means, that she should save herself from
+the worst of fates, and should save me from the agony of losing her
+to such a man as Sir George had selected for Dorothy's husband? Is
+it not a sin to disobey the law of self-preservation actively or
+passively?" Answer these questions as you choose. As for myself, I
+say God bless Dorothy for lying. Perhaps I am in error. Perhaps I
+am not. I but tell you the story of Dorothy as it happened, and I
+am a poor hand at solving questions of right and wrong where a
+beautiful woman is concerned. To my thinking, she usually is in the
+right. In any case, she is sure to have the benefit of the
+doubt.</p>
+<p>When Sir George heard the woodman's story, he started hurriedly
+toward Bowling Green Gate.</p>
+<p>Now I shall tell you of Dorothy's adventures after I saw her
+cross the Wye.</p>
+<p>When she reached the gate, John was waiting for her.</p>
+<p>"Ah, Sir John, I am so glad you are here. That is, I am glad you
+are here before I arrived&mdash;good even," said the girl,
+confusedly. Her heart again was beating in a provoking manner, and
+her breath would not come with ease and regularity. The rapid
+progress of the malady with which she was afflicted or blessed was
+plainly discernible since the last meeting with my friend, Sir
+John. That is, it would have been plain to any one but John, whose
+ailment had taken a fatal turn and had progressed to the
+ante-mortem state of blindness. By the help of the stimulating hope
+and fear which Dorothy's letter had brought to him, he had planned
+an elaborate conversation, and had determined to speak decisive
+words. He hoped to receive from her the answer for which he longed;
+but his heart and breath seemed to have conspired with Dorothy to
+make intercommunication troublesome.</p>
+<p>"I received your gracious letter, Mistress Vernon, and I
+<a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>thank you. I was&mdash;I
+am&mdash;that is, my thanks are more than I&mdash;I can
+express."</p>
+<p>"So I see," said the girl, half amused at John's condition,
+although it was but little worse than her own. This universal
+malady, love, never takes its blind form in women. It opens their
+eyes. Under its influence they can see the truth through a
+millstone. The girl's heart jumped with joy when she saw John's
+truth-telling manner, and composure quickly came to her relief,
+though she still feigned confusion because she wished him to see
+the truth in her as she had seen it in him. She well knew of his
+blindness, and had almost begun to fear lest she would eventually
+be compelled to tell him in words that which she so ardently wished
+him to see for himself. She thought John was the blindest of his
+sex; but she was, to a certain extent, mistaken. John was blind, as
+you already know, but his reticence was not all due to a lack of
+sight. He at least had reached the condition of a well-developed
+hope. He hoped the girl cared for him. He would have fully believed
+it had it not been for the difficulty he found in convincing
+himself that a goddess like Dorothy could care for a man so
+unworthy as himself. Most modest persons are self-respecting. That
+was John's condition; he was not vain.</p>
+<p>"Jennie brought me your letter also," said the girl, laughing
+because she was happy, though her merriment somewhat disconcerted
+John.</p>
+<p>"It told me," she continued, "that you would come. I have it
+here in my pocket&mdash;and&mdash;and the gate key." She determined
+this time to introduce the key early in the engagement. "But I
+feared you might not want to come." The cunning, the boldness, and
+the humility of the serpent was in the girl. "That is, you know, I
+thought&mdash;perhaps&mdash;that is, I feared that you might not
+come. Your father might have been ill, or you might have changed
+your mind after you wrote the letter."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a>No," answered John, whose
+face was beaming with joy. Here, truly, was a goddess who could
+make the blind to see if she were but given a little time.</p>
+<p>"Do you mean that your father is not ill, or that you did not
+change your mind?" asked Dorothy, whose face, as it should have
+been after such a speech, was bent low while she struggled with the
+great iron key, entangled in the pocket of her gown.</p>
+<p>"I mean that I have not changed my mind," said John, who felt
+that the time to speak had come. "There has been no change in me
+other than a new access of eagerness with every hour, and a new
+longing to see you and to hear your voice."</p>
+<p>Dorothy felt a great thrill pass through her breast, and she
+knew that the reward of her labors was at hand.</p>
+<p>"Certainly," said the self-complacent girl, hardly conscious of
+her words, so great was the joyous tumult in her heart, "I should
+have known."</p>
+<p>There was another pause devoted to the key, with bended head.
+"But&mdash;but you might have changed your mind," she continued,
+"and I might not have known it, for, you see, I did not know your
+former state of mind; you have never told me." Her tongue had led
+her further than she had intended to go, and she blushed painfully,
+and I think, considering her words, appropriately.</p>
+<p>"My letter told you my state of mind. At least it told you of my
+intention to come. I&mdash;I fear that I do not understand you,"
+said John.</p>
+<p>"I mean," she replied, with a saucy, fluttering little laugh as
+she looked up from her conflict with the entangled key, "I mean
+that&mdash;that you don't know what I mean. But here is the key at
+last, and&mdash;and&mdash;you may, if you wish, come to this side
+of the gate."</p>
+<p>She stepped forward to unlock the gate with an air that seemed
+to say, "Now, John, you shall have a clear field."<a name=
+"Page_146" id="Page_146"></a></p>
+<p>But to her surprise she found that the lock had been removed.
+That discovery brought back to John his wandering wits.</p>
+<p>"Mistress Dorothy," he cried in tones of alarm, "I must not
+remain here. We are suspected and are sure to be discovered. Your
+father has set a trap for us. I care not for myself, but I would
+not bring upon you the trouble and distress which would surely
+follow discovery. Let us quickly choose another place and time of
+meeting. I pray you, sweet lady, meet me to-morrow at this time
+near the white cliff back of Lathkil mill. I have that to say to
+you which is the very blood of my heart. I must now leave you at
+once."</p>
+<p>He took her hand, and kissing it, started to leave through the
+open gate.</p>
+<p>The girl caught his arm to detain him. "Say it now, John, say it
+now. I have dreamed of it by night and by day. You know all, and I
+know all, and I long to hear from your lips the words that will
+break down all barriers between us." She had been carried away by
+the mad onrush of her passion. She was the iron, the seed, the
+cloud, and the rain, and she spoke because she could not help
+it.</p>
+<p>"I will speak, Dorothy, God help me! God help me, I will speak!"
+said John, as he caught the girl to his breast in a fierce embrace.
+"I love you, I love you! God Himself only knows how deeply, how
+passionately! I do not know. I cannot fathom its depths. With all
+my heart and soul, with every drop of blood that pulses through my
+veins, I love you&mdash;I adore you. Give me your lips, my beauty,
+my Aphrodite, my queen!"</p>
+<p>"There&mdash;they&mdash;are, John,&mdash;there they are. They
+are&mdash;all yours&mdash;all yours&mdash;now! Oh, God! my blood is
+on fire." She buried her face on his breast for shame, that he
+might not see her burning eyes and her scarlet <a name="Page_147"
+id="Page_147"></a>cheeks. Then after a time she cared not what he
+saw, and she lifted her lips to his, a voluntary offering. The
+supreme emotions of the moment drove all other consciousness from
+their souls.</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Dorothy, that you will be my wife. Tell me, tell me!"
+cried John.</p>
+<p>"I will, I will, oh, how gladly, how gladly!"</p>
+<p>"Tell me that no power on earth can force you to marry Lord
+Stanley. Tell me that you will marry no man but me; that you will
+wait&mdash;wait for me till&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I will marry no man but you, John, no man but you," said the
+girl, whisperingly. Her head was thrown back from his breast that
+she might look into his eyes, and that he might see the truth in
+hers. "I am all yours. But oh, John, I cannot wait&mdash;I cannot!
+Do not ask me to wait. It would kill me. I wear the golden heart
+you gave me, John," she continued, as she nestled closer in his
+embrace. "I wear the golden heart always. It is never from me, even
+for one little moment. I bear it always upon my heart, John. Here
+it is." She drew from her breast the golden heart and kissed it.
+Then she pressed it to his lips, and said: "I kiss it twenty times
+in the day and in the night; ay, a hundred times. I do not know how
+often; but now I kiss your real heart, John," and she kissed his
+breast, and then stood tiptoe to lift her lips to his.</p>
+<p>There was no room left now in John's heart for doubt that
+Dorothy Vernon was his own forever and forever. She had convinced
+him beyond the reach of fear or doubt. John forgot the lockless
+gate. He forgot everything but Dorothy, and cruel time passed with
+a rapidity of which they were unconscious. They were, however,
+brought back to consciousness by hearing a long blast from the
+forester's bugle, and John immediately retreated through the
+gate.</p>
+<p>Dorothy then closed the gate and hastily seated herself <a name=
+"Page_148" id="Page_148"></a>upon a stone bench against the Haddon
+side of the wall. She quickly assumed an attitude of listless
+repose, and Dolcy, who was nibbling at the grass near by, doubtless
+supposed that her mistress had come to Bowling Green Gate to rest
+because it was a secluded place, and because she desired to be
+alone.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's attitude was not assumed one moment too soon, for
+hardly was her gown arranged with due regard to carelessness when
+Sir George's form rose above the crest of Bowling Green Hill. In a
+few minutes he was standing in front of his daughter, red with
+anger. Dorothy's face wore a look of calm innocence, which I
+believe would have deceived Solomon himself, notwithstanding that
+great man's experience with the sex. It did more to throw Sir
+George off the scent than any words the girl could have spoken.</p>
+<p>"Who has been with you?" demanded Sir George, angrily.</p>
+<p>"When, father?" queried the girl, listlessly resting her head
+against the wall.</p>
+<p>"Now, this afternoon. Who has been with you? Ben Shaw said that
+a man was here. He said that he saw a man with you less than half
+an hour since."</p>
+<p>That piece of information was startling to Dorothy, but no trace
+of surprise was visible in her manner or in her voice. She turned
+listlessly and brushed a dry leaf from her gown. Then she looked
+calmly up into her father's face and said laconically, but to the
+point:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Ben lied." To herself she said, "Ben shall also suffer."</p>
+<p>"I do not believe that Ben lied," said Sir George. "I, myself,
+saw a man go away from here."</p>
+<p>That was crowding the girl into close quarters, but she did not
+flinch.</p>
+<p>"Which way did he go, father?" she asked, with a fine show of
+carelessness in her manner, but with a feeling of <a name=
+"Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>excruciating fear in her breast. She
+well knew the wisdom of the maxim, "Never confess."</p>
+<p>"He went northward," answered Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Inside the wall?" asked Dorothy, beginning again to breathe
+freely, for she knew that John had ridden southward.</p>
+<p>"Inside the wall, of course," her father replied. "Do you
+suppose I could see him through the stone wall? One should be able
+to see through a stone wall to keep good watch on you."</p>
+<p>"You might have thought you saw him through the wall," answered
+the girl. "I sometimes think of late, father, that you are losing
+your mind. You drink too much brandy, my dear father. Oh, wouldn't
+it be dreadful if you were to lose your mind?" She rose as she
+spoke, and going to her father began to stroke him gently with her
+hand. She looked into his face with real affection; for when she
+deceived him, she loved him best as a partial atonement for her
+ill-doing.</p>
+<p>"Wouldn't that be dreadful?" she continued, while Sir George
+stood lost in bewilderment. "Wouldn't that be dreadful for my dear
+old father to lose his mind? But I really think it must be coming
+to pass. A great change has of late come over you, father. You have
+for the first time in your life been unkind to me and suspicious.
+Father, do you realize that you insult your daughter when you
+accuse her of having been in this secluded place with a man? You
+would punish another for speaking so against my fair name."</p>
+<p>"But, Dorothy," Sir George replied, feeling as if he were in the
+wrong, "Ben Shaw said that he saw you here with a man, and I saw a
+man pass toward Bakewell. Who was he? I command you to tell me his
+name."</p>
+<p>Dorothy knew that her father must have seen a man near the gate,
+but who he was she could not imagine. John surely was beyond the
+wall and well out of sight on <a name="Page_150" id=
+"Page_150"></a>his way to Rowsley before her father reached the
+crest of Bowling Green Hill. But it was evident that Shaw had seen
+John. Evidence that a man had been at the gate was too strong to be
+successfully contradicted. Facts that cannot be successfully
+contradicted had better be frankly admitted. Dorothy sought through
+her mind for an admission that would not admit, and soon hit upon a
+plan which, shrewd as it seemed to be, soon brought her to
+grief.</p>
+<p>"Perhaps you saw Cousin Malcolm," said Dorothy, as the result of
+her mental search. "He passed here a little time since and stopped
+for a moment to talk. Perhaps you saw Malcolm, father. You would
+not find fault with me because he was here, would you?"</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, my daughter," said Sir George, hesitatingly, "are you
+telling me the truth?"</p>
+<p>Then the fair girl lifted up her beautiful head, and standing
+erect at her full height (it pains me to tell you this) said:
+"Father, I am a Vernon. I would not lie."</p>
+<p>Her manner was so truthlike that Sir George was almost
+convinced.</p>
+<p>He said, "I believe you."</p>
+<p>Her father's confidence touched her keenly; but not to the point
+of repentance, I hardly need say.</p>
+<p>Dorothy then grew anxious to return to the Hall that she might
+prepare me to answer whatever idle questions her father should put
+to me. She took Dolcy's rein, and leading the mare with one hand
+while she rested the other upon her father's arm, walked gayly
+across Bowling Green down to the Hall, very happy because of her
+lucky escape.</p>
+<p>But a lie is always full of latent retribution.</p>
+<p>I was sitting in the kitchen, dreamily watching the huge fire
+when Dorothy and her father entered.</p>
+<p>"Ah, Malcolm, are you here?" asked Sir George in a <a name=
+"Page_151" id="Page_151"></a>peculiar tone of surprise for which I
+could see no reason.</p>
+<p>"I thought you were walking."</p>
+<p>I was smoking. I took my pipe from my lips and said, "No, I am
+helping old Bess and Jennie with supper."</p>
+<p>"Have you not been walking?" asked Sir George.</p>
+<p>There was an odd expression on his face when I looked up to him,
+and I was surprised at his persistent inquiry concerning so trivial
+a matter. But Sir George's expression, agitated as it was, still
+was calm when compared with that of Dorothy, who stood a step or
+two behind her father. Not only was her face expressive, but her
+hands, her feet, her whole body were convulsed in an effort to
+express something which, for the life of me, I could not
+understand. Her wonderful eyes wore an expression, only too
+readable, of terror and pleading. She moved her hands rapidly and
+stamped her foot. During this pantomime she was forming words with
+her lips and nodding her head affirmatively. Her efforts at
+expression were lost upon me, and I could only respond with a blank
+stare of astonishment. The expression on my face caused Sir George
+to turn in the direction of my gaze, and he did so just in time to
+catch Dorothy in the midst of a mighty pantomimic effort at mute
+communication.</p>
+<p>"Why in the devil's name are you making those grimaces?"
+demanded Sir George.</p>
+<p>"I wasn't making grimaces&mdash;I&mdash;I think I was about to
+sneeze," replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Do you think I am blind?" stormed Sir George. "Perhaps I am
+losing my mind? You are trying to tell Malcolm to say that he was
+with you at Bowling Green Gate. Losing my mind, am I? Damme, I'll
+show you that if I am losing my mind I have not lost my authority
+in my own house."</p>
+<p>"Now, father, what is all this storming about?" asked the girl,
+coaxingly, as she boldly put her hands upon her <a name="Page_152"
+id="Page_152"></a>father's shoulders and turned her face in all its
+wondrous beauty and childish innocence of expression up to his.
+"Ask Malcolm to tell you whatever you wish to know." She was sure
+that her father had told me what she had been so anxious to
+communicate, and she felt certain that I would not betray her. She
+knew that I, whose only virtues were that I loved my friend and
+despised a lie, would willingly bear false witness for her sake.
+She was right. I had caught the truth of the situation from Sir
+George, and I quickly determined to perjure my soul, if need be, to
+help Dorothy. I cannot describe the influence this girl at times
+exerted over me. When under its spell I seemed to be a creature of
+her will, and my power to act voluntarily was paralyzed by a
+strange force emanating from her marvellous vitality. I cannot
+describe it. I tell you only the incontestable fact, and you may
+make out of it whatever you can. I shall again in the course of
+this history have occasion to speak of Dorothy's strange power, and
+how it was exerted over no less a person than Queen Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>"Ask Malcolm," repeated the girl, leaning coaxingly upon her
+father's breast. But I was saved from uttering the lie I was
+willing to tell; for, in place of asking me, as his daughter had
+desired, Sir George demanded excitedly of Dorothy, "What have you
+in your pocket that strikes against my knee?"</p>
+<p>"Mother of Heaven!" exclaimed Dorothy in a whisper, quickly
+stepping back from her father and slowly lifting her skirt while
+she reached toward her pocket. Her manner was that of one almost
+bereft of consciousness by sudden fright, and an expression of
+helplessness came over her face which filled my heart with pity.
+She stood during a long tedious moment holding with one hand the
+uplifted skirt, while with the other she clutched the key in her
+pocket.</p>
+<p>"What have you in your pocket?" demanded Sir George <a name=
+"Page_153" id="Page_153"></a>with a terrible oath. "Bring it out,
+girl. Bring it out, I tell you." Dorothy started to run from the
+room, but her father caught her by the wrist and violently drew her
+to him. "Bring it out, huzzy; it's the key to Bowling Green Gate.
+Ah, I've lost my mind, have I? Blood of Christ! I have not lost my
+mind yet, but I soon shall lose it at this rate," and he certainly
+looked as if he would.</p>
+<p>Poor frightened Dorothy was trying to take the key from her
+pocket, but she was too slow to please her angry father, so he
+grasped the gown and tore a great rent whereby the pocket was
+opened from top to bottom. Dorothy still held the key in her hand,
+but upon the floor lay a piece of white paper which had fallen out
+through the rent Sir George had made in the gown. He divined the
+truth as if by inspiration. The note, he felt sure, was from
+Dorothy's unknown lover. He did not move nor speak for a time, and
+she stood as if paralyzed by fear. She slowly turned her face from
+her father to me, and in a low tone spoke my name, "Malcolm." Her
+voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but so piteous a cry for
+help I have never heard from human lips. Then she stooped,
+intending to take the letter from the floor, and Sir George drew
+back his arm as if he would strike her with his clenched hand. She
+recoiled from him in terror, and he took up the letter, unfolded
+it, and began to read:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Most gracious lady, I thank you for your letter, and with God's
+help I will meet you at Bowling Green Gate&mdash;." The girl could
+endure no more. She sprang with a scream toward her father and
+tried to snatch the letter. Sir George drew back, holding firmly to
+the paper. She followed him frantically, not to be thrown off, and
+succeeded in clutching the letter. Sir George violently thrust her
+from him. In the scuffle that ensued the letter was torn, and the
+lower portion of the sheet remained in Dorothy's hand. She ran
+<a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>to the fireplace, intending to
+thrust the fragment into the fire, but she feared that her father
+might rescue it from the ashes. She glanced at the piece of paper,
+and saw that the part she had succeeded in snatching from her
+father bore John's name. Sir George strode hurriedly across the
+room toward her and she ran to me.</p>
+<p>"Malcolm! Malcolm!" she cried in terror. The cry was like a
+shriek. Then I saw her put the paper in her mouth. When she reached
+me she threw herself upon my breast and clung to me with her arms
+about my neck. She trembled as a single leaf among the thousands
+that deck a full-leaved tree may tremble upon a still day, moved by
+a convulsive force within itself. While she clung to me her
+glorious bust rose and fell piteously, and her wondrous eyes
+dilated and shone with a marvellous light. The expression was the
+output of her godlike vitality, strung to its greatest tension. Her
+face was pale, but terror dominated all the emotions it expressed.
+Her fear, however, was not for herself. The girl, who would have
+snapped her fingers at death, saw in the discovery which her father
+was trying to make, loss to her of more than life. That which she
+had possessed for less than one brief hour was about to be taken
+from her. She had not enjoyed even one little moment alone in which
+to brood her new-found love, and to caress the sweet thought of it.
+The girl had but a brief instant of rest in my arms till Sir George
+dragged her from me by his terrible strength.</p>
+<p>"Where is the paper?" he cried in rage. "It contained the
+fellow's signature."</p>
+<p>"I have swallowed it, father, and you must cut me open to find
+it. Doubtless that would be a pleasant task for you," answered
+Dorothy, who was comparatively calm now that she knew her father
+could not discover John's name. I believe Sir George in his frenzy
+would have killed the girl had he then learned that the letter was
+from John Manners.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a>I command you to tell me
+this fellow's name," said Sir George, with a calmness born of
+tempest. Dorothy did not answer, and Sir George continued "I now
+understand how you came by the golden heart. You lied to me and
+told me that Malcolm had given it to you. Lie upon lie. In God's
+name I swear that I would rather father a thief than a liar."</p>
+<p>"I did give her the heart, Sir George," I said, interrupting
+him. "It was my mother's." I had caught the lying infection. But
+Sir George, in his violence, was a person to incite lies. He of
+course had good cause for his anger. Dorothy had lied to him. Of
+that there could be no doubt; but her deception was provoked by his
+own conduct and by the masterful love that had come upon her. I
+truly believe that prior to the time of her meeting with Manners
+she had never spoken an untruth, nor since that time I also
+believe, except when driven to do so by the same motive. Dorothy
+was not a thief, but I am sure she would have stolen for the sake
+of her lover. She was gentle and tender to a degree that only a
+woman can attain; but I believe she would have done murder in cold
+blood for the sake of her love. Some few women there are in whose
+hearts God has placed so great an ocean of love that when it
+reaches its flood all other attributes of heart and soul and mind
+are ingulfed in its mighty flow. Of this rare class was
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"God is love," says the Book.</p>
+<p>"The universe is God," says the philosopher. "Therefore," as the
+mathematician would say, "love is the universe." To that
+proposition Dorothy was a corollary.</p>
+<p>The servants were standing open-eyed about us in the
+kitchen.</p>
+<p>"Let us go to the dining hall," I suggested. Sir George led the
+way by the stone steps to the screens, and from the screens to the
+small banquet hail, and I followed, leading Dorothy by the
+hand.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a>The moment of respite from
+her father's furious attack gave her time in which to collect her
+scattered senses.</p>
+<p>When we reached the banquet hall, and after I had closed the
+door, Sir George turned upon his daughter, and with oath upon oath
+demanded to know the name of her lover. Dorothy stood looking to
+the floor and said nothing. Sir George strode furiously to and fro
+across the room.</p>
+<p>"Curse the day you were born, you wanton huzzy. Curse you! curse
+you! Tell me the name of the man who wrote this letter," he cried,
+holding toward her the fragment of paper. "Tell me his name or, I
+swear it before God, I swear it upon my knighthood, I will have you
+flogged in the upper court till you bleed. I would do it if you
+were fifty times my child."</p>
+<p>Then Dorothy awakened. The girl was herself again. Now it was
+only for herself she had to fear.</p>
+<p>Her heart kept saying, "This for his sake, this for his sake."
+Out of her love came fortitude, and out of her fortitude came
+action.</p>
+<p>Her father's oath had hardly been spoken till the girl tore her
+bodice from her shoulders. She threw the garment to the floor and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I am ready for the whip, I am ready. Who is to do the deed,
+father, you or the butcher? It must be done. You have sworn it, and
+I swear before God and by my maidenhood that I will not tell you
+the name of the man who wrote the letter. I love him, and before I
+will tell you his name or forego his love for me, or before I will
+abate one jot or tittle of my love for him, I will gladly die by
+the whip in your hand. I am ready for the whip, father. I am ready.
+Let us have it over quickly."</p>
+<p>The girl, whose shoulders were bare, took a few steps toward the
+door leading to the upper court, but Sir George did not move. I was
+deeply affected by the terrible scene, and I determined to prevent
+the flogging if to do so should <a name="Page_157" id=
+"Page_157"></a>cost Sir George's life at my hands. I would have
+killed him ere he should have laid a single lash of the whip upon
+Dorothy's back.</p>
+<p>"Father," continued the terrible girl, "are you not going to
+flog me? Remember your oaths. Surely you would not be forsworn
+before God and upon your knighthood. A forsworn Christian? A
+forsworn knight? A forsworn Vernon? The lash, father, the
+lash&mdash;I am eager for it."</p>
+<p>Sir George stood in silence, and Dorothy continued to move
+toward the door. Her face was turned backward over her shoulder to
+her father, and she whispered the words, "Forsworn, forsworn,
+forsworn!"</p>
+<p>As she put her hand on the latch the piteous old man held forth
+his arms toward her and in a wail of agony cried: "Doll! Doll! My
+daughter! My child! God help me!"</p>
+<p>He covered his face with his hands, his great form shook for a
+moment as the tree trembles before the fall, and he fell prone to
+the floor sobbing forth the anguish of which his soul was full.</p>
+<p>In an instant Dorothy was by her father's side holding his head
+upon her lap. She covered his face with her kisses, and while the
+tears streamed from her eyes she spoke incoherent words of love and
+repentance.</p>
+<p>"I will tell you all, father; I will tell you all. I will give
+him up; I will see him never again. I will try not to love him. Oh,
+father, forgive me, forgive me. I will never again deceive you so
+long as I live."</p>
+<p>Truly the fate of an overoath is that it shall be broken. When
+one swears to do too much, one performs too little.</p>
+<p>I helped Sir George rise to his feet.</p>
+<p>Dorothy, full of tenderness and in tears, tried to take his
+hand, but he repulsed her rudely, and uttering terrible oaths
+coupled with her name quitted the room with tottering steps.</p>
+<p>When her father had gone Dorothy stood in revery for <a name=
+"Page_158" id="Page_158"></a>a little time, and then looking toward
+the door through which her father had just passed, she spoke as if
+to herself: "He does not know. How fortunate!"</p>
+<p>"But you said you would tell him," I suggested. "You said you
+would give him up."</p>
+<p>Dorothy was in a deep revery. She took her bodice from the floor
+and mechanically put it on.</p>
+<p>"I know I said I would tell my father, and I offered to
+give&mdash;give him up," she replied; "but I will do neither.
+Father would not meet my love with love. He would not forgive me,
+nor would he accept my repentance when it was he who should have
+repented. I was alarmed and grieved for father's sake when I said
+that I would tell him about&mdash;about John, and would give him
+up." She was silent and thoughtful for a little time. "Give him
+up?" she cried defiantly. "No, not for my soul; not for ten
+thousand thousand souls. When my father refused my love, he threw
+away the only opportunity he shall ever have to learn from me
+John's name. That I swear, and I shall never be forsworn. I asked
+father's forgiveness when he should have begged for mine. Whip me
+in the courtyard, would he, till I should bleed! Yet I was willing
+to forgive him, and he would not accept my forgiveness. I was
+willing to forego John, who is more than life to me; but my father
+would not accept my sacrifice. Truly will I never be so great a
+fool the second time. Malcolm, I will not remain here to be the
+victim of another insult such as my father put upon me to-day.
+There is no law, human or divine, that gives to a parent the right
+to treat his daughter as my father has used me. Before this day my
+conscience smote me when I deceived him, and I suffered pain if I
+but thought of my father. But now, thanks to his cruelty, I may be
+happy without remorse. Malcolm, if you betray me, I will&mdash;I
+will kill you if I must follow you over the world to do it."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a>Do you think that I
+deserve that threat from you, Dorothy?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"No, no, my dear friend, forgive me. I trust you," and she
+caught up my hand and kissed it gently.</p>
+<p>Dorothy and I remained in the banquet hail, seated upon the
+stone bench under the blazoned window.</p>
+<p>Soon Sir George returned, closely followed by two men, one of
+whom bore manacles such as were used to secure prisoners in the
+dungeon. Sir George did not speak. He turned to the men and
+motioned with his hand toward Dorothy. I sprang to my feet,
+intending to interfere by force, if need be, to prevent the
+outrage; but before I could speak Lady Crawford hurriedly entered
+the hall and ran to Sir George's side.</p>
+<p>"Brother," she said, "old Bess has just told me that you have
+given orders for Dorothy's confinement in the dungeon. I could not
+believe Bess; but these men with irons lead me to suspect that you
+really intend.&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Do not interfere in affairs that do not concern you," replied
+Sir George, sullenly.</p>
+<p>"But this does concern me greatly," said Aunt Dorothy, "and if
+you send Doll to the dungeon, Madge and I will leave your house and
+will proclaim your act to all England."</p>
+<p>"The girl has disobeyed me and has lied to me, and&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I care not what she has done, I shall leave your house and
+disown you for my brother if you perpetrate this outrage upon my
+niece. She is dear to me as if she were my own child. Have I not
+brought her up since babyhood? If you carry out this order,
+brother, I will leave Haddon Hall forever."</p>
+<p>"And I'll go with her," cried old Bess, who stood at the door of
+the screens.</p>
+<p>"And I, too," said Dawson, who was one of the men who had
+entered with Sir George.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a>And I," cried the other
+man, throwing the manacles to the floor, "I will leave your
+service."</p>
+<p>Sir George took up the manacles and moved toward Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"You may all go, every cursed one of you. I rule my own house,
+and I will have no rebels in it. When I have finished with this
+perverse wench, I'll not wait for you to go. I'll drive you all out
+and you may go to&mdash;"</p>
+<p>He was approaching Dorothy, but I stepped in front of him.</p>
+<p>"This must not be, Sir George," said I, sternly. "I shall not
+leave Haddon Hall, and I fear you not. I shall remain here to
+protect your daughter and you from your own violence. You cannot
+put me out of Haddon Hall; I will not go."</p>
+<p>"Why cannot I put you out of Haddon Hail?" retorted Sir George,
+whose rage by that time was frightful to behold.</p>
+<p>"Because, sir, I am a better man and a better swordsman than you
+are, and because you have not on all your estates a servant nor a
+retainer who will not join me against you when I tell them the
+cause I champion."</p>
+<p>Dawson and his fellow stepped to my side significantly, and Sir
+George raised the iron manacles as if intending to strike me. I did
+not move. At the same moment Madge entered the room.</p>
+<p>"Where is my uncle?" she asked.</p>
+<p>Old Bess led her to Sir George. She spoke not a word, but placed
+her arms gently about his neck and drew his face down to hers. Then
+she kissed him softly upon the lips and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My uncle has never in all his life spoken in aught but kindness
+to me, and now I beg him to be kind to Dorothy."</p>
+<p>The heavy manacles fell clanking to the floor. Sir George placed
+his hand caressingly upon Madge's head and turned from Dorothy.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a>Lady Crawford then
+approached her brother and put her hand upon his arm,
+saying:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Come with me, George, that I may speak to you in private."</p>
+<p>She moved toward the door by which she had entered, and Madge
+quietly took her uncle's hand and led him after Lady Crawford.
+Within five minutes Sir George, Aunt Dorothy, and Madge returned to
+the room.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy?" said Madge in a low voice.</p>
+<p>"Here I am, Madge," murmured Dorothy, who was sitting on the
+bench by the blazoned window. Madge walked gropingly over to her
+cousin and sat by her side, taking her hand. Then Lady Crawford
+spoke to Dorothy:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Your father wishes me to say that you must go to your
+apartments in Entrance Tower, and that you shall not leave them
+without his consent. He also insists that I say to you if you make
+resistance or objection to this decree, or if you attempt to
+escape, he will cause you to be manacled and confined in the
+dungeon, and that no persuasion upon our part will lead him from
+his purpose."</p>
+<p>"Which shall it be?" asked Sir George, directing his question to
+Lady Crawford.</p>
+<p>Dorothy lifted her eyebrows, bit the corner of her lip, shrugged
+her shoulders, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Indeed, it makes no difference to me where you send me, father;
+I am willing to do whatever will give you the greatest happiness.
+If you consult my wishes, you will have me whipped in the courtyard
+till I bleed. I should enjoy that more than anything else you can
+do. Ah, how tender is the love of a father! It passeth
+understanding."</p>
+<p>"Come to your apartments, Dorothy," said Lady Crawford, anxious
+to separate the belligerents. "I have given your father my word of
+honor that I will guard you and will keep you prisoner in your
+rooms. Do you not pity me? I gave my promise only to save you from
+the <a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a>dungeon, and painful as
+the task will be, I will keep my word to your father."</p>
+<p>"Which shall it be, father?" asked Dorothy. "You shall finish
+the task you began. I shall not help you in your good work by
+making choice. You shall choose my place of imprisonment. Where
+shall it be? Shall I go to my rooms or to the dungeon?"</p>
+<p>"Go to your rooms," answered Sir George, "and let me never
+see&mdash;" but Sir George did not finish the sentence. He
+hurriedly left the hall, and Dorothy cheerfully went to
+imprisonment in Entrance Tower.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><a name="Page_163"
+id="Page_163"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h2>MALCOLM No. 2</h2>
+<p>Sir George had done a bad day's work. He had hardened Dorothy's
+heart against himself and had made it more tender toward John.
+Since her father had treated her so cruelly, she felt she was at
+liberty to give her heart to John without stint. So when once she
+was alone in her room the flood-gates of her heart were opened, and
+she poured forth the ineffable tenderness and the passionate
+longings with which she was filled. With solitude came the memory
+of John's words and John's kisses. She recalled every movement,
+every word, every tone, every sensation. She gave her soul
+unbridled license to feast with joyous ecstasy upon the thrilling
+memories. All thoughts of her father's cruelty were drowned in a
+sea of bliss. She forgot him. In truth, she forgot everything but
+her love and her lover. That evening, after she had assisted Madge
+to prepare for bed, as was her custom, Dorothy stood before her
+mirror making her toilet for the night. In the flood of her newly
+found ecstasy she soon forgot that Madge was in the room.</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood before her mirror with her face near to its
+polished surface, that she might scrutinize every feature, and, if
+possible, verify John's words.</p>
+<p>"He called me 'my beauty' twice," she thought, "and 'my
+Aphrodite' once." Then her thoughts grew into unconscious words,
+and she spoke aloud:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a>I wish he could see me
+now." And she blushed at the thought, as she should have done. "He
+acted as if he meant all he said," she thought. "I know he meant
+it. I trust him entirely. But if he should change? Holy Mother, I
+believe I should die. But I do believe him. He would not lie, even
+though he is not a Vernon."</p>
+<p>With thoughts of the scene between herself and her father at the
+gate, there came a low laugh, half of amusement, half of
+contentment, and the laugh meant a great deal that was to be
+regretted; it showed a sad change in Dorothy's heart. But yesterday
+the memory of her deceit would have filled her with grief. To-night
+she laughed at it. Ah, Sir George! Pitiable old man! While your
+daughter laughs, you sigh and groan and moan, and your heart aches
+with pain and impotent rage. Even drink fails to bring comfort to
+you. I say impotent rage, because Dorothy is out of your reach, and
+as surely as the sun rises in the east she is lost to you forever.
+The years of protection and tender love which you have given to her
+go for nothing. Now comes the son of your mortal enemy, and you are
+but an obstruction in her path. Your existence is forgotten while
+she revels in the memory of his words, his embraces, and his lips.
+She laughs while you suffer, in obedience to the fate that Heaven
+has decreed for those who bring children into this world.</p>
+<p>Who is to blame for the pitiable mite which children give in
+return for a parent's flood of love? I do not know, but of this I
+am sure: if parents would cease to feel that they own their
+children in common with their horses, their estates, and their
+cattle; if they would not, as many do in varying degrees, treat
+their children as their property, the return of love would be far
+more adequate than it is.</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood before her mirror plaiting her hair. Her head was
+turned backward a little to one side that she <a name="Page_165"
+id="Page_165"></a>might more easily reach the great red golden
+skein. In that entrancing attitude the reflection of the nether lip
+of which John had spoken so fondly came distinctly to Dorothy's
+notice. She paused in the braiding of her hair and held her face
+close to the mirror that she might inspect the lip, whose beauty
+John had so ardently admired. She turned her face from one side to
+the other that she might view it from all points, and then she
+thrust it forward with a pouting movement that would have set the
+soul of a mummy pulsing if he had ever been a man. She stood for a
+moment in contemplation of the full red lip, and then resting her
+hands upon the top of the mirror table leaned forward and kissed
+its reflected image.</p>
+<p>Again forgetfulness fell upon her and her thoughts grew into
+words.</p>
+<p>"He was surely right concerning my lower lip," she said,
+speaking to herself. Then without the least apparent relevance, "He
+had been smoking." Again her words broke her revery, and she took
+up the unfinished braid of hair. When she did so, she caught a
+glimpse of her arm which was as perfectly rounded as the fairest
+marble of Phidias. She stretched the arm to its full length that
+the mirror might reflect its entire beauty. Again she thought
+aloud: "I wish he could see my arm. Perhaps some day&mdash;" But
+the words ceased, and in their place came a flush that spread from
+her hair to her full white throat, and she quickly turned the
+mirror away so that even it should not behold her beauty.</p>
+<p>You see after all is told Dorothy was modest.</p>
+<p>She finished her toilet without the aid of her mirror; but
+before she extinguished the candle she stole one more fleeting
+glance at its polished surface, and again came the thought,
+"Perhaps some day&mdash;" Then she covered the candle, and amid
+enfolding darkness lay down beside Madge, full of thoughts and
+sensations that made her <a name="Page_166" id=
+"Page_166"></a>tremble; for they were strange to her, and she knew
+not what they meant.</p>
+<p>Dorothy thought that Madge was asleep, but after a few minutes
+the latter said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Dorothy, who was on fire?"</p>
+<p>"Who was on fire?" asked Dorothy in surprise. "What do you mean,
+Madge?"</p>
+<p>"I hope they have not been trying to burn any one," said
+Madge.</p>
+<p>"What do you mean?" again asked Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"You said 'He had been smoking,'" responded Madge.</p>
+<p>"Oh," laughed Dorothy, "that is too comical. Of course not, dear
+one. I was speaking of&mdash;of a man who had been smoking tobacco,
+as Malcolm does." Then she explained the process of tobacco
+smoking.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I know," answered Madge. "I saw Malcolm's pipe. That is, I
+held it in my hands for a moment while he explained to me its
+use."</p>
+<p>Silence ensued for a moment, and Madge again spoke:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"What was it he said about your lower lip, and who was he? I did
+not learn why Uncle George wished to confine you in the dungeon. I
+am so sorry that this trouble has come upon you."</p>
+<p>"Trouble, Madge?" returned Dorothy. "Truly, you do not
+understand. No trouble has come upon me. The greatest happiness of
+my life has come to pass. Don't pity me. Envy me. My happiness is
+so sweet and so great that it frightens me."</p>
+<p>"How can you be happy while your father treats you so cruelly?"
+asked Madge.</p>
+<p>"His conduct makes it possible for my happiness to be complete,"
+returned Dorothy. "If he were kind to me, I should be unhappy, but
+his cruelty leaves me free to be as happy as I may. For my
+imprisonment in this room I care not a farthing. It does not
+trouble me, for when I wish <a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a>to
+see&mdash;see him again, I shall do so. I don't know at this time
+just how I shall effect it; but be sure, sweet one, I shall find a
+way." There was no doubt in Madge's mind that Dorothy would find a
+way.</p>
+<p>"Who is he, Dorothy? You may trust me. Is he the gentleman whom
+we met at Derby-town?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," answered Dorothy, "he is Sir John Manners."</p>
+<p>"Dorothy!" exclaimed Madge in tones of fear.</p>
+<p>"It could not be worse, could it, Madge?" said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Oh, Dorothy!" was the only response.</p>
+<p>"You will not betray me?" asked Dorothy, whose alarm made her
+suspicious.</p>
+<p>"You know whether or not I will betray you," answered Madge.</p>
+<p>"Indeed, I know, else I should not have told you my secret. Oh,
+you should see him, Madge; he is the most beautiful person living.
+The poor soft beauty of the fairest woman grows pale beside him.
+You cannot know how wonderfully beautiful a man may be. You have
+never seen one."</p>
+<p>"Yes, I have seen many men, and I well remember their
+appearance. I was twelve years old, you know, when I lost my
+sight."</p>
+<p>"But, Madge," said Dorothy, out of the fulness of her newly
+acquired knowledge, "a girl of twelve cannot see a man."</p>
+<p>"No woman sees with her eyes the man whom she loves," answered
+Madge, quietly.</p>
+<p>"How does she see him?" queried Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"With her heart."</p>
+<p>"Have you, too, learned that fact?" asked Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Madge hesitated for a moment and murmured "Yes."</p>
+<p>"Who is he, dear one?" whispered Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I may not tell even you, Dorothy," replied Madge,<a name=
+"Page_168" id="Page_168"></a> "because it can come to nothing. The
+love is all on my part."</p>
+<p>Dorothy insisted, but Madge begged her not to ask for her
+secret.</p>
+<p>"Please don't even make a guess concerning him," said Madge. "It
+is my shame and my joy."</p>
+<p>It looked as if this malady which had fallen upon Dorothy were
+like the plague that infects a whole family if one but catch
+it.</p>
+<p>Dorothy, though curious, was generous, and remained content with
+Madge's promise that she should be the first one to hear the sweet
+story if ever the time should come to tell it.</p>
+<p>"When did you see him?" asked Madge, who was more willing to
+receive than to impart intelligence concerning affairs of the
+heart.</p>
+<p>"To-day," answered Dorothy. Then she told Madge about the scenes
+at the gate and described what had happened between her and Sir
+George in the kitchen and banquet hall.</p>
+<p>"How could you tell your father such a falsehood?" asked Madge
+in consternation.</p>
+<p>"It was very easy. You see I had to do it. I never lied until
+recently. But oh, Madge, this is a terrible thing to come upon a
+girl!" "This" was somewhat indefinite, but Madge understood, and
+perhaps it will be clear to you what Dorothy meant. The girl
+continued: "She forgets all else. It will drive her to do anything,
+however wicked. For some strange cause, under its influence she
+does not feel the wrong she does. It acts upon a girl's sense of
+right and wrong as poppy juice acts on pain. Before it came upon me
+in&mdash;in such terrible force, I believe I should have become ill
+had I told my father a falsehood. I might have equivocated, or I
+might have evaded the truth in some slight degree, but I could not
+have told a lie. But now it is as easy as winking."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a>And I fear, Dorothy,"
+responded Madge, "that winking is very easy for you."</p>
+<p>"Yes," answered candid Dorothy with a sigh.</p>
+<p>"It must be a very great evil," said Madge, deploringly.</p>
+<p>"One might well believe so," answered Dorothy, "but it is not.
+One instinctively knows it to be the essence of all that is
+good."</p>
+<p>Madge asked, "Did Sir John tell you that&mdash;that
+he&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Yes," said Dorothy, covering her face even from the flickering
+rays of the rushlight.</p>
+<p>"Did you tell him?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," came in reply from under the coverlet.</p>
+<p>After a short silence Dorothy uncovered her face.</p>
+<p>"Yes," she said boldly, "I told him plainly; nor did I feel
+shame in so doing. It must be that this strange love makes one
+brazen. You, Madge, would die with shame had you sought any man as
+I have sought John. I would not for worlds tell you how bold and
+over-eager I have been."</p>
+<p>"Oh, Dorothy!" was all the answer Madge gave.</p>
+<p>"You would say 'Oh, Dorothy,' many times if you knew all."
+Another pause ensued, after which Madge asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"How did you know he had been smoking?"</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I tasted it," responded Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"How could you taste it? I hope you did not smoke?" returned
+Madge in wonderment.</p>
+<p>Dorothy smothered a little laugh, made two or three vain
+attempts to explain, tenderly put her arms about Madge's neck and
+kissed her.</p>
+<p>"Oh, Dorothy, that certainly was wrong," returned Madge,
+although she had some doubts in her own mind upon the point.</p>
+<p>"Well, if it is wrong," answered Dorothy, sighing, "I don't care
+to live."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a>Dorothy, I fear you are an
+immodest girl," said Madge.</p>
+<p>"I fear I am, but I don't care&mdash;John, John, John!"</p>
+<p>"How came he to speak of your lower lip?" asked Madge. "It
+certainly is very beautiful; but how came he to speak of it?"</p>
+<p>"It was after&mdash;after&mdash;once," responded Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"And your arm," continued remorseless Madge, "how came he to
+speak of it? You surely did not&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"No, no, Madge; I hope you do not think I would show him my arm.
+I have not come to that. I have a poor remnant of modesty left; but
+the Holy Mother only knows how long it will last. No, he did not
+speak of my arm."</p>
+<p>"You spoke of your arm when you were before the mirror,"
+responded Madge, "and you said, 'Perhaps some day&mdash;'"</p>
+<p>"Oh, don't, Madge. Please spare me. I indeed fear I am very
+wicked. I will say a little prayer to the Virgin to-night. She will
+hear me, even If I am wicked; and she will help me to become good
+and modest again."</p>
+<p>The girls went to sleep, and Dorothy dreamed "John, John, John,"
+and slumbered happily.</p>
+<p>That part of the building of Haddon Hall which lies to the
+northward, west of the kitchen, consists of rooms according to the
+following plan:&mdash;</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v170" id="v170"></a> <img src=
+"images/v170.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>The two rooms in Entrance Tower over the great doors at the
+northwest corner of Haddon Hall were occupied by Dorothy and Madge.
+The west room overlooking the Wye was their parlor. The next room
+to the east was their bedroom. The room next their bedroom was
+occupied by Lady Crawford. Beyond that was Sir George's bedroom,
+and east of his room was one occupied by the pages and two
+retainers. To enter Dorothy's apartments one must pass through all
+the other rooms I have mentioned. Her windows were twenty-five feet
+from the ground and were <a name="Page_171" id=
+"Page_171"></a>barred with iron. After Dorothy's sentence of
+imprisonment, Lady Crawford, or some trusted person in her place,
+was always on guard in Aunt Dorothy's room to prevent Dorothy's
+escape, and guards were also stationed in the retainer's room for
+the same purpose. I tell you this that you may understand the
+difficulties Dorothy would have to overcome before she could see
+John, as she declared to Madge she would. But my opinion is that
+there are no limits to the resources of a wilful girl. Dorothy saw
+Manners. The plan she conceived to bring about the desired end was
+so seemingly impossible, and her execution of it was so adroit and
+daring, that I believe it will of itself interest you in the
+telling, aside from the bearing it has upon this history. No sane
+man would have deemed it possible, but this wilful girl carried it
+to fruition. She saw no chance of failure. To her it seemed a
+simple, easy matter. Therefore she said with confidence and truth,
+"I will see him when I wish to."</p>
+<p>Let me tell you of it.</p>
+<p>During Dorothy's imprisonment I spent an hour or two each
+evening with her and Madge at their parlor in the tower. The
+windows of the room, as I have told you, faced westward,
+overlooking the Wye, and disclosed the beautiful, undulating
+scenery of Overhaddon Hill in the distance.</p>
+<p>One afternoon when Madge was not present Dorothy asked me to
+bring her a complete suit of my garments,&mdash;boots, hose,
+trunks, waistcoat, and doublet. I laughed, and asked her what she
+wanted with them, but she refused to tell me. She insisted,
+however, and I promised to fetch the garments to her. Accordingly
+the next evening I delivered the bundle to her hands. Within a week
+she returned them all, saving the boots. Those she kept&mdash;for
+what reason I could not guess.</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford, by command of Sir George, carried in <a name=
+"Page_172" id="Page_172"></a>her reticule the key of the door which
+opened from her own room into Sir George's apartments, and the door
+was always kept locked.</p>
+<p>Dorothy had made several attempts to obtain possession of the
+key, with intent, I believe, of making a bold dash for liberty. But
+Aunt Dorothy, mindful of Sir George's wrath and fearing him above
+all men, acted faithfully her part of gaoler. She smiled, half in
+sadness, when she told me of the girl's simplicity in thinking she
+could hoodwink a person of Lady Crawford's age, experience, and
+wisdom. The old lady took great pride in her own acuteness. The
+distasteful task of gaoler, however, pained good Aunt Dorothy,
+whose simplicity was, in truth, no match for Dorothy's
+love-quickened cunning. But Aunt Dorothy's sense of duty and her
+fear of Sir George impelled her to keep good and conscientious
+guard.</p>
+<p>One afternoon near the hour of sunset I knocked for admission at
+Lady Crawford's door. When I had entered she locked the door
+carefully after me, and replaced the key in the reticule which hung
+at her girdle.</p>
+<p>I exchanged a few words with her Ladyship, and entered Dorothy's
+bedroom, where I left my cloak, hat, and sword. The girls were in
+the parlor. When I left Lady Crawford she again took her chair near
+the candle, put on her great bone-rimmed spectacles, and was soon
+lost to the world in the pages of "Sir Philip de Comynges." The
+dear old lady was near-sighted and was slightly deaf. Dorothy's
+bedroom, like Lady Crawford's apartments, was in deep shadow. In it
+there was no candle.</p>
+<p>My two fair friends were seated in one of the west windows
+watching the sunset. They rose, and each gave me her hand and
+welcomed me with the rare smiles I had learned to expect from them.
+I drew a chair near to the window and we talked and laughed
+together merrily for a few minutes. After a little time Dorothy
+excused her<a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a>self, saying that
+she would leave Madge and me while she went into the bedroom to
+make a change in her apparel.</p>
+<p>Madge and I sat for a few minutes at the window, and I said,
+"You have not been out to-day for exercise."</p>
+<p>I had ridden to Derby with Sir George and had gone directly on
+my return to see my two young friends. Sir George had not
+returned.</p>
+<p>"Will you walk with me about the room?" I asked. My real reason
+for making the suggestion was that I longed to clasp her hand, and
+to feel its velvety touch, since I should lead her if we
+walked.</p>
+<p>She quickly rose in answer to my invitation and offered me her
+hand. As we walked to and fro a deep, sweet contentment filled my
+heart, and I felt that any words my lips could coin would but mar
+the ineffable silence.</p>
+<p>Never shall I forget the soft light of that gloaming as the
+darkening red rays of the sinking sun shot through the panelled
+window across the floor and illumined the tapestry upon the
+opposite wall.</p>
+<p>The tapestries of Haddon Hall are among the most beautiful in
+England, and the picture upon which the sun's rays fell was that of
+a lover kneeling at the feet of his mistress. Madge and I passed
+and repassed the illumined scene, and while it was softly fading
+into shadow a great flood of tender love for the girl whose soft
+hand I held swept over my heart. It was the noblest motive I had
+ever felt.</p>
+<p>Moved by an impulse I could not resist, I stopped in our walk,
+and falling to my knee pressed her hand ardently to my lips. Madge
+did not withdraw her hand, nor did she attempt to raise me. She
+stood in passive silence. The sun's rays had risen as the sun had
+sunk, and the light was falling like a holy radiance from the gates
+of paradise upon the girl's head. I looked upward, and never in my
+eyes had woman's face appeared so fair and saintlike.<a name=
+"Page_174" id="Page_174"></a> She seemed to see me and to feel the
+silent outpouring of my affection. I rose to my feet, and clasping
+both her hands spoke only her name "Madge."</p>
+<p>She answered simply, "Malcolm, is it possible?" And her face,
+illumined by the sunlight and by the love-god, told me all else.
+Then I gently took her to my arms and kissed her lips again and
+again and again, and Madge by no sign nor gesture said me nay. She
+breathed a happy sigh, her head fell upon my breast, and all else
+of good that the world could offer compared with her was dross to
+me.</p>
+<p>We again took our places by the window, since now I might hold
+her hand without an excuse. By the window we sat, speaking little,
+through the happiest hour of my I life. How dearly do I love to
+write about it, and to lave my soul in the sweet aromatic essence
+of its memory. But my rhapsodies must have an end.</p>
+<p>When Dorothy left me with Madge at the window she entered her
+bedroom and quickly arrayed herself in garments which were
+facsimiles of those I had lent her. Then she put her feet into my
+boots and donned my hat and cloak. She drew my gauntleted gloves
+over her hands, buckled my sword to her slim waist, pulled down the
+broad rim of my soft beaver hat over her face, and turned up the
+collar of my cloak. Then she adjusted about her chin and upper lip
+a black chin beard and moustachio, which she had in some manner
+contrived to make, and, in short, prepared to enact the role of
+Malcolm Vernon before her watchful gaoler, Aunt Dorothy.</p>
+<p>While sitting silently with Madge I heard the clanking of my
+sword against the oak floor in Dorothy's bedroom. I supposed she
+had been toying with it and had let it fall. She was much of a
+child, and nothing could escape her curiosity. Then I heard the
+door open into Aunt Dorothy's apartments. I whispered to Madge
+requesting her to remain silently by the window, and then I stepped
+<a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a>softly over to the door
+leading into the bedroom. I noiselessly opened the door and
+entered. From my dark hiding-place in Dorothy's bedroom I witnessed
+a scene in Aunt Dorothy's room which filled me with wonder and
+suppressed laughter. Striding about in the shadow-darkened portions
+of Lady Crawford's apartment was my other self, Malcolm No. 2,
+created from the flesh and substance of Dorothy Vernon.</p>
+<p>The sunlight was yet abroad, though into Lady Crawford's room
+its slanting rays but dimly entered at that hour, and the apartment
+was in deep shadow, save for the light of one flickering candle,
+close to the flame of which the old lady was holding the pages of
+the book she was laboriously perusing.</p>
+<p>The girl held her hand over her mouth trumpet-wise that her
+voice might be deepened, and the swagger with which she strode
+about the room was the most graceful and ludicrous movement I ever
+beheld. I wondered if she thought she was imitating my walk, and I
+vowed that if her step were a copy of mine, I would straightway
+amend my pace.</p>
+<p>"What do you read, Lady Crawford?" said my cloak and hat, in
+tones that certainly were marvellously good imitations of my
+voice.</p>
+<p>"What do you say, Malcolm?" asked the deaf old lady, too gentle
+to show the ill-humor she felt because of the interruption to her
+reading.</p>
+<p>"I asked what do you read?" repeated Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"The 'Chronicle of Sir Philip de Comynges,'" responded Lady
+Crawford. "Have you read it? It is a rare and interesting
+history."</p>
+<p>"Ah, indeed, it is a rare book, a rare book. I have read it many
+times." There was no need for that little fabrication, and it
+nearly brought Dorothy into trouble.</p>
+<p>"What part of the 'Chronicle' do you best like?" asked<a name=
+"Page_176" id="Page_176"></a> Aunt Dorothy, perhaps for lack of
+anything else to say. Here was trouble already for Malcolm No.
+2.</p>
+<p>"That is hard for me to say. I so well like it all.
+Perhaps&mdash;ah&mdash;perhaps I prefer the&mdash;the ah&mdash;the
+middle portion."</p>
+<p>"Ah, you like that part which tells the story of Mary of
+Burgundy," returned Aunt Dorothy. "Oh, Malcolm, I know upon what
+theme you are always thinking&mdash;the ladies, the ladies."</p>
+<p>"Can the fair Lady Crawford chide me for that?" my second self
+responded in a gallant style of which I was really proud. "She who
+has caused so much of that sort of thought surely must know that a
+gentleman's mind cannot be better employed than&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, you are incorrigible. But it is well for a gentleman
+to keep in practice in such matters, even though he have but an old
+lady to practise on."</p>
+<p>"They like it, even if it be only practice, don't they?" said
+Dorothy, full of the spirit of mischief.</p>
+<p>"I thank you for nothing, Sir Malcolm Vernon," retorted Aunt
+Dorothy with a toss of her head. "I surely don't value your
+practice, as you call it, one little farthing's worth."</p>
+<p>But Malcolm No. 2, though mischievously inclined, was much
+quicker of wit than Malcolm No. 1, and she easily extricated
+herself.</p>
+<p>"I meant that gentlemen like it, Lady Crawford."</p>
+<p>"Oh!" replied Lady Crawford, again taking up her book. "I have
+been reading Sir Philip's account of the death of your fair Mary of
+Burgundy. Do you remember the cause of her death?"</p>
+<p>Malcolm No. 2, who had read Sir Philip so many times, was
+compelled to admit that he did not remember the cause of Mary's
+death.</p>
+<p>"You did not read the book with attention," replied Lady<a name=
+"Page_177" id="Page_177"></a> Crawford. "Sir Philip says that Mary
+of Burgundy died from an excess of modesty."</p>
+<p>"That disease will never depopulate England," was the answer
+that came from my garments, much to my chagrin.</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm," exclaimed the old lady, "I never before heard so
+ungallant a speech from your lips."&mdash;"And," thought I, "she
+never will hear its like from me."</p>
+<p>"Modesty," continued Lady Crawford, "may not be valued so highly
+by young women nowadays as it was in the time of my youth,
+but&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I am sure it is not," interrupted Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"But," continued Lady Crawford, "the young women of England are
+modest and seemly in their conduct, and they do not deserve to be
+spoken of in ungallant jest."</p>
+<p>I trembled lest Dorothy should ruin my reputation for
+gallantry.</p>
+<p>"Do you not," said Lady Crawford, "consider Dorothy and Madge to
+be modest, well-behaved maidens?"</p>
+<p>"Madge! Ah, surely she is all that a maiden should be. She is a
+saint, but as to Dorothy&mdash;well, my dear Lady Crawford, I
+predict another end for her than death from modesty. I thank Heaven
+the disease in its mild form does not kill. Dorothy has it mildly,"
+then under her breath, "if at all."</p>
+<p>The girl's sense of humor had vanquished her caution, and for
+the moment it caused her to forget even the reason for her
+disguise.</p>
+<p>"You do not speak fairly of your cousin Dorothy," retorted Lady
+Crawford. "She is a modest girl, and I love her deeply."</p>
+<p>"Her father would not agree with you," replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Perhaps not," responded the aunt. "Her father's conduct causes
+me great pain and grief."</p>
+<p>"It also causes me pain," said Dorothy, sighing.</p>
+<p>"But, Malcolm," continued the old lady, putting down <a name=
+"Page_178" id="Page_178"></a>her book and turning with quickened
+interest toward my other self, "who, suppose you, is the man with
+whom Dorothy has become so strangely entangled?"</p>
+<p>"I cannot tell for the life of me," answered Malcolm No. 2.
+"Surely a modest girl would not act as she does."</p>
+<p>"Surely a modest girl would," replied Aunt Dorothy, testily.
+"Malcolm, you know nothing of women."</p>
+<p>"Spoken with truth," thought I.</p>
+<p>The old lady continued: "Modesty and love have nothing whatever
+to do with each other. When love comes in at the door, modesty
+flies out at the window. I do pity my niece with all my heart, and
+in good truth I wish I could help her, though of course I would not
+have her know my feeling. I feign severity toward her, but I do not
+hesitate to tell you that I am greatly interested in her romance.
+She surely is deeply in love."</p>
+<p>"That is a true word, Aunt Dorothy," said the lovelorn young
+woman. "I am sure she is fathoms deep in love."</p>
+<p>"Nothing," said Lady Crawford, "but a great passion would have
+impelled her to act as she did. Why, even Mary of Burgundy, with
+all her modesty, won the husband she wanted, ay, and had him at the
+cost of half her rich domain."</p>
+<p>"I wonder if Dorothy will ever have the man she wants?" said
+Malcolm, sighing in a manner entirely new to him.</p>
+<p>"No," answered the old lady, "I fear there is no hope for
+Dorothy. I wonder who he is? Her father intends that she shall soon
+marry Lord Stanley. Sir George told me as much this morning when he
+started for Derby-town to arrange for the signing of the marriage
+contract within a day or two. He had a talk yesterday with Dorothy.
+She, I believe, has surrendered to the inevitable, and again there
+is good feeling between her and my brother."</p>
+<p>Dorothy tossed her head expressively.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a>It is a good match,"
+continued Lady Crawford, "a good match, Malcolm. I pity Dorothy;
+but it is my duty to guard her, and I shall do it faithfully."</p>
+<p>"My dear Lady Crawford," said my hat and cloak, "your words and
+feelings do great credit to your heart. But have you ever thought
+that your niece is a very wilful girl, and that she is full of
+disturbing expedients? Now I am willing to wager my beard that she
+will, sooner than you suspect, see her lover. And I am also willing
+to lay a wager that she will marry the man of her choice despite
+all the watchfulness of her father and yourself. Keep close guard
+over her, my lady, or she will escape."</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford laughed. "She shall not escape. Have no fear of
+that, Malcolm. The key to the door is always safely locked in my
+reticule. No girl can outwit me. I am too old to be caught unawares
+by a mere child like Dorothy. It makes me laugh,
+Malcolm&mdash;although I am sore at heart for Dorothy's
+sake&mdash;it makes me laugh, with a touch of tears, when I think
+of poor simple Dorothy's many little artifices to gain possession
+of this key. They are amusing and pathetic. Poor child! But I am
+too old to be duped by a girl, Malcolm, I am too old. She has no
+chance to escape."</p>
+<p>I said to myself: "No one has ever become too old to be duped by
+a girl who is in love. Her wits grow keen as the otter's fur grows
+thick for the winter's need. I do not know your niece's plan; but
+if I mistake not, Aunt Dorothy, you will in one respect, at least,
+soon be rejuvenated."</p>
+<p>"I am sure Lady Crawford is right in what she says," spoke my
+other self, "and Sir George is fortunate in having for his daughter
+a guardian who cannot be hoodwinked and who is true to a
+distasteful trust. I would the trouble were over and that Dorothy
+were well married."</p>
+<p>"So wish I, Malcolm, with all my heart," replied Aunt
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a>After a brief pause in the
+conversation Malcolm No. 2 said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I must now take my leave. Will you kindly unlock the door and
+permit me to say good night?"</p>
+<p>"If you must go," answered my lady, glad enough to be left alone
+with her beloved Sir Philip. Then she unlocked the door.</p>
+<p>"Keep good watch, my dear aunt," said Malcolm. "I greatly fear
+that Dorothy&mdash;" but the door closed on the remainder of the
+sentence and on Dorothy Vernon.</p>
+<p>"Nonsense!" ejaculated the old lady somewhat impatiently. "Why
+should he fear for Dorothy? I hope I shall not again be disturbed."
+And soon she was deep in the pages of her book.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><a name="Page_181" id=
+"Page_181"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h2>A TRYST AT BOWLING GREEN GATE</h2>
+<p>I was at a loss what course to pursue, and I remained for a
+moment in puzzling thought. I went back to Madge, and after closing
+the door, told her of all I had seen. She could not advise me, and
+of course she was deeply troubled and concerned. After
+deliberating, I determined to speak to Aunt Dorothy that she might
+know what had happened. So I opened the door and walked into Lady
+Crawford's presence. After viewing my lady's back for a short time,
+I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I cannot find my hat, cloak, and sword. I left them in
+Dorothy's bedroom. Has any one been here since I entered?"</p>
+<p>The old lady turned quickly upon me, "Since you entered?" she
+cried in wonderment and consternation. "Since you left, you mean.
+Did you not leave this room a few minutes ago? What means this? How
+found you entrance without the key?"</p>
+<p>"I did not leave this room, Aunt Dorothy; you see I am here," I
+responded.</p>
+<p>"Who did leave? Your wraith? Some one&mdash;Dorothy!" screamed
+the old lady in terror. "That girl!!&mdash;Holy Virgin! where is
+she?"</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford hastened to Dorothy's room and returned to me in
+great agitation.</p>
+<p>"Were you in the plot?" she demanded angrily.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a>No more than were you,
+Lady Crawford," I replied, telling the exact truth. If I were
+accessory to Dorothy's crime, it was only as a witness and Aunt
+Dorothy had seen as much as I.</p>
+<p>I continued: "Dorothy left Lady Madge and me at the window,
+saying she wished to make a change in her garments. I was watching
+the sunset and talking with Lady Madge."</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford, being full of concern about the main
+event,&mdash;Dorothy's escape,&mdash;was easily satisfied that I
+was not accessory before the fact.</p>
+<p>"What shall I do, Malcolm? What shall I do? Help me, quickly. My
+brother will return in the morning&mdash;perhaps he will return
+to-night&mdash;and he will not believe that I have not
+intentionally permitted Dorothy to leave the Hall. I have of late
+said so much to him on behalf of the girl that he suspects me
+already of being in sympathy with her. He will not believe me when
+I tell him that I have been duped. The ungrateful, selfish girl!
+How could she so unkindly return my affection!"</p>
+<p>The old lady began to weep.</p>
+<p>I did not believe that Dorothy intended to leave Haddon Hall
+permanently. I felt confident she had gone out only to meet John,
+and was sure she would soon return. On the strength of that opinion
+I said: "If you fear that Sir George will not believe you&mdash;he
+certainly will blame you&mdash;would it not be better to admit
+Dorothy quietly when she returns and say nothing to any one
+concerning the escapade? I will remain here in these rooms, and
+when she returns I will depart, and the guards will never suspect
+that Dorothy has left the Hall."</p>
+<p>"If she will but return," wailed Aunt Dorothy, "I shall be only
+too glad to admit her and to keep silent."</p>
+<p>"I am sure she will," I answered. "Leave orders with the guard
+at Sir George's door to admit me at any time <a name="Page_183" id=
+"Page_183"></a>during the night, and Dorothy will come in without
+being recognized. Her disguise must be very complete if she could
+deceive you."</p>
+<p>"Indeed, her disguise is complete," replied the tearful old
+lady.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's disguise was so complete and her resemblance to me had
+been so well contrived that she met with no opposition from the
+guards in the retainer's room nor from the porter. She walked out
+upon the terrace where she strolled for a short time. Then she
+climbed over the wall at the stile back of the terrace and took her
+way up Bowling Green Hill toward the gate. She sauntered leisurely
+until she was out of sight of the Hall. Then gathering up her cloak
+and sword she sped along the steep path to the hill crest and
+thence to the gate.</p>
+<p>Soon after the first day of her imprisonment she had sent a
+letter to John by the hand of Jennie Faxton, acquainting him with
+the details of all that had happened. In her letter, among much
+else, she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My true love, I beg you to haunt with your presence Bowling
+Green Gate each day at the hour of sunset. I cannot tell you when I
+shall be there to meet you, or surely I would do so now. But be
+there I will. Let no doubt of that disturb your mind. It does not
+lie in the power of man to keep me from you. That is, it lies in
+the power of but one man, you, my love and my lord, and I fear not
+that you will use your power to that end. So it is that I beg you
+to wait for me at sunset hour each day near by Bowling Green Gate.
+You may be caused to wait for me a long weary time; but one day,
+sooner or later, I shall go to you, and then&mdash;ah, then, if it
+be in my power to reward your patience, you shall have no cause for
+complaint."</p>
+<p>When Dorothy reached the gate she found it securely locked. She
+peered eagerly through the bars, hoping to <a name="Page_184" id=
+"Page_184"></a>see John. She tried to shake the heavy iron
+structure to assure herself that it could not be opened.</p>
+<p>"Ah, well," she sighed, "I suppose the reason love laughs at
+locksmiths is because he&mdash;or she&mdash;can climb."</p>
+<p>Then she climbed the gate and sprang to the ground on the
+Devonshire side of the wall.</p>
+<p>"What will John think when he sees me in this attire?" she said
+half aloud. "Malcolm's cloak serves but poorly to cover me, and I
+shall instead be covered with shame and confusion when John comes.
+I fear he will think I have disgraced myself." Then, with a sigh,
+"But necessity knows no raiment."</p>
+<p>She strode about near the gate for a few minutes, wishing that
+she were indeed a man, save for one fact: if she were not a woman,
+John would not love her, and, above all, she could not love John.
+The fact that she could and did love John appealed to Dorothy as
+the highest, sweetest privilege that Heaven or earth could offer to
+a human being.</p>
+<p>The sun had sunk in the west, and his faint parting glory was
+but dimly to be seen upon a few small clouds that floated above
+Overhaddon Hill. The moon was past its half; and the stars, still
+yellow and pale from the lingering glare of day, waited eagerly to
+give their twinkling help in lighting the night. The forest near
+the gate was dense, and withal the fading light of the sun and the
+dawning beams of the moon and stars, deep shadow enveloped Dorothy
+and all the scene about her. The girl was disappointed when she did
+not see Manners, but she was not vexed. There was but one person in
+all the world toward whom she held a patient, humble
+attitude&mdash;John. If he, in his greatness, goodness, and
+condescension, deigned to come and meet so poor a person as Dorothy
+Vernon, she would be thankful and happy; if he did not come, she
+would be sorrowful. His will was her will, and she would <a name=
+"Page_185" id="Page_185"></a>come again and again until she should
+find him waiting for her, and he should stoop to lift her into
+heaven.</p>
+<p>If there is a place in all the earth where red warm blood counts
+for its full value, it is in a pure woman's veins. Through
+self-fear it brings to her a proud reserve toward all mankind till
+the right one comes. Toward him it brings an eager humbleness that
+is the essence and the life of Heaven and of love. Poets may praise
+snowy women as they will, but the compelling woman is she of the
+warm blood. The snowy woman is the lifeless seed, the rainless
+cloud, the unmagnetic lodestone, the drossful iron. The great laws
+of nature affect her but passively. If there is aught in the saying
+of the ancients, "The best only in nature can survive," the day of
+her extermination will come. Fire is as chaste as snow, and
+infinitely more comforting.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's patience was not to be tried for long. Five minutes
+after she had climbed the gate she beheld John riding toward her
+from the direction of Rowsley, and her heart beat with thrill upon
+thrill of joy. She felt that the crowning moment of her life was at
+hand. By the help of a subtle sense&mdash;familiar spirit to her
+love perhaps&mdash;she knew that John would ask her to go with him
+and to be his wife, despite all the Rutlands and Vernons dead,
+living, or to be born. The thought of refusing him never entered
+her mind. Queen Nature was on the throne in the fulness of power,
+and Dorothy, in perfect attune with her great sovereign, was
+fulfilling her destiny in accordance with the laws to which her
+drossless being was entirely amenable.</p>
+<p>Many times had the fear come to her that Sir John Manners, who
+was heir to the great earldom of Rutland,&mdash;he who was so
+great, so good, and so beautiful,&mdash;might feel that his duty to
+his house past, present, and future, and the obligations of his
+position among the grand nobles <a name="Page_186" id=
+"Page_186"></a>of the realm, should deter him from a marriage
+against which so many good reasons could be urged. But this evening
+her familiar spirit whispered to her that she need not fear, and
+her heart was filled with joy and certainty. John dismounted and
+tethered his horse at a short distance from the gate. He approached
+Dorothy, but halted when he beheld a man instead of the girl whom
+he longed to meet. His hesitancy surprised Dorothy, who, in her
+eagerness, had forgotten her male attire. She soon saw, however,
+that he did not recognize her, and she determined, in a spirit of
+mischief, to maintain her incognito till he should penetrate her
+disguise.</p>
+<p>She turned her back on John and sauntered leisurely about,
+whistling softly. She pretended to be unconscious of his presence,
+and John, who felt that the field was his by the divine right of
+love, walked to the gate and looked through the bars toward Bowling
+Green. He stood at the gate for a short time with indifference in
+his manner and irritation in his heart. He, too, tried to hum a
+tune, but failed. Then he tried to whistle, but his musical efforts
+were abortive. There was no music in him. A moment before his heart
+had been full of harmony; but when he found a man instead of his
+sweetheart, the harmony quickly turned to rasping discord.</p>
+<p>John was not a patient man, and his impatience was apt to take
+the form of words and actions. A little aimless stalking about at
+the gate was more than enough for him, so he stepped toward the
+intruder and lifted his hat.</p>
+<p>"I beg your pardon," he said, "I thought when first I saw you
+that you were Sir Malcolm Vernon. I fancied you bore resemblance to
+him. I see that I was in error."</p>
+<p>"Yes, in error," answered my beard.</p>
+<p>Again the two gentlemen walked around each other with great
+amusement on the part of one, and with ever increasing vexation on
+the part of the other.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a>Soon John said, "May I ask
+whom have I the honor to address?"</p>
+<p>"Certainly, you may ask," was the response.</p>
+<p>A silence ensued during which Dorothy again turned her back on
+John and walked a few paces away from him. John's patience was
+rapidly oozing, and when the unknown intruder again turned in his
+direction, John said with all the gentleness then at his
+command:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Well, sir, I do ask."</p>
+<p>"Your curiosity is flattering," said the girl.</p>
+<p>"Pardon me, sir," returned John. "My curiosity is not intended
+to be flattering. I&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I hope it is not intended to be insulting, sir?" asked my hat
+and cloak.</p>
+<p>"That, sir, all depends upon yourself," retorted John, warmly.
+Then after an instant of thought, he continued in tones of
+conciliation:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I have an engagement of a private nature at this place. In
+short, I hope to meet a&mdash;a friend here within a few minutes
+and I feel sure that under the circumstances so gallant a gentleman
+as yourself will act with due consideration for the feelings of
+another. I hope and believe that you will do as you would be done
+by."</p>
+<p>"Certainly, certainly," responded the gallant. "I find no fault
+at all with your presence. Please take no account whatever of me. I
+assure you I shall not be in the least disturbed."</p>
+<p>John was somewhat disconcerted.</p>
+<p>"Perhaps you will not be disturbed," replied John, struggling to
+keep down his temper, "but I fear you do not understand me. I hope
+to meet a&mdash;a lady and&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I hope also to meet a&mdash;a friend," the fellow said; "but I
+assure you we shall in no way conflict."</p>
+<p>"May I ask," queried John, "if you expect to meet a gentleman or
+a lady?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a>Certainly you may ask,"
+was the girl's irritating reply.</p>
+<p>"Well, well, sir, I do ask," said John. "Furthermore, I demand
+to know whom you expect to meet at this place."</p>
+<p>"That, of course, sir, is no business of yours."</p>
+<p>"But I shall make it my affair. I expect to meet a lady here, my
+sweetheart." The girl's heart jumped with joy. "And if you have any
+of the feelings of a gentleman, you must know that your presence
+will be intolerable to me."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps it will be, my dear sir, but I have as good a right
+here as you or any other. If you must know all about my affairs, I
+tell you I, too, hope to meet my sweetheart at this place. In fact,
+I know I shall meet my sweetheart, and, my good fellow, I beg to
+inform you that a stranger's presence would be very annoying to
+me."</p>
+<p>John was at his wit's end. He must quickly do or say something
+to persuade this stubborn fellow to leave. If Dorothy should come
+and see two persons at the gate she, of course, would return to the
+Hall. Jennie Faxton, who knew that the garments were finished, had
+told Sir John that he might reasonably expect to see Dorothy at the
+gate on that evening, for Sir George had gone to Derby-town,
+presumably to remain over night.</p>
+<p>In sheer desperation John said, "I was here first, and I claim
+the ground."</p>
+<p>"That is not true," replied the other. "I have been waiting here
+for you&mdash;I mean for the person I am to meet&mdash;" Dorothy
+thought she had betrayed herself, and that John would surely
+recognize her. "I had been waiting full five minutes before you
+arrived."</p>
+<p>John's blindness in failing to recognize Dorothy is past my
+understanding. He explained it to me afterward by saying that his
+eagerness to see Dorothy, and his fear, nay almost certainty, that
+she could not come, coupled with the hope which Jennie Faxton had
+given him, had so completely <a name="Page_189" id=
+"Page_189"></a>occupied his mind that other subjects received but
+slight consideration.</p>
+<p>"But I&mdash;I have been here before this night to
+meet&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"And I have been here to meet&mdash;quite as often as you, I
+hope," retorted Dorothy.</p>
+<p>They say that love blinds a man. It must also have deafened
+John, since he did not recognize his sweetheart's voice.</p>
+<p>"It may be true that you have been here before this evening,"
+retorted John, angrily; "but you shall not remain here now. If you
+wish to save yourself trouble, leave at once. If you stalk about in
+the forest, I will run you through and leave you for the crows to
+pick."</p>
+<p>"I have no intention of leaving, and if I were to do so you
+would regret it; by my beard, you would regret it," answered the
+girl, pleased to see John in his overbearing, commanding mood. His
+stupidity was past comprehension.</p>
+<p>"Defend yourself," said John, drawing his sword.</p>
+<p>"Now he will surely know the truth," thought Dorothy, but she
+said: "I am much younger than you, and am not so large and strong.
+I am unskilled in the use of a sword, and therefore am I no match
+for Sir John Manners than whom, I have heard, there is no better
+swordsman, stronger arm, nor braver heart in England."</p>
+<p>"You flatter me, my friend," returned John, forced into a good
+humor against his will; "but you must leave. He who cannot defend
+himself must yield; it is the law of nature and of men."</p>
+<p>John advanced toward Dorothy, who retreated stepping backward,
+holding her arm over her face.</p>
+<p>"I am ready to yield if you wish. In fact, I am eager to
+yield&mdash;more eager than you can know," she cried.</p>
+<p>"It is well," answered John, putting his sword in sheath.</p>
+<p>"But," continued Dorothy, "I will not go away."</p>
+<p>"Then you must fight," said John.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a>I tell you again I am
+willing, nay, eager to yield to you, but I also tell you I cannot
+fight in the way you would have me. In other ways perhaps I can
+fight quite as well as anybody. But really, I am ashamed to draw my
+sword, since to do so would show you how poorly I am equipped to
+defend myself under your great laws of nature and of man. Again, I
+wish to assure you that I am more than eager to yield; but I cannot
+fight you, and I will not go away."</p>
+<p>The wonder never ceases that John did not recognize her. She
+took no pains to hide her identity, and after a few moments of
+concealment she was anxious that John should discover her under my
+garments.</p>
+<p>"I would know his voice," she thought, "did he wear all the
+petticoats in Derbyshire."</p>
+<p>"What shall I do with you?" cried John, amused and irritated. "I
+cannot strike you."</p>
+<p>"No, of course you would not murder me in cold blood," answered
+Dorothy, laughing heartily. She was sure her laughter would open
+John's eyes.</p>
+<p>"I cannot carry you away," said John.</p>
+<p>"I would come back again, if you did," answered the
+irrepressible fellow.</p>
+<p>"I suppose you would," returned John, sullenly. "In the devil's
+name, tell me what you will do. Can I not beg you to go?"</p>
+<p>"Now, Sir John, you have touched me. I make you this offer: you
+expect Mistress Vernon to come from the Hall&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"What do you know about Mistress Vernon?" cried John. "By God, I
+will&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Now don't grow angry, Sir John, and please don't swear in my
+presence. You expect her, I say, to come from the Hall. What I
+propose is this: you shall stand by the gate and watch for
+Doll&mdash;oh, I mean Mistress<a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a>
+Vernon&mdash;and I will stand here behind the wall where she cannot
+see me. When she comes in sight&mdash;though in truth I don't think
+she will come, and I believe were she under your very nose you
+would not see her&mdash;you shall tell me and I will leave at once;
+that is, if you wish me to leave. After you see Dorothy Vernon if
+you still wish me to go, I pledge my faith no power can keep me.
+Now is not that fair? I like you very much, and I want to remain
+here, if you will permit me, and talk to you for a little
+time&mdash;till you see Doll Vernon."</p>
+<p>"Doll Vernon, fellow? How dare you so speak of her?" demanded
+John, hotly.</p>
+<p>"Your pardon and her pardon, I beg; Mistress Vernon, soon to be
+Countess of Derbyshire. By the way, I wager you a gold pound
+sterling that by the time you see Doll Vernon&mdash;Mistress
+Vernon, I pray your pardon&mdash;you will have grown so fond of me
+that you will not permit me to leave you." She thought after that
+speech he could not help but know her; but John's skull was like an
+oaken board that night. Nothing could penetrate it. He began to
+fancy that his companion was a simple witless person who had
+escaped from his keepers.</p>
+<p>"Will you take the wager?" asked Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Nonsense!" was the only reply John deigned to give to so
+foolish a proposition.</p>
+<p>"Then will you agree that I shall remain at the gate till
+Doll&mdash;Mistress Vernon comes?"</p>
+<p>"I suppose I shall have to make the best terms possible with
+you," he returned. "You are an amusing fellow and as perverse as a
+woman."</p>
+<p>"I knew you would soon learn to like me," she responded. "The
+first step toward a man's affection is to amuse him. That old saw
+which says the road to a man's heart is through his stomach, is a
+sad mistake. Amusement is the highway to a man's affections."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a>It is better that one
+laugh with us than at us. There is a vast difference in the two
+methods," answered John, contemptuously.</p>
+<p>"You dare to laugh at me," cried Dorothy, grasping the hilt of
+her sword, and pretending to be angry. John waved her off with his
+hand, and laughingly said, "Little you know concerning the way to a
+man's heart, and no doubt less of the way to a woman's."</p>
+<p>"I, perhaps, know more about it than you would believe,"
+returned Malcolm No. 2.</p>
+<p>"If you know aught of the latter subject, it is more than I
+would suppose," said John. "It is absurd to say that a woman can
+love a man who is unable to defend himself."</p>
+<p>"A vain man thinks that women care only for men of his own
+pattern," retorted Dorothy. "Women love a strong arm, it is true,
+but they also love a strong heart, and you see I am not at all
+afraid of you, even though you have twice my strength. There are as
+many sorts of bravery, Sir John, as&mdash;as there are hairs in my
+beard."</p>
+<p>"That is not many," interrupted John.</p>
+<p>"And," continued the girl, "I believe, John,&mdash;Sir
+John,&mdash;you possess all the kinds of bravery that are
+good."</p>
+<p>"You flatter me," said John.</p>
+<p>"Yes," returned Dorothy, "that was my intent."</p>
+<p>After that unflattering remark there came a pause. Then the girl
+continued somewhat hesitatingly: "Doubtless many women, Sir John,
+have seen your virtues more clearly than even I see them. Women
+have a keener perception of masculine virtues than&mdash;than we
+have."</p>
+<p>Dorothy paused, and her heart beat with a quickened throb while
+she awaited his reply. A new field of discovery was opening up to
+her and a new use for her disguise.</p>
+<p>John made no reply, but the persistent girl pursued her new line
+of attack.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a>Surely Sir John Manners
+has had many sweethearts," said Dorothy, in flattering tones. There
+were rocks and shoals ahead for John's love barge. "Many, many, I
+am sure," the girl persisted.</p>
+<p>"Ah, a few, a few, I admit," John like a fool replied. Dorothy
+was accumulating disagreeable information rapidly.</p>
+<p>"While you were at London court," said she, "the fine ladies
+must have sought you in great numbers&mdash;I am sure they
+did."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps, oh, perhaps," returned John. "One cannot always
+remember such affairs." His craft was headed for the rocks. Had he
+observed Dorothy's face, he would have seen the storm
+a-brewing.</p>
+<p>"To how many women, Sir John, have you lost your heart, and at
+various times how many have lost their hearts to you?" asked the
+persistent girl.&mdash;"What a senseless question," returned John.
+"A dozen times or more; perhaps a score or two score times. I
+cannot tell the exact number. I did not keep an account."</p>
+<p>Dorothy did not know whether she wanted to weep or be angry.
+Pique and a flash of temper, however, saved her from tears, and she
+said, "You are so brave and handsome that you must have found it a
+very easy task&mdash;much easier than it would be for me&mdash;to
+convince those confiding ones of your affection?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," replied John, plunging full sail upon the breakers, "I
+admit that usually they have been quite easy to convince. I am
+naturally bold, and I suppose that perhaps&mdash;that is, I may
+possibly have a persuasive trick about me."</p>
+<p>Shades of good men who have blundered into ruin over the path of
+petty vanity, save this man! But no, Dorothy must drink the bitter
+cup of knowledge to the dregs.</p>
+<p>"And you have been false to all of these women? she said.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a>Ah, well, you
+know&mdash;the devil take it! A man can't be true to a score of
+women," replied John.</p>
+<p>"I am sure none of them wished you to be true," the girl
+answered, restraining her tears with great difficulty.</p>
+<p>At that point in the conversation John began to suspect from the
+manner and shapeliness of his companion that a woman had disguised
+herself in man's attire. Yet it did not once occur to him that
+Dorothy's fair form was concealed within the disguise. He attempted
+to lift my soft beaver hat, the broad rim of which hid Dorothy's
+face, but to that she made a decided objection, and John continued:
+"By my soul I believe you are a woman. Your walk"&mdash;Dorothy
+thought she had been swaggering like a veritable
+swash-buckler&mdash;"your voice, the curves of your form, all
+betray you." Dorothy gathered the cloak closely about her.</p>
+<p>"I would know more of you," said John, and he stepped toward the
+now interesting stranger. But she drew away from him, and told him
+to keep hands off.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I am right. You are a woman," said John.</p>
+<p>Dorothy had maintained the disguise longer than she wished, and
+was willing that John should discover her identity. At first it had
+been rare sport to dupe him; but the latter part of her
+conversation had given her no pleasure. She was angry, jealous, and
+hurt by what she had learned.</p>
+<p>"Yes," she answered, "I admit that I am a&mdash;a woman. Now I
+must go."</p>
+<p>"Stay but one moment," pleaded John, whose curiosity and
+gallantry were aroused. "I will watch for Mistress Vernon, and when
+she appears, then you may go."</p>
+<p>"I told you that you would want me to remain," said the girl
+with a sigh. She was almost ready to weep. Then she thought: "I
+little dreamed I was coming here for this. I will carry the
+disguise a little farther, and will, perhaps, learn enough
+to&mdash;to break my heart."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a>She was soon to learn all
+she wanted to know and a great deal more.</p>
+<p>"Come sit by me on this stone," said John, coaxingly. The girl
+complied, and drew the cloak over her knees.</p>
+<p>"Tell me why you are here," he asked.</p>
+<p>"To meet a gentleman," she replied, with low-bent face.</p>
+<p>"Tell me your name," John asked, as he drew my glove from her
+passive hand. John held the hand in his, and after examining it in
+the dim light saw that it was a great deal more than good to look
+upon. Then he lifted it to his lips and said:</p>
+<p>"Since our sweethearts have disappointed us, may we not console
+ourselves with each other?" He placed his arm around the girl's
+waist and drew her yielding form toward him. Dorothy, unobserved by
+John, removed the false beard and moustachio, and when John put his
+arm about her waist and leaned forward to kiss the fair
+accommodating neighbor she could restrain her tears no longer and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"That would be no consolation for me, John; that would be no
+consolation for me. How can you? How can you?"</p>
+<p>She rose to her feet and covered her face with her hands in a
+paroxysm of weeping. John, too, sprang to his feet, you may be
+sure. "Dorothy! God help me! I am the king of fools. Curse this
+hour in which I have thrown away my heaven. You must hate and
+despise me, fool, fool that I am."</p>
+<p>John knew that it were worse than useless for him to attempt an
+explanation. The first thought that flashed through his mind was,
+to tell the girl that he had only pretended not to know her. He
+thought he would try to make her believe that he had been turning
+her trick upon herself; but he was wise in his day and generation,
+and did not seek refuge in that falsehood.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a>The girl would never have
+forgiven him for that.</p>
+<p>"The only amends I can make," he said, in very dolefulness, "is
+that I may never let you see my face again."</p>
+<p>"That will not help matters," sobbed Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I know it will not," returned John. "Nothing can help me. I can
+remain here no longer. I must leave you. I cannot even ask you to
+say farewell. Mistress Vernon, you do not despise me half so
+bitterly as I despise myself."</p>
+<p>Dorothy was one of those rare natures to whom love comes but
+once. It had come to her and had engulfed her whole being. To part
+with it would be like parting with life itself. It was her tyrant,
+her master. It was her ego. She could no more throw it off than she
+could expel herself from her own existence. All this she knew full
+well, for she had analyzed her conditions, and her reason had
+joined with all her other faculties in giving her a clear concept
+of the truth. She knew she belonged to John Manners for life and
+for eternity. She also knew that the chance of seeing him soon
+again was very slight, and to part from him now in aught but
+kindness would almost kill her.</p>
+<p>Before John had recognized Dorothy he certainly had acted like a
+fool, but with the shock of recognition came wisdom. All the
+learning of the ancients and all the cunning of the prince of
+darkness could not have taught him a wiser word with which to make
+his peace, "I may never let you see my face again." That was more
+to be feared by Dorothy than even John's inconstancy.</p>
+<p>Her heart was full of trouble. "I do not know what I wish," she
+said simply. "Give me a little time to think."</p>
+<p>John's heart leaped with joy, but he remained silent.</p>
+<p>Dorothy continued: "Oh, that I had remained at home. I would to
+God I had never seen Derby-town nor you."</p>
+<p>John in the fulness of his wisdom did not interrupt her.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a>To think that I have thus
+made a fool of myself about a man who has given his heart to a
+score of women."</p>
+<p>"This is torture," moaned John, in real pain.</p>
+<p>"But," continued Dorothy, "I could not remain away from this
+place when I had the opportunity to come to you. I felt that I must
+come. I felt that I should die if I did not. And you are so false.
+I wish I were dead. A moment ago, had I been another woman, you
+would have kissed her. You thought I was another woman."</p>
+<p>John's wisdom stood by him nobly. He knew he could neither
+explain successfully nor beg forgiveness. He simply said: "I cannot
+remain and look you in the face. If I dare make any request, it is
+that despite all you have heard from my lips you will still believe
+that I love you, and that in all my life I have never loved any one
+so dearly. There is no other woman for me."</p>
+<p>"You doubtless spoke the same false words to the other two score
+women," said Dorothy. Tears and sobs were playing sad havoc with
+her powers of speech.</p>
+<p>"Farewell, Mistress Vernon," replied John. "I should be
+shameless if I dared ask you to believe any word I can utter.
+Forget, if possible, that I ever existed; forget me that you may
+not despise me. I am unworthy to dwell even in the smallest of your
+thoughts. I am altogether base and contemptible."</p>
+<p>"N-o-o," sighed Dorothy, poutingly, while she bent low her head
+and toyed with the gold lace of my cloak.</p>
+<p>"Farewell," said John. He took a step or two backward from
+her.</p>
+<p>"You are over-eager to leave, it seems to me," said the girl in
+an injured tone. "I wonder that you came at all." John's heart was
+singing hosanna. He, however, maintained his voice at a mournful
+pitch and said: "I must go. I can no longer endure to remain."
+While he spoke he moved toward his horse, and his head was bowed
+with <a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a>real shame as he thought
+of the pitiable fool he had made of himself. Dorothy saw him going
+from her, and she called to him softly and reluctantly, "John."</p>
+<p>He did not hear her, or perhaps he thought best to pretend that
+he did not hear, and as he moved from her the girl became
+desperate. Modesty, resentment, insulted womanhood and injured
+pride were all swept away by the stream of her mighty love, and she
+cried again, this time without hesitancy or reluctance, "John,
+John." She started to run toward him, but my cloak was in her way,
+and the sword tripped her feet. In her fear lest John might leave
+her, she unclasped the sword-belt from her waist and snatched the
+cloak from her shoulders. Freed from these hindrances, she ran
+toward John.</p>
+<p>"John, do not leave me. Do not leave me." As she spoke, she
+reached an open space among the trees and John turned toward her.
+Her hat had fallen off, and the red golden threads of her hair,
+freed from their fastenings, streamed behind her. Never before had
+a vision of such exquisite loveliness sped through the moonbeams.
+So entrancing was her beauty to John that he stood motionless in
+admiration. He did not go to meet her as he should have done, and
+perhaps as he would have done had his senses not been wrapped in
+benumbing wonderment. His eyes were unable to interpret to his
+brain all her marvellous beauty, and his other senses abandoning
+their proper functions had hastened to the assistance of his sight
+He saw, he heard, he felt her loveliness. Thus occupied he did not
+move, so Dorothy ran to him and fell upon his breast.</p>
+<p>"You did not come to meet me," she sobbed. "You made me come all
+the way, to forgive you. Cruel, cruel!"</p>
+<p>John held the girl in his arms, but he did not dare to kiss her,
+and his self-denial soon brought its reward. He had not expected
+that she would come a beggar to him.<a name="Page_199" id=
+"Page_199"></a> The most he had dared to hope was that she would
+listen to his prayer for forgiveness. With all his worldly wisdom
+John had not learned the fact that inconstancy does not destroy
+love in the one who suffers by reason of it; nor did he know of the
+exquisite pain-touched happiness which comes to a gentle,
+passionate heart such as Dorothy's from the mere act of
+forgiving.</p>
+<p>"Is it possible you can forgive me for the miserable lies I have
+uttered?" asked John, almost unconscious of the words he was
+speaking. "Is it possible you can forgive me for uttering those
+lies, Dorothy?" he repeated.</p>
+<p>She laid her head upon his breast, and softly passing her hand
+over the lace of his doublet, whispered:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If I could believe they were lies, I could easily forgive you,"
+she answered between low sobs and soft sighs. Though she was a
+woman, the sweet essence of childhood was in her heart.</p>
+<p>"But you cannot believe me, even when I tell you that I spoke
+not the truth," answered John, with growing faith in his system of
+passive repentance. Again came the sighs, and a few struggling,
+childish sobs.</p>
+<p>"It is easy for us to believe that which we long to believe,"
+she said. Then she turned her face upward to him, and John's reward
+was altogether disproportioned to the self-denial he had exercised
+a few minutes before. She rewarded him far beyond his deserts; and
+after a pause she said mischievously:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You told me that you were a bold man with women, and I know
+that at least that part of what you said was untrue, for you are a
+bashful man, John, you are downright bashful. It is I who have been
+bold. You were too timid to woo me, and I so longed for you that
+I&mdash;I&mdash;was not timid."</p>
+<p>"For God's sake, Dorothy, I beg you to have pity and to make no
+jest of me. Your kindness almost kills me, and your
+ridicule&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a>There, there, John,"
+whispered the girl, "I will never again make a jest of you if it
+gives you pain. Tell me, John, tell me truly, was it all
+false&mdash;that which you told me about the other women?"</p>
+<p>There had been more truth in John's bragging than he cared to
+confess. He feared and loathed a lie; so he said evasively, but
+with perfect truth:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You must know, my goddess. If you do not know without the
+telling that I love you with all my being; if you do not know that
+there is for me and ever will be no woman but you in all the world;
+if you do not know that you have stolen my soul and that I live
+only in your presence, all that I can say will avail nothing toward
+convincing you. I am almost crazed with love for you, and with pain
+and torture. For the love of God let me leave you that I may hide
+my face."</p>
+<p>"Never," cried the girl, clasping her hands about his neck and
+pressing her lips gently upon his. "Never. There, that will soothe
+you, won't it, John?"</p>
+<p>It did soothe him, and in the next moment, John, almost frenzied
+with joy, hurt the girl by the violence of his embraces; but she,
+woman-like, found her heaven in the pain.</p>
+<p>They went back to the stone bench beside the gate, and after a
+little time Dorothy said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"But tell me, John, would you have kissed the other woman? Would
+you really have done it?"</p>
+<p>John's honesty certainly was good policy in that instance. The
+adroit girl had set a trap for him.</p>
+<p>"I suppose I would," answered John, with a groan.</p>
+<p>"It hurts me to hear the fact," said Dorothy, sighing; "but it
+pleases me to hear the truth. I know all else you tell me is true.
+I was trying you when I asked the question, for I certainly knew
+what you intended to do. A woman instinctively knows when a man is
+going to&mdash;to&mdash;when anything of that sort is about to
+happen."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a>How does she know?" asked
+John.</p>
+<p>Rocks and breakers ahead for Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I cannot tell you," replied the girl, na&iuml;vely, "but she
+knows."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps it is the awakened desire in her own heart which
+forewarns her," said John, stealthily seeking from Dorothy a truth
+that would pain him should he learn it.</p>
+<p>"I suppose that is partly the source of her knowledge," replied
+the knowing one, with a great show of innocence in her manner. John
+was in no position to ask impertinent questions, nor had he any
+right to grow angry at unpleasant discoveries; but he did both,
+although for a time he suppressed the latter.</p>
+<p>"You believe she is sure to know, do you?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"Usually," she replied. "Of course there are times
+when&mdash;when it happens so suddenly that&mdash;"</p>
+<p>John angrily sprang to his feet, took a few hurried steps in
+front of Dorothy, who remained demurely seated with her eyes cast
+down, and then again he took his place beside her on the stone
+bench. He was trembling with anger and jealousy. The devil was in
+the girl that night for mischief.</p>
+<p>"I suppose you speak from the fulness of your experience,"
+demanded John, in tones that would have been insulting had they not
+been pleasing to the girl. She had seen the drift of John's
+questions at an early stage of the conversation, and his easily
+aroused jealousy was good proof to her of his affection. After all,
+she was in no danger from rocks and breakers. She well knew the
+currents, eddies, rocks, and shoals of the sea she was navigating,
+although she had never before sailed it. Her fore-mothers, all the
+way back to Eve, had been making charts of those particular waters
+for her especial benefit. Why do we, a slow-moving, cumbersome army
+of men, continue to do battle with the foe at whose hands defeat is
+always our portion?</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a>Experience?" queried
+Dorothy, her head turned to one side in a half-contemplative
+attitude. "Experience? Of course that is the only way we learn
+anything."</p>
+<p>John again sprang to his feet, and again he sat down beside the
+girl. He had so recently received forgiveness for his own sins that
+he dared not be unforgiving toward Dorothy. He did not speak, and
+she remained silent, willing to allow time for the situation to
+take its full effect. The wisdom of the serpent is black ignorance
+compared with the cunning of a girl in Dorothy's situation. God
+gives her wit for the occasion as He gives the cat soft paws, sharp
+claws, and nimbleness. She was teaching John a lesson he would
+never forget. She was binding him to her with hoops of steel.</p>
+<p>"I know that I have not the right to ask," said John,
+suppressing his emotions, "but may I know merely as a matter of
+trivial information&mdash;may I know the name of&mdash;of the
+person&mdash;this fellow with whom you have had so full an
+experience? God curse him! Tell me his name." He caught the girl
+violently by both arms as if he would shake the truth out of her.
+He was unconsciously making full amends for the faults he had
+committed earlier in the evening. The girl made no answer. John's
+powers of self-restraint, which were not of the strongest order,
+were exhausted, and he again sprang to his feet and stood towering
+before her in a passion. "Tell me his name," he said hoarsely. "I
+demand it. I will not rest till I kill him."</p>
+<p>"If you would kill him, I surely will not tell you his name. In
+truth, I admit I am very fond of him."</p>
+<p>"Speak not another word to me till you tell me his name,"
+stormed John. I feel sorry for John when I think of the part he
+played in this interview; but every man knows well his
+condition.</p>
+<p>"I care not," continued John, "in what manner I have <a name=
+"Page_203" id="Page_203"></a>offended you, nor does my debt of
+gratitude to you for your generosity in forgiving my sins weigh one
+scruple against this you have told me. No man, unless he were a
+poor clown, would endure it; and I tell you now, with all my love
+for you, I will not&mdash;I will not!"</p>
+<p>Dorothy was beginning to fear him. She of course did not fear
+personal violence; but after all, while he was slower than she, he
+was much stronger every way, and when aroused, his strength imposed
+itself upon her and she feared to play him any farther.</p>
+<p>"Sit beside me, John, and I will tell you his name," said the
+girl, looking up to him, and then casting down her eyes. A dimpling
+smile was playing about her lips.</p>
+<p>"No, I will not sit by you," replied John, angrily. She partly
+rose, and taking him by the arm drew him to her side.</p>
+<p>"Tell me his name," again demanded John, sitting rigidly by
+Dorothy. "Tell me his name."</p>
+<p>"Will you kill him?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"That I will," he answered. "Of that you may rest assured."</p>
+<p>"If you kill him, John, it will break my heart; for to do so,
+you must commit suicide. There is no other man but you, John. With
+you I had my first, last, and only experience."</p>
+<p>John, of course, was speechless. He had received only what he
+deserved. I freely admit he played the part of a fool during this
+entire interview with Dorothy, and he was more fully convinced of
+the fact than either you or I can be. I do not like to have a fool
+for the hero of my history; but this being a history and not a
+romance, I must tell you of events just as they happened, and of
+persons exactly as they were, else my conscience will smite me for
+untruthfulness. Dorothy's last assault was too much for John. He
+could neither parry nor thrust.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a>Her heart was full of mirth
+and gladness.</p>
+<p>"None other but you, John," she repeated, leaning forward in
+front of him, and looking up into his eyes. A ray of moonlight
+stealing its way between the forest boughs fell upon her upturned
+face and caused it to glow with a goddess-like radiance.</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v204" id="v204"></a> <img src=
+"images/v204.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>"None but you, John. There never has been and there never shall
+be another."</p>
+<p>When John's consciousness returned he said, "Dorothy, can you
+love such a fool as I?"</p>
+<p>"That I can and that I do with all my heart," she returned.</p>
+<p>"And can you forgive me for this last fault&mdash;for doubting
+you?"</p>
+<p>"That is easily done," she answered softly, "because doubt is
+the child of love."</p>
+<p>"But you do not doubt me?" he replied.</p>
+<p>"N-o-o," she answered somewhat haltingly; "but I&mdash;I am a
+woman."</p>
+<p>"And a woman's heart is the home of faith," said John,
+reverentially.</p>
+<p>"Y-e-s," she responded, still not quite sure of her ground.
+"Sometimes it is the home of too much faith, but faith, like
+virtue, is its own reward. Few persons are false to one who gives a
+blind, unquestioning faith. Even a poor degree of honor responds to
+it in kind."</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, I am so unworthy of you that I stand abashed in your
+presence," replied John.</p>
+<p>"No, you are not unworthy of me. We don't look for unmixed good
+in men," said the girl with a mischievous little laugh. Then
+seriously: "Those virtues you have are so great and so strong,
+John, that my poor little virtues, while they perhaps are more
+numerous than yours, are but weak things by comparison. In truth,
+there are some faults in men which we women do not&mdash;do not
+altogether <a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a>dislike. They cause
+us&mdash;they make us&mdash;oh, I cannot express exactly what I
+mean. They make us more eager perhaps. A too constant man is like
+an overstrong sweet: he cloys us. The faults I speak of hurt us;
+but we thrive on them. Women enjoy pain now and then. Malcolm was
+telling me the other day that the wise people of the East have a
+saying: 'Without shadow there can be no light; without death there
+can be no life; without suffering there can be no joy.' Surely is
+that saying true of women. She who suffers naught enjoys naught.
+When a woman becomes passive, John, she is but a clod. Pain gives
+us a vent&mdash;a vent for something, I know not what it is; but
+this I know, we are happier for it."</p>
+<p>"I fear, Dorothy, that I have given you too much 'vent,' as you
+call it," said John.</p>
+<p>"No, no," she replied. "That was nothing. My great vent is that
+I can pour out my love upon you, John, without stint. Now that I
+know you are mine, I have some one whom I can deluge with it. Do
+you know, John, I believe that when God made me He collected
+together the requisite portions of reason, imagination, and
+will,&mdash;there was a great plenty of will, John,&mdash;and all
+the other ingredients that go to make a human being. But after He
+had gotten them all together there was still a great space left to
+be filled, and He just threw in an immensity of love with which to
+complete me. Therefore, John, am I not in true proportion. There is
+too much love in me, and it wells up at times and overflows my
+heart. How thankful I should be that I may pour it upon you and
+that it will not be wasted. How good you are to give me the sweet
+privilege."</p>
+<p>"How thankful should I be, Dorothy. I have never known you till
+this night. I am unworthy&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Not another word of that sort, John," she interrupted, covering
+his mouth with her hand.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a>They stood for a long time
+talking a deal of celestial nonsense which I shall not give you. I
+fear I have already given you too much of what John and Dorothy did
+and said in this very sentimental interview. But in no other way
+can I so well make you to know the persons of whom I write. I might
+have said Dorothy was so and so, and John was such and such. I
+might have analyzed them in long, dull pages of minute description;
+but it is that which persons do and say that gives us true concept
+of their characters; what others say about them is little else than
+a mere statement that black is black and white is white. But to my
+story again.</p>
+<p>Dorothy by her beauty had won John's admiration when first he
+beheld her. When he met her afterward, her charms of mind and her
+thousand winsome ways moved him deeply. But upon the evening of
+which I am now telling you he beheld for the first time her grand
+burning soul, and he saw her pure heart filled to overflowing with
+its dangerous burden of love, right from the hands of God Himself,
+as the girl had said. John was of a coarser fibre than she who had
+put him up for her idol; but his sensibilities were keen, and at
+their awakening he saw clearly the worth of the priceless treasure
+which propitious fate had given him in the love of Dorothy, and he
+sat humbly at her feet. Yet she knew it not, but sat humbly at
+John's feet the happiest woman in all the world because of her
+great good fortune in having a demi-god upon whom she could lavish
+the untold wealth of her heart. If you are a woman, pray God that
+He may touch your eyes with Dorothy's blessed blindness. There is a
+heaven in the dark for you, if you can find it.</p>
+<p>I must leave the scene, though I am loath to do so. Seldom do we
+catch a glimpse of a human soul, and more seldom still does it show
+itself like a gust of God's breath upon the deep of eternity as it
+did that night in Dorothy.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a>After a time John said: "I
+have your promise to be my wife. Do you still wish to keep it?"</p>
+<p>"What an absurd question, John," replied the girl, laughing
+softly and contentedly. "Why else am I here? Tell me, think you,
+John, should I be here if I were not willing and eager to&mdash;to
+keep that promise?"</p>
+<p>"Will you go with me notwithstanding your father's hatred of my
+house?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"Ah, truly that I will, John," she answered; "surely you know I
+will go with you."</p>
+<p>"Let us go at once. Let us lose not a moment. We have already
+delayed too long," cried John in eager ecstasy.</p>
+<p>"Not to-night, John; I cannot go to-night," she pleaded. "Think
+of my attire," and she drew my cloak more closely about her. "I
+cannot go with you this time. My father is angry with me because of
+you, although he does not know who you are. Is it not famous to
+have a lover in secret of whom nobody knows? Father is angry with
+me, and as I told you in my letter, he keeps me a prisoner in my
+rooms. Aunt Dorothy stands guard over me. The dear, simple old
+soul! She told me, thinking I was Malcolm, that she was too old to
+be duped by a girl! Oh, it was too comical!" And she threw back her
+head and gave forth a peal of laughter that John was reluctantly
+compelled to silence. "I would so delight to tell you of the scene
+when I was in Aunt Dorothy's room impersonating Malcolm; but I have
+so much else to say of more importance that I know I shall not tell
+the half. When you have left me, I shall remember what I most
+wished to say but forgot."</p>
+<p>"No, John," she continued seriously, "my father has been cruel
+to me, and I try to make myself think I do not love him; but I
+fail, for I do love him." Tears were welling up in her eyes and
+stifling her voice. In a moment <a name="Page_208" id=
+"Page_208"></a>she continued: "It would kill him, John, were I to
+go with you now. I <i>will</i> go with you soon,&mdash;I give you
+my solemn promise to that&mdash;but I cannot go now,&mdash;not now.
+I cannot leave him and the others. With all his cruelty to me, I
+love him, John, next to you. He will not come to see me nor will he
+speak to me. Think of that." The tears that had welled up to her
+eyes fell in a piteous stream over her cheeks. "Aunt Dorothy and
+Madge," she continued, "are so dear to me that the thought of
+leaving them is torture. But I will go with you some day, John,
+some day soon, I promise you. They have always been kind and gentle
+to me, and I love them and my father and my dear home where I was
+born and where my sweet mother died&mdash;and Dolcy&mdash;I love
+them all so dearly that I must prepare myself to leave them, John,
+even to go with you. The heart strings of my whole life bind me to
+them. Forgive me, John, forgive me. You must think of the grief and
+pain I shall yet pass through to go to you. It is as I told you: we
+women reach heaven only through purgatory. I must forsake all else
+I love when I go to you. All, all! All that has been dear to me in
+life I must forsake for&mdash;for that which is dearer to me than
+life itself. I promise, John, to go with you, but&mdash;but forgive
+me. I cannot go to-night."</p>
+<p>"Nor can I ask it of you, Dorothy," said John. "The sacrifice
+would be all on one side. I should forego nothing, and I should
+receive all. You would forego everything, and God help me, you
+would receive nothing worth having. I am unworthy&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Not that word, John," cried Dorothy, again covering his mouth
+with&mdash;well, not with her hand. "I shall give up a great deal,"
+she continued, "and I know I shall suffer. I suffer even now when I
+think of it, for you must remember that I am rooted to my home and
+to the dear ones it shelters; but I will soon make the
+exchange,<a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a> John; I shall make
+it gladly when the time comes, because&mdash;because I feel that I
+could not live if I did not make it."</p>
+<p>"My father has already consented to our marriage," said John. "I
+told him to-day all that had passed between you and me. He, of
+course, was greatly pained at first; but when I told him of your
+perfections, he said that if you and I were dear to each other, he
+would offer no opposition, but would welcome you to his heart."</p>
+<p>"Is your father that&mdash;that sort of a man?" asked Dorothy,
+half in revery. "I have always heard&mdash;" and she hesitated.</p>
+<p>"I know," replied John, "that you have heard much evil of my
+father, but&mdash;let us not talk on that theme. You will know him
+some day, and you may judge him for yourself. When will you go with
+me, Dorothy?"</p>
+<p>"Soon, very soon, John," she answered. "You know father intends
+that I shall marry Lord Stanley. <i>I</i> intend otherwise. The
+more father hurries this marriage with my beautiful cousin the
+sooner I shall be&mdash;be your&mdash;that is, you know, the sooner
+I shall go with you."</p>
+<p>"You will not allow your father to force you to marry Lord
+Stanley?" asked John, frightened by the thought.</p>
+<p>"Ah," cried the girl, softly, "you know I told you that God had
+put into me a great plenty of will. Father calls it wilfulness; but
+whichever it is, it stands me in good hand now. You don't know how
+much I have of it! You never will know until I am
+your&mdash;your&mdash;wife." The last word was spoken in a soft,
+hesitating whisper, and her head sought shamefaced refuge on John's
+breast. Of course the magic word "wife" on Dorothy's lips aroused
+John to action, and&mdash;but a cloud at that moment passed over
+the moon and kindly obscured the scene.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a>You do not blame me,
+John," said Dorothy, "because I cannot go with you to-night? You do
+not blame me?"</p>
+<p>"Indeed I do not, my goddess," answered John. "You will soon be
+mine. I shall await your pleasure and your own time, and when you
+choose to come to me&mdash;ah, then&mdash;" And the kindly cloud
+came back to the moon.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><a name="Page_211" id=
+"Page_211"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h2>THOMAS THE MAN SERVANT</h2>
+<p>After a great effort of self-denial John told Dorothy it was
+time for her to return to the Hall, and he walked with her down
+Bowling Green Hill to the wall back of the terrace garden.</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood for a moment on the stile at the old stone wall,
+and John, clasping her hand, said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You will perhaps see me sooner than you expect," and then the
+cloud considerately floated over the moon again, and John hurried
+away up Bowling Green Hill.</p>
+<p>Dorothy crossed the terrace garden, going toward the door since
+known as "Dorothy's Postern." She had reached the top of the
+postern steps when she heard her father's voice, beyond the north
+wall of the terrace garden well up toward Bowling Green Hill. John,
+she knew, was at that moment climbing the hill. Immediately
+following the sound of her father's voice she heard another
+voice&mdash;that of her father's retainer, Sir John Guild. Then
+came the word "Halt!" quickly followed by the report of a fusil,
+and the sharp clinking of swords upon the hillside. She ran back to
+the wall, and saw the dimly outlined forms of four men. One of them
+was John, who was retreating up the hill. The others were following
+him. Sir George and Sir John Guild had unexpectedly returned from
+Derby. They had left their horses with the stable boys and were
+walking toward the kitchen door when Sir George noticed <a name=
+"Page_212" id="Page_212"></a>a man pass from behind the corner of
+the terrace garden wall and proceed up Bowling Green Hill. The man
+of course was John. Immediately Sir George and Guild, accompanied
+by a servant who was with them, started in pursuit of the intruder,
+and a moment afterward Dorothy heard her father's voice and the
+discharge of the fusil. She climbed to the top of the stile, filled
+with an agony of fear. Sir George was fifteen or twenty yards in
+advance of his companion, and when John saw that his pursuers were
+attacking him singly, he turned and quickly ran back to meet the
+warlike King of the Peak. By a few adroit turns with his sword John
+disarmed his antagonist, and rushing in upon him easily threw him
+to the ground by a wrestler's trick. Guild and the servant by that
+time were within six yards of Sir George and John.</p>
+<p>"Stop!" cried Manners, "your master is on the ground at my feet.
+My sword point is at his heart. Make but one step toward me and Sir
+George Vernon will be a dead man."</p>
+<p>Guild and the servant halted instantly.</p>
+<p>"What are your terms?" cried Guild, speaking with the haste
+which he well knew was necessary if he would save his master's
+life.</p>
+<p>"My terms are easy," answered John. "All I ask is that you allow
+me to depart in peace. I am here on no harmful errand, and I demand
+that I may depart and that I be not followed nor spied upon by any
+one."</p>
+<p>"You may depart in peace," said Guild. "No one will follow you;
+no one will spy upon you. To this I pledge my knightly word in the
+name of Christ my Saviour."</p>
+<p>John at once took his way unmolested up the hill and rode home
+with his heart full of fear lest his tryst with Dorothy had been
+discovered.</p>
+<p>Guild and the servant assisted Sir George to rise, and the three
+started down the hill toward the stile where Dorothy <a name=
+"Page_213" id="Page_213"></a>was standing. She was hidden from
+them, however, by the wall. Jennie Faxton, who had been on guard
+while John and Dorothy were at the gate, at Dorothy's suggestion
+stood on top of the stile where she could easily be seen by Sir
+George when he approached.</p>
+<p>"When my father comes here and questions you," said Dorothy to
+Jennie Faxton, "tell him that the man whom he attacked was your
+sweetheart."</p>
+<p>"Never fear, mistress," responded Jennie. "I will have a fine
+story for the master."</p>
+<p>Dorothy crouched inside the wall under the shadow of a bush, and
+Jennie waited on the top of the stile. Sir George, thinking the
+girl was Dorothy, lost no time in approaching her. He caught her
+roughly by the arm and turned her around that he might see her
+face.</p>
+<p>"By God, Guild," he muttered, "I have made a mistake. I thought
+the girl was Doll."</p>
+<p>He left instantly and followed Guild and the servant to the
+kitchen door. When Sir George left the stile, Dorothy hastened back
+to the postern of which she had the key, and hurried toward her
+room. She reached the door of her father's room just in time to see
+Sir George and Guild enter it. They saw her, and supposed her to be
+myself. If she hesitated, she was lost. But Dorothy never
+hesitated. To think, with her, was to act. She did not of course
+know that I was still in her apartments. She took the chance,
+however, and boldly followed Sir John Guild into her father's room.
+There she paused for a moment that she might not appear to be in
+too great haste, and then entered Aunt Dorothy's room where I was
+seated, waiting for her.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, my dear child," exclaimed Lady Crawford, clasping her
+arms about Dorothy's neck.</p>
+<p>"There is no time to waste in sentiment, Aunt Dorothy,"
+responded the girl. "Here are your sword and cloak, Mal<a name=
+"Page_214" id="Page_214"></a>colm. I thank you for their use. Don
+them quickly." I did so, and walked into Sir George's room, where
+that worthy old gentleman was dressing a slight wound in the hand.
+I stopped to speak with him; but he seemed disinclined to talk, and
+I left the room. He soon went to the upper court, and I presently
+followed him.</p>
+<p>Dorothy changed her garments, and she, Lady Crawford, and Madge
+also came to the upper court. The braziers in the courtyard had
+been lighted and cast a glare over two score half-clothed men and
+women who had been aroused from their beds by the commotion of the
+conflict on the hillside. Upon the upper steps of the courtyard
+stood Sir George and Jennie Faxton.</p>
+<p>"Who was the man you were with?" roughly demanded Sir George of
+the trembling Jennie. Jennie's trembling was assumed for the
+occasion.</p>
+<p>"I will not tell you his name," she replied with tears. "He is
+my sweetheart, and I will never come to the Hall again. Matters
+have come to a pretty pass when a maiden cannot speak with her
+sweetheart at the stile without he is set upon and beaten as if he
+were a hedgehog. My father is your leal henchman, and his daughter
+deserves better treatment at your hands than you have given
+me."</p>
+<p>"There, there!" said Sir George, placing his hand upon her head.
+"I was in the wrong. I did not know you had a sweetheart who wore a
+sword. When I saw you at the stile, I was sure you were another. I
+am glad I was wrong." So was Dorothy glad.</p>
+<p>"Everybody be off to bed," said Sir George. "Ben Shaw, see that
+the braziers are all blackened."</p>
+<p>Dorothy, Madge, and Lady Crawford returned to the latter's room,
+and Sir George and I entered after them. He was evidently softened
+in heart by the night's adventures and by the mistake he supposed
+he had made.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a>A selfish man grows hard
+toward those whom he injures. A generous heart grows tender. Sir
+George was generous, and the injustice he thought he had done to
+Dorothy made him eager to offer amends. The active evil in all Sir
+George's wrong-doing was the fact that he conscientiously thought
+he was in the right. Many a man has gone to hell
+backward&mdash;with his face honestly toward heaven. Sir George had
+not spoken to Dorothy since the scene wherein the key to Bowling
+Green Gate played so important a part.</p>
+<p>"Doll," said Sir George, "I thought you were at the stile with a
+man. I was mistaken. It was the Faxton girl. I beg your pardon, my
+daughter. I did you wrong."</p>
+<p>"You do me wrong in many matters, father," replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Perhaps I do," her father returned, "perhaps I do, but I mean
+for the best. I seek your happiness."</p>
+<p>"You take strange measures at times, father, to bring about my
+happiness," she replied.</p>
+<p>"Whom God loveth He chasteneth," replied Sir George,
+dolefully.</p>
+<p>"That manner of loving may be well enough for God," retorted
+Dorothy with no thought of irreverence, "but for man it is
+dangerous. Whom man loves he should cherish. A man who has a good,
+obedient daughter&mdash;one who loves him&mdash;will not imprison
+her, and, above all, he will not refuse to speak to her, nor will
+he cause her to suffer and to weep for lack of that love which is
+her right. A man has no right to bring a girl into this world and
+then cause her to suffer as you&mdash;as you&mdash;"</p>
+<p>She ceased speaking and sought refuge in silent feminine
+eloquence&mdash;tears. One would have sworn she had been grievously
+injured that night.</p>
+<p>"But I am older than you, Doll, and I know what is best for your
+happiness," said Sir George.</p>
+<p>"There are some things, father, which a girl knows with <a name=
+"Page_216" id="Page_216"></a>better, surer knowledge than the
+oldest man living. Solomon was wise because he had so many wives
+from whom he could absorb wisdom."</p>
+<p>"Ah, well!" answered Sir George, smiling in spite of himself,
+"you will have the last word."</p>
+<p>"Confess, father," she retorted quickly, "that you want the last
+word yourself."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps I do want it, but I'll never have it," returned Sir
+George; "kiss me, Doll, and be my child again."</p>
+<p>"That I will right gladly," she answered, throwing her arms
+about her father's neck and kissing him with real affection. Then
+Sir George said good night and started to leave. At the door he
+stopped, and stood for a little time in thought.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy," said he, speaking to Lady Crawford, "I relieve you of
+your duty as a guard over Doll. She may go and come when she
+chooses."</p>
+<p>"I thank you, George," said Aunt Dorothy. "The task has been
+painful to me."</p>
+<p>Dorothy went to her father and kissed him again, and Sir George
+departed.</p>
+<p>When the door was closed, Lady Crawford breathed a great sigh
+and said: "I thank Heaven, Dorothy, he does not know that you have
+been out of your room. How could you treat me so cruelly? How could
+you deceive me?"</p>
+<p>"That, Aunt Dorothy," replied the niece, "is because you are not
+old enough yet to be a match for a girl who is&mdash;who is in
+love."</p>
+<p>"Shame upon you, Dorothy!" said Lady Crawford. "Shame upon you,
+to act as you did, and now to speak so plainly about being in love!
+Malcolm said you were not a modest girl, and I am beginning to
+believe him."</p>
+<p>"Did Malcolm speak so ill of me?" asked Dorothy, turning toward
+me with a smile in her eyes.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a>My lady aunt," said I,
+turning to Lady Crawford, "when did I say that Dorothy was an
+immodest girl?"</p>
+<p>"You did not say it," the old lady admitted. "Dorothy herself
+said it, and she proves her words to be true by speaking so boldly
+of her feelings toward this&mdash;this strange man. And she speaks
+before Madge, too."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps Madge is in the same sort of trouble. Who knows?" cried
+Dorothy, laughing heartily. Madge blushed painfully. "But,"
+continued Dorothy, seriously, "I am not ashamed of it; I am proud
+of it. For what else, my dear aunt, was I created but to be in
+love? Tell me, dear aunt, for what else was I created?"</p>
+<p>"Perhaps you are right," returned the old lady, who in fact was
+sentimentally inclined.</p>
+<p>"The chief end of woman, after all, is to love," said Dorothy.
+"What would become of the human race if it were not?"</p>
+<p>"Child, child," cried the aunt, "where learned you such
+things?"</p>
+<p>"They were written upon my mother's breast," continued Dorothy,
+"and I learned them when I took in my life with her milk. I pray
+they may be written upon my breast some day, if God in His goodness
+shall ever bless me with a baby girl. A man child could not read
+the words."</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, Dorothy!" cried Lady Crawford, "you shock me. You pain
+me."</p>
+<p>"Again I ask," responded Dorothy, "for what else was I created?
+I tell you, Aunt Dorothy, the world decrees that women shall remain
+in ignorance, or in pretended ignorance&mdash;in silence at
+least&mdash;regarding the things concerning which they have the
+greatest need to be wise and talkative."</p>
+<p>"At your age, Dorothy, I did not have half your wisdom on the
+subject," answered Lady Crawford.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a>Tell me, my sweet Aunt
+Dorothy, were you really in a state of ignorance such as you would
+have me believe?"</p>
+<p>"Well," responded the old lady, hesitatingly, "I did not speak
+of such matters."</p>
+<p>"Why, aunt, did you not?" asked Dorothy. "Were you ashamed of
+what God had done? Were you ashamed of His great purpose in
+creating you a woman, and in creating your mother and your mother's
+mother before you?"</p>
+<p>"No, no, child; no, no. But I cannot argue with you. Perhaps you
+are right," said Aunt Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Then tell me, dear aunt, that I am not immodest and bold when I
+speak concerning that of which my heart is full to overflowing. God
+put it there, aunt, not I. Surely I am not immodest by reason of
+His act."</p>
+<p>"No, no, my sweet child," returned Aunt Dorothy, beginning to
+weep softly. "No, no, you are not immodest. You are worth a
+thousand weak fools such as I was at your age."</p>
+<p>Poor Aunt Dorothy had been forced into a marriage which had
+wrecked her life. Dorothy's words opened her aunt's eyes to the
+fact that the girl whom she so dearly loved was being thrust by Sir
+George into the same wretched fate through which she had dragged
+her own suffering heart for so many years. From that hour she was
+Dorothy's ally.</p>
+<p>"Good night, Malcolm," said Lady Crawford, offering me her hand.
+I kissed it tenderly; then I kissed the sweet old lady's cheek and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I love you with all my heart, Aunt Dorothy."</p>
+<p>"I thank you, Malcolm," she returned.</p>
+<p>I took my leave, and soon Madge went to her room, leaving
+Dorothy and Lady Crawford together.</p>
+<p>When Madge had gone the two Dorothys, one at each end of life,
+spanned the long years that separated them, <a name="Page_219" id=
+"Page_219"></a>and became one in heart by reason of a heartache
+common to both.</p>
+<p>Lady Crawford seated herself and Dorothy knelt by her chair.</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Dorothy," said the old lady, "tell me, do you love
+this man so tenderly, so passionately that you cannot give him
+up?"</p>
+<p>"Ah, my dear aunt," the girl responded, "words cannot tell. You
+cannot know what I feel."</p>
+<p>"Alas! I know only too well, my child. I, too, loved a man when
+I was your age, and none but God knows what I suffered when I was
+forced by my parents and the priests to give him up, and to wed one
+whom&mdash;God help me&mdash;I loathed."</p>
+<p>"Oh, my sweet aunt!" cried Dorothy softly, throwing her arms
+about the old lady's neck and kissing her cheek. "How terribly you
+must have suffered!"</p>
+<p>"Yes," responded Lady Crawford, "and I am resolved you shall not
+endure the same fate. I hope the man who has won your love is
+worthy of you. Do not tell me his name, for I do not wish to
+practise greater deception toward your father than I must. But you
+may tell me of his station in life, and of his person, that I may
+know he is not unworthy of you."</p>
+<p>"His station in life," answered Dorothy, "is far better than
+mine. In person he is handsome beyond any woman's wildest dream of
+manly beauty. In character he is noble, generous, and good. He is
+far beyond my deserts, Aunt Dorothy."</p>
+<p>"Then why does he not seek your hand from your father?" asked
+the aunt.</p>
+<p>"That I may not tell you, Aunt Dorothy," returned the girl,
+"unless you would have me tell you his name, and that I dare not
+do. Although he is vastly my superior in station, in blood, and in
+character, still my father would <a name="Page_220" id=
+"Page_220"></a>kill me before he would permit me to marry this man
+of my choice; and I, dear aunt, fear I shall die if I have him
+not."</p>
+<p>Light slowly dawned upon Aunt Dorothy's mind, and she exclaimed
+in a terrified whisper:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My God, child, is it he?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," responded the girl, "yes, it is he."</p>
+<p>"Do not speak his name, Dorothy," the old lady said. "Do not
+speak his name. So long as you do not tell me, I cannot know with
+certainty who he is." After a pause Aunt Dorothy continued,
+"Perhaps, child, it was his father whom I loved and was compelled
+to give up."</p>
+<p>"May the blessed Virgin pity us, sweet aunt," cried Dorothy,
+caressingly.</p>
+<p>"And help us," returned Lady Crawford. "I, too, shall help you,"
+she continued. "It will be through no fault of mine if your life is
+wasted as mine has been."</p>
+<p>Dorothy kissed her aunt and retired.</p>
+<p>Next morning when Dorothy arose a song came from her heart as it
+comes from the skylark when it sees the sun at dawn&mdash;because
+it cannot help singing. It awakened Aunt Dorothy, and she began to
+live her life anew, in brightness, as she steeped her soul in the
+youth and joyousness of Dorothy Vernon's song.</p>
+<p>I have spoken before in this chronicle of Will Dawson. He was a
+Conformer. Possibly it was by reason of his religious faith that he
+did not share the general enmity that existed in Haddon Hall
+against the house of Rutland. He did not, at the time of which I
+speak, know Sir John Manners, and he did not suspect that the heir
+to Rutland was the man who had of late been causing so much trouble
+to the house of Vernon. At least, if he did suspect it, no one knew
+of his suspicions.</p>
+<p>Sir George made a great effort to learn who the mysterious
+interloper was, but he wholly failed to obtain any clew <a name=
+"Page_221" id="Page_221"></a>to his identity. He had jumped to the
+conclusion that Dorothy's mysterious lover was a man of low degree.
+He had taken for granted that he was an adventurer whose station
+and person precluded him from openly wooing his daughter. He did
+not know that the heir to Rutland was in the Derbyshire country;
+for John, after his first meeting with Dorothy, had carefully
+concealed his presence from everybody save the inmates of Rutland.
+In fact, his mission to Rutland required secrecy, and the Rutland
+servants and retainers were given to understand as much. Even had
+Sir George known of John's presence at Rutland, the old gentleman's
+mind could not have compassed the thought that Dorothy, who, he
+believed, hated the race of Manners with an intensity equalled only
+by his own feelings, could be induced to exchange a word with a
+member of the house. His uncertainty was not the least of his
+troubles; and although Dorothy had full liberty to come and go at
+will, her father kept constant watch over her. As a matter of fact,
+Sir George had given Dorothy liberty partly for the purpose of
+watching her, and he hoped to discover thereby and, if possible, to
+capture the man who had brought trouble to his household. Sir
+George had once hanged a man to a tree on Bowling Green Hill by no
+other authority than his own desire. That execution was the last in
+England under the old Saxon law of Infangthef and Outfangthef. Sir
+George had been summoned before Parliament for the deed; but the
+writ had issued against the King of the Peak, and that being only a
+sobriquet, was neither Sir George's name nor his title. So the writ
+was quashed, and the high-handed act of personal justice was not
+farther investigated by the authorities. Should my cousin capture
+his daughter's lover, there would certainly be another execution
+under the old Saxon law. So you see that my friend Manners was
+tickling death with a straw for Dorothy's sake.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a>One day Dawson approached
+Sir George and told him that a man sought employment in the
+household of Haddon Hall. Sir George placed great confidence in his
+forester; so he told Dawson to employ the man if his services were
+needed. The new servant proved to be a fine, strong fellow, having
+a great shock of carrot-colored hair and a bushy beard of rusty
+red.</p>
+<p>Dawson engaged the newcomer, and assigned to him the duty of
+kindling the fires in the family apartments of the Hall. The name
+of the new servant was Thomas Thompson, a name that Dorothy soon
+abbreviated to Tom-Tom.</p>
+<p>One day she said to him, by way of opening the acquaintance,
+"Thomas, you and I should be good friends; we have so much in
+common."</p>
+<p>"Thank you, my lady," responded Thomas, greatly pleased. "I hope
+we shall be good friends; indeed, indeed I do, but I cannot tell
+wherein I am so fortunate as to have anything in common with your
+Ladyship. What is it, may I ask, of which we have so much in
+common?"</p>
+<p>"So much hair," responded Dorothy, laughing.</p>
+<p>"It were blasphemy, lady, to compare my hair with yours,"
+returned Thomas. "Your hair, I make sure, is such as the blessed
+Virgin had. I ask your pardon for speaking so plainly; but your
+words put the thought into my mind, and perhaps they gave me
+license to speak."</p>
+<p>Thomas was on his knees, placing wood upon the fire.</p>
+<p>"Thomas," returned Dorothy, "you need never apologize to a lady
+for making so fine a speech. I declare a courtier could not have
+made a better one."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps I have lived among courtiers, lady," said Thomas.</p>
+<p>"I doubt not," replied Dorothy, derisively. "You would have me
+believe you are above your station. It is the way <a name=
+"Page_223" id="Page_223"></a>with all new servants. I suppose you
+have seen fine company and better days."</p>
+<p>"I have never seen finer company than now, and I have never
+known better days than this," responded courtier Thomas. Dorothy
+thought he was presuming on her condescension, and was about to
+tell him so when he continued: "The servants at Haddon Hall are
+gentlefolk compared with servants at other places where I have
+worked, and I desire nothing more than to find favor in Sir
+George's eyes. I would do anything to achieve that end."</p>
+<p>Dorothy was not entirely reassured by Thomas's closing words;
+but even if they were presumptuous, she admired his wit in giving
+them an inoffensive turn. From that day forth the acquaintance grew
+between the servant and mistress until it reached the point of
+familiarity at which Dorothy dubbed him Tom-Tom.</p>
+<p>Frequently Dorothy was startled by remarks made by Thomas,
+having in them a strong dash of familiarity; but he always gave to
+his words a harmless turn before she could resent them. At times,
+however, she was not quite sure of his intention.</p>
+<p>Within a week after Thomas's advent to the hall, Dorothy began
+to suspect that the new servant looked upon her with eyes of great
+favor. She frequently caught him watching her, and at such times
+his eyes, which Dorothy thought were really very fine, would glow
+with an ardor all too evident. His manner was cause for amusement
+rather than concern, and since she felt kindly toward the new
+servant, she thought to create a faithful ally by treating him
+graciously. She might, she thought, need Thomas's help when the
+time should come for her to leave Haddon Hall with John, if that
+happy time should ever come. She did not realize that the most
+dangerous, watchful enemy to her cherished scheme would be a
+<a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a>man who was himself in love
+with her, even though he were a servant, and she looked on Thomas's
+evident infatuation with a smile. She did not once think that in
+the end it might cause her great trouble, so she accepted his mute
+admiration, and thought to make use of it later on. To Tom,
+therefore, Dorothy was gracious.</p>
+<p>John had sent word to Dorothy, by Jennie Faxton, that he had
+gone to London, and would be there for a fortnight or more.</p>
+<p>Sir George had given permission to his daughter to ride out
+whenever she wished to do so, but he had ordered that Dawson or I
+should follow in the capacity of spy, and Dorothy knew of the
+censorship, though she pretended ignorance of it. So long as John
+was in London she did not care who followed her; but I well knew
+that when Manners should return, Dorothy would again begin
+manoeuvring, and that by some cunning trick she would see him.</p>
+<p>One afternoon I was temporarily absent from the Hall and Dorothy
+wished to ride. Dawson was engaged, and when Dorothy had departed,
+he ordered Tom to ride after his mistress at a respectful distance.
+Nearly a fortnight had passed since John had gone to London, and
+when Dorothy rode forth that afternoon she was beginning to hope he
+might have returned, and that by some delightful possibility he
+might then be loitering about the old trysting-place at Bowling
+Green Gate. There was a half-unconscious conviction in her heart
+that he would be there. She determined therefore, to ride toward
+Rowsley, to cross the Wye at her former fording-place, and to go up
+to Bowling Green Gate on the Devonshire side of the Haddon wall.
+She had no reason, other than the feeling born of her wishes, to
+believe that John would be there; but she loved the spot for the
+sake of the memories which hovered about it. She well knew that
+some one would follow her from the Hall; but she felt sure that in
+case the spy<a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a> proved to be
+Dawson or myself, she could easily arrange matters to her
+satisfaction, if by good fortune she should find her lover at the
+gate.</p>
+<p>Tom rode so far behind his mistress that she could not determine
+who was following her. Whenever she brought Dolcy to a walk,
+Tom-Tom also walked his horse. When Dorothy galloped, he galloped;
+but after Dorothy had crossed the Wye and had taken the wall over
+into the Devonshire lands, Tom also crossed the river and wall and
+quickly rode to her side. He uncovered and bowed low with a
+familiarity of manner that startled her. The act of riding up to
+her and the manner in which he took his place by her side were
+presumptuous to the point of insolence, and his attitude, although
+not openly offensive, was slightly alarming. She put Dolcy to a
+gallop; but the servant who, she thought, was presuming on her
+former graciousness, kept close at Dolcy's heels. The man was a
+stranger, and she knew nothing of his character. She was alone in
+the forest with him, and she did not know to what length his absurd
+passion for her might lead him. She was alarmed, but she despised
+cowardice, although she knew herself to be a coward, and she
+determined to ride to the gate, which was but a short distance
+ahead of her. She resolved that if the insolent fellow continued
+his familiarity, she would teach him a lesson he would never
+forget. When she was within a short distance of the gate she sprang
+from Dolcy and handed her rein to her servant. John was not there,
+but she went to the gate in the hope that a letter might be hidden
+beneath the stone bench where Jennie was wont to find them in times
+past. Dorothy found no letter, but she could not resist the
+temptation to sit down upon the bench where he and she had sat, and
+to dream over the happy moments she had spent there. Tom, instead
+of holding the horses, hitched them, and walked toward Dorothy.
+That act on <a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a>the part of her
+servant was effrontery of the most insolent sort. Will Dawson
+himself would not have dared do such a thing. It filled her with
+alarm, and as Tom approached she was trying to determine in what
+manner she would crush him. But when the audacious Thomas, having
+reached the gate, seated himself beside his mistress on the stone
+bench, the girl sprang to her feet in fright and indignation. She
+began to realize the extent of her foolhardiness in going to that
+secluded spot with a stranger.</p>
+<p>"How dare you approach me in this insolent fashion?" cried
+Dorothy, breathless with fear.</p>
+<p>"Mistress Vernon," responded Thomas, looking boldly up into her
+pale face, "I wager you a gold pound sterling that if you permit me
+to remain here by your side ten minutes you will be
+unwilling&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"John, John!" cried the girl, exultantly. Tom snatched the red
+beard from his face, and Dorothy, after one fleeting, luminous look
+into his eyes, fell upon her knees and buried her face in her
+hands. She wept, and John, bending over the kneeling girl, kissed
+her sunlit hair.</p>
+<p>"Cruel, cruel," sobbed Dorothy. Then she lifted her head and
+clasped her hands about his neck. "Is it not strange," she
+continued, "that I should have felt so sure of seeing you? My
+reason kept telling me that my hopes were absurd, but a stronger
+feeling full of the breath of certainty seemed to assure me that
+you would be here. It impelled me to come, though I feared you
+after we crossed the wall. But reason, fear, and caution were
+powerless to keep me away."</p>
+<p>"You did not know my voice," said John, "nor did you penetrate
+my disguise. You once said that you would recognize me though I
+wore all the petticoats in Derbyshire."</p>
+<p>"Please don't jest with me now," pleaded Dorothy. "I cannot bear
+it. Great joy is harder to endure than great grief. Why did you not
+reveal yourself to me at the Hall?" she asked plaintively.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a>I found no opportunity,"
+returned John, "others were always present."</p>
+<p>I shall tell you nothing that followed. It is no affair of yours
+nor of mine.</p>
+<p>They were overjoyed in being together once more. Neither of them
+seemed to realize that John, while living under Sir George's roof,
+was facing death every moment. To Dorothy, the fact that John, who
+was heir to one of England's noblest houses, was willing for her
+sake to become a servant, to do a servant's work, and to receive
+the indignities constantly put upon a servant, appealed most
+powerfully. It added to her feeling for him a tenderness which is
+not necessarily a part of passionate love.</p>
+<p>It is needless for me to tell you that while John performed
+faithfully the duty of keeping bright the fires in Haddon Hall, he
+did not neglect the other flame&mdash;the one in Dorothy's
+heart&mdash;for the sake of whose warmth he had assumed the
+leathern garb of servitude and had placed his head in the lion's
+mouth.</p>
+<p>At first he and Dorothy used great caution in exchanging words
+and glances, but familiarity with danger breeds contempt for it. So
+they utilized every opportunity that niggard chance offered, and
+blinded by their great longing soon began to make opportunities for
+speech with each other, thereby bringing trouble to Dorothy and
+deadly peril to John. Of that I shall soon tell you.</p>
+<p>During the period of John's service in Haddon Hall negotiations
+for Dorothy's marriage with Lord Stanley were progressing slowly
+but surely. Arrangements for the marriage settlement by the
+Stanleys, and for Dorothy's dower to be given by Sir George, were
+matters that the King of the Peak approached boldly as he would
+have met any other affair of business. But the Earl of Derby, whose
+mind moved slowly, desiring that a generous portion of the Vernon
+wealth should be transferred with Dorothy <a name="Page_228" id=
+"Page_228"></a>to the Stanley holdings without the delay incident
+to Sir George's death, put off signing the articles of marriage in
+his effort to augment the cash payment. In truth, the great wealth
+which Dorothy would bring to the house of Stanley was the earl's
+real reason for desiring her marriage with his son. The earl was
+heavily in debt, and his estate stood in dire need of help.</p>
+<p>Sir George, though attracted by the high nobility of the house
+of Stanley, did not relish the thought that the wealth he had
+accumulated by his own efforts, and the Vernon estates which had
+come down to him through centuries, should go to pay Lord Derby's
+debts. He therefore insisted that Dorothy's dower should be her
+separate estate, and demanded that it should remain untouched and
+untouchable by either of the Stanleys. That arrangement did not
+suit my lord earl, and although the son since he had seen Dorothy
+at Derby-town was eager to possess the beautiful girl, his father
+did not share his ardor. Lawyers were called in who looked
+expensively wise, but they accomplished the purpose for which they
+were employed. An agreement of marriage was made and was drawn up
+on an imposing piece of parchment, brave with ribbons, pompous with
+seals, and fair in clerkly penmanship.</p>
+<p>One day Sir George showed me the copy of the contract which had
+been prepared for him. That evening at the cost of much labor he
+and I went over the indenture word for word, and when we had
+finished Sir George thought it was very good indeed. He seemed to
+think that all difficulties in the way of the marriage were
+overcome when the agreement that lay before us on the table had
+been achieved between him and the earl. I knew Sir George's
+troubles had only begun; for I was aware of a fact which it seemed
+impossible for him to learn, though of late Dorothy had given him
+much teaching thereto. I knew that he had transmitted to his
+daughter a large portion of his own <a name="Page_229" id=
+"Page_229"></a>fierce, stubborn, unbreakable will, and that in her
+it existed in its most deadly form&mdash;the feminine. To me after
+supper that night was assigned the task of reading and rereading
+many times to Sir George the contents of the beautiful parchment.
+When I would read a clause that particularly pleased my cousin, he
+insisted on celebrating the event by drinking a mug of liquor drawn
+from a huge leather stoup which sat upon the table between us. By
+the time I had made several readings of the interesting document
+the characters began to mingle in a way that did not impart ease
+and clearness to my style. Some of the strange combinations which I
+and the liquor extracted from amid the seals and ribbons puzzled
+Sir George not a little. But with each new libation he found new
+clauses and fresh causes for self-congratulation, though to speak
+exact truth I more than once married Sir George to the Earl of
+Derby, and in my profanity gave Lord James Stanley to the devil to
+have and to hold.</p>
+<p>Sir George was rapidly falling before his mighty enemy, drink,
+and I was not far behind him, though I admit the fault with shame.
+My cousin for a while was mightily pleased with the contract; but
+when the liquor had brought him to a point where he was entirely
+candid with himself, he let slip the fact that after all there was
+regret at the bottom of the goblet, metaphorically and actually.
+Before his final surrender to drink he dropped the immediate
+consideration of the contract and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, I have in my time known many fools, but if you will
+permit an old man, who loves you dearly, to make a plain statement
+of his conviction&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Certainly," I interrupted.</p>
+<p>"It would be a great relief to me," he continued, "to say that I
+believe you to be the greatest fool the good God ever permitted to
+live."</p>
+<p>"I am sure, Sir George, that your condescending flattery is very
+pleasing," I said.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a>Sir George, unmindful of my
+remark, continued, "Your disease is not usually a deadly malady, as
+a look about you will easily show; but, Malcolm, if you were one
+whit more of a fool, you certainly would perish."</p>
+<p>I was not offended, for I knew that my cousin meant no
+offence.</p>
+<p>"Then, Sir George, if the time ever comes when I wish to commit
+suicide, I have always at hand an easy, painless mode of death. I
+shall become only a little more of a fool." I laughingly said, "I
+will do my utmost to absorb a little wisdom now and then as a
+preventive."</p>
+<p>"Never a bit of wisdom will you ever absorb. A man who would
+refuse a girl whose wealth and beauty are as great as Dorothy's, is
+past all hope. I often awaken in the dark corners of the night when
+a man's troubles stalk about his bed like livid demons; and when I
+think that all of this evil which has come up between Dorothy and
+me, and all of this cursed estrangement which is eating out my
+heart could have been averted if you had consented to marry her, I
+cannot but feel&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"But, Sir George," I interrupted, "it was Dorothy, not I, who
+refused. She could never have been brought to marry me."</p>
+<p>"Don't tell me, Malcolm; don't tell me," cried the old man,
+angrily. Drink had made Sir George sullen and violent. It made me
+happy at first; but with liquor in excess there always came to me a
+sort of frenzy.</p>
+<p>"Don't tell me," continued Sir George. "There never lived a
+Vernon who couldn't win a woman if he would try. But put all that
+aside. She would have obeyed me. I would have forced her to marry
+you, and she would have thanked me afterward."</p>
+<p>"You could never have forced her to marry me," I replied.</p>
+<p>"But that I could and that I would have done," said Sir George.
+"The like is done every day. Girls in these <a name="Page_231" id=
+"Page_231"></a>modern times are all perverse, but they are made to
+yield. Take the cases of Sir Thomas Mobley, Sir Grant Rhodas, and
+William Kimm. Their daughters all refused to marry the men chosen
+for them, but the wenches were made to yield. If I had a daughter
+who refused to obey me, I would break her; I would break her. Yes,
+by God, I would break her if I had to kill her," and the old man
+brought his clenched hand down upon the oak table with a crash. His
+eyes glared frightfully, and his face bore a forbidding expression
+which boded no good for Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"She will make trouble in this matter," Sir George continued,
+tapping the parchment with his middle finger.</p>
+<p>"She will make trouble about this; but, by God, Malcolm, she
+shall obey me."</p>
+<p>He struck the oaken table another great blow with his fist, and
+glared fiercely across at me.</p>
+<p>"Lord Wyatt had trouble with his daughter when he made the
+marriage with Devonshire," continued Sir George.</p>
+<p>"A damned good match it was, too, for the girl. But she had her
+heart set on young Gillman, and she refused to obey her father. She
+refused, by God, point blank, to obey her father. She refused to
+obey the man who had given her life. What did Wyatt do? He was a
+man who knew what a child owes to its father, and, by God, Malcolm,
+after trying every other means to bring the wench to her senses,
+after he had tried persuasion, after having in two priests and a
+bishop to show her how badly she was acting, and after he had tried
+to reason with her, he whipped her; yes, he whipped her till she
+bled&mdash;till she bled, Malcolm, I tell you. Ah, Wyatt knew what
+is due from a child to its parents. The whipping failed to bring
+the perverse huzzy to obedience, so Wyatt threw her into a dungeon
+and starved her till&mdash;till&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Till she died," I interrupted.</p>
+<p>"Yes, till she died," mumbled Sir George, sullenly, "till she
+died, and it served her right, by God, served her right."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a>The old man was growing
+very drunk, and everything was beginning to appear distorted to me.
+Sir George rose to his feet, leaned toward me with glaring eyes,
+struck the table a terrible blow with his fist, and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"By the blood of God I swear that if Doll refuses to marry
+Stanley, and persists in her refusal, I'll whip her. Wyatt is a man
+after my own heart. I'll starve her. I'll kill her. Ay, if I loved
+her ten thousand times more than I do, I would kill her or she
+should obey me."</p>
+<p>Then dawned upon me a vision of terrible possibilities. I was
+sure Sir George could not force Dorothy to marry against her will;
+but I feared lest he might kill her in his effort to "break her." I
+do not mean that I feared he would kill her by a direct act, unless
+he should do so in a moment of frenzy induced by drink and passion,
+but I did fear for the results of the breaking process. The like
+had often happened. It had happened in the case of Wyatt's
+daughter. Dorothy under the intoxicating influence of her passion
+might become so possessed by the spirit of a martyr that she could
+calmly take a flogging, but my belief was that should matters
+proceed to that extreme, should Sir George flog his daughter, the
+chords of her highly strung nature would snap under the tension,
+and she would die. I loved Dorothy for the sake of her fierce,
+passionate, tender heart, and because she loved me; and even in my
+sober, reflective moments I had resolved that my life, ay, and Sir
+George's life also, should stand between the girl and the lash. If
+in calmness I could deliberately form such a resolution, imagine
+the effect on my liquor-crazed brain of Sir George's words and the
+vista of horrors they disclosed. I was intoxicated. I was drunk. I
+say it with shame; and on hearing Sir George's threat my
+half-frenzied imagination ran riot into the foreboding future.</p>
+<p>All the candles, save one tottering wick, were dead in their
+sockets, and the room was filled with lowering phan<a name=
+"Page_233" id="Page_233"></a>tom-like shadows from oaken floor to
+grimy vaulted roof beams. Sir George, hardly conscious of what he
+did and said, all his evil passions quickened with drink, leaned
+his hands upon the table and glared across at me. He seemed to be
+the incarnation of rage and ferocity, to so great a pitch had he
+wrought himself. The sputtering candle feebly flickered, and seemed
+to give its dim light only that the darksome shadows might flit and
+hover about us like vampires on the scent of blood. A cold
+perspiration induced by a nameless fear came upon me, and in that
+dark future to which my heated imagination travelled I saw, as if
+revealed by black magic, fair, sweet, generous Dorothy, standing
+piteously upon Bowling Green hillside. Over her drooping form there
+hung in air a monster cloudlike image of her father holding in its
+hand a deadly bludgeon. So black, so horrid was this shadow-demon
+that I sprang from my chair with a frightful oath, and
+shrieked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Hell is made for man because of his cruelty to woman."</p>
+<p>Sir George had sunk into his chair. Liquor had finished its
+work, and the old man, resting his head upon his folded arms,
+leaned forward on the table. He was drunk&mdash;dead to the world.
+How long I stood in frenzied stupor gazing at shadow-stricken
+Dorothy upon the hillside I do not know. It must have been several
+minutes. Blood of Christ, how vividly I remember the vision! The
+sunny radiance of the girl's hair was darkened and dead. Her
+bending attitude was one of abject grief. Her hands covered her
+face, and she was the image of woe. Suddenly she lifted her head
+with the quick impulsive movement so familiar in her, and with a
+cry eloquent as a child's wail for its mother called, "John," and
+held out her arms imploringly toward the dim shadowy form of her
+lover standing upon the hill crest. Then John's form began to fade,
+and as its shadowy essence grew dim, <a name="Page_234" id=
+"Page_234"></a>despair slowly stole like a mask of death over
+Dorothy's face. She stood for a moment gazing vacantly into space.
+Then she fell to the ground, the shadow of her father hovering over
+her prostrate form, and the words, "Dead, dead, dead," came to me
+in horrifying whispers from every dancing shadow-demon in the
+room.</p>
+<p>In trying to locate the whispers as they reverberated from floor
+to oaken rafters, I turned and saw Sir George. He looked as if he
+were dead.</p>
+<p>"Why should you not be dead in fact?" I cried. "You would kill
+your daughter. Why should I not kill you? That will solve the whole
+question."</p>
+<p>I revelled in the thought; I drank it in; I nursed it; I cuddled
+it; I kissed it. Nature's brutish love for murder had deluged my
+soul. I put my hand to my side for the purpose of drawing my sword
+or my knife. I had neither with me. Then I remember staggering
+toward the fireplace to get one of the fire-irons with which to
+kill my cousin. I remember that when I grasped the fire-iron, by
+the strange working of habit I employed it for the moment in its
+proper use; and as I began to stir the embers on the hearth, my
+original purpose was forgotten. That moment of habit-wrought
+forgetfulness saved me and saved Sir George's life. I remember that
+I sank into the chair in front of the fireplace, holding the iron,
+and I thank God that I remember nothing more.</p>
+<p>During the night the servants aroused me, and I staggered up the
+stone stairway of Eagle Tower and clambered into my room.</p>
+<p>The next morning I awakened feeling ill. There was a taste in my
+mouth as If I had been chewing a piece of the devil's boot over
+night. I wanted no breakfast, so I climbed to the top of the tower,
+hoping the fresh morning breeze might cool my head and cleanse my
+mouth. For a moment or two I stood on the tower roof bareheaded and
+open-<a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a>mouthed while I drank in
+the fresh, purifying air. The sweet draught helped me physically;
+but all the winds of Boreas could not have blown out of my head the
+vision of the previous night. The question, "Was it prophetic?"
+kept ringing in my ears, answerless save by a superstitious feeling
+of fear. Then the horrid thought that I had only by a mere chance
+missed becoming a murderer came upon me, and again was crowded from
+my mind by the memory of Dorothy and the hovering spectre which had
+hung over her head on Bowling Green hillside.</p>
+<p>I walked to the north side of the tower and on looking down the
+first person I saw was our new servant, Thomas, holding two horses
+at the mounting stand. One of them was Dolcy, and I, feeling that a
+brisk ride with Dorothy would help me to throw off my wretchedness,
+quickly descended the tower stairs, stopped at my room for my hat
+and cloak, and walked around to the mounting block. Dorothy was
+going to ride, and I supposed she would prefer me to the new
+servant as a companion.</p>
+<p>I asked Thomas if his mistress were going out for a ride, and he
+replied affirmatively.</p>
+<p>"Who is to accompany her?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"She gave orders for me to go with her," he answered.</p>
+<p>"Very well," I responded, "take your horse back to the stable
+and fetch mine." The man hesitated, and twice he began to make
+reply, but finally he said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Very well, Sir Malcolm."</p>
+<p>He hitched Dolcy to the ring in the mounting block and started
+back toward the stable leading his own horse. At that moment
+Dorothy came out of the tower gate, dressed for the ride. Surely no
+woman was ever more beautiful than she that morning.</p>
+<p>"Tom-Tom, where are you taking the horse?" she cried.</p>
+<p>"To the stable, Mistress," answered the servant. "Sir Malcolm
+says he will go with you."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a>Dorothy's joyousness
+vanished. From radiant brightness her expression changed in the
+twinkling of an eye to a look of disappointment so sorrowful that I
+at once knew there was some great reason why she did not wish me to
+ride with her. I could not divine the reason, neither did I try. I
+quickly said to Thomas:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Do not bring my horse. If Mistress Vernon will excuse me, I
+shall not ride with her this morning. I forgot for the moment that
+I had not breakfasted."</p>
+<p>Again came to Dorothy's face the radiant look of joy as if to
+affirm what it had already told me. I looked toward Thomas, and his
+eyes, too, were alight. I could make nothing of it. Thomas was a
+fine-looking fellow, notwithstanding his preposterous hair and
+beard; but I felt sure there could be no understanding between the
+man and his mistress.</p>
+<p>When Thomas and Dorothy had mounted, she timidly ventured to
+say:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"We are sorry, Cousin Malcolm, that you cannot ride with
+us."</p>
+<p>She did not give me an opportunity to change my mind, but struck
+Dolcy a sharp blow with her whip that sent the spirited mare
+galloping toward the dove-cote, and Thomas quickly followed at a
+respectful distance. From the dove-cote Dorothy took the path down
+the Wye toward Rowsley. I, of course, connected her strange conduct
+with John. When a young woman who is well balanced physically,
+mentally, and morally acts in a strange, unusual manner, you may
+depend on it there is a man somewhere behind her motive.</p>
+<p>I knew that John was in London. Only the night before I had
+received word from Rutland Castle that he had not returned, and
+that he was not expected home for many days.</p>
+<p>So I concluded that John could not be behind my fair <a name=
+"Page_237" id="Page_237"></a>cousin's motive. I tried to stop
+guessing at the riddle Dorothy had set me, but my effort was
+useless. I wondered and thought and guessed, but I brought to
+myself only the answer, "Great is the mystery of womanhood."</p>
+<p>After Dorothy had ridden away I again climbed to the top of
+Eagle Tower and saw the riders cross the Wye at Dorothy's former
+fording-place, and take the wall. I then did a thing that fills me
+with shame when I think of it. For the only time in my whole life I
+acted the part of a spy. I hurried to Bowling Green Gate, and
+horror upon horror, there I beheld my cousin Dorothy in the arms of
+Thomas, the man-servant. I do not know why the truth of Thomas's
+identity did not dawn upon me, but it did not, and I stole away
+from the gate, thinking that Dorothy, after all, was no better than
+the other women I had known at various times in my life, and I
+resolved to tell John what I had seen. You must remember that the
+women I had known were of the courts of Mary Stuart and of Guise,
+and the less we say about them the better. God pity them! Prior to
+my acquaintance with Dorothy and Madge I had always considered a
+man to be a fool who would put his faith in womankind. To me women
+were as good as men,&mdash;no better, no worse. But with my
+knowledge of those two girls there had grown up in me a faith in
+woman's virtue which in my opinion is man's greatest comforter; the
+lack of it his greatest torment.</p>
+<p>I went back to Eagle Tower and stood at my window looking down
+the Wye, hoping soon to see Dorothy returning home. I did not feel
+jealousy in the sense that a lover would feel it; but there was a
+pain in my heart, a mingling of grief, anger, and resentment
+because Dorothy had destroyed not only my faith in her, but, alas!
+my sweet, new-born faith in womankind. Through her fault I had
+fallen again to my old, black belief that virtue was only another
+name for the lack of opportunity. It is easy for a man <a name=
+"Page_238" id="Page_238"></a>who has never known virtue in woman to
+bear and forbear the lack of it; but when once he has known the
+priceless treasure, doubt becomes excruciating pain.</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v238" id="v238"></a> <img src=
+"images/v238.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>After an hour or two Dorothy and her servant appeared at the
+ford and took the path up the Wye toward Haddon. Thomas was riding
+a short distance behind his accommodating mistress, and as they
+approached the Hall, I recognized something familiar in his figure.
+At first, the feeling of recognition was indistinct, but when the
+riders drew near, something about the man&mdash;his poise on the
+horse, a trick with the rein or a turn with his stirrup, I could
+not tell what it was&mdash;startled me like a flash in the dark,
+and the word "John!" sprang to my lips. The wonder of the thing
+drove out of my mind all power to think. I could only feel happy,
+so I lay down upon my bed and soon dropped off to sleep.</p>
+<p>When I awakened I was rapt in peace, for I had again found my
+treasured faith in womankind. I had hardly dared include Madge in
+my backsliding, but I had come perilously near doing it, and the
+thought of my narrow escape from such perfidy frightened me. I have
+never taken the risk since that day. I would not believe the
+testimony of my own eyes against the evidence of my faith in
+Madge.</p>
+<p>I knew that Thomas was Sir John Manners, and yet I did not know
+it certainly. I determined, if possible, to remain in partial
+ignorance, hoping that I might with some small show of truth be
+able to plead ignorance should Sir George accuse me of bad faith in
+having failed to tell him of John's presence in Haddon Hall. That
+Sir George would sooner or later discover Thomas's identity I had
+little doubt. That he would kill him should he once have him in his
+power, I had no doubt at all. Hence, although I had awakened in
+peace concerning Dorothy, you may understand that I awakened to
+trouble concerning John.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><a name="Page_239" id=
+"Page_239"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<h2>THE COST MARK OF JOY</h2>
+<p>Peace had been restored between Dorothy and her father. At least
+an armistice had been tacitly declared. But, owing to Dorothy's
+knowledge of her father's intention that she should marry Lord
+Stanley, and because of Sir George's feeling that Dorothy had
+determined to do nothing of the sort, the belligerent powers
+maintained a defensive attitude which rendered an absolute
+reconciliation impossible. They were ready for war at a moment's
+notice.</p>
+<p>The strangest part of their relation was the failure of each to
+comprehend and fully to realize the full strength of the other's
+purpose. Dorothy could not bring herself to believe that her
+father, who had until within the last few weeks, been kind and
+indulgent to her, seriously intended to force her into marriage
+with a creature so despicable as Stanley. In fact, she did not
+believe that her father could offer lasting resistance to her
+ardent desire in any matter. Such an untoward happening had never
+befallen her. Dorothy had learned to believe from agreeable
+experience that it was a crime in any one, bordering on treason, to
+thwart her ardent desires. It is true she had in certain events,
+been compelled to coax and even to weep gently. On a few extreme
+occasions she had been forced to do a little storming in order to
+have her own way; but that any presumptuous individuals should
+resist her will after the storming had <a name="Page_240" id=
+"Page_240"></a>been resorted to was an event of such recent
+happening in her life that she had not grown familiar with the
+thought of it. Therefore, while she felt that her father might
+seriously annoy her with the Stanley project, and while she
+realized that she might be compelled to resort to the storming
+process in a degree thitherto uncalled for, she believed that the
+storm she would raise would blow her father entirely out of his
+absurd and utterly untenable position. On the other hand, while Sir
+George anticipated trouble with Dorothy, he had never been able to
+believe that she would absolutely refuse to obey him. In those
+olden times&mdash;now nearly half a century past&mdash;filial
+disobedience was rare. The refusal of a child to obey a parent, and
+especially the refusal of a daughter to obey her father in the
+matter of marriage, was then looked upon as a crime and was
+frequently punished in a way which amounted to barbarous ferocity.
+Sons, being of the privileged side of humanity, might occasionally
+disobey with impunity, but woe to the poor girl who dared set up a
+will of her own. A man who could not compel obedience from his
+daughter was looked upon as a poor weakling, and contempt was his
+portion in the eyes of his fellow-men&mdash;in the eyes of his
+fellow-brutes, I should like to say.</p>
+<p>Growing out of such conditions was the firm belief on the part
+of Sir George that Dorothy would in the end obey him; but if by any
+hard chance she should be guilty of the high crime of
+disobedience&mdash;Well! Sir George intended to prevent the crime.
+Perhaps mere stubborness and fear of the contempt in which he would
+be held by his friends in case he were defeated by his own daughter
+were no small parts of Sir George's desire to carry through the
+enterprise in which he had embarked with the Stanleys. Although
+there was no doubt in Sir George's mind that he would eventually
+conquer in the conflict with Dorothy, he had a profound respect for
+the power of his antagonist <a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a>to
+do temporary battle, and he did not care to enter into actual
+hostilities until hostilities should become actually necessary.</p>
+<p>Therefore, upon the second day after I had read the beribboned,
+besealed contract to Sir George, he sent an advance guard toward
+the enemy's line. He placed the ornamental piece of parchment in
+Lady Crawford's hands and directed her to give it to Dorothy.</p>
+<p>But before I tell you of the parchment I must relate a scene
+that occurred in Aunt Dorothy's room a few hours after I recognized
+John as he rode up the Wye with Dorothy. It was late in the
+afternoon of the day after I read the contract to Sir George and
+saw the horrid vision on Bowling Green.</p>
+<p>I was sitting with Madge at the west window of Dorothy's parlor.
+We were watching the sun as it sank in splendor beneath Overhaddon
+Hill.</p>
+<p>I should like first to tell you a few words&mdash;only a few, I
+pray you&mdash;concerning Madge and myself. I will.</p>
+<p>I have just said that Madge and I were watching the sun at the
+west window, and I told you but the truth, for Madge had learned to
+see with my eyes. Gladly would I have given them to her outright,
+and willingly would I have lived in darkness could I have given
+light to her. She gave light to me&mdash;the light of truth, of
+purity, and of exalted motive. There had been no words spoken by
+Madge nor me to any one concerning the strange and holy chain that
+was welding itself about us, save the partial confession which she
+had whispered to Dorothy. But notwithstanding our silence, our
+friends in the Hall understood that Madge and I were very dear to
+each other. I, of course, saw a great deal of her; but it was the
+evening hour at the west window to which I longingly looked forward
+all the day. I am no poet, nor do my words and thoughts come with
+the rhythmic flow and eloquent <a name="Page_242" id=
+"Page_242"></a>imagery of one to whom the talent of poesy is given.
+But during those evening hours it seemed that with the soft touch
+of Madge's hand there ran through me a current of infectious
+dreaming which kindled my soul till thoughts of beauty came to my
+mind and words of music sprang to my lips such as I had always
+considered not to be in me. It was not I who spoke; it was Madge
+who saw with my eyes and spoke with my voice. To my vision, swayed
+by Madge's subtle influence, the landscape became a thing of moving
+beauty and of life, and the floating clouds became a panorama of
+ever shifting pictures. I, inspired by her, described so eloquently
+the wonders I saw that she, too, could see them. Now a flock of
+white-winged angels rested on the low-hung azure of the sky,
+watching the glory of Ph&oelig;bus as he drove his fiery steeds
+over the western edge of the world. Again, Mount Olympus would grow
+before my eyes, and I would plainly see Jove sitting upon his
+burnished throne, while gods and goddesses floated at his feet and
+revelled on the fleecy mountain sides. Then would mountain, gods,
+and goddesses dissolve,&mdash;as in fact they did dissolve ages ago
+before the eyes of millions who had thought them real,&mdash;and in
+their places perhaps would come a procession of golden-maned lions,
+at the description of which would Madge take pretended fright.
+Again, would I see Madge herself in flowing white robes made of the
+stuff from which fleecy clouds are wrought. All these wonders would
+I describe, and when I would come to tell her of the fair cloud
+image of herself I would seize the joyous chance to make her
+understand in some faint degree how altogether lovely in my eyes
+the vision was. Then would she smile and softly press my hand and
+say:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, it must be some one else you see in the cloud," though
+she was pleased.</p>
+<p>But when the hour was done then came the crowning <a name=
+"Page_243" id="Page_243"></a>moment of the day, for as I would rise
+to take my leave, if perchance we were alone, she would give
+herself to my arms for one fleeting instant and willingly would her
+lips await&mdash;but there are moments too sacred for aught save
+holy thought. The theme is sweet to me, but I must go back to
+Dorothy and tell you of the scene I have promised you.</p>
+<p>As I have already said, it was the evening following that upon
+which I had read the marriage contract to Sir George, and had seen
+the vision on the hillside. Madge and I were sitting at the west
+window. Dorothy, in kindness to us, was sitting alone by the
+fireside in Lady Crawford's chamber. Thomas entered the room with
+an armful of fagots, which he deposited in the fagot-holder. He was
+about to replenish the fire, but Dorothy thrust him aside, and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You shall kindle no more fires for me. At least you shall not
+do so when no one else is by. It pains me that you, at whose feet I
+am unworthy to kneel, should be my servant"</p>
+<p>Thereupon she took in her hands the fagot John had been holding.
+He offered to prevent her, but she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Please, John, let me do this."</p>
+<p>The doors were open, and we heard all that was said by Dorothy
+and Tom. Madge grasped my hand in surprise and fear.</p>
+<p>"Please, John," said Dorothy, "if it gives me pleasure to be
+your servant, you should not wish to deny me. There lives but one
+person whom I would serve. There, John, I will give you another,
+and you shall let me do as I will."</p>
+<p>Dorothy, still holding the fagot in her hands, pressed it
+against John's breast and gently pushed him backward toward a large
+armchair, in which she had been sitting by the west side of the
+fireplace.</p>
+<p>"You sit there, John, and we will make believe that this is our
+house, and that you have just come in very cold from <a name=
+"Page_244" id="Page_244"></a>a ride, and that I am making a fine
+fire to warm you. Isn't it pleasant, John? There, you sit and warm
+yourself&mdash;my&mdash;my&mdash;husband," she said laughingly. "It
+is fine sport even to play at. There is one fagot on the fire," she
+said, as she threw the wood upon the embers, causing them to fly in
+all directions. John started up to brush the scattered embers back
+into the fireplace, but Dorothy stopped him.</p>
+<p>"I will put them all back," she said. "You know you are cold and
+very tired. You have been overseeing the tenantry and have been
+hunting. Will you have a bowl of punch, my&mdash;my husband?" and
+she laughed again and kissed him as she passed to the holder for
+another fagot.</p>
+<p>"I much prefer that to punch," said John, laughing softly. "Have
+you more?"</p>
+<p>"Thousands of them, John, thousands of them." She rippled forth
+a little laugh and continued: "I occupy my time nowadays in making
+them that I may always have a great supply when we are&mdash;that
+is, you know, when you&mdash;when the time comes that you may
+require a great many to keep you in good humor." Again came the
+laugh, merry and clear as the tinkle of sterling silver.</p>
+<p>She laughed again within a minute or two; but when the second
+laugh came, it sounded like a knell.</p>
+<p>Dorothy delighted to be dressed in the latest fashion. Upon this
+occasion she wore a skirt vast in width, of a pattern then much in
+vogue. The sleeves also were preposterously large, in accordance
+with the custom of the times. About her neck a beautiful white
+linen ruff stood out at least the eighth part of an ell. The day
+had been damp and cold, and the room in which she had been sitting
+was chilly. For that reason, most fortunately, she had thrown over
+her shoulders a wide sable cloak broad enough to enfold her many
+times and long enough to reach nearly to her knees: Dorothy thus
+arrayed was <a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a>standing in front
+of John's chair. She had just spoken the words "good humor," when
+the door leading to her father's room opened and in walked Sir
+George. She and her ample skirts and broad sleeves were between
+John and the door. Not one brief instant did Dorothy waste in
+thought. Had she paused to put in motion the machinery of reason,
+John would have been lost. Thomas sitting in Lady Crawford's chair
+and Dorothy standing beside him would have told Sir George all he
+needed to know. He might not have discovered John's identity, but a
+rope and a tree in Bowling Green would quickly have closed the
+chapter of Dorothy's mysterious love affair. Dorothy, however, did
+not stop to reason nor to think. She simply acted without
+preliminary thought, as the rose unfolds or as the lightning
+strikes. She quietly sat down upon John's knees, leaned closely
+back against him, spread out the ample folds of her skirt, threw
+the lower parts of her broad cape over her shoulders and across the
+back of the chair, and Sir John Manners was invisible to mortal
+eyes.</p>
+<p>"Come in, father," said Dorothy, in dulcet tones that should
+have betrayed her.</p>
+<p>"I heard you laughing and talking," said Sir George, "and I
+wondered who was with you."</p>
+<p>"I was talking to Madge and Malcolm who are in the other room,"
+replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Did not Thomas come in with fagots?" asked Sir George.</p>
+<p>"I think he is replenishing the fire in the parlor, father, or
+he may have gone out. I did not notice. Do you want him?"</p>
+<p>"I do not especially want him," Sir George answered.</p>
+<p>"When he finishes in the parlor I will tell him that you want
+him," said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Very well," replied Sir George.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a>He returned to his room,
+but he did not close the door.</p>
+<p>The moment her father's back was turned Dorothy
+called:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Tom&mdash;Tom, father wants you," and instantly Thomas was
+standing deferentially by her side, and she was seated in the great
+chair. It was a rapid change, I assure you. But a man's life and
+his fortune for good or ill often hang upon a tiny peg&mdash;a
+second of time protruding from the wall of eternity. It serves him
+briefly; but if he be ready for the vital instant, it may serve him
+well.</p>
+<p>"Yes, mistress," said Thomas, "I go to him at once."</p>
+<p>John left the room and closed the door as he passed out. Then it
+was that Dorothy's laugh sounded like the chilling tones of a
+knell. It was the laugh of one almost distraught. She came to Madge
+and me laughing, but the laugh quickly changed to convulsive sobs.
+The strain of the brief moment during which her father had been in
+Lady Crawford's room had been too great for even her strong nerves
+to bear. She tottered and would have fallen had I not caught her. I
+carried her to the bed, and Madge called Lady Crawford. Dorothy had
+swooned.</p>
+<p>When she wakened she said dreamily:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I shall always keep this cloak and gown."</p>
+<p>Aunt Dorothy thought the words were but the incoherent
+utterances of a dimly conscious mind, but I knew they were the
+deliberate expression of a justly grateful heart.</p>
+<p>The following evening trouble came about over the matter of the
+marriage contract.</p>
+<p>You remember I told you that Sir George had sent Lady Crawford
+as an advance guard to place the parchment in the enemy's hands.
+But the advance guard feared the enemy and therefore did not
+deliver the contract directly to Dorothy. She placed it
+conspicuously upon the table, knowing well that her niece's
+curiosity would soon prompt an examination.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a>I was sitting before the
+fire in Aunt Dorothy's room, talking to Madge when Lady Crawford
+entered, placed the parchment on the table, and took a chair by my
+side. Soon Dorothy entered the room. The roll of parchment, brave
+with ribbons, was lying on the table. It attracted her attention at
+once, and she took it in her hands.</p>
+<p>"What is this?" she asked carelessly. Her action was prompted
+entirely by idle curiosity. That, by the way, was no small motive
+with Dorothy. She had the curiosity of a young doe. Receiving no
+answer, she untied the ribbons and unrolled the parchment to
+investigate its contents for herself. When the parchment was
+unrolled, she began to read:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"In the name of God, amen. This indenture of agreement, looking
+to union in the holy bonds of marriage between the Right Honorable
+Lord James Stanley of the first part, and Mistress Dorothy Vernon
+of Haddon of the second part&mdash;"</p>
+<p>She read no farther. She crumpled the beautiful parchment in her
+hands, walked over to the fire, and quietly placed the sacred
+instrument in the midst of the flames. Then she turned away with a
+sneer of contempt upon her face and&mdash;again I grieve to tell
+you this&mdash;said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"In the name of God, amen. May this indenture be damned."</p>
+<p>"Dorothy!" exclaimed Lady Crawford, horrified at her niece's
+profanity. "I feel shame for your impious words."</p>
+<p>"I don't care what you feel, aunt," retorted Dorothy, with a
+dangerous glint in her eyes. "Feel as you wish, I meant what I
+said, and I will say it again if you would like to hear it. I will
+say it to father when I see him. Now, Aunt Dorothy, I love you and
+I love my father, but I give you fair warning there is trouble
+ahead for any one who crosses me in this matter."</p>
+<p>She certainly looked as if she spoke the truth. Then <a name=
+"Page_248" id="Page_248"></a>she hummed a tune under her
+breath&mdash;a dangerous signal in Dorothy at certain times. Soon
+the humming turned to whistling. Whistling in those olden days was
+looked upon as a species of crime in a girl.</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood by the window for a short time and then taking up
+an embroidery frame, drew a chair nearer to the light and began to
+work at her embroidery. In a moment or two she stopped whistling,
+and we could almost feel the silence in the room. Madge, of course,
+only partly knew what had happened, and her face wore an expression
+of expectant, anxious inquiry. Aunt Dorothy looked at me, and I
+looked at the fire. The parchment burned slowly. Lady Crawford,
+from a sense of duty to Sir George and perhaps from politic
+reasons, made two or three attempts to speak, and after five
+minutes of painful silence she brought herself to say:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, your father left the contract here for you to read. He
+will be angry when he learns what you have done. Such disobedience
+is sure to&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Not another word from you," screamed Dorothy, springing like a
+tigress from her chair. "Not another word from you or I
+will&mdash;I will scratch you. I will kill some one. Don't speak to
+me. Can't you see that I am trying to calm myself for an interview
+with father? An angry brain is full of blunders. I want to make
+none. I will settle this affair with father. No one else, not even
+you, Aunt Dorothy, shall interfere." The girl turned to the window,
+stood beating a tattoo upon the glass for a moment or two, then
+went over to Lady Crawford and knelt by her side. She put her arms
+about Aunt Dorothy's neck, softly kissed her, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Forgive me, dear aunt; forgive me. I am almost crazed with my
+troubles. I love you dearly indeed, indeed I do."</p>
+<p>Madge gropingly went to Dorothy's side and took her hand.
+Dorothy kissed Madge's hand and rose to her feet.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a>Where is my father?" asked
+Dorothy, to whom a repentant feeling toward Lady Crawford had
+brought partial calmness. "I will go to him immediately and will
+have this matter over. We might as well understand each other at
+once. Father seems very dull at understanding me. But he shall know
+me better before long."</p>
+<p>Sir George may have respected the strength of his adversary, but
+Dorothy had no respect for the strength of her foe. She was eager
+for the fray. When she had a disagreeable thing to do, she always
+wanted to do it quickly.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was saved the trouble of seeking her father, for at that
+moment he entered the room.</p>
+<p>"You are welcome, father," said Dorothy in cold, defiant tones.
+"You have come just in time to see the last flickering flame of
+your fine marriage contract." She led him to the fireplace. "Does
+it not make a beautiful smoke and blaze?"</p>
+<p>"Did you dare&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Ay, that I did," replied Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"You dared?" again asked her father, unable to believe the
+evidence of his eyes.</p>
+<p>"Ay, so I said; that I did," again said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"By the death of Christ&mdash;" began Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Now be careful, father, about your oaths," the girl
+interrupted. "You must not forget the last batch you made and
+broke."</p>
+<p>Dorothy's words and manner maddened Sir George. The expression
+of her whole person, from her feet to her hair, breathed defiance.
+The poise of her body and of her limbs, the wild glint in her eyes,
+and the turn of her head, all told eloquently that Sir George had
+no chance to win and that Dorothy was an unconquerable foe. It is a
+wonder he did not learn in that one moment that he could never
+bring his daughter to marry Lord Stanley.</p>
+<p>"I will imprison you," cried Sir George, gasping with rage.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a>Very well," responded
+Dorothy, smilingly. "You kept me prisoner for a fortnight. I did
+not ask you to liberate me. I am ready to go back to my
+apartments."</p>
+<p>"But now you shall go to the dungeon," her father said.</p>
+<p>"Ah, the dungeon!" cried the girl, as if she were delighted at
+the thought. "The dungeon! Very well, again. I am ready to go to
+the dungeon. You may keep me there the remainder of my natural
+life. I cannot prevent you from doing that, but you cannot force me
+to marry Lord Stanley."</p>
+<p>"I will starve you until you obey me!" retorted her father. "I
+will starve you!"</p>
+<p>"That, again, you may easily do, my dear father; but again I
+tell you I will never marry Stanley. If you think I fear to die,
+try to kill me. I do not fear death. You have it not in your power
+to make me fear you or anything you can do. You may kill me, but I
+thank God it requires my consent for my marriage to Stanley, and I
+swear before God that never shall be given."</p>
+<p>The girl's terrible will and calm determination staggered Sir
+George, and by its force beat down even his strong will. The
+infuriated old man wavered a moment and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Fool, I seek only your happiness in this marriage. Only your
+happiness. Why will you not consent to it?"</p>
+<p>I thought the battle was over, and that Dorothy was the victor.
+She thought so, too, but was not great enough to bear her triumph
+silently. She kept on talking and carried her attack too far.</p>
+<p>"And I refuse to obey because of my happiness. I refuse because
+I hate Lord Stanley, and because, as you already know, I love
+another man."</p>
+<p>When she spoke the words "because I love another man," the cold,
+defiant expression of her face changed to one of ecstasy.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a>I will have you to the
+dungeon this very hour, you brazen huzzy," cried Sir George.</p>
+<p>"How often, father, shall I repeat that I am ready to go to the
+dungeon? I am eager to obey you in all things save one."</p>
+<p>"You shall have your wish," returned Sir George. "Would that you
+had died ere you had disgraced your house with a low-bred dog whose
+name you are ashamed to utter."</p>
+<p>"Father, there has been no disgrace," Dorothy answered, and her
+words bore the ring of truth.</p>
+<p>"You have been meeting the fellow at secluded spots in the
+forest&mdash;how frequently you have met him God only
+knows&mdash;and you lied to me when you were discovered at Bowling
+Green Gate."</p>
+<p>"I would do it again gladly if I but had the chance," answered
+the girl, who by that time was reckless of consequences.</p>
+<p>"But the chance you shall not have," retorted Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Do not be too sure, father," replied Dorothy. She was unable to
+resist the temptation to mystify him. "I may see him before another
+hour. I will lay you this wager, father, if I do not within one
+hour see the man&mdash;the man whom I love&mdash;I will marry Lord
+Stanley. If I see him within that time you shall permit me to marry
+him. I have seen him two score times since the day you surprised me
+at the gate."</p>
+<p>That was a dangerous admission for the girl to make, and she
+soon regretted it with all her heart. Truly she was right. An angry
+brain is full of blunders.</p>
+<p>Of course Dorothy's words, which were so full of meaning to
+Madge and me, meant little to Sir George. He looked upon them only
+as irritating insolence on her part. A few minutes later, however,
+they became full of significance.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a>Sir George seemed to have
+forgotten the Stanley marriage and the burning of the contract in
+his quarrel with Dorothy over her unknown lover.</p>
+<p>Conceive, if you can, the situation in Haddon Hall at that time.
+There was love-drunk Dorothy, proud of the skill which had enabled
+her to outwit her wrathful father. There was Sir George, whose
+mental condition, inflamed by constant drinking, bordered on frenzy
+because he felt that his child, whom he had so tenderly loved from
+the day of her birth, had disgraced herself with a low-born wretch
+whom she refused to name. And there, under the same roof, lived the
+man who was the root and source of all the trouble. A pretty kettle
+of fish!</p>
+<p>"The wager, father, will you take it?" eagerly asked
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Sir George, who thought that her words were spoken only to anger
+him, waved her off with his hands and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I have reason to believe that I know the wretch for whose sake
+you have disgraced yourself. You may be sure that I shall soon know
+him with certainty. When I do, I will quickly have him in my power.
+Then I will hang him to a tree on Bowling Green, and you shall see
+the low-born dog die."</p>
+<p>"He is better born than any of our house," retorted Dorothy, who
+had lost all sense of caution. "Ay, he is better born than any with
+whom we claim kin."</p>
+<p>Sir George stood in open-eyed wonder, and Dorothy continued:
+"You cannot keep him from me. I shall see him, and I will have him
+despite you. I tell you again, I have seen him two score times
+since you tried to spy upon us at Bowling Green Gate, and I will
+see him whenever I choose, and I will wed him when I am ready to do
+so. You cannot prevent it. You can only be forsworn, oath upon
+oath; and if I were you, I would stop swearing."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>Sir George, as was usual
+with him in those sad times, was inflamed with drink, and Dorothy's
+conduct, I must admit, was maddening. In the midst of her taunting
+Thomas stepped into the room bearing an armful of fagots. Sir
+George turned to him and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Go and tell Welch to bring a set of manacles."</p>
+<p>"For Mistress Dorothy?" Thomas asked, surprised into the
+exclamation.</p>
+<p>"Curse you, do you mean to bandy words with me, you scum?" cried
+Sir George.</p>
+<p>He snatched a fagot from John and drew back his arm to strike
+him. John took one step back from Sir George and one step nearer to
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Yes, Thomas," said Dorothy, sneeringly, "bring Welch with the
+manacles for me. My dear father would put me in the dungeon out of
+the reach of other men, so that he may keep me safely for my
+unknown lover. Go, Thomas. Go, else father will again be forsworn
+before Christ and upon his knighthood."</p>
+<p>"This before a servant! I'll gag you, you hellish vixen," cried
+Sir George. Then I am sure he knew not what he did. "Curse you!" he
+cried, as he held the fagot upraised and rushed upon Dorothy. John,
+with his arms full of fagots, could not avert the blow which
+certainly would have killed the girl, but he could take it. He
+sprang between Dorothy and her father, the fagot fell upon his
+head, and he sank to the floor. In his fall John's wig dropped off,
+and when the blood began to flow from the wound Dorothy kneeled
+beside his prostrate form. She snatched the great bush of false
+beard from his face and fell to kissing his lips and his hands in a
+paroxysm of passionate love and grief. Her kisses she knew to be a
+panacea for all ills John could be heir to, and she thought they
+would heal even the wound her father had given, and stop the
+frightful outpouring of John's <a name="Page_254" id=
+"Page_254"></a>life-blood. The poor girl, oblivious of all save her
+wounded lover, murmured piteously:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"John, John, speak to me; 'tis Dorothy." She placed her lips
+near his ear and whispered: "'Tis Dorothy, John. Speak to her." But
+she received no response. Then came a wild light to her eyes and
+she cried aloud: "John, 'tis Dorothy. Open your eyes. Speak to me,
+John! oh, for God's sake speak to me! Give some little sign that
+you live," but John was silent. "My God, my God! Help, help! Will
+no one help me save this man? See you not that his life is flowing
+away? This agony will kill me. John, my lover, my lord, speak to
+me. Ah, his heart, his heart! I will know." She tore from his
+breast the leathern doublet and placed her ear over his heart.
+"Thank God, it beats!" she cried in a frenzied whisper, as she
+kissed his breast and turned her ear again to hear his heart's
+welcome throbbing. Then she tried to lift him in her arms and
+succeeded in placing his head in her lap. It was a piteous scene.
+God save me from witnessing another like it.</p>
+<p>After Dorothy lifted John's head to her lap he began to breathe
+perceptibly, and the girl's agitation passed away as she gently
+stroked his hair and kissed him over and over again, softly
+whispering her love to his unresponsive ear in a gentle frenzy of
+ineffable tenderness such as was never before seen in this world, I
+do believe. I wish with all my heart that I were a maker of
+pictures so that I might draw for you the scene which is as clear
+and vivid in every detail to my eyes now as it was upon that awful
+day in Haddon Hall. There lay John upon the floor and by his side
+knelt Dorothy. His head was resting in her lap. Over them stood Sir
+George with the murderous fagot raised, as if he intended again to
+strike. I had sprung to his side and was standing by him, intending
+to fell him to the floor should he attempt to repeat the blow
+<a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a>upon either Dorothy or John.
+Across from Sir George and me, that is, upon the opposite side of
+Dorothy and John, stood Lady Crawford and Madge, who clung to each
+other in terror. The silence was heavy, save when broken by
+Dorothy's sobs and whispered ejaculations to John. Sir George's
+terrible deed had deprived all of us, including himself, of the
+power to speak. I feared to move from his side lest he should
+strike again. After a long agony of silence he angrily threw the
+fagot away from him and asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Who is this fellow? Can any one tell me?"</p>
+<p>Only Madge, Dorothy, and I could have given him true answer. By
+some strange power of divination Madge had learned all that had
+happened, and she knew as well as I the name of the man who lay
+upon the floor battling with death. Neither Madge nor I
+answered.</p>
+<p>"Who is this fellow?" again demanded Sir George.</p>
+<p>Dorothy lifted her face toward her father.</p>
+<p>"He is the man whom you seek, father," she answered, in a low,
+tearful voice. "He is my lover; he is my life; he is my soul, and
+if you have murdered him in your attempt to kill your own child,
+all England shall hear of it and you shall hang. He is worth more
+in the eyes of the queen than we and all our kindred. You know not
+whom you have killed."</p>
+<p>Sir George's act had sobered him.</p>
+<p>"I did not intend to kill him&mdash;in that manner," said Sir
+George, dropping his words absent-mindedly. "I hoped to hang him.
+Where is Dawson? Some one fetch Dawson."</p>
+<p>Several of the servants had gathered about the open door in the
+next room, and in obedience to Sir George's command one of them
+went to seek the forester. I feared that John would die from the
+effects of the blow; but I also knew from experience that a man's
+head may receive very hard knocks and life still remain. Should
+John re<a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a>cover and should Sir
+George learn his name, I was sure that my violent cousin would
+again attempt the personal administration of justice and would hang
+him, under the old Saxon law. In that event Parliament would not be
+so easily pacified as upon the occasion of the former hanging at
+Haddon; and I knew that if John should die by my cousin's hand, Sir
+George would pay for the act with his life and his estates. Fearing
+that Sir George might learn through Dawson of John's identity, I
+started out in search of Will to have a word with him before he
+could see his master. I felt sure that for many reasons Will would
+be inclined to save John; but to what extent his fidelity to the
+cause of his master might counteract his resentment of Sir George's
+act, I did not know. I suspected that Dawson was privy to John's
+presence in Haddon Hall, but I was not sure of it, so I wished to
+prepare the forester for his interview with Sir George and to give
+him a hint of my plans for securing John's safety, in the event he
+should not die in Aunt Dorothy's room.</p>
+<p>When I opened the door in the Northwest Tower I saw Dawson
+coming toward the Hall from the dove-cote, and I hastened forward
+to meet him. It was pitiful that so good a man as Sir George Vernon
+was, should have been surrounded in his own house by real friends
+who were also traitors. That was the condition of affairs in Haddon
+Hall, and I felt that I was the chief offender. The evil, however,
+was all of Sir George's making. Tyranny is the father of
+treason.</p>
+<p>When I met Dawson I said: "Will, do you know who Tom-Tom
+is?"</p>
+<p>The forester hesitated for a moment, and said, "Well, Sir
+Malcolm, I suppose he is Thomas&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"No, no, Will, tell me the truth. Do you know that he
+is&mdash;or perhaps by this time I should say he was&mdash;Sir John
+Manners?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a>Was?" cried Will. "Great
+God! Has Sir George discovered&mdash;is he dead? If he is dead, it
+will be a sad day for Sir George and for Haddon Hall. Tell me
+quickly."</p>
+<p>I at once knew Will Dawson was in the secret. I
+answered:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I hope he is not dead. Sir George attempted to strike Dorothy
+with a fagot, but Thomas stepped in front of her and received the
+blow. He is lying almost, if not quite, dead in Lady Crawford's
+room. Sir George knows nothing about him, save that he is Dorothy's
+lover. But should Thomas revive I feel sure my cousin will hang him
+in the morning unless steps are taken to prevent the deed."</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm, if you will stand by me," said Dawson, "Sir George
+will not hang him."</p>
+<p>"I certainly will stand by you, Dawson. Have no doubt on that
+score. Sir George intends to cast John into the dungeon, and should
+he do so I want you to send Jennie Faxton to Rutland and have her
+tell the Rutlanders to rescue John to-night. To-morrow morning I
+fear will be too late. Be on your guard, Will. Do not allow Sir
+George to discover that you have any feeling in this matter. Above
+all, lead him from the possibility of learning that Thomas is Sir
+John Manners. I will contrive to admit the Rutland men at
+midnight."</p>
+<p>I hastened with Dawson back to the Hall, where we found the
+situation as I had left it. John's head was lying on Dorothy's lap,
+and she was trying to dress his wound with pieces of linen torn
+from her clothing. Sir George was pacing to and fro across the
+room, breaking forth at times in curses against Dorothy because of
+her relations with a servant.</p>
+<p>When Dawson and I entered the room, Sir George spoke angrily to
+Will:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Who is this fellow? You employed him. Who is he?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a>He gave me his name as
+Thomas Thompson," returned Will, "and he brought me a favorable
+letter of recommendation from Danford."</p>
+<p>Danford was forester to the Duke of Devonshire, and lived at
+Chatsworth.</p>
+<p>"There was naught in the letter save that he was a good servant
+and an honest man. That is all we can ask of any man."</p>
+<p>"But who is he?" again demanded Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Your worship may perhaps learn from Danford more than I can
+tell you," replied the forester, adroitly avoiding a lie.</p>
+<p>"Think of it, Malcolm," said Sir George, speaking to me. "Think
+of it. My daughter, my only child, seeks for her husband this
+low-born serving man. I have always been sure that the fellow would
+prove to be such." Then he turned to Dawson: "Throw the fellow into
+the dungeon. If he lives till morning, I will have him hanged. To
+the dungeon with him."</p>
+<p>Sir George waved his hand toward Dawson and Tom Welch, and then
+stepped aside. Will made an effort to hide his feelings, and
+without a word or gesture that could betray him, he and Welch
+lifted John to carry him away. Then it was piteous to see Dorothy.
+She clung to John and begged that he might be left with her. Sir
+George violently thrust her away from John's side, but she, still
+upon her knees, grasped her father's hand and cried out in
+agony:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Father, let me remain with him. If you have ever felt love for
+me, and if my love for you has ever touched one tender spot in your
+heart, pity me now and leave this man with me, or let me go with
+him. I beg you, father; I plead; I implore. He may be dying. We
+know not. In this hour of my agony be merciful to me."</p>
+<p>But Sir George rudely repulsed her and left the room, <a name=
+"Page_259" id="Page_259"></a>following Welch and Dawson, who bore
+John's unconscious form between them. Dorothy rose to her feet
+screaming and tried to follow John. I, fearing that in her frenzy
+of grief she might divulge John's name, caught her in my arms and
+detained her by force. She turned upon me savagely and struck me in
+her effort to escape. She called me traitor, villain, dog, but I
+lifted her in my arms and carried her struggling to her bedroom. I
+wanted to tell her of the plans which Dawson and I had made, but I
+feared to do so, lest she might in some way betray them, so I left
+her in the room with Lady Crawford and Madge. I told Lady Crawford
+to detain Dorothy at all hazards, and I whispered to Madge asking
+her to tell Dorothy that I would look to John's comfort and safety.
+I then hastily followed Sir George, Dawson, and Welch, and in a few
+moments I saw them leave John, bleeding and senseless, upon the
+dungeon floor. When Sir George's back was turned, Dawson by my
+orders brought the surgeon from the stable where he had been
+working with the horses. The surgeon bound up the wound in John's
+head and told me, to my great joy, that it was not fatal. Then he
+administered a reviving potion and soon consciousness returned. I
+whispered to John that Dawson and I would not forsake him, and,
+fearing discovery by Sir George, hurriedly left the dungeon.</p>
+<p>I believe there is a certain amount of grief and sorrow which
+comes with every great joy to give it a cost mark whereby we may
+always know its value. The love between Dorothy and John indeed was
+marked in plain figures of high denominations.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><a name="Page_260"
+id="Page_260"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<h2>THE LEICESTER POSSIBILITY</h2>
+<p>On leaving the dungeon I sought Madge, and after I had whispered
+a word to her from my heart I asked her to tell Dorothy the
+encouraging words of the surgeon, and also to tell her that she
+should not be angry with me until she was sure she had good cause.
+I dared not send a more explicit message, and I dared not go to
+Dorothy, for Sir George was in a suspicious mood and I feared ruin
+not only for myself but for John, should my violent cousin suspect
+me of sympathy with his daughter and her lover.</p>
+<p>I also sought Aunt Dorothy and whispered a word to her of which
+you shall hear more presently.</p>
+<p>"Ah, I cannot do it," cried the trembling old lady in response
+to my whispered request. "I cannot do it."</p>
+<p>"But you must, Aunt Dorothy," I responded. "Upon it depend three
+lives: Sir George's, Dorothy's, and her lover's. You must do
+it."</p>
+<p>"I will try," she replied.</p>
+<p>"That assurance will not suit me," I responded. "You must
+promise upon your salvation that you will not fail me."</p>
+<p>"I promise upon my salvation," replied Aunt Dorothy.</p>
+<p>That evening of course we did not see the ladies at supper. Sir
+George and I ate in silence until my cousin became talkative from
+drink. Then he spoke bitterly of Dorothy's conduct, and bore with
+emphasis upon the fact <a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a>that
+the lover to whom Dorothy had stooped was a low-born serving
+man.</p>
+<p>"But Dorothy declares he is noble," I responded.</p>
+<p>"She has lied to me so often that I do not believe a word she
+says," returned Sir George.</p>
+<p>He swore oath upon oath that the wretch should hang in the
+morning, and for the purpose of carrying into effect his intention
+he called in Joe the butcher and told him to make all things ready
+for the execution.</p>
+<p>I did not attempt to thwart his purpose by word or gesture,
+knowing it would be useless, but hoped that John would be out of
+his reach long ere the cock would crow his first greeting to the
+morrow's sun.</p>
+<p>After Sir George had drunk far into the night the servants
+helped him to bed, and he carried with him the key to the dungeon
+together with the keys to all the outer doors and gates of Haddon
+Hall, as was his custom. The keys were in a bunch, held together by
+an iron ring, and Sir George always kept them under his pillow at
+night.</p>
+<p>I sought my bed in Eagle Tower and lay down in my clothes to
+rest and wait. The window of my room was open.</p>
+<p>Within an hour after midnight I heard the hooting of an owl. The
+doleful sound came up to me from the direction of the stone
+footbridge at the southwest corner of the Hall below the chapel. I
+went to my window and looked out over the courts and terrace.
+Haddon Hall and all things in and about it were wrapped in
+slumbrous silence. I waited, and again I heard the hooting of the
+owl. Noiselessly leaving my room I descended the stone steps to an
+unused apartment in the tower from which a window opened upon the
+roof of the north wing of the Hall. Along that roof I crept with
+bared feet, till I reached another roof, the battlements of which
+at the lowest point were not more than twenty feet from the ground.
+Thence I clambered down to a window cornice five or six feet
+<a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a>lower, and jumped, at the risk
+of my limbs, the remaining distance of fifteen or sixteen feet to
+the soft sod beneath. I ran with all haste, took my stand under
+Aunt Dorothy's window, and whistled softly. The window casing
+opened and I heard the great bunch of keys jingling and clinking
+against the stone wall as Aunt Dorothy paid them out to me by means
+of a cord. After I had secured the keys I called in a whisper to
+Lady Crawford and directed her to leave the cord hanging from the
+window. I also told her to remain in readiness to draw up the keys
+when they should have served their purpose. Then I took them and
+ran to the stone footbridge where I found four Rutland men who had
+come in response to the message Dawson had sent by Jennie Faxton.
+Two of the men went with me, and we entered the lower garden by the
+southwest postern. Thence we crept noiselessly to the terrace and
+made our entrance into the Hall by "Dorothy's Postern." I had in my
+life engaged in many questionable and dangerous enterprises, but
+this was my first attempt at house-breaking. To say that I was
+nervous would but poorly define the state of my feelings. Since
+that day I have respected the high calling of burglary and regard
+with favor the daring knights of the skeleton key. I was
+frightened. I, who would feel no fear had I to fight a dozen men,
+trembled with fright during this adventure. The deathlike silence
+and the darkness in familiar places seemed uncanny to me. The very
+chairs and tables appeared to be sleeping, and I was fearful lest
+they should awaken. I cannot describe to you how I was affected.
+Whether it was fear or awe or a smiting conscience I cannot say,
+but my teeth chattered as if they were in the mouth of a fool, and
+my knees quaked as if they supported a coward. Still I knew I was
+doing my duty, though one's conscience sometimes smites him when
+his reason tells him he is acting righteously. It is more
+dan<a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a>gerous to possess a
+sensitive conscience which cannot be made to hear reason than to
+have none at all. But I will make short my account of that night's
+doings. The two Rutland men and I groped our way to the dungeon and
+carried forth John, who was weak from loss of blood. I told them to
+lock the door of the Hall as they passed out and to attach the keys
+to the cord hanging from Lady Crawford's window. Then I climbed to
+my room again, feeling in conscience like a criminal because I had
+done the best act of my life.</p>
+<p>Early next morning I was awakened by a great noise in the upper
+court. When I looked out at my window I beheld Sir George. He was
+half dressed and was angrily questioning the servants and
+retainers. I knew that he had discovered John's escape, but I did
+not know all, nor did I know the worst. I dressed and went to the
+kitchen, where I bathed my hands and face. There I learned that the
+keys to the hall had been stolen from under Sir George's pillow,
+and that the prisoner had escaped from the dungeon. Old Bess, the
+cook, nodded her head wisely and whispered to me the words, "Good
+for Mistress Doll."</p>
+<p>Bess's unsought confidence alarmed me. I did not relish the
+thought that Bess nor any one else should believe me to be in
+sympathy with Dorothy, and I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If Mistress Vernon had aught to do with last night's affairs,
+she should be full of shame. I will not believe that she knew of it
+at all. My opinion is that one of the servants was bribed by some
+person interested in Tom-Tom's escape."</p>
+<p>"Believe nothing of the sort," retorted Bess. "It is the
+mistress and not the servant who stole the keys and liberated
+Tom-Tom. But the question is, who may Tom-Tom be? and the servants'
+hall is full of it. We are not uncertain as to the manner of his
+escape. Some of the servants do say that the Earl of Leicester be
+now visiting the Duke <a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a>of
+Devonshire; and some also do say that his Lordship be fond of
+disguises in his gallantry. They do also say that the queen is in
+love with him, and that he must disguise himself when he woos
+elsewhere, or she be's famously jealous. It would be a pretty mess
+the master has brought us all into should Tom-Tom prove to be my
+lord Earl of Leicester. We'd all hang and to hell."</p>
+<p>"Bess, that tongue of yours will cost you your head one of these
+good times," I remarked, while I rubbed my face with the towel.</p>
+<p>"I would sooner lose my head," retorted Bess, "than have my
+mouth shut by fear. I know, Sir Malcolm, that I'll not die till my
+time comes; but please the good God when my time does come I will
+try to die talking."</p>
+<p>"That you will," said I.</p>
+<p>"True word, Sir Malcolm," she answered, and I left her in
+possession of the field.</p>
+<p>I went into the courtyard, and when Sir George saw me he said,
+"Malcolm, come with me to my room; I want a word with you."</p>
+<p>We went to his room.</p>
+<p>"I suppose you know of the fellow's escape last night?" he
+said.</p>
+<p>"Yes," I replied, "Bess told me about it in the kitchen."</p>
+<p>It seemed to me that my words said, "I did it."</p>
+<p>"Not only was the fellow liberated," said my cousin, "but the
+keys to all the outer gates and doors of the Hall have been stolen
+and carried away. Can you help me unravel this affair?"</p>
+<p>"Do you suspect any one of having stolen the keys?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"I know, of course, that Dorothy did it. Who her accomplices
+were, if any she had, I do not know. I have catechized the
+servants, but the question is bottomless to me."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a>Have you spoken to Dorothy
+on the subject?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"No," he replied, "but I have sent word to her by the Faxton
+girl that I am going to see her at once. Come with me."</p>
+<p>We went into Lady Crawford's room. She was ill and in bed. I did
+not wonder that she was ill after the experiences of the previous
+night. Sir George asked her if she had heard or seen Dorothy pass
+through her room during the night. She said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Dorothy did not pass through this room last night. I did not
+once close my eyes in sleep, and I should have seen her had she
+been here at all."</p>
+<p>Sir George entered Dorothy's bedroom, and Lady Crawford beckoned
+me to go to her side.</p>
+<p>"I waited till sunrise," she said, "that I might draw up the
+keys."</p>
+<p>"Hush!" said I, "the cord?"</p>
+<p>"I burned it," she replied.</p>
+<p>Then I followed Sir George into Dorothy's room. Madge was
+dressed for the day, and Dorothy, who had been helping her, was
+making her own toilet. Her hair hung loose and fell like a cataract
+of sunshine over her bare shoulders. But no words that I can write
+would give you a conception of her wondrous beauty, and I shall not
+waste them in the attempt. When we entered the room she was
+standing at the mirror. She turned, comb in hand, toward Sir George
+and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I suppose, father, you will accuse me of liberating
+Thomas."</p>
+<p>"You must know that I will accuse you," replied Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Then, father, for once you will accuse me falsely. I am
+overjoyed that he has escaped, and I certainly should have tried to
+liberate him had I thought it possible to do so.<a name="Page_266"
+id="Page_266"></a> But I did not do it, though to tell you the
+truth I am sorry I did not."</p>
+<p>"I do not believe you," her father replied.</p>
+<p>"I knew you would not believe me," answered Dorothy. "Had I
+liberated him I should probably have lied to you about it;
+therefore, I wonder not that you should disbelieve me. But I tell
+you again upon my salvation that I know nothing of the stealing of
+the keys nor of Tom-Tom's escape. Believe me or not, I shall deny
+it no more."</p>
+<p>Madge gropingly went to Sir George's side, and he tenderly put
+his arms about her, saying:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I would that you were my daughter." Madge took his hand
+caressingly.</p>
+<p>"Uncle, I want to tell you that Dorothy speaks the truth," she
+said. "I have been with her every moment since the terrible scene
+of yesterday evening. Neither Dorothy nor I closed our eyes in
+sleep all night long. She lay through the dark hours moaning, and I
+tried to comfort her. Our door was locked, and it was opened only
+by your messenger who brought the good news of Tom-Tom's escape. I
+say good news, uncle, because his escape has saved you from the
+stain of murder. You are too brave a man to do murder, uncle."</p>
+<p>"How dare you," said Sir George, taking his arm from Madge's
+waist, "how dare you defend&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Now, uncle, I beg you pause and take a moment's thought," said
+Madge, interrupting him. "You have never spoken unkindly to
+me."</p>
+<p>"Nor will I, Madge, so long as I live. I know there is not a lie
+in you, and I am sure you believe to be true all you tell me, but
+Dorothy has deceived you by some adroit trick."</p>
+<p>"If she deceived me, she is a witch," retorted Madge, laughing
+softly.</p>
+<p>"That I am almost ready to believe is the case," said
+Sir<a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a> George. Dorothy, who was
+combing her hair at the mirror, laughed softly and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My broomstick is under the bed, father."</p>
+<p>Sir George went into Lady Crawford's room and shut the door,
+leaving me with the girls.</p>
+<p>When her father had left, Dorothy turned upon me with fire in
+her eyes:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm Vernon, if you ever lay hands upon me again as you did
+last night, I will&mdash;I will scratch you. You pretended to be
+his friend and mine, but for a cowardly fear of my father you came
+between us and you carried me to this room by force. Then you
+locked the door and&mdash;and"&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Did not Madge give you my message?" I asked, interrupting
+her.</p>
+<p>"Yes, but did you not force me away from him when, through my
+fault, he was almost at death's door?"</p>
+<p>"Have your own way, Dorothy," I said. "There lives not, I hope,
+another woman in the world so unreasoning and perverse as you."</p>
+<p>She tossed her head contemptuously and continued to comb her
+hair.</p>
+<p>"How, suppose you," I asked, addressing Dorothy's back, as if I
+were seeking information, "how, suppose you, the Rutland people
+learned that John was confined in the Haddon dungeon, and how did
+they come by the keys?"</p>
+<p>The girl turned for a moment, and a light came to her
+anger-clouded face as the rainbow steals across the blackened
+sky.</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, Malcolm," she cried, and she ran to me with her bare
+arms outstretched.</p>
+<p>"Did you liberate him?" she asked. "How did you get the
+keys?"</p>
+<p>"I know nothing of it, Dorothy, nothing," I replied.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a>Swear it, Malcolm, swear
+it," she said.</p>
+<p>"I will swear to nothing," I said, unclasping her arms from my
+neck.</p>
+<p>"Then I will kiss you," she answered, "for you are my dear good
+brother, and never so long as I live will I again doubt you."</p>
+<p>But she did before long doubt me again, and with good cause.</p>
+<p>Dorothy being in a gentle humor; I took advantage of the
+opportunity to warn her against betraying John's name to her
+father. I also told her to ask her father's forgiveness, and
+advised her to feign consent to the Stanley marriage. Matters had
+reached a point where some remedy, however desperate, must be
+applied.</p>
+<p>Many persons, I fear, will condemn me for advising Dorothy to
+deceive her father; but what would you have had me do? Should I
+have told her to marry Stanley? Certainly not. Had I done so, my
+advice would have availed nothing. Should I have advised her to
+antagonize her father, thereby keeping alive his wrath, bringing
+trouble to herself and bitter regret to him? Certainly not. The
+only course left for me to advise was the least of three
+evils&mdash;a lie. Three evils must be very great indeed when a lie
+is the least of them. In the vast army of evils with which this
+world swarms the lie usually occupies a proud position in the front
+rank. But at times conditions arise when, coward-like, he slinks to
+the rear and evils greater than he take precedence. In such sad
+case I found Dorothy, and I sought help from my old enemy, the lie.
+Dorothy agreed with me and consented to do all in her power to
+deceive her father, and what she could not do to that end was not
+worth doing.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was anxious about John's condition, and sent Jennie
+Faxton to Bowling Green, hoping a letter would be there for her.
+Jennie soon returned with a letter, and <a name="Page_269" id=
+"Page_269"></a>Dorothy once more was full of song, for John's
+letter told her that he was fairly well and that he would by some
+means see her soon again despite all opposition.</p>
+<p>"At our next meeting, my fair mistress," John said in the
+letter, "you must be ready to come with me. I will wait no longer
+for you. In fairness to me and to yourself you shall not ask me to
+wait. I will accept no more excuses. You must come with me when
+next we meet."</p>
+<p>"Ah, well," said Dorothy to Madge, "if I must go with him, I
+must. Why did he not talk in that fashion when we rode out together
+the last time? I like to be made to do what I want to do. He was
+foolish not to make me consent, or better still would it have been
+had he taken the reins of my horse and ridden off with me, with or
+against my will. I might have screamed, and I might have fought
+him, but I could not have hurt him, and he would have had his way,
+and&mdash;and," with a sigh, "I should have had my way."</p>
+<p>After a brief pause devoted to thought, she
+continued:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If I were a man and were wooing a woman, I would first learn
+what she wanted to do and then&mdash;and then, by my word, I would
+make her do it."</p>
+<p>I went from Dorothy's room to breakfast, where I found Sir
+George. I took my seat at the table and he said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Who, in God's name, suppose you, could have taken the keys from
+my pillow?"</p>
+<p>"Is there any one whom you suspect?" I asked for lack of
+anything else to say.</p>
+<p>"I at first thought, of course, that Dorothy had taken them," he
+answered. "But Madge would not lie, neither would my sister.
+Dorothy would not hesitate to lie herself blue in the face, but for
+some reason I believed her when she told me she knew nothing of the
+affair. Her words sounded like truth for once."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a>I think, Sir George," said
+I, "you should have left off 'for once.' Dorothy is not a liar. She
+has spoken falsely to you only because she fears you. I am sure
+that a lie is hateful to her."</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, I wish I could have your faith," he responded. "By the
+way, Malcolm, have you ever seen the Earl of Leicester?"</p>
+<p>"I saw him only once. He visited Scotland during the ceremonies
+at Queen Mary's return from France. I saw him once, and then but
+briefly. Why do you ask?"</p>
+<p>"It is whispered among the servants," said Sir George, "that
+Leicester is at Chatsworth in disguise."</p>
+<p>Chatsworth was the home of the Duke of Devonshire, and was but a
+short distance from Haddon. After Sir George spoke, I remembered
+the words of old Bess.</p>
+<p>"Still, I do not know why you ask." I said.</p>
+<p>"My reason is this," replied Sir George; "Dorothy declared the
+fellow was of noble blood. It is said that Leicester loves gallant
+adventure incognito. He fears her Majesty's jealousy if in such
+matters he acts openly. You remember the sad case of Mistress
+Robsart. I wonder what became of the girl? He made way with her in
+some murderous fashion, I am sure." Sir George remained in revery
+for a moment, and then the poor old man cried in tones of distress:
+"Malcolm, if that fellow whom I struck last night was Leicester,
+and if he has been trying his hellish tricks on my Doll I&mdash;I
+should pity her; I should not abuse her. I may have been wrong. If
+he has wronged Doll&mdash;if he has wronged my girl, I will pursue
+him to the ends of the earth for vengeance. That is why I ask if
+you have ever seen the Earl of Leicester. Was the man who lay upon
+the floor last night Robert Dudley? If it were he, and if I had
+known it, I would have beaten him to death then and there. Poor
+Doll!"</p>
+<p>Any one hearing the old man speak would easily have <a name=
+"Page_271" id="Page_271"></a>known that Doll was all that life held
+for him to love.</p>
+<p>"I do not distinctly remember Leicester's face," I answered,
+"but since you speak of it, I believe there is a resemblance
+between him and the man we called Thomas. But even were it he, Sir
+George, you need have no fear for Dorothy. She of all women is able
+and willing to protect herself."</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v271" id="v271"></a> <img src=
+"images/v271.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>"I will go to Dorothy and ask her to tell me the truth. Come
+with me."</p>
+<p>We again went to Dorothy's room. She had, since I last saw her,
+received the letter from John of which I have spoken, and when we
+entered her parlor where she and Madge were eating breakfast we
+found her very happy. As a result she was willing and eager to act
+upon my advice.</p>
+<p>She rose and turned toward her father.</p>
+<p>"You told me, Doll, that the fellow was of noble blood. Did you
+speak the truth?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, father, I spoke the truth. There is no nobler blood in
+England than his, save that of our royal queen. In that you may
+believe me, father, for I speak the truth."</p>
+<p>Sir George remained silent for a moment and then
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If the man is he whom I believe him to be he can have no true
+purpose with you. Tell me, my child&mdash;the truth will bring no
+reproaches from me&mdash;tell me, has he misused you in any
+way?"</p>
+<p>"No, father, before God, he has been a true gentleman to
+me."</p>
+<p>The poor old man struggled for a moment with his emotions; then
+tears came to his eyes and he covered his face with his hands as he
+started to leave the room.</p>
+<p>Dorothy ran to him and clasped her arms about his <a name=
+"Page_272" id="Page_272"></a>neck. Those two, father and child,
+were surely of one blood as shown in the storms of violence and
+tenderness by which their natures were alternately swept.</p>
+<p>"Father, you may believe me; you do believe me," said Dorothy.
+"Furthermore, I tell you that this man has treated me with all
+courtesy, nay, more: he has treated me with all the reverence he
+would have shown our queen."</p>
+<p>"He can have no true purpose with you, Doll," said Sir George,
+who felt sure that Leicester was the man.</p>
+<p>"But he has, father, a true purpose with me. He would make me
+his wife to-day would I consent."</p>
+<p>"Why then does he not seek you openly?"</p>
+<p>"That he cannot do," Dorothy responded hesitatingly.</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Doll, who is the man?" asked Sir George.</p>
+<p>I was standing behind him and Dorothy's face was turned toward
+me. She hesitated, and I knew by her expression that she was about
+to tell all. Sir George, I believe, would have killed her had she
+done so. I placed my finger on my lips and shook my head.</p>
+<p>Dorothy said: "That I cannot tell you, father. You are wasting
+words in asking me."</p>
+<p>"Is it because of his wish that you refuse to tell me his name?"
+asked Sir George. I nodded my head.</p>
+<p>"Yes, father," softly responded Dorothy in the old dangerous,
+dulcet tones.</p>
+<p>"That is enough; I know who the man is."</p>
+<p>Dorothy kissed her father. He returned the caress, much to my
+surprise, and left the room.</p>
+<p>When I turned to follow Sir George I glanced toward Dorothy. Her
+eyes were like two moons, so full were they of wonderment and
+inquiry.</p>
+<p>I stopped with Sir George in his room. He was meditative and
+sad.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a>I believe my Doll has told
+me the truth," he said.</p>
+<p>"Have no doubt of it, Sir George," I replied.</p>
+<p>"But what good intent can Leicester have toward my girl?" he
+asked.</p>
+<p>"Of that I cannot say," I replied; "but my dear cousin, of this
+fact be sure: if he have evil intent toward Dorothy, he will
+fail."</p>
+<p>"But there was the Robsart girl," he replied.</p>
+<p>"Ay," said I, "but Dorothy Vernon is not Amy Robsart. Have no
+fear of your daughter. She is proof against both villany and craft.
+Had she been in Mistress Robsart's place, Leicester would not have
+deserted her. Dorothy is the sort of woman men do not desert. What
+say you to the fact that Leicester might wish to make her his
+wife?"</p>
+<p>"He may purpose to do so secretly, as in the case of the Robsart
+girl," returned Sir George. "Go, Malcolm, and ask her if he is
+willing to make her his wife before the world."</p>
+<p>I was glad of an opportunity for a word with Dorothy, so I
+hastily went to her. I told her of the Leicester phase of the
+situation, and I also told her that her father had asked me if the
+man whom she loved was willing to make her his wife before the
+world.</p>
+<p>"Tell my father," said she, "that I will be no man's wife save
+before all the world. A man who will not acknowledge me never shall
+possess me."</p>
+<p>I went back to Sir George and delivered the message word for
+word.</p>
+<p>"She is a strange, strong girl, isn't she, Malcolm?" said her
+father.</p>
+<p>"She is her father's child," I replied.</p>
+<p>"By my spurs she is. She should have been a man," said Sir
+George, with a twinkle of admiration in his eyes. He admired a good
+fight even though he were beaten in it.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a>It is easy to be good when
+we are happy. Dorothy, the great disturber, was both. Therefore,
+peace reigned once more in Haddon Hall.</p>
+<p>Letters frequently passed between John and Dorothy by the hand
+of Jennie Faxton, but John made no attempt to meet his sweetheart.
+He and Dorothy were biding their time.</p>
+<p>A fortnight passed during which Cupid confined his operations to
+Madge and myself. For her sweet sake he was gracious and strewed
+our path with roses. I should delight to tell you of our wooing.
+She a fair young creature of eighteen, I a palpitating youth of
+thirty-five. I should love to tell you of Madge's promise to be my
+wife, and of the announcement in the Hall of our betrothal; but
+there was little of interest in it to any one save ourselves, and I
+fear lest you should find it very sentimental and dull indeed. I
+should love to tell you also of the delightful walks which Madge
+and I took together along the sweet old Wye and upon the crest of
+Bowling Green; but above all would I love to tell you of the
+delicate rose tints that came to her cheek, and how most curiously
+at times, when my sweetheart's health was bounding, the blessed
+light of day would penetrate the darkened windows of her eyes, and
+how upon such occasions she would cry out joyously, "Oh, Malcolm, I
+can dimly see." I say I should love to tell you about all those
+joyous happenings, but after all I fear I should shrink from doing
+so in detail, for the feelings and sayings of our own hearts are
+sacred to us. It is much easier to tell of the love affairs of
+others.</p>
+<p>A fortnight or three weeks passed quietly in Haddon Hall. Sir
+George had the notion firmly fixed in his head that the man whom
+Dorothy had been meeting held honorable intentions toward the girl.
+He did her the justice to believe that by reason of her strength
+and purity she would tolerate none other. At times he felt sure
+that the <a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a>man was Leicester,
+and again he flouted the thought as impossible. If it were
+Leicester, and if he wished to marry Dorothy, Sir George thought
+the match certainly would be illustrious. Halting between the
+questions, "Is he Leicester?" and "Is he not Leicester?" Sir George
+did not press the Stanley nuptials, nor did he insist upon the
+signing of the contract. Dorothy received from her father full
+permission to go where and when she wished. But her father's
+willingness to give her liberty excited her suspicions. She knew he
+would permit her to leave the Hall only that he might watch her,
+and, if possible, entrap her and John. Therefore, she rode out only
+with Madge and me, and sought no opportunity to see her lover. It
+may be that her passiveness was partly due to the fact that she
+knew her next meeting with John would mean farewell to Haddon Hall.
+She well knew she was void of resistance when in John's hands. And
+his letter had told her frankly what he would expect from her when
+next they should meet. She was eager to go to him; but the old
+habit of love for home and its sweet associations and her returning
+affection for her father, now that he was kind to her, were strong
+cords entwining her tender heart, which she could not break
+suddenly even for the sake of the greater joy.</p>
+<p>One day Dorothy received from John a letter telling her he would
+on the following morning start for the Scottish border with the
+purpose of meeting the queen of Scotland. A plan had been formed
+among Mary's friends in Scotland to rescue her from Lochleven
+Castle, where she was a prisoner, and to bring her incognito to
+Rutland. John had been chosen to escort her from the English border
+to his father's castle. From thence, when the opportunity should
+arise, she was to escape to France, or make her peace with
+Elizabeth. The adventure was full of peril both for her Scottish
+and English friends. The Scottish regent Murray <a name="Page_276"
+id="Page_276"></a>surely would hang all the conspirators whom he
+might capture, and Elizabeth would probably inflict summary
+punishment upon any of her subjects whom she could convict of
+complicity in the plot.</p>
+<p>In connection with this scheme to rescue Mary it was said there
+was also another conspiracy. There appeared to be a plot within a
+plot which had for its end the enthronement of Mary in Elizabeth's
+stead.</p>
+<p>The Rutlands knew nothing of this subplot.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth had once or twice expressed sympathy with her Scottish
+cousin. She had said in John's presence that while she could not
+for reasons of state <i>invite</i> Mary to seek refuge in England,
+still if Mary would come uninvited she would be welcomed.
+Therefore, John thought he was acting in accord with the English
+queen's secret wish when he went to Rutland with the purpose of
+being in readiness to meet Mary at the Scottish border.</p>
+<p>There were two elements in Elizabeth's character on which John
+had not counted. One was her royal prerogative to speak words she
+did not mean; and the other was the universal feminine privilege to
+change her mind. Our queen did not want Mary to visit England, nor
+had she any knowledge of the plot to induce that event. She did,
+however, fear that Mary's unwise friends among the Catholics
+cherished the purpose of making Mary queen of England. Although
+John had heard faint rumors of such a plot, he had been given to
+understand that Mary had no share in it, and he believed that the
+adventure in which he was about to embark had for its only purpose
+her liberation from a cruel and unjust imprisonment. Her cause
+appealed to John's chivalrous nature as it appealed to so many
+other good though mistaken men who sought to give help to the
+Scottish queen, and brought only grief to her and ruin to
+themselves.</p>
+<p>Dorothy had heard at various times just enough of these <a name=
+"Page_277" id="Page_277"></a>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.</p>
+<p>"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?"</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p>My reply certainly was not comforting.</p>
+<p>"Ah, then, I am lost," she responded, with a tremulous sigh.
+"Is&mdash;is she prone to smile on men and&mdash;and&mdash;to grow
+fond of them?"</p>
+<p>"I should say, Dorothy, that both the smiling and the fondness
+have become a habit with her."</p>
+<p>"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&mdash;to&mdash;O God! I wish he had not gone to fetch her."</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p>"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.</p>
+<p>"You are already a vain girl, Dorothy, and I shall not tell you
+who that one woman is," I answered laughingly.</p>
+<p>"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 <a name="Page_278" id=
+"Page_278"></a>beautiful, more fascinating, and more attractive
+than she&mdash;than any woman living&mdash;only because I long to
+hold John&mdash;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.</p>
+<p>"He is all yours, Dorothy," I answered, "all yours, as surely as
+that death will some day come to all of us. Promise me, Dorothy,
+that you will never again allow a jealous thought to enter your
+heart. You have no cause for jealousy, nor will you ever have. If
+you permit that hateful passion to take possession of you, it will
+bring ruin in its wake."</p>
+<p>"It was, indeed, foolish in me," cried Dorothy, springing to her
+feet and clasping her hands tightly; "and I promise never again to
+feel jealousy. Malcolm, its faintest touch tears and gnaws at my
+heart and racks me with agony. But I will drive it out of me. Under
+its influence I am not responsible for my acts. It would quickly
+turn me mad. I promise, oh, I swear, that I never will allow it to
+come to me again."</p>
+<p>Poor Dorothy's time of madness was not far distant nor was the
+evil that was to follow in its wake.</p>
+<p>John in writing to Dorothy concerning his journey to Scotland
+had unhesitatingly intrusted to her keeping his honor, and,
+unwittingly, his life. It did not once occur to him that she could,
+under any conditions, betray him. I <a name="Page_279" id=
+"Page_279"></a>trusted her as John did until I saw her vivid flash
+of burning jealousy. But by the light of that flash I saw that
+should the girl, with or without reason, become convinced that Mary
+Stuart was her rival, she would quickly make Derbyshire the warmest
+locality in Christendom, and John's life might pay the cost of her
+folly. Dorothy would brook no rival&mdash;no, not for a single
+hour. Should she become jealous she would at once be swept beyond
+the influence of reason or the care for consequences. It were safer
+to arouse a sleeping devil than Dorothy Vernon's jealousy. Now
+about the time of John's journey to the Scottish border, two
+matters of importance arose at Haddon Hall. One bore directly upon
+Dorothy, namely, the renewal by the Stanleys of their suit for her
+hand. The other was the announcement by the queen that she would
+soon do Sir George Vernon the honor of spending a fortnight under
+the roof of Haddon Hall. Each event was of great importance to the
+King of the Peak. He had concluded that Thomas, the man-servant,
+was not the Earl of Leicester in disguise, and when the Earl of
+Derby again came forward with his marriage project, Sir George fell
+back into his old hardness toward Dorothy, and she prepared her
+armament, offensive and defensive, for instant use if need should
+arise. I again began my machinations, since I can call my double
+dealing by no other name. I induced Dorothy to agree to meet the
+earl and his son James. Without promising positively to marry Lord
+Stanley, she, at my suggestion, led her father to believe she was
+ready to yield to his wishes. By this course she gained time and
+liberty, and kept peace with her father. Since you have seen the
+evils that war brought to Haddon, you well know how desirable peace
+was. In time of war all Haddon was a field of carnage and unrest.
+In time of peace the dear old Hall was an ideal home. I persuaded
+Sir George not to insist on a positive promise from Dorothy,
+<a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a>and I advised him to allow her
+yielding mood to grow upon her. I assured him evasively that she
+would eventually succumb to his paternal authority and love.</p>
+<p>What an inherent love we all have for meddling in the affairs of
+others, and what a delicious zest we find in faithfully applying
+our surplus energies to business that is not strictly our own! I
+had become a part of the Sir George-Dorothy-John affair, and I was
+like the man who caught the bear: I could not loose my hold.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><a name="Page_281"
+id="Page_281"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<h2>PROUD DAYS FOR THE OLD HALL</h2>
+<p>Of course the queen's approaching visit threw Haddon Hall into a
+frenzy of scrubbing and furbishing. Aunt Dorothy was the busiest
+woman in England. Floors were newly polished. Draperies were taken
+down and were carefully washed with mysterious concoctions
+warranted to remove dirt without injury to color. Superfine wax was
+bought in great boxes, and candles were made for all the
+chandeliers and candelabra in the house. Perfumed oil was purchased
+for the lamp in the state bedroom. Elizabeth, by the way, when she
+came, did not like the odor of the oil, and with an oath tossed
+both the oil and the lamp out of the window. The fattest sheep,
+kine, and hogs were chosen from the flocks and were brought in to
+be stall-fed in such numbers that one might have supposed we were
+expecting an ogress who could eat an ox at a meal. Pipers and
+dancers were engaged, and a merry fool was brought down from
+London. At last the eventful day came and with it came our queen.
+She brought with her a hundred yeomen of her guard and a score of
+ladies and gentlemen. Among the latter was the Earl of Leicester,
+who was the queen's prime favorite.</p>
+<p>Prior to the queen's announcement of her intention to visit
+Haddon Sir George had, with Dorothy's tacit consent, fixed a day
+upon which the Earl of Derby and his son, Lord James, should be
+received at the Hall for the <a name="Page_282" id=
+"Page_282"></a>purpose of signing the marriage contract. Dorothy,
+of course, had no intention of signing the contract, but she put
+off the evil hour of refusal as far as possible, hoping something
+might occur in the meantime to help her out of the dilemma.
+Something did occur at the last moment. I am eager to tell you
+about it, but it must wait its turn. Truly would the story of this
+ingenious girl's life make a romance if it were written by a poet.
+In her Guinevere and Elaine were moulded into one person with the
+tenderness, purity, and fierceness of each.</p>
+<p>To postpone further the time of the Stanley visit, Dorothy
+suggested that the betrothal should take place in the presence of
+the queen. Sir George acquiesced, and in his heart grew less eager
+for the Stanley match as Dorothy apparently became more tractable.
+He was, however, engaged with the earl to an extent that forbade
+withdrawal, even had he been sure that he wished to withdraw.</p>
+<p>At the time of which I speak the Earl of Leicester was the most
+exalted subject of the realm. He was ardently devoted to the cause
+of the ladies, and, although he had fixed his hope on Elizabeth and
+longed for a seat beside her on the throne, his inflammable heart
+was constantly catching fire from other eyes. He, of course, made
+desperate efforts to conceal these manifold conflagrations from the
+queen, but the inflammable tow of his heart was always bringing him
+into trouble with his fiery mistress.</p>
+<p>The earl's first glance toward Dorothy was full of admiration.
+The second glance was full of conflagration. The second day of the
+queen's residence in Haddon I was astonished, grieved, and angered
+to see that our girl had turned her powerful batteries upon the
+earl with the evident purpose of conquest. At times her long lashes
+would fall before him, and again her great luminous eyes would open
+wide, shedding a soft radiance which no man could withstand. Once I
+saw her walking alone with him upon <a name="Page_283" id=
+"Page_283"></a>the terrace. Her head was drooped shamelessly, and
+the earl was ardent though restless, being fearful of the queen. I
+boiled with rage against Dorothy, but by a strong effort I did not
+boil over until I had better cause. The better cause came
+later.</p>
+<p>I failed to tell you of a brief conversation which occurred
+between Sir George and me after my cousin first saw the Earl of
+Leicester. Sir George had gallantly led the queen to her
+apartments, and I had conducted Leicester and several of the
+gentlemen to their various rooms. Sir George and I met at the
+staircase after we had quitted our guests.</p>
+<p>He said: "Malcolm, that fellow Thomas whom I knocked in the head
+looked no more like Leicester than I do. Why did you tell me there
+was resemblance?"</p>
+<p>"I do not know," I answered. "Perhaps your words suggested the
+thought of a resemblance. Perhaps I had lost all memory of
+Leicester's features. I cannot answer your question."</p>
+<p>Then an expression of anger came to Sir George's face, and he
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I believe Dorothy lied to me when she said that the fellow
+Thomas was of noble blood."</p>
+<p>The next day a servant reported that Thomas had been seen
+loitering near Bowling Green Gate, and Sir George ordered Dorothy
+not to leave the Hall without his permission.</p>
+<p>Dorothy replied to her father's command, "I shall obey you,
+father."</p>
+<p>To me there was a note of danger in her voice. Such docile
+submissiveness was not natural to the girl. Of course all
+appearance of harshness toward Dorothy was suppressed by Sir George
+during the queen's visit to the Hall. In truth, he had no reason to
+be harsh, for Dorothy was a meek, submissive, and obedient
+daughter.<a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a> Her meekness,
+however, as you may well surmise, was but the forerunner of dire
+rebellion.</p>
+<p>The fourth day of the queen's presence at Haddon Hall was the
+one appointed for the visit of the Stanleys, and Sir George thought
+to make a great event of the betrothal by having the queen act as a
+witness to the marriage contract. As the day approached Sir George
+became thoughtful, while Dorothy grew gleeful. The girl was
+frequently seen with Leicester, and Sir George could not help
+noticing that nobleman's pronounced admiration for his daughter.
+These exhibitions of gallantry were never made in the presence of
+the queen. The morning of the day when the Stanleys were expected
+Sir George called me to his room for a private consultation. The
+old gentleman was in a state of excitement, not unmixed with
+perplexity and trouble.</p>
+<p>He said, "I have great and good news to impart to you, Malcolm;
+yet I am in a dilemma growing out of it."</p>
+<p>"Tell me the good news first, Sir George," I replied. "The
+dilemma may wait."</p>
+<p>"Is Doll a very beautiful girl?" he asked eagerly.</p>
+<p>"I believe she is the most beautiful woman in the world," I
+answered.</p>
+<p>"Good, good," he replied, rubbing his hands. "Is she so
+fascinating, brilliant, and attractive, think you&mdash;of course I
+speak in jest&mdash;but think you she might vie with the court
+ladies for beauty, and think you she might attract&mdash;for the
+sake of illustration I will say&mdash;might she attract a man like
+Leicester?"</p>
+<p>"Unless I am much mistaken," I answered, "Leicester is over his
+ears in love with the girl now."</p>
+<p>"Ah, do you believe so, Malcolm?" replied Sir George, laughing
+and slapping his thigh, as he walked to and fro across the room.
+"You have seen so much of that sort of <a name="Page_285" id=
+"Page_285"></a>thing that you should know it when it comes under
+your nose. Eh, Malcolm, eh?"</p>
+<p>"I should suppose that any one, however inexperienced in such
+matters, could easily see Leicester's infatuation for Dorothy. If
+you wish me to tell you what I really believe&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"I do, I do," interrupted Sir George.</p>
+<p>"I should say," I continued, "that Dorothy has deliberately gone
+in for conquest. Leave the girl to herself, Sir George. She can
+conduct the campaign without help from any one. She understands the
+art of such warfare as well as if she were a veteran."</p>
+<p>"Gad, but she does, but she does. I believe she could give Venus
+herself some good points in the matter. But let me tell you,
+Malcolm,"&mdash;the old man dropped his voice to a
+whisper,&mdash;"I questioned Doll this morning, and she confessed
+that Leicester had spoken words of love to her. Would it not be a
+great match for our house?"</p>
+<p>He said "our house," mind you, not "our Doll." I might call his
+condition of mind patrimonial selfishness. Simple old man! He did
+not know that words of love are not necessarily words of
+marriage.</p>
+<p>"Has Leicester spoken to you?" I asked in alarm for John's
+sake.</p>
+<p>"No, no, he has not spoken," returned my cousin; "for that, of
+course, he must have the queen's consent. But he will speak, I am
+sure, all in good time, Malcolm, all in good time."</p>
+<p>"How about the Stanleys?" I asked. "They will be here this
+afternoon."</p>
+<p>"That's the devil's finger in the matter," cried Sir George.
+"That's where my dilemma lies. How shall I put them off, and still
+retain them in case nothing should come from Leicester? Besides, I
+am in honor bound to the earl."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a>I have a plan," I replied.
+"You carry out your part of the agreement with the earl, but let
+Dorothy, at the last moment, refuse to give her consent. Let her
+ask for more time, on the plea that she does not know her mind. I
+will suggest to her, if you wish, the part she is to play; but I
+will conceal from her the fact that you are a party to it."</p>
+<p>"No," said the old man, "that would be bad faith toward the
+earl." After a pause he continued doubtingly: "No, do not speak to
+Doll. I believe she needs no suggestions in the matter. I fear that
+mischief is in her mind already. Her easy acquiescence in my wishes
+have of late had a suspicious appearance. No, don't speak to her,
+Malcolm. If ever there lived a girl who could be perverse and
+wilful on her own account, without help from any one, it is my girl
+Doll. God bless you, man, if she but knew that I wanted her to
+reject Stanley, she would have him in spite of hell itself. I
+wonder what she means by her docility and obedience? No, don't
+speak a word to her on the subject. Let her believe I am serious
+regarding this marriage, and she will have some plan of her own to
+raise the devil. I have been expecting signs of it every day. I had
+determined not to bear with her perversity, but now that the
+Leicester possibility has come up we'll leave Doll to work out her
+own salvation, Malcolm. Don't interfere. No man living can teach
+that girl a new trick in deviltry. Gods, Malcolm! I am curious to
+know what she will be doing, for she certainly will be doing
+something rather than sign that contract of betrothal."</p>
+<p>"But suppose out of obedience to you she should sign the
+contract?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, you don't know Doll," he replied. Then, after a pause,
+"Neither do I. I wish she were well married."</p>
+<p>When I left Sir George, I found Dorothy in close con<a name=
+"Page_287" id="Page_287"></a>sultation with the queen and two of
+her ladies. I heard the name of Lord James Stanley spoken amid
+suppressed laughter, and I suspected Dorothy had on foot some prank
+touching that young man, to which her Majesty was a party.</p>
+<p>After dinner the Stanleys came a-wooing. The party consisted of
+father, son, and four retainers, who looked as if they had been
+preserved in alcohol for the occasion, so red were their faces.</p>
+<p>The Earl of Derby was a fine old gentleman of the rural type.
+His noble son was an uncouth rustic, who had no thought above a
+stable boy or tavern maid, nor any ambition above horse trading.
+His attire was a wonder to behold. He wore a ruff of stupendous
+proportions. His trunks were so puffed out and preposterous in size
+that they looked like a great painted knot on a tree; and the
+many-colored splendors of his sleeves, his hat, his hose, and his
+shoes were dazzling to the eye. Add to this wondrous raiment feet
+and hands that could not be satisfactorily disposed of, and an
+unrest of manner painful to behold, and you may possibly conceive
+the grandiose absurdity of Dorothy's wooer. The sight of him almost
+made Sir George ill; and his entrance into the long gallery, where
+the queen was seated with her ladies and gentlemen, and Sir George
+and his friends standing about her, was a signal for laughter in
+which her Majesty openly joined.</p>
+<p>I shall not lead you through the tedious ceremony of
+presentation and introduction, nor shall I tell you of the pompous
+manner in which one of the earl's retinue, a lawyer, read the
+marriage contract. The fact that the contract was read without the
+presence of Dorothy, whom it so nearly concerned, was significant
+of the small consideration which at that time was given to a girl's
+consent. When all was ready for the signing, Dorothy was
+summoned.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a>Sir George stood beside the
+Stanleys, and his nervousness was painfully apparent. Two servants
+opened the great doors at the end of the long gallery, and Dorothy,
+holding up the skirt of her gown, bounded into the room. She
+kneeled to the queen, and turned toward her uncle Stanley and her
+lover-cousin with a low bow. Then she courtesied and
+said&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Good even, uncle, and how do you do, cousin. Have you come to
+inspect me, and, perchance, to buy?"</p>
+<p>Sir George's face bore an expression of mingled shame, wonder,
+and alarm, and the queen and her suite laughed behind their
+fans.</p>
+<p>"It is well," continued Dorothy. "Here am I, ready for
+inspection." Thereupon she began to disrobe herself before the
+entire company. Leicester laughed outright, and the queen and her
+ladies suppressed their merriment for a moment, and then sent forth
+peals of laughter without restraint. Sir George stepped toward the
+girl and raised his hand warningly, but the queen
+interposed:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Silence, Sir George, I command you;" and Sir George retreated
+to his former place beside the Earl of Derby. Dorothy first removed
+her bodice, showing her shoulders and a part of her arms, clothed
+in the fashion of a tavern maid.</p>
+<p>Leicester, who stood by me, whispered, "God never made anything
+more beautiful than Mistress Vernon's arms."</p>
+<p>Sir George again spoke angrily, "Doll, what are you doing?" But
+the queen by a wave of her hand commanded silence. Then the girl
+put her hands behind her, and loosened the belt which held her
+skirt in place. The skirt fell to the floor, and out of it bounded
+Dorothy in the short gown of a maid.</p>
+<p>"You will be better able to judge of me in this costume,
+cousin," said Dorothy. "It will be more familiar to you than the
+gowns which ladies wear."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a>I will retract," said
+Leicester, whispering to me, and gazing ardently at Dorothy's
+ankles. "God has made something more beautiful than Mistress
+Vernon's arms. By Venus! I suppose that in His omnipotence He might
+be able to create something more beautiful than her ankles, but up
+to this time He has not vouchsafed to me a vision of it. Ah! did
+any one ever behold such strength, such perfect symmetry,
+such&mdash;St. George! the gypsy doesn't live who can dance like
+that."</p>
+<p>Sure enough, Dorothy was dancing. The pipers in the balcony had
+burst forth in a ribald jig of a tune, and the girl was whirling in
+a wild, weird, and wondrous dance before her lover-cousin. Sir
+George ordered the pipers to cease playing; but again Elizabeth,
+who was filled with mirth, interrupted, and the music pealed forth
+in wanton volumes which flooded the gallery. Dorothy danced like an
+elfin gypsy to the inspiring strains. Soon her dance changed to
+wondrous imitations of the movements of a horse. She walked
+sedately around in an ever increasing circle; she trotted and
+paced; she gave the single foot and racked; she galloped, slowly
+for a while, and then the gallop merged into a furious run which
+sent the blood of her audience thrilling through their veins with
+delight. The wondrous ease and grace, and the marvellous strength
+and quickness of her movements, cannot be described. I had never
+before thought the human body capable of such grace and agility as
+she displayed.</p>
+<p>After her dance was finished she stepped in front of her cousin
+and delivered herself as follows:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I am sound from ear tip to fetlock. There is not a blemish in
+me."</p>
+<p>"No, by my faith, I will swear there is not!" cried the Earl of
+Leicester.</p>
+<p>"I have good wind," continued Dorothy, "two good eyes. By night
+or by day I can see everything within <a name="Page_290" id=
+"Page_290"></a>the range of my vision, and a great deal that is
+not. I shy, at times, when an uncouth object suddenly comes upon
+me. I am warranted gentle if properly handled, but otherwise it is
+unsafe to curry my heels."</p>
+<p>Sir George could no longer restrain himself, and again tried to
+prevent Dorothy from proceeding with her terrible insult to the
+Stanleys. The queen, however, was determined to see the end of the
+frolic, and she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Proceed, Mistress Vernon, proceed."</p>
+<p>Dorothy, nothing loath, continued: "As for my disposition, it
+might be better. It probably will improve with age, if it doesn't
+grow worse. I have all the gaits a horse should have. I am four
+years old, I have never been trained to work double, and I think I
+never shall be. What think you? Now what have you to offer in
+exchange? Step out and let me see you move."</p>
+<p>She took the poor youth by the hand and led him to the middle of
+the floor.</p>
+<p>"How old are you? Show me your teeth," she said. The heir to
+Derby smiled uneasily, and drew his hand across his nose.</p>
+<p>"Ah, you have a touch of the distemper, I see. Are you subject
+to it?"</p>
+<p>Stanley smiled, and the earl said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Sir George, this insult has gone far enough."</p>
+<p>"Stand back, my Lord Derby," said the queen. "Do not interfere
+with this interesting barter."</p>
+<p>The earl reluctantly lapsed into silence. He remembered the
+insult of her Majesty's words all his life.</p>
+<p>"Now step off," said Dorothy to Lord James.</p>
+<p>The young man stood in helpless confusion. Dorothy took a step
+backward from him, and after watching Stanley a moment
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"What! You can neither trot, pace, nor gallop? I don't believe
+you can even walk alone." Then she turned <a name="Page_291" id=
+"Page_291"></a>toward Sir George. A smile was on her lips, but a
+look from hell was in her eyes as she said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Father, take a lesson from this day. I gave you fair warning.
+Bring me no more scurvy cobs for barter nor trade." Then she turned
+to the Earl of Derby and to her cousin Lord James, made a deep
+courtesy, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You can have no barter with me. Good day."</p>
+<p>She ran from the room, and a great peal of laughter from all
+save Sir George and the Stanleys followed her as she passed out
+through the double door. When the laughter had subsided, the Earl
+of Derby turned to Sir George and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Sir George, this insult is unbearable, and I shall expect
+satisfaction for it." Then he turned to the queen: "I beg that your
+Majesty will give me leave to depart with my son."</p>
+<p>"Granted," answered Elizabeth, and father and son started to
+leave the room, moving backward toward the great doors. Sir George
+asked the earl and Lord Stanley to remain, and in the presence of
+the company who had witnessed the insult, he in the humblest manner
+made abject apology for the treatment his distinguished guests had
+received at the hands of his daughter. He very honestly and in all
+truth disclaimed any sympathy with Dorothy's conduct, and offered,
+as the only reparation he could make, to punish her in some way
+befitting the offence. Then he conducted the guests to the mounting
+block near the entrance tower and saw them depart. Dorothy had
+solved her father's dilemma with a vengeance.</p>
+<p>Sir George was not sure that he wanted to be angry at Dorothy,
+though he felt it was a duty he owed to himself and to the
+Stanleys. He had wished that the girl would in some manner defer
+the signing of the contract, but he had not wanted her to refuse
+young Stanley's hand in a manner so insulting that the match would
+be broken off altogether.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a>As the day progressed, and
+as Sir George pondered over Dorothy's conduct, he grew more
+inclined to anger; but during the afternoon she kept well under the
+queen's wing, and he found no opportunity to give vent to his
+ill-temper.</p>
+<p>Late that night he called me to his room. He had been drinking
+during the evening and was poised between good-humored hilarity and
+ill-tempered ferocity. The latter condition was usually the result
+of his libations. When I entered the room it was evident he was
+amused.</p>
+<p>"Did you ever hear or see such brazen effrontery?" he asked,
+referring to Dorothy's treatment of the Stanleys. "Is there another
+girl on earth who would have conceived the absurd thought, or,
+having conceived it, would have dared to carry it out?"</p>
+<p>I took a chair and replied, "I think there is not another."</p>
+<p>"I hope not," continued Sir George. He sat in thought for a
+moment, and then broke forth into a great laugh. When he had
+finished laughing he said: "I admit it was laughable and&mdash;and
+pretty&mdash;beautiful. Damme, I didn't know the girl could do it,
+Malcolm! I didn't know she had it in her. There is not another girl
+living could have carried the frolic through." Then he spoke
+seriously, "But I will make her smart for it when the queen leaves
+Haddon."</p>
+<p>"Sir George, if you will allow me to suggest what I feel on the
+subject, I would say that you have no reason whatever for desiring
+to make Dorothy smart. She may have deeper designs than we can
+see."</p>
+<p>"What designs do you suppose she can have? Tell me, Malcolm,"
+asked Sir George.</p>
+<p>I remained silent for a moment, hardly knowing how to express my
+thought. "Certainly she could not have appeared to a better
+advantage than in her tavern maid's costume," I said.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a>That is true," answered
+Sir George. "Though she is my own daughter, I must admit that I
+have never seen any woman so beautiful as she." The old gentleman
+laughed softly for a moment and said: "But wasn't it brazen? Wasn't
+it shameless? I have always given the girl credit for modesty,
+but&mdash;damme, damme&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Her beauty in the tavern maid's costume fired Leicester's heart
+as nothing else could have done," I said. "He stood by my side, and
+was in raptures over her charms."</p>
+<p>Sir George mused a moment and said something about the
+"Leicester possibility," which I knew to be an impossibility, and
+before I left him he had determined to allow the matter to drop for
+the present. "I am making a damned pretty mess of the whole affair,
+I fear, Malcolm," he said.</p>
+<p>"You don't seem to be clearing it up, Sir George," I
+responded.</p>
+<p>After talking over some arrangements for the queen's
+entertainment, I said good night, and left my cousin brooding over
+as complicated a problem as man ever tried to solve.</p>
+<p>The next morning I told Dorothy how her father felt with respect
+to the "Leicester possibility." She laughed and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I will encourage father in that matter, and," with a saucy
+twinkle in her eye, "incidentally I will not discourage my proud
+lord of Leicester. I will make the most of the situation, fear not,
+Malcolm."</p>
+<p>"I do not fear," said I, emphatically.</p>
+<p>There it was: the full-blown spirit of conquest, strong even in
+a love-full heart. God breathed into Adam the breath of life; but
+into Eve he breathed the love of conquest, and it has been growing
+stronger in the hearts of her daughters with each recurring
+generation.</p>
+<p>"How about John?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a>Oh, John?" she answered,
+throwing her head contemplatively to one side. "He is amply able to
+protect his own interests. I could not be really untrue to him if I
+wished to be. It is I who am troubled on the score of infidelity.
+John will be with the most beautiful queen&mdash;" She broke off in
+the midst of her sentence, and her face became clouded with an
+expression of anger and hatred. "God curse her! I wish she were
+dead, dead, dead. There! you know how I feel toward your
+English-French-Scottish beauty. Curse the mongrel&mdash;" She
+halted before the ugly word she was about to use; but her eyes were
+like glowing embers, and her cheeks were flushed by the heat of
+anger.</p>
+<p>"Did you not promise me, Dorothy, that you would not again allow
+yourself to become jealous of Queen Mary?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I promised, but I cannot prevent the jealousy, and I do
+not intend to try. I hate her, and I love to hate her."</p>
+<p>"Why should you hate her?" I asked. "If John remains true to
+you, there is certainly no cause for you to hate any one. If he
+should be untrue to you, you should hate him."</p>
+<p>"Hate him?" she exclaimed. "That, indeed, is pretty reasoning.
+If he should be untrue to me, I should of course hate her. I could
+not hate him. I did not make myself love him. I would never have
+been so great a fool as to bring that pain upon myself
+intentionally. I suppose no girl would deliberately make herself
+love a man and bring into her heart so great an agony. I feel
+toward John as I do, because I must; and I hate your Scottish
+mongrel because I must. I tell you, Malcolm, when she comes to
+Rutland, if I hear of her trying any of her wanton tricks on John
+there will be trouble&mdash;mark my words!"</p>
+<p>"I ask you to promise me this, Dorothy: that you will <a name=
+"Page_295" id="Page_295"></a>do nothing concerning John and Queen
+Mary without first speaking to me."</p>
+<p>She paced across the room angrily. "I promise you nothing,
+Malcolm, save that I shall not allow that woman to come between
+John and me. That I promise you, on my oath."</p>
+<p>Dorothy continued to shed her luminous smiles on Leicester,
+though she was careful not to shine in the queen's presence. My
+lord was dazzled by the smiles, and continually sought
+opportunities to bask in their dangerous light. As a result of this
+smiling and basking the great London heart-breaker was soon
+helplessly caught in the toils of Doll, the country maiden. She
+played him as an angler plays a trout. The most experienced court
+coquette could not have done the part better than did this girl,
+whose knowledge of the subject was wholly intuitive, for her life
+had all been spent amid the green hills and groves of Derbyshire.
+She so managed the affair that her father should see enough of
+Leicester's preference to keep alive in Sir George's mind the hope
+for the "Leicester possibility." Those words had become with her a
+phrase slyly to play upon.</p>
+<p>One afternoon when the sun was graciously warm and bright, I
+induced Madge to walk with me upon the terrace, that I might for a
+few moments feel the touch of her hand and hear her whispered
+words. We took a seat by a large holly bush, which effectually
+concealed us from view. We had been there but a few moments when we
+heard footsteps approaching. Looking between the branches of the
+holly bush I saw Dorothy and Leicester coming toward us from the
+north end of the terrace. Dorothy's eyes were cast down demurely,
+and her head hung in the attitude of a shy, modest girl, who
+listens timidly to words that are music in her ears. Never have I
+seen an attitude more indicative of the receptive mood than that
+which Dorothy assumed toward Leicester.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a>Ah," thought I, "poor John
+has given his heart and has risked his life for the sake of Doll,
+and Doll is a miserable coquette."</p>
+<p>But there was conduct still more objectionable to come from
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Unconscious of our presence, Leicester said, "My fair beauty, my
+Venus, here is a settle under this holly bush, well hidden from
+prying eyes. It invites us. Will you sit here with me for one happy
+moment, and give me a taste of Paradise?"</p>
+<p>"I fear I should not sit with you, my lord, however much
+I&mdash;may&mdash;may wish to do so. My father or the queen might
+observe us." The black lashes fell upon the fair cheek, and the red
+golden head with its crown of glory hung forward convincingly.</p>
+<p>"You false jade," thought I.</p>
+<p>"I ask for but one moment," pleaded Leicester. "The queen sleeps
+at this time after dinner, and perhaps your father would not object
+if you were to grant this little favor to the first nobleman of the
+realm."</p>
+<p>"You do not know my father, my lord. He is very strict regarding
+my conduct," murmured the drooping head.</p>
+<p>"I ask for but one little moment," continued the earl, "in which
+to tell you that you have filled my heart with adoration and
+love."</p>
+<p>"I should not listen to you, my lord. Were I mindful of my
+happiness, I should return to the Hall at once," said the drooping
+lashes and hanging head.</p>
+<p>"You lying wench," thought I. By that time I was thoroughly
+angered.</p>
+<p>"Only one little moment on the settle," pleaded Leicester, "that
+I may speak to you that which I wish so ardently to say."</p>
+<p>"Can you not speak while we walk, my lord?" asked Dorothy.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a>I felt a bitter desire to
+curse the girl.</p>
+<p>"It is difficult for me to speak while we walk," said Leicester,
+cautiously taking the girl's hand; so she permitted him to lead her
+to the settle under the holly bush, on the opposite side of which
+Madge and I were sitting.</p>
+<p>The earl retained the hand for a moment after he and Dorothy
+were seated, but she gently drew it away and moved a little
+distance from his Lordship. Still, her eyes were drooped, her head
+hung low, and her bosom actually heaved as if with emotion.</p>
+<p>"I will tell John of your shamelessness," I said to myself. "He
+shall feel no more heartaches for you&mdash;you wanton huzzy."</p>
+<p>Then Leicester poured forth his passion most eloquently. Poesy,
+verse, and rhetoric all came to help him in his wooing. Now and
+then the girl would respond to his ardor with "Please, my lord," or
+"I pray you, my lord," and when he would try to take her hand she
+would say, "I beg you, my lord, do not." But Leicester evidently
+thought that the "do not" meant "do," for soon he began to steal
+his arm about her waist, and she was so slow in stopping him that I
+thought she was going to submit. She, however, arose gently to her
+feet and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My lord, I must return to the Hall. I may not longer remain
+here with you."</p>
+<p>The earl caught her hand and endeavored to kiss it, but she
+adroitly prevented him, and stepping out into the path, started
+slowly toward the Hall. She turned her head slightly toward
+Leicester in a mute but eloquent invitation, and he quickly
+followed her.</p>
+<p>I watched the pair walk up the terrace. They descended the steps
+to the garden, and from thence they entered the Hall by way of the
+porch.</p>
+<p>"Was it not very wicked in Dorothy to listen to such <a name=
+"Page_298" id="Page_298"></a>words from Leicester?" asked Madge. "I
+do not at all understand her."</p>
+<p>Madge, of course, knew only a part of what had happened, and a
+very small part at that, for she had not seen Dorothy. Madge and I
+returned to the Hall, and we went at once to Dorothy's room, hoping
+to see her, and intending to tell her our opinion of the shameless
+manner in which she had acted.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was in her room alone when we entered. She clapped her
+hands, ran to the door, bolted it, and bounded back toward us.</p>
+<p>"I have the greatest news to tell you," she cried
+laughingly,&mdash;"the greatest news and the greatest sport of
+which you ever heard. My lord Leicester is in love with me."</p>
+<p>"Indeed, that is very fine," I responded; but my irony met its
+usual fate. She did not see it.</p>
+<p>"Yes," continued Dorothy, brimming over with mirth, "you should
+have heard him pleading with me a few moments since upon the
+terrace."</p>
+<p>"We did hear him," said Madge.</p>
+<p>"You heard him? Where? How?" Her eyes were wide with wonder.</p>
+<p>"We were on the opposite side of the holly bush from you," I
+answered. "We heard him and we saw you."</p>
+<p>"Did you? Good. I am glad of it," said Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Yes, we saw and we heard all, and we think that your conduct
+was shameless," I responded severely.</p>
+<p>"Shameless?" demanded Dorothy. "Now pray tell me what I did or
+said that was shameless.".</p>
+<p>I was at a loss to define the wrong in her conduct, for it had
+been of an intangible quality which in itself was nothing, but
+notwithstanding meant a great deal.</p>
+<p>"You permitted him to hold your hand," I said, trying to fix on
+something real with which to accuse her.</p>
+<p>"I did nothing of the sort," said Dorothy, laughingly.<a name=
+"Page_299" id="Page_299"></a> "He caught my hand several times, but
+I withdrew it from him"</p>
+<p>I knew she spoke the truth regarding her hand, so I tried
+again.</p>
+<p>"You&mdash;you hung your head and kept your eyes cast down, and
+you looked&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Oh, I hung my head, I cast down my eyes, and I looked?" she
+answered, laughing heartily. "Pray let me ask you, Master
+Fault-finder, for what use else are heads and eyes made?"</p>
+<p>I was not prepared to say that the uses to which Dorothy had put
+her head and eyes were not some of the purposes for which they were
+created. They are good purposes, too, I admit, although I would not
+have conceded as much to Dorothy. I knew the girl would soon
+wheedle me into her way of thinking, so I took a bold stand and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"It is my intention to tell John about your conduct with
+Leicester, and I shall learn for what purpose he thinks eyes and
+heads are created."</p>
+<p>"Tell John?" cried Dorothy. "Of course you may tell John. He
+well knows the purposes of heads and eyes, and their proper uses.
+He has told me many times his opinion on the subject." She laughed
+for a moment, and then continued: "I, too, shall tell John all that
+happened or shall happen between Lord Leicester and me. I wish I
+could tell him now. How I wish I could tell him now." A soft light
+came to her eyes, and she repeated huskily: "If I might tell him
+now; if I might tell him now. Why, Malcolm, I despise Leicester. He
+is a poor, weak fool. He has no more force nor strength than I
+have. He is not a man. He is no more attractive than a woman. He
+wanted to kiss me. He begged me to give him but one. It is but a
+poor kiss which a man gets by begging. Think you I would give him
+one? Had he but touched my lips, think you I would ever allow John
+to soil himself again by kissing them? Fear not, Malcolm.<a name=
+"Page_300" id="Page_300"></a> Fear not for John nor for me. No man
+will ever receive from me a favor, the granting of which would make
+me unfit to be John's&mdash;John's wife. I have paid too dearly for
+him to throw him away for a penny whistle that I do not want." Then
+she grew earnest, with a touch of anger: "Leicester! What reason,
+suppose you, Malcolm, have I for treating him as I do? Think you I
+act from sheer wantonness? If there were one little spot of that
+fault upon my soul, I would tear myself from John, though I should
+die for it."</p>
+<p>Her laughing mood had passed away, and I feared to say that I
+could see no reason other than coquetry for her conduct, I feared
+the red-haired tigress would scratch my eyes out.</p>
+<p>"I have wanted to see you," she continued, "that I might tell
+you of my plans and of the way they are working out, but now since
+you have spoken to me in this manner, Sir Malcolm Fran&ccedil;ois
+de Lorraine Vernon, I shall tell you nothing. You suspect me.
+Therefore, you shall wait with the rest of the world to learn my
+purposes. You may tell John all you have seen and heard. I care not
+how quickly you do it." Then with a sigh: "I pray God it may be
+very soon. He will wish for no explanation, and he shall one day
+have in me a rich reward for his faith."</p>
+<p>"Do you trust him as he trusts you?" I asked, "and would you
+demand an explanation were he to act toward Mary Stuart as you have
+acted toward Leicester?"</p>
+<p>"He could not act toward her as I did toward Lord Leicester,"
+she said thoughtfully. Then after a moment she laughingly
+continued: "John can't&mdash;he can't hang his head and&mdash;droop
+his eyes and look."</p>
+<p>"But if&mdash;" I began.</p>
+<p>"I want no more of your hellish 'ifs,'" cried the girl in sudden
+fury. "If John were to&mdash;to look at that Scottish mongrel as I
+looked at Leicester, I would&mdash;I would kill the royal wanton. I
+would kill her if it cost my life.<a name="Page_301" id=
+"Page_301"></a> Now, for God's sake, leave me. You see the state
+into which you have wrought me." I left Madge with Dorothy and
+walked out upon Bowling Green to ponder on the events that were
+passing before me.</p>
+<p>From the time we learned that John had gone to fetch the
+Scottish queen I had fears lest Dorothy's inflammable jealousy
+might cause trouble, and now those fears were rapidly transforming
+themselves into a feeling of certainty. There is nothing in life so
+sweet and so dangerous as the love of a hot-blooded woman.</p>
+<p>I soon saw Dorothy again. "Tell me," said I, in conciliation,
+"tell me, please, what is your reason for acting as you do toward
+Leicester, and why should you look differently upon similar conduct
+on John's part?"</p>
+<p>"I will not tell you my plans," she responded,&mdash;"not now,
+at least. Perhaps I shall do so when I have recovered from my
+ill-temper. It is hard for me to give my reasons for feeling
+differently about like conduct on John's part. Perhaps I feel as I
+do because&mdash;because&mdash;It is this way: While I might do
+little things&mdash;mere nothings&mdash;such as I have
+done&mdash;it would be impossible for me to do any act of
+unfaithfulness to John. Oh, it could not be. But with him,
+he&mdash;he&mdash;well, he is a man and&mdash;and&mdash;oh, don't
+talk to me! Don't talk to me! You are driving me mad. Out of my
+sight! Out of my room! Holy Virgin! I shall die before I have him;
+I know I shall."</p>
+<p>There it was again. The thought of Mary Stuart drove her wild.
+Dorothy threw herself on her face upon the bed, and Madge went over
+and sat by her side to soothe her. I, with a feeling of guilt, so
+adroit had been Dorothy's defence, left the girls and went to my
+room in the tower to unravel, by the help of my pipe, the tangled
+web of woman's incomprehensibility. I failed, as many another man
+had failed before me, and as men will continue to fail to the end
+of time.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><a name="Page_302"
+id="Page_302"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<h2>MARY STUART</h2>
+<p>And now I come to an event in this history which I find
+difficult to place before you in its true light. For Dorothy's sake
+I wish I might omit it altogether. But in true justice to her and
+for the purpose of making you see clearly the enormity of her fault
+and the palliating excuses therefor, if any there were, I shall
+pause briefly to show the condition of affairs at the time of which
+I am about to write&mdash;a time when Dorothy's madness brought us
+to the most terrible straits and plunged us into deepest
+tribulations.</p>
+<p>Although I have been unable to show you as much of John as I
+have wished you to see, you nevertheless must know that he, whose
+nature was not like the shallow brook but was rather of the quality
+of a deep, slow-moving river, had caught from Dorothy an infection
+of love from which he would never recover. His soul was steeped in
+the delicious essence of the girl. I would also call your attention
+to the conditions under which his passion for Dorothy had arisen.
+It is true he received the shaft when first he saw her at the Royal
+Arms in Derby-town, but the shaft had come from Dorothy's eyes.
+Afterward she certainly had done her full part in the wooing. It
+was for her sake, after she had drawn him on to love her, that he
+became a servant in Haddon Hall. For her sake he faced death at the
+hands of her father. And it was through her mad <a name="Page_303"
+id="Page_303"></a>fault that the evil came upon him of which I
+shall now tell you. That she paid for her fault in suffering does
+not excuse her, since pain is but the latter half of evil.</p>
+<p>During the term of Elizabeth's residence in Haddon Hall John
+returned to Rutland with Queen Mary Stuart, whose escape from
+Lochleven had excited all England. The country was full of rumors
+that Mary was coming to England not so much for sanctuary as to be
+on the ground ready to accept the English crown when her
+opportunity to do so should occur. The Catholics, a large and
+powerful party, flushed with their triumphs under the "Bloody
+Queen," were believed to sympathize with Mary's cause. Although
+Elizabeth said little on the subject, she felt deeply, and she
+feared trouble should the Scottish queen enter her dominion.
+Another cause of annoyance to Elizabeth was the memory that
+Leicester had once been deeply impressed with Mary's charms, and
+had sought her hand in marriage. Elizabeth's prohibition alone had
+prevented the match. That thought rankled in Elizabeth's heart, and
+she hated Mary, although her hatred, as in all other cases, was
+tempered with justice and mercy. This great queen had the brain of
+a man with its motives, and the heart of a woman with its
+emotions.</p>
+<p>When news of Mary's escape reached London, Cecil came in great
+haste to Haddon. During a consultation with Elizabeth he advised
+her to seize Mary, should she enter England, and to check the plots
+made in Mary's behalf by executing the principal friends of the
+Scottish queen. He insistently demanded that Elizabeth should keep
+Mary under lock and key, should she be so fortunate as to obtain
+possession of her person, and that the men who were instrumental in
+bringing her into England should be arraigned for high treason.</p>
+<p>John certainly had been instrumental in bringing her into
+England, and if Cecil's advice were taken by the <a name="Page_304"
+id="Page_304"></a>queen, John's head would pay the forfeit for his
+chivalric help to Mary.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth was loath to act on this advice, but Cecil worked upon
+her fears and jealousies until her mind and her heart were in
+accord, and she gave secret orders that his advice should be
+carried out. Troops were sent to the Scottish border to watch for
+the coming of the fugitive queen. But Mary was already ensconced,
+safely, as she thought, in Rutland Castle under the assumed name of
+Lady Blanche. Her presence at Rutland was, of course, guarded as a
+great secret.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's mind dwelt frequently upon the fact that John and the
+beautiful young Scottish queen lived under the same roof, for John
+had written to Dorothy immediately after his return. Nothing so
+propagates itself as jealousy. There were in Haddon Hall two hearts
+in which this self-propagating process was rapidly
+progressing&mdash;Elizabeth's and Dorothy's. Each had for the cause
+of her jealousy the same woman.</p>
+<p>One night, soon after Cecil had obtained from Elizabeth the
+order for Mary's arrest, Dorothy, on retiring to her room at a late
+hour found Jennie Faxton waiting for her with a precious letter
+from John. Dorothy drank in the tenderness of John's letter as the
+thirsty earth absorbs the rain; but her joy was neutralized by
+frequent references to the woman who she feared might become her
+rival. One-half of what she feared, she was sure had been
+accomplished: that is, Mary's half. She knew in her heart that the
+young queen would certainly grow fond of John. That was a foregone
+conclusion. No woman could be with him and escape that fate,
+thought Dorothy. Her hope as to the other half&mdash;John's part&mdash;rested
+solely upon her faith in John, which was really great, and her
+confidence in her own charms and in her own power to hold him,
+which in truth, and with good reason, was not small,<a name=
+"Page_305" id="Page_305"></a> Dorothy went to bed, and Jennie,
+following her usual custom, when at Haddon, lay upon the floor in
+the same room. John's letter, with all its tenderness, had thrown
+Dorothy into an inquisitive frame of mind. After an hour or two of
+restless tossing upon the bed she fell asleep, but soon after
+midnight she awakened, and in her drowsy condition the devil
+himself played upon the strings of her dream-charged imagination.
+After a time she sprang from the bed, lighted a candle at the rush
+light, and read John's letter in a tremor of dream-wrought fear.
+Then she aroused Jennie Faxton and asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"When were you at Rutland?"</p>
+<p>"I spent yesterday and to-day there, mistress," answered
+Jennie.</p>
+<p>"Did you see a strange lady?" asked Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Oh, yes, mistress, I did see her three or four times," answered
+Jennie. "Lady Blanche is her name, and she be a cousin of Sir
+John's. She do come, they say, from France, and do speak only in
+the tongue of that country."</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I suppose that this&mdash;this Lady Blanche
+and&mdash;and Sir John are very good friends? Did you&mdash;did
+you&mdash;often see them together?" asked Dorothy. She felt guilty
+in questioning Jennie for the purpose of spying upon her lover. She
+knew that John would not pry into her conduct.</p>
+<p>"Indeed, yes, mistress," returned Jennie, who admired John
+greatly from her lowly sphere, and who for her own sake as well as
+Dorothy's was jealous of Queen Mary. "They do walk together a great
+deal on the ramparts, and the white snaky lady do look up into Sir
+John's face like this"&mdash;here Jennie assumed a lovelorn
+expression. "And&mdash;and once, mistress, I thought&mdash;I
+thought&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes, Jesu!" hissed Dorothy, clutching Jennie by the arm,
+"you thought, you thought. Tell me! Tell me! What in hell's name
+did you think? Speak quickly, wench."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a>I be not sure, mistress,
+but I thought I saw his arm about her waist one evening on the
+ramparts. It was dark, and for sure I could not tell,
+but&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"God's curse upon the white huzzy!" screamed Dorothy. "God's
+curse upon her! She is stealing him from me, and I am
+helpless."</p>
+<p>She clasped her hands over the top of her head and ran to and
+fro across the room uttering inarticulate cries of agony. Then she
+sat upon the bedside and threw herself into Madge's arms, crying
+under her breath: "My God! My God! Think of it, Madge. I have given
+him my heart, my soul, O merciful God, my love&mdash;all that I
+have worth giving, and now comes this white wretch, and because she
+is a queen and was sired in hell she tries to steal him from me and
+coaxes him to put his arm around her waist."</p>
+<p>"Don't feel that way about it, Dorothy," said Madge, soothingly.
+"I know Sir John can explain it all to you when you see him. He is
+true to you, I am sure."</p>
+<p>"True to me, Madge! How can he be true to me if she coaxes him
+to woo her and if he puts his arm&mdash;I am losing him; I know it.
+I&mdash;I&mdash;O God, Madge, I am smothering; I am strangling!
+Holy Virgin! I believe I am about to die." She threw herself upon
+the bed by Madge's side, clutching her throat and breast, and her
+grand woman's form tossed and struggled as if she were in
+convulsions.</p>
+<p>"Holy mother!" she cried, "take this frightful agony from my
+breast. Snatch this terrible love from my heart. God! If you have
+pity, give it now. Help me! Help me! Ah, how deeply I love. I never
+loved him so much as I do at this awful moment. Save me from doing
+that which is in my heart. If I could have him for only one little
+portion of a minute. But that is denied me whose right it is, and
+is given to her who has <a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a>no
+right. Ah, God is not just. If he were he would strike her dead. I
+hate her and I hate&mdash;hate him."</p>
+<p>She arose to a sitting posture on the edge of the bed and held
+out her arms toward Madge.</p>
+<p>"Madge," she continued, frenzied by the thought, "his arm was
+around her waist. That was early in the evening. Holy Virgin! What
+may be happening now?"</p>
+<p>Dorothy sprang from the bed and staggered about the room with
+her hands upon her throbbing temples.</p>
+<p>"I cannot bear this agony. God give me strength." Soon she began
+to gasp for breath. "I can&mdash;see&mdash;them now&mdash;together,
+together. I hate her; I hate him. My love has turned bitter. What
+can I do? What can I do? I will do it. I will. I will disturb their
+sweet rest. If I cannot have him, she shall not. I'll tell the
+queen, I'll tell the queen."</p>
+<p>Dorothy acted on her resolution the moment it was taken, and at
+once began to unbolt the door.</p>
+<p>"Stay, Dorothy, stay!" cried Madge. "Think on what you are about
+to do. It will cost John his life. Come to me for one moment,
+Dorothy, I pray you." Madge arose from the bed and began groping
+her way toward Dorothy, who was unbolting the door.</p>
+<p>Madge could have calmed the tempest-tossed sea as easily as she
+could have induced Dorothy to pause in her mad frenzy. Jennie
+Faxton, almost paralyzed by fear of the storm she had raised, stood
+in the corner of the room trembling and speechless. Dorothy was out
+of the room before poor blind Madge could reach her. The frenzied
+girl was dressed only in her night robes and her glorious hair hung
+dishevelled down to her waist. She ran through the rooms of Lady
+Crawford and those occupied by her father and the retainers. Then
+she sped down the long gallery and up the steps to Elizabeth's
+apartment.</p>
+<p>She knocked violently at the queen's door.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a>Who comes?" demanded one
+of her Majesty's ladies.</p>
+<p>"I, Dorothy," was the response. "I wish to speak to her Majesty
+at once upon a matter of great importance to her."</p>
+<p>Elizabeth ordered her ladies to admit Dorothy, and the girl ran
+to the queen, who had half arisen in her bed.</p>
+<p>"You must have affairs of great moment, indeed," cried
+Elizabeth, testily, "if they induce you to disturb me in this
+manner."</p>
+<p>"Of great moment, indeed, your Majesty," replied Dorothy,
+endeavoring to be calm, "of moment to you and to me. Mary Stuart is
+in England at this instant trying to steal your crown and my lover.
+She is now sleeping within five leagues of this place. God only
+knows what she is doing. Let us waste no time, your Majesty."</p>
+<p>The girl was growing wilder every second.</p>
+<p>"Let us go&mdash;you and I&mdash;and seize this wanton creature.
+You to save your crown; I to save my lover and&mdash;my life."</p>
+<p>"Where is she?" demanded Elizabeth, sharply. "Cease prattling
+about your lover. She would steal both my lover and my crown if she
+could. Where is she?"</p>
+<p>"She is at Rutland Castle, your Majesty," answered Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Ah, the Duke of Rutland and his son John," said Elizabeth. "I
+have been warned of them. Send for my Lord Cecil and Sir William
+St. Loe."</p>
+<p>Sir William was in command of the yeoman guards.</p>
+<p>"Is Sir John Manners your lover?" asked Elizabeth, turning to
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Yes," answered the girl.</p>
+<p>"You may soon seek another," replied the queen,
+significantly.</p>
+<p>Her Majesty's words seemed to awaken Dorothy from her stupor of
+frenzy, and she foresaw the result of her act. Then came upon her a
+reaction worse than death.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_309" id="Page_309"></a>You may depart," said the
+queen to Dorothy, and the girl went back to her room hardly
+conscious that she was moving.</p>
+<p>At times we cannot help feeling that love came to the human
+breast through a drop of venom shot from the serpent's tongue into
+the heart of Eve. Again we believe it to be a spark from God's own
+soul. Who will solve me this riddle?</p>
+<p>Soon the hard, cold ringing of arms, and the tramp of mailed
+feet resounded through Haddon Hall, and the doom-like din reached
+Dorothy's room in the tones of a clanging knell. There seemed to be
+a frightful rhythm in the chaos of sounds which repeated over and
+over again the words: "John will die, John will die," though the
+full import of her act and its results did nor for a little time
+entirely penetrate her consciousness. She remembered the queen's
+words, "You may soon seek another." Elizabeth plainly meant that
+John was a traitor, and that John would die for his treason. The
+clanking words, "John will die, John will die," bore upon the
+girl's ears in ever increasing volume until the agony she suffered
+deadened her power to think. She wandered aimlessly about the room,
+trying to collect her senses, but her mind was a blank. After a few
+minutes she ran back to the queen, having an undefined purpose of
+doing something to avert the consequences of her mad act. She at
+first thought to tell the queen that the information she had given
+concerning Mary Stuart's presence in Rutland was false, but she
+well knew that a lie seldom succeeds; and in this case, even
+through her clouded mentality, she could see that a lie would
+surely fail. She determined to beg the queen to spare John's life.
+She did not know exactly what she would do, but she hoped by the
+time she should reach the queen's room to hit upon some plan that
+would save him. When she knocked at Elizabeth's door it was locked
+against her. Her Majesty <a name="Page_310" id="Page_310"></a>was
+in consultation with Cecil, Sir William St. Loe, and a few other
+gentlemen, among whom was Sir George Vernon.</p>
+<p>Dorothy well knew there was no help for John if her father were
+of the queen's council. She insisted upon seeing the queen, but was
+rudely repulsed. By the time she again reached her room full
+consciousness had returned, and agony such as she had never before
+dreamed of overwhelmed her soul. Many of us have felt the same sort
+of pain when awakened suddenly to the fact that words we have
+spoken easily may not, by our utmost efforts, be recalled, though
+we would gladly give our life itself to have them back. If
+suffering can atone for sin, Dorothy bought her indulgence within
+one hour after sinning. But suffering cannot atone for sin; it is
+only a part of it&mdash;the result.</p>
+<p>"Arise, Madge, and dress," said Dorothy, gently. "I have made a
+terrible mistake. I have committed a frightful crime. I have
+betrayed John to death. Ah, help me, Madge, if you can. Pray God to
+help me. He will listen to you. I fear to pray to Him. He would
+turn my prayers to curses. I am lost." She fell for a moment upon
+the bed and placed her head on Madge's breast murmuring, "If I
+could but die."</p>
+<p>"All may turn out better than it now appears," said Madge.
+"Quiet yourself and let us consider what may be done to arrest the
+evil of your&mdash;your act."</p>
+<p>"Nothing can be done, nothing," wailed Dorothy, as she arose
+from the bed and began to dress. "Please arise, Madge, and dress
+yourself. Here are your garments and your gown."</p>
+<p>They hastily dressed without speaking, and Dorothy began again
+to pace the floor.</p>
+<p>"He will die hating me," said Dorothy. "If he could live I
+willingly would give him to the&mdash;the Scottish <a name=
+"Page_311" id="Page_311"></a>woman. Then I could die and my
+suffering would cease. I must have been mad when I went to the
+queen. He trusted me with his honor and his life, and I, traitress
+that I am, have betrayed both. Ah, well, when he dies I also shall
+die. There is comfort at least in that thought. How helpless I
+am."</p>
+<p>She could not weep. It seemed as if there were not a tear in
+her. All was hard, dry, burning agony. She again fell upon the bed
+and moaned piteously for a little time, wringing her hands and
+uttering frantic ejaculatory prayers for help.</p>
+<p>"My mind seems to have forsaken me," she said hoarsely to Madge.
+"I cannot think. What noise is that?"</p>
+<p>She paused and listened for a moment. Then she went to the north
+window and opened the casement.</p>
+<p>"The yeoman guards from Bakewell are coming," she said. "I
+recognize them by the light of their flambeaux. They are entering
+the gate at the dove-cote."</p>
+<p>A part of the queen's guard had been quartered in the village of
+Bakewell.</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood at the window for a moment and said: "The other
+guards are here under our window and are ready to march to Rutland.
+There is Lord Cecil, and Sir William St. Loe, and Malcolm, and
+there is my father. Now they are off to meet the other yeomen at
+the dove-cote. The stable boys are lighting their torches and
+flambeaux. They are going to murder John, and I have sent
+them."</p>
+<p>Dorothy covered her face with her hands and slowly walked to and
+fro across the room.</p>
+<p>"Call Malcolm," said Madge. "Perhaps he can help us. Lead me to
+the window, Dorothy, and I will call him." Dorothy led Madge to the
+window, and above the din of arms I heard her soft voice calling,
+"Malcolm, Malcolm."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312"></a>The order to march had been
+given before Madge called, but I sought Sir William and told him I
+would return to the Hall to get another sword and would soon
+overtake him on the road to Rutland.</p>
+<p>I then hastened to Dorothy's room. I was ignorant of the means
+whereby Elizabeth had learned of Mary's presence at Rutland. The
+queen had told no one how the information reached her. The fact
+that Mary was in England was all sufficient for Cecil, and he
+proceeded to execute the order Elizabeth had given for Mary's
+arrest, without asking or desiring any explanation. I, of course,
+was in great distress for John's sake, since I knew that he would
+be attainted of treason. I had sought in vain some plan whereby I
+might help him, but found none. I, myself, being a Scottish
+refugee, occupied no safe position, and my slightest act toward
+helping John or Mary would be construed against me.</p>
+<p>When I entered Dorothy's room, she ran to me and said: "Can you
+help me, Malcolm? Can you help me save him from this terrible evil
+which I have brought upon him?"</p>
+<p>"How did you bring the evil upon him?" I asked, in astonishment.
+"It was not your fault that he brought Mary Stuart to&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"No, no," she answered; "but I told the queen she was at
+Rutland."</p>
+<p>"You told the queen?" I exclaimed, unwilling to believe my ears.
+"You told&mdash;How&mdash;why&mdash;why did you tell her?"</p>
+<p>"I do not know why I told her," she replied. "I was mad
+with&mdash;with jealousy. You warned me against it, but I did not
+heed you. Jennie Faxton told me that she saw John and&mdash;but all
+that does not matter now. I will tell you hereafter if I live. What
+we must now do is to save him&mdash;to save him if we can. Try to
+devise some plan. Think&mdash;think, Malcolm."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313"></a>My first thought was to
+ride to Rutland Castle and give the alarm. Sir George would lead
+the yeomen thither by the shortest route&mdash;the road by way of
+Rowsley. There was another route leading up the Lathkil through the
+dale, and thence by a road turning southward to Rutland. That road
+was longer by a league than the one Sir George would take, but I
+could put my horse to his greatest speed, and I might be able to
+reach the castle in time to enable John and Mary to escape. I
+considered the question a moment. My own life certainly would pay
+the forfeit in case of failure; but my love for John and, I confess
+it with shame, the memory of my old tenderness for Mary impelled me
+to take the risk. I explained the plan upon which I was thinking,
+and told them of my determination. When I did so, Madge grasped me
+by the arm to detain me, and Dorothy fell upon her knees and kissed
+my hand.</p>
+<p>I said, "I must start at once; for, ride as I may, I fear the
+yeomen will reach Rutland gates before I can get there."</p>
+<p>"But If the guards should be at the gates when you arrive, or if
+you should be missed by Cecil, you, a Scottish refugee and a friend
+of Queen Mary, would be suspected of treason, and you would lose
+your life," said Madge, who was filled with alarm for my sake.</p>
+<p>"That is true," I replied; "but I can think of no other way
+whereby John can possibly be saved."</p>
+<p>Dorothy stood for a moment in deep thought, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I will ride to Rutland by way of Lathkil Dale&mdash;I will ride
+in place of you, Malcolm. It is my duty and my privilege to do this
+if I can."</p>
+<p>I saw the truth of her words, and felt that since Dorothy had
+wrought the evil, it was clearly her duty to remedy it if she
+could. If she should fail, no evil consequences would fall upon
+her. If I should fail, it would cost me my <a name="Page_314" id=
+"Page_314"></a>life; and while I desired to save John, still I
+wished to save myself. Though my conduct may not have been
+chivalric, still I was willing that Dorothy should go in my place,
+and I told her so. I offered to ride with her as far as a certain
+cross-road a league distant from Rutland Castle. There I would
+leave her, and go across the country to meet the yeomen on the road
+they had taken. I could join them before they reached Rutland, and
+my absence during the earlier portion of the march would not be
+remarked, or if noticed it could easily be explained.</p>
+<p>This plan was agreed upon, and after the guards had passed out
+at Dove-cote Gate and were well down toward Rowsley, I rode out
+from the Hall, and waited for Dorothy at an appointed spot near
+Overhaddon.</p>
+<p>Immediately after my departure Dolcy was saddled, and soon
+Dorothy rode furiously up to me. Away we sped, Dorothy and I, by
+Yulegrave church, down into the dale, and up the river. Never shall
+I forget that mad ride. Heavy rains had recently fallen, and the
+road in places was almost impassable. The rivers were in flood, but
+when Dorothy and I reached the ford, the girl did not stop to
+consider the danger ahead of her. I heard her whisper, "On, Dolcy,
+on," and I heard the sharp "whisp" of the whip as she struck the
+trembling, fearful mare, and urged her into the dark flood. Dolcy
+hesitated, but Dorothy struck her again and again with the whip and
+softly cried, "On, Dolcy, on." Then mare and rider plunged into the
+swollen river, and I, of course, followed them. The water was so
+deep that our horses were compelled to swim, and when we reached
+the opposite side of the river we had drifted with the current a
+distance of at least three hundred yards below the road. We climbed
+the cliff by a sheep path. How Dorothy did it I do not know; and
+how I succeeded in following her I know even less. When we reached
+the top of the cliff, Dorothy started off at full <a name=
+"Page_315" id="Page_315"></a>gallop, leading the way, and again I
+followed. The sheep path leading up the river to the road followed
+close the edge of the cliff, where a false step by the horse would
+mean death to both horse and rider. But Dorothy feared not, or knew
+not, the danger, and I caught her ever whispered cry,&mdash;"On,
+Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy, on." Ashamed to fall behind, yet fearing to
+ride at such a pace on such a path, I urged my horse forward. He
+was a fine, strong, mettlesome brute, and I succeeded in keeping
+the girl's dim form in sight. The moon, which was rapidly sinking
+westward, still gave us light through rifts in the black bank of
+floating clouds, else that ride over the sheep path by the cliff
+would have been our last journey in the flesh.</p>
+<p>Soon we reached the main road turning southward. It was a series
+of rough rocks and mudholes, and Dorothy and Dolcy shot forward
+upon it with the speed of the tempest, to undo, if possible, the
+evil which a dozen words, untimely spoken, had wrought. I urged my
+horse until his head was close by Dolcy's tail, and ever and anon
+could I hear the whispered cry,&mdash;"On, Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy,
+sweet Dolcy, good Dolcy; on, my pet, on."</p>
+<p>No word was spoken between Dorothy and me; but I could hear
+Dolcy panting with her mighty effort, and amid the noise of
+splashing water and the thud, thud, thud of our horses' hoofs came
+always back to me from Dorothy's lips the sad, sad cry, full of
+agony and longing,&mdash;"On, Dolcy, on; on Dolcy, on."</p>
+<p>The road we took led us over steep hills and down through dark,
+shadow-crowded ravines; but up hill, down hill, and on the level
+the terrible girl before me plunged forward with unabated headlong
+fury until I thought surely the flesh of horse, man, and woman
+could endure the strain not one moment longer. But the horses, the
+woman, and&mdash;though I say it who should not&mdash;the man were
+of God's best handiwork, and the cords of our lives did not
+<a name="Page_316" id="Page_316"></a>snap. One thought, and only
+one, held possession of the girl, and the matter of her own life or
+death had no place in her mind.</p>
+<p>When we reached the cross-road where I was to leave her, we
+halted while I instructed Dorothy concerning the road she should
+follow from that point to Rutland, and directed her how to proceed
+when she should arrive at the castle gate. She eagerly listened for
+a moment or two, then grew impatient, and told me to hasten in my
+speech, since there was no time to lose. Then she fearlessly dashed
+away alone into the black night; and as I watched her fair form
+fade into the shadows, the haunting cry came faintly back to
+me,&mdash;"On, Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy on," and I was sick at heart. I
+was loath to leave her thus in the inky gloom. The moon had sunk
+for the night, and the clouds had banked up without a rift against
+the hidden stars; but I could give her no further help, and my life
+would pay the forfeit should I accompany her. She had brought the
+evil upon herself. She was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the
+rain. She was fulfilling her destiny. She was doing that which she
+must do: nothing more, nothing less. She was filling her little
+niche in the universal moment. She was a part of the infinite
+kaleidoscope&mdash;a fate-charged, fate-moved, fragile piece of
+glass which might be crushed to atoms in the twinkling of an eye,
+in the sounding of a trump.</p>
+<p>After leaving Dorothy I rode across the country and soon
+overtook the yeoman guard whom I joined unobserved. Then I marched
+with them, all too rapidly to suit me, to Rutland. The little army
+had travelled with greater speed than I had expected, and I soon
+began to fear that Dorothy would not reach Rutland Castle in time
+to enable its inmates to escape.</p>
+<p>Within half an hour from the time I joined the yeomen we saw the
+dim outlines of the castle, and Sir William<a name="Page_317" id=
+"Page_317"></a> St. Loe gave the command to hurry forward. Cecil,
+Sir William, Sir George, and myself rode in advance of the column.
+As we approached the castle by the road leading directly to the
+gate from the north, I saw for a moment upon the top of the hill
+west of the castle gate the forms of Dorothy and Dolcy in dim
+silhouette against the sky. Then I saw them plunge madly down the
+hill toward the gate. I fancied I could hear the girl whispering in
+frenzied hoarseness,&mdash;"On, Dolcy, on," and I thought I could
+catch the panting of the mare. At the foot of the hill, less than
+one hundred yards from the gate, poor Dolcy, unable to take another
+step, dropped to the ground. Dolcy had gone on to her death. She
+had filled her little niche in the universe and had died at her
+post Dorothy plunged forward over the mare's head, and a cry of
+alarm came from my lips despite me. I was sure the girl had been
+killed. She, however, instantly sprang to her feet. Her hair was
+flying behind her and she ran toward the gate crying: "John, John,
+fly for your life!" And then she fell prone upon the ground and did
+not rise.</p>
+<p>We had all seen the mare fall, and had seen the girl run forward
+toward the gates and fall before reaching them. Cecil and Sir
+William rode to the spot where Dorothy lay, and dismounted.</p>
+<p>In a moment Sir William called to Sir George:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"The lady is your daughter, Mistress Dorothy."</p>
+<p>"What in hell's name brings her here?" cried Sir George,
+hurriedly riding forward, "and how came she?"</p>
+<p>I followed speedily, and the piteous sight filled my eyes with
+tears. I cannot describe it adequately to you, though I shall see
+it vividly to the end of my days. Dorothy had received a slight
+wound upon the temple, and blood was trickling down her face upon
+her neck and ruff. Her hair had fallen from its fastenings. She had
+lost her hat, and her gown was torn in shreds and covered with
+mud.<a name="Page_318" id="Page_318"></a> I lifted the
+half-conscious girl to her feet and supported her; then with my
+kerchief I bound up the wound upon her temple.</p>
+<p>"Poor Dolcy," she said, almost incoherently, "I have killed her
+and I have failed&mdash;I have failed. Now I am ready to die. Would
+that I had died with Dolcy. Let me lie down here,
+Malcolm,&mdash;let me lie down."</p>
+<p>I still held her in my arms and supported her half-fainting
+form.</p>
+<p>"Why are you here?" demanded Sir George.</p>
+<p>"To die," responded Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"To die? Damned nonsense!" returned her father.</p>
+<p>"How came you here, you fool?"</p>
+<p>"On Dolcy. She is dead," returned Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Were you not at Haddon when we left there?" asked her
+father.</p>
+<p>"Yes," she replied.</p>
+<p>"Did you pass us on the road?" he asked.</p>
+<p>"How came you here?" Sir George insisted.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I flew hither. I am a witch. Don't question me, father. I
+am in no temper to listen to you. I warn you once and for all, keep
+away from me; beware of me. I have a dagger in my bosom. Go and do
+the work you came to do; but remember this, father, if harm comes
+to him I will take my own life, and my blood shall be upon your
+soul."</p>
+<p>"My God, Malcolm, what does she mean?" asked Sir George, touched
+with fear by the strength of his daughter's threat. "Has she lost
+her wits?"</p>
+<p>"No," the girl quickly responded, "I have only just found
+them."</p>
+<p>Sir George continued to question Dorothy, but he received no
+further response from her. She simply held up the palm of her hand
+warningly toward him, and the ges<a name="Page_319" id=
+"Page_319"></a>ture was as eloquent as an oration. She leaned
+against me, and covered her face with her hands, while her form
+shook and trembled as if with a palsy.</p>
+<p>Cecil and Sir William St. Loe then went toward the gate, and Sir
+George said to me:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I must go with them. You remain with Doll, and see that she is
+taken home. Procure a horse for her. If she is unable to ride, make
+a litter, or perhaps there is a coach in the castle; if so, take
+possession of it. Take her home by some means when we return. What,
+think you, could have brought her here?"</p>
+<p>I evaded the question by replying, "I will probably be able to
+get a coach in the castle, Sir George. Leave Dorothy with me."</p>
+<p>Soon, by the command of Sir William, the yeomen rode to the
+right and to the left for the purpose of surrounding the castle,
+and then I heard Cecil at the gates demanding:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Open in the name of the queen."</p>
+<p>"Let us go to the gates," said Dorothy, "that we may hear what
+they say and see what they do. Will they kill him here, think you?"
+she asked, looking wildly into my face.</p>
+<p>The flambeaux on the castle gate and those which the link-boys
+had brought with them from Haddon were lighted, and the scene in
+front of the gate was all aglow.</p>
+<p>"No, no, my sweet one," I answered, "perhaps they will not kill
+him at all. Certainly they will not kill him now. They must try him
+first."</p>
+<p>I tried to dissuade her from going to the gates, but she
+insisted, and I helped her to walk forward.</p>
+<p>When Dorothy and I reached the gates, we found that Cecil and
+Lord Rutland were holding a consultation through the parley-window.
+The portcullis was still down, <a name="Page_320" id=
+"Page_320"></a>and the gates were closed; but soon the portcullis
+was raised, a postern was opened from within, and Sir William
+entered the castle with two score of the yeomen guards.</p>
+<p>Sir George approached and again plied Dorothy with questions,
+but she would not speak. One would have thought from her attitude
+that she was deaf and dumb. She seemed unconscious of her father's
+presence.</p>
+<p>"She has lost her mind," said Sir George, in tones of deep
+trouble, "and I know not what to do."</p>
+<p>"Leave her with me for a time, cousin. I am sure she will be
+better if we do not question her now."</p>
+<p>Then Dorothy seemed to awaken. "Malcolm is right, father. Leave
+me for a time, I pray you."</p>
+<p>Sir George left us, and waited with a party of yeomen a short
+distance from the gate for the return of Sir William with his
+prisoners.</p>
+<p>Dorothy and I sat upon a stone bench, near the postern through
+which Sir William and the guardsmen had entered, but neither of us
+spoke.</p>
+<p>After a long, weary time of waiting Sir William came out of the
+castle through the postern, and with him came Mary Stuart. My heart
+jumped when I saw her in the glare of the flambeaux, and the spirit
+of my dead love for her came begging admission to my heart. I
+cannot describe my sensations when I beheld her, but this I knew,
+that my love for her was dead past resurrection.</p>
+<p>Following Mary came Lord Rutland, and immediately following his
+Lordship walked John. When he stepped through the postern, Dorothy
+sprang to her feet and ran to him with a cry, "John, John!"</p>
+<p>He looked at her in surprise, and stepped toward her with
+evident intent to embrace her. His act was probably the result of
+an involuntary impulse, for he stopped before he reached the
+girl.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></a>Sir George had gone at Sir
+William's request to arrange the guards for the return march.</p>
+<p>Dorothy and John were standing within two yards of each
+other.</p>
+<p>"Do not touch me," cried Dorothy, "save to strike me If you
+will. The evil which has come upon you is of my doing. I betrayed
+you to the queen."</p>
+<p>I saw Mary turn quickly toward the girl when she uttered those
+words.</p>
+<p>"I was insane when I did it," continued Dorothy. "They will take
+your life, John. But when you die I also shall die. It is a poor
+reparation, I know, but it is the only one I can make."</p>
+<p>"I do not understand you, Dorothy," said John. "Why should you
+betray me?"</p>
+<p>"I cannot tell you," she answered. "All I know is that I did
+betray you and I hardly know how I did it. It all seems like a
+dream&mdash;like a fearful monster of the night. There is no need
+for me to explain. I betrayed you and now I suffer for it, more a
+thousand-fold than you can possibly suffer. I offer no excuse. I
+have none. I simply betrayed you, and ask only that I may die with
+you."</p>
+<p>Then was manifest in John's heart the noblest quality which God
+has given to man&mdash;charity, strengthened by reason. His face glowed
+with a light that seemed saintlike, and a grand look of ineffable
+love and pity came to his eyes. He seemed as if by inspiration to
+understand all that Dorothy had felt and done, and he knew that if
+she had betrayed him she had done it at a time when she was not
+responsible for her acts. He stepped quickly to the girl's side,
+and caring naught that we all should see him, caught her to his
+breast. He held her in his arms, and the light of the flambeaux
+fell upon her upturned face.</p>
+<p>"Dorothy," he said, "it matters not what you have done; you are
+my only love. I ask no explanation. If <a name="Page_322" id=
+"Page_322"></a>you have betrayed me to death, though I hope it will
+not come to that evil, you did not do it because you did not love
+me."</p>
+<p>"No, no, John, you know that," sobbed the girl.</p>
+<p>"I do know it, Dorothy; I know all that I wish to know. You
+would not intentionally bring evil upon me while you love me."</p>
+<p>"Ah, that I do, John; only God knows how deeply, how
+desperately. My love was the cause&mdash;my love was my
+curse&mdash;it was your curse."</p>
+<p>"Do not weep, Dorothy," said John, interrupting her. "I would
+that I could take all your suffering upon myself. Do not weep."</p>
+<p>Dorothy buried her face upon his breast and tears came to her
+relief. She was not alone in her weeping, for there stood I like a
+very woman, and by my side stood rough old Sir William. Tears were
+coursing down the bronzed cheek of the grand old warrior like drops
+of glistening dew upon the harrowed face of a mountain rock. When I
+saw Sir William's tears, I could no longer restrain my emotions,
+and I frankly tell you that I made a spectacle of myself in full
+view of the queen's yeoman guard.</p>
+<p>Sir George approached our little group, and when he saw Dorothy
+in John's arms, he broke forth into oaths and stepped toward her
+intending to force her away. But John held up the palm of his free
+hand warningly toward Sir George, and drawing the girl's drooping
+form close to his breast he spoke calmly:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Old man, if you but lay a finger on this girl, I will kill you
+where you stand. No power on earth can save you."</p>
+<p>There was a tone in John's voice that forced even Sir George to
+pause. Then Sir George turned to me.</p>
+<p>"This is the man who was in my house. He is the man who called
+himself Thomas. Do you know him?"</p>
+<p><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323"></a>Dorothy saved me from the
+humiliation of an answer.</p>
+<p>She took one step from John's side and held him by the hand
+while she spoke.</p>
+<p>"Father," she said, "this man is Sir John Manners. Now you may
+understand why he could not seek my hand openly, and you also know
+why I could not tell you his name." She again turned to John, and
+he put his arm about her. You can imagine much better that I can
+describe Sir George's fury. He snatched a halberd from the hands of
+a yeoman who was standing near by and started toward John and
+Dorothy. Thereupon the hard old warrior, Sir William St. Loe, whose
+heart one would surely say was the last place where sentiment could
+dwell, performed a little act of virtue which will balance many a
+page on the debtor side of his ledger of life. He lifted his sword
+and scabbard and struck Sir George's outstretched hand, causing the
+halberd to fall to the ground.</p>
+<p>"Don't touch the girl," cried Sir William, hoarsely.</p>
+<p>"She is my daughter," retorted Sir George, who was stunned
+mentally as well as physically by Sir William's blow.</p>
+<p>"I care not whose daughter she is," returned Sir William. "You
+shall not touch her. If you make but one other attempt, I will use
+my blade upon you."</p>
+<p>Sir William and John had been warm friends at London court, and
+the old captain of the guards quickly guessed the true situation
+when he saw Dorothy run to John's arms.</p>
+<p>"Sir, you shall answer for this," said Sir George, angrily, to
+Sir William.</p>
+<p>"With pleasure," returned Sir William. "I will give you
+satisfaction whenever you wish it, save this present time. I am too
+busy now."</p>
+<p>Blessed old Sir William! You have been dead these many winters;
+and were I a priest, I would say a mass for your soul gratis every
+day in the year.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_324" id="Page_324"></a>Did the girl betray us?"
+asked Queen Mary.</p>
+<p>No one answered her question. Then she turned toward Sir John
+and touched him upon the shoulder. He turned his face toward her,
+signifying that he was listening.</p>
+<p>"Who is this girl?" Mary demanded.</p>
+<p>"My sweetheart, my affianced wife," John answered.</p>
+<p>"She says she betrayed us," the queen responded.</p>
+<p>"Yes," said John.</p>
+<p>"Did you trust her with knowledge of our presence in Rutland?"
+Mary demanded angrily.</p>
+<p>"I did," he answered.</p>
+<p>"You were a fool," said Mary.</p>
+<p>"I know it," responded John.</p>
+<p>"You certainly bear her no resentment for her treason," said
+Mary.</p>
+<p>"I certainly do not," quietly answered John. "Her suffering is
+greater than mine. Can you not see that it is?"</p>
+<p>"It is your privilege," said Mary, scornfully, "to intrust your
+own secrets to whomsoever you may choose for your confidant, and it
+is quite saintlike in you to forgive this person for betraying you;
+but what think you of the hard case in which her treason and your
+folly have placed me?"</p>
+<p>"That is my greatest grief, save for Dorothy," answered John,
+softly. Lived there ever a man possessed of broader charity or
+deeper love than John? God surely made him of gold dust, not of
+common clay.</p>
+<p>Queen Mary stepped away from John in disgust, and when she
+turned she saw me for the first time. She started and was about to
+speak, but I placed my fingers warningly upon my lips and she
+remained silent.</p>
+<p>"Where do you take us, Sir William?" asked John.</p>
+<p>"To Haddon Hall. There you will await the commands of the
+queen."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_325" id="Page_325"></a>How came you here?" John
+asked gently of Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"I rode Dolcy," she whispered. "She dropped dead at the foot of
+the hill. Yonder she lies. I came up the Lathkil by the long road,
+and I hoped that I might reach you in time to give warning. When
+the guard left Haddon I realized the evil that would come upon you
+by reason of my base betrayal." Here she broke down and for a
+moment could not proceed in the narrative. She soon recovered and
+continued: "Then I mounted Dolcy, and tried to reach here by way of
+the long road. Poor Dolcy seemed to understand my trouble and my
+despair, and she brought me with all the speed that a horse could
+make; but the road was too long and too rough; and she failed, and
+I failed. Would that I could have died in her place. She gave her
+life in trying to remedy my fault."</p>
+<p>Dorothy again began to weep, and John tenderly
+whispered:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"All will yet come right" Then he kissed her before us all, and
+handed her to me saying, "Care for her, I pray you, sir."</p>
+<p>John spoke a few words to Sir William, and in a moment they both
+went back to the castle.</p>
+<p>In a short time the gates were opened, and the Rutland coach
+drawn by four horses emerged from the castle grounds. Sir William
+then directed Mary and Dorothy to enter the coach and requested me
+to ride with them to Haddon Hall.</p>
+<p>The yeoman guards were in marching order, and I took my seat in
+the coach. The fates surely were in a humorous mood when they threw
+Dorothy, Queen Mary, and myself together. Pause for a moment and
+consider the situation. You know all the facts and you can analyze
+it as well as I. I could not help laughing at the fantastic trick
+of destiny.</p>
+<p>Soon after I entered the coach Sir William gave the <a name=
+"Page_326" id="Page_326"></a>word, and the yeomen with Lord Rutland
+and John moved forward on the road to Haddon.</p>
+<p>The coach at once followed the guard and a score of yeomen
+followed us.</p>
+<p>Queen Mary occupied the back seat of the coach, and Dorothy and
+I sat upon the front seat facing her.</p>
+<p>Dorothy was exhausted, and her head lay upon my shoulder. Now
+and again she would softly moan and sob, but she said nothing.
+After a few minutes of silence Queen Mary spoke:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Why did you betray me, you miserable wretch? Why did you betray
+me?"</p>
+<p>Dorothy did not answer. Mary continued:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Have I ever injured you in any manner? Have I ever harmed you
+by thought, word, or deed?"</p>
+<p>Dorothy's only answer was a sob.</p>
+<p>"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?"</p>
+<p>"No, no, madam," I said, "that was not the reason."</p>
+<p>"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.</p>
+<p>I told Mary that I did not know Dorothy's reasons, and she
+continued:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, you were not a party to my betrayal for the sake of
+revenging yourself on me?"</p>
+<p>"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."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327"></a>My admission soon brought
+me into trouble.</p>
+<p>"I alone am to blame," said Dorothy, faintly.</p>
+<p>"I can easily believe you," said Mary, sharply. "Did you expect
+to injure me?"</p>
+<p>No answer came from Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"If you expect to injure me," Mary continued, "you will be
+disappointed. I am a queen, and my Cousin Elizabeth would not dare
+to harm me, even though she might wish to do so. We are of the same
+blood, and she will not wish to do me injury. Your doting lover
+will probably lose his head for bringing me to England without his
+queen's consent. He is her subject. I am not. I wish you joy of the
+trouble you have brought upon him and upon yourself."</p>
+<p>"Upon him!" cried Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"Yes, upon him," continued Mary, relishing the torture she was
+inflicting. "You will enjoy seeing him beheaded, will you not, you
+fool, you huzzy, you wretch? I hope his death will haunt you till
+the end of your days."</p>
+<p>Poor Dorothy, leaning against me, said faintly:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"It will&mdash;it will. You&mdash;you devil."</p>
+<p>The girl was almost dead from exhaustion and anguish, but she
+would have been dead indeed had she lacked the power to strike
+back. I believe had it not been for Dorothy's physical weakness she
+would have silenced Mary with her hands.</p>
+<p>After a little time Dorothy's heavy breathing indicated that she
+had fallen asleep. Her head rested upon my shoulder, and the
+delicious perfume of her hair and the sweet warm breath from her
+lips were almost intoxicating even to me, though I was not in love
+with her. How great must their effect have been coming upon John
+hot from her intense young soul!</p>
+<p>As the link-boys passed the coach some and some with their
+flambeaux I could see Dorothy's sweet pale face, <a name="Page_328"
+id="Page_328"></a>almost hidden in the tangled golden red hair
+which fell in floods about her. The perfect oval of her cheek, the
+long wet lashes, the arched eyebrows, the low broad forehead, the
+straight nose, the saucy chin&mdash;all presented a picture of
+beauty and pathos sufficient to soften a heart of stone. Mary had
+no heart of any sort, therefore she was not moved to pity. That
+emotion, I am sure, she never felt from the first to the last day
+of her life. She continued to probe Dorothy's wound until I told
+her the girl was asleep. I changed Dorothy's position and placed
+her head against the corner cushion of the coach that she might
+rest more comfortably. She did not awaken when I moved her. She
+slept and looked like a child. For a little time after I had
+changed Dorothy's position Mary and I sat in silence. She was the
+first to speak. She leaned forward and placing her hands upon mine,
+whispered my name:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm!"</p>
+<p>After a brief silence I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"What would you, your Majesty?"</p>
+<p>"Not 'your Majesty'" said Mary, softly, "but Mary, as of
+old."</p>
+<p>She remained for a moment with her hand upon my knee, and then
+whispered:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Will you not sit by me, Malcolm?"</p>
+<p>I believe that Mary Stuart's voice was the charm wherewith she
+fascinated men. I resisted to my utmost strength, but that seemed
+to be little more than utter weakness; so I took a seat by her
+side, and she gently placed her hand in mine. The warm touch of her
+strong, delicate fingers gave me a familiar thrill. She asked me to
+tell her of my wanderings since I had left Scotland, and I briefly
+related all my adventures. I told her of my home at Haddon Hall and
+of the welcome given me by my cousin, Sir George.</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, have you forgotten?" she whispered, leaning <a name=
+"Page_329" id="Page_329"></a>gently against me. "Have you forgotten
+our old-time vows and love? Have you forgotten all that passed
+between us in the dear old ch&acirc;teau, when I gave to you my
+virgin love, fresh from my virgin heart?" I sighed and tried to
+harden my heart to her blandishments, for I knew she wished to use
+me and was tempting me to that end. She continued, "I was then only
+fourteen years old&mdash;ten years ago. You said that you loved me
+and I believed you. You could not doubt, after the proof I gave to
+you, that my heart was all yours. We were happy, oh, so happy. Do
+you remember, Malcolm?"</p>
+<p>She brought her face close to mine while she spoke, and pressed
+my hand upon her breast.</p>
+<p>My reason told me that it was but the song of the siren she was
+singing to my ears. My memory told me that she had been false to me
+twice two score times, and I knew full well she would again be
+false to me, or to any other man whom she could use for her
+purposes, and that she cared not the price at which she purchased
+him. Bear in mind, you who would blame me for my fall, that this
+woman not only was transcendently beautiful and fatally
+fascinating, but she was a queen and had held undisputed sway over
+my heart for more years than I could accurately number. As I said,
+added to all her beauty, she was a queen. If you have never known
+royalty, you cannot understand its enthralling power.</p>
+<p>"I remember it all, madam," I replied, trying to hold myself
+away from her. "It is fresh to me as if it all had happened
+yesterday." The queen drew my arm closely to her side and nestled
+her cheek for an instant upon my shoulder.</p>
+<p>"I remember also," I continued, "your marriage with Darnley when
+I had your promise that you would marry me; and, shame upon shame,
+I remember your marriage with Darnley's murderer, Bothwell."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_330" id="Page_330"></a>Cruel, cruel, Malcolm,"
+she said. "You well know the overpowering reasons of state which
+impelled me to sacrifice my own happiness by marrying Darnley. I
+told you at the time that I hated the marriage more than I dreaded
+death. But I longed to quiet the factions in Scotland, and I hoped
+to save my poor bleeding people from the evils of war. You know I
+hated Darnley. You know I loved you. You knew then and you know now
+that you are the only man who has ever possessed my heart. You know
+that my words are true. You know that you, alone, have had my love
+since the time when I was a child."</p>
+<p>"And Rizzio?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"Ah, Malcolm," she answered tearfully, "I hope you, of all men,
+do not believe that I ever gave a thought of love to Rizzio. He was
+to me like my pet monkey or my favorite falcon. He was a beautiful,
+gentle, harmless soul. I loved him for his music. He worshipped me
+as did my spaniel."</p>
+<p>Still I was determined that her blandishments should not move
+me.</p>
+<p>"And Bothwell?" I asked.</p>
+<p>"That is past endurance from you, Malcolm," she said, beginning
+to weep. "You know I was brutally abducted and was forced into
+marriage with him. He was an outlaw, an outcast. He was an uncouth
+brute whom any woman would loathe. I was in his power, and I
+feigned acquiescence only that I might escape and achieve vengeance
+upon him. Tell me, Malcolm, tell me," continued Mary, placing her
+arms about my neck and clinging to me, "tell me, you, to whom I
+gave my maiden's love, you who have my woman's heart, tell me, do
+you believe that I could willingly have married Bothwell, even
+though my heart had not been filled with the image of you, who are
+strong, gentle, and beautiful?"</p>
+<p><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331"></a>You, if you are a man, may
+think that in my place you would have resisted the attack of this
+beautiful queen, but if so you think&mdash;pardon me, my
+friend&mdash;you are a fool. Under the spell of her magic influence
+I wavered in the conviction which had long since come upon me, that
+I had for years been her fool and her dupe. I forgot the former
+lessons I had learned from her perfidy. I forgot my manhood. I
+forgot all of good that had of late grown up in me. God help me, I
+forgot even Madge.</p>
+<p>"If I could only believe you, Mary," I answered, growing insane
+under the influence of her fascinations, "If I could only believe
+you."</p>
+<p>"Give me your lips, Malcolm," she whispered, "give me your
+lips.&mdash;Again, my Malcolm.&mdash;Ah, now you believe me."</p>
+<p>The lying logic of a wanton kiss is irresistible. I was drunk
+and, alas! I was convinced. When I think of that time, Samson is my
+only comfort&mdash;Samson and a few hundred million other fools,
+who like Samson and me have been wheedled, kissed, and duped into
+misery and ruin.</p>
+<p>I said: "I do believe you, Mary. I beg you to forgive me for
+having doubted you. You have been traduced and brutally
+misused."</p>
+<p>"It is sweet to hear you speak those words. But it is better to
+think that at last we have come together with nothing to part us
+save that I am a prisoner in the hands of my vindictive, jealous
+cousin. I thank God that my kingdom of Scotland has been taken from
+me. I ever hated the Scots. They are an ignorant, unkempt,
+wry-necked, stubborn, filthy race. But, above all, my crown stood
+between you and me. I may now be a woman, and were it not for
+Elizabeth, you and I could yet find solace in each other for all
+our past sufferings. Malcolm, I have a sweet thought. If I could
+escape to fair, beautiful France, all would be happiness for us.
+You could claim your mother's estates in the balmy south, and we
+might <a name="Page_332" id="Page_332"></a>live upon them. Help me,
+my Malcolm, to escape, and your reward shall be greater and sweeter
+than man ever before received from woman."</p>
+<p>I struggled against her blandishments for a moment, but I was
+lost.</p>
+<p>"You shall escape and I will go with you," said I. Man needs to
+make but one little prayer to God, "Lead me not into temptation."
+That prayer answered, all else of good will follow.</p>
+<p>The morning sun had just begun to rise over Bowling Green Hill
+and the shadows of the night were fleeing before his lances, when
+our cavalcade entered the grounds of Haddon at the dove-cote. If
+there were two suns revolving about the earth, one to shine upon us
+by night and one by day, much evil would be averted. Men do evil in
+the dark because others cannot see them; they think evil in the
+dark because they cannot see themselves.</p>
+<p>With the first faint gray of dawn there came to me thoughts of
+Madge. I had forgotten her, but her familiar spirit, the light,
+brought me back to its fair mistress.</p>
+<p>When our coach reached the stone bridge I looked up to the Hall
+and saw Madge standing at the open casement of the tower window.
+She had been watching there all night, I learned, hoping for our
+speedy and safe return, and had been warned of our approach by the
+noise of the tramping guard. I drew back from the coach window,
+feeling that I was an evil shade slinking away before the spirit of
+light.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a><a name="Page_333" id=
+"Page_333"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+<h2>LIGHT</h2>
+<p>Dorothy had awakened while we were entering Rowsley, and I was
+glad that Mary could not touch me again.</p>
+<p>When our coach reached the stone steps of the entrance tower we
+found Sir George, Lady Crawford, and Madge waiting to receive us.
+The steps and the path leading to them had been carpeted with soft
+rugs, and Mary, although a prisoner, was received with ceremonies
+befitting her rank. It was a proud day for Sir George when the roof
+of his beautiful Hall sheltered the two most famous queens of
+christendom.</p>
+<p>Sir George assisted Mary from the coach most graciously, and in
+knightly fashion led her to Lady Crawford and Madge, who were
+standing at the foot of the tower steps. Due presentations were
+made, and the ladies of Haddon having kissed the queen's hand, Mary
+went into the Hall upon the arm of his Majesty, the King of the
+Peak, who stepped forward most proudly.</p>
+<p>His resentment against Dorothy was for the moment neutralized by
+the great honor of which his house and himself were the
+recipients.</p>
+<p>John and Lord Rutland were taken to the dungeon.</p>
+<p>I assisted Dorothy from the coach and led her to Madge, who was
+waiting for us upon the lowest of the steps leading to the entrance
+tower doorway. Dorothy took Madge's <a name="Page_334" id=
+"Page_334"></a>outstretched hand; but Madge, by some strange
+instinct, knowing of my presence, turned her face toward me. I
+could not lift my eyes to her face, nor could I endure to remain in
+her presence. While we were ascending the steps she held out her
+hand to me and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Is all well with you, Malcolm?" Her voice was full of tender
+concern, and it pained me to the heart to hear her speak kindly to
+me, who was so unworthy of her smallest thought.</p>
+<p>"Yes, Lady&mdash;yes, Madge," I responded; but she knew from the
+tones of my voice that all was not right with me.</p>
+<p>"I fear, Malcolm, that you do not tell me the truth. You will
+come to me soon?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"I may not be able to go to you soon," I answered, "but I will
+do so at the first opportunity."</p>
+<p>The torture of her kindness was almost unbearable to me. One
+touch of her hand, one tone of her rare voice, had made me loathe
+myself. The powers of evil cannot stand for one moment in a fair
+conflict with the powers of good. I felt that I, alone, was to
+blame for my treason to Madge; but despite my effort at
+self-condemnation there was an under-consciousness that Mary Stuart
+was to blame, and I hated her accordingly. Although Madge's
+presence hurt me, it was not because I wished to conceal my conduct
+from her. I knew that I could be happy again only after I had
+confessed to her and had received forgiveness.</p>
+<p>Madge, who was blind of sight, led Dorothy, who was piteously
+blind of soul, and the two girls went to their apartments.</p>
+<p>Curiosity is not foreign even to the royal female breast, and
+while Mary Stuart was entering Haddon Hall, I saw the luminous head
+of the Virgin Queen peeked out at a casement on the second floor
+watching her rival with all <a name="Page_335" id=
+"Page_335"></a>the curiosity of a Dutch woman sitting by her window
+mirror.</p>
+<p>I went to my room in Eagle Tower, fell upon my bed, and
+abandoned myself to an anguish of soul which was almost luxurious.
+I shall not tease you with the details of my mental and moral
+processes. I hung in the balance a long time undetermined what
+course I should pursue. The difference between the influence of
+Mary and the effect wrought by Madge was the difference between the
+intoxication and the exhilaration of wine. Following the
+intoxication of Mary's presence ever came a torturing reaction,
+while the exhilarating influence of Madge gave health and strength.
+I chose the latter. I have always been glad I reached that
+determination without the aid of any impulse outside of myself; for
+events soon happened which again drove all faith in Mary from my
+heart forever. Those events would have forced me to abandon my
+trust in her; but mind you, I took my good resolve from inclination
+rather than necessity before I learned of Mary's perfidy.</p>
+<p>The events of the night had exhausted Dorothy, and she was
+confined to her bed by illness for the first time in her life. She
+believed that she was dying, and she did not want to live. I did
+not go to her apartments. Madge remained with her, and I,
+coward-like, feared to face the girl to whom I had been untrue.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's one and only desire, of course, was to see John, but
+that desire for a time seemed impossible of accomplishment.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth, Cecil, Leicester, and Sir William St. Loe were in
+secret consultation many times during three or four days and
+nights. Occasionally Sir George was called into their councils, and
+that flattering attention so wrought upon the old man's pride that
+he was a slave to the queen's slightest wish, and was more
+tyrannical <a name="Page_336" id="Page_336"></a>and dictatorial
+than ever before to all the rest of mankind. There were, however,
+two persons besides the queen before whom Sir George was gracious:
+one of these was Mary Stuart, whose powers of fascination had been
+brought to bear upon the King of the Peak most effectively. The
+other was Leicester, to whom, as my cousin expressed it, he hoped
+to dispose of that troublesome and disturbing body&mdash;Dorothy.
+These influences, together with the fact that his enemies of
+Rutland were in the Haddon dungeon, had given Sir George a
+spleen-vent, and Dorothy, even in the face of her father's
+discovery that Manners was her mysterious lover, had for once a
+respite from Sir George's just and mighty wrath.</p>
+<p>The purpose of Elizabeth's many councils of war was to devise
+some means of obtaining from John and his father, information
+concerning the plot, which had resulted in bringing Mary Stuart
+into England. The ultimate purpose of Mary's visit, Elizabeth's
+counsellors firmly believed to be the dethronement of the English
+queen and the enthronement of her Scottish cousin. Elizabeth, in
+her heart, felt confident that John and his father were not parties
+to the treasonable plot, although she had been warned against each
+of them. Cecil and Sir William St. Loe also secretly held to that
+opinion, though neither of them expressed it, Elizabeth was
+conscious of having given to John while at London court an
+intimation that she would be willing that Mary should visit
+England. Of such intimation Cecil and Sir William had no knowledge,
+though they, together with many persons of the Court, believed that
+Elizabeth was not entirely averse to Mary's presence.</p>
+<p>Lord Rutland and John were questioned by Cecil in the hope of
+obtaining some hints which might lead to the detection of those
+concerned in the chief plot, provided such plot existed. But Lord
+Rutland knew nothing of the affair <a name="Page_337" id=
+"Page_337"></a>except that John had brought the Scottish queen from
+Scotland, and John persisted in the statement that he had no
+confederate and that he knew nothing of any plot to place Mary upon
+the English throne.</p>
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="v337" id="v337"></a> <img src=
+"images/v337.jpg" alt="" title="" /></div>
+<p>John said: "I received from Queen Mary's friends in Scotland
+letters asking me to meet her on the border, and requesting me to
+conduct her to my father's castle. Those letters mentioned no
+Englishman but myself, and they stated that Queen Mary's flight to
+England was to be undertaken with the tacit consent of our gracious
+queen. That fact, the letters told me, our queen wished should not
+be known. There were reasons of state, the letters said, which made
+it impolitic for our queen openly to invite Queen Mary to seek
+sanctuary in England. I received those letters before I left
+Westminster. Upon the day when I received them, I heard our
+gracious queen say that she would gladly invite Queen Mary to
+England, were it not for the fact that such an invitation would
+cause trouble between her and the regent, Murray. Her Majesty at
+the same time intimated that she would be glad if Mary Stuart
+should come to England uninvited." John turned to Elizabeth, "I beg
+your Majesty, in justice, to ratify my words." Elizabeth hesitated
+for a moment after John's appeal; but her love of justice came to
+her rescue and she hung her head as she said, "You are right, Sir
+John." Then she looked her counsellors in the face and said, "I
+well remember that I so expressed myself."</p>
+<p>"In truth," said John, "I having only an hour before received
+the letter from Scotland, believed that your Majesty's words were
+meant for my ear. I felt that your Majesty knew of the letters, and
+I thought that I should be carrying out your royal wishes should I
+bring Queen Mary into England without your knowledge."</p>
+<p>The queen responded: "I then felt that I wished Queen<a name=
+"Page_338" id="Page_338"></a> Mary to seek refuge in my kingdom,
+but so many untoward events have transpired since I spoke on the
+subject at Westminster that I have good cause to change my mind,
+though I easily understand how you might have been misled by my
+words."</p>
+<p>"I am sure," replied John, "that your Majesty has had good cause
+to change your mind; but I protest in all sincerity that I
+considered the Scottish letters to be a command from my queen."</p>
+<p>Elizabeth was a strange combination of paradoxes. No one could
+be truer than she to a fixed determination once taken. No one could
+be swayed by doubt so easily as she to change her mind sixty times
+in the space of a minute. During one moment she was minded to
+liberate John and Lord Rutland; in the next she determined to hold
+them in prison, hoping to learn from them some substantial fact
+concerning the plot which, since Mary's arrival in England, had
+become a nightmare to her. But, with all her vagaries the Virgin
+Queen surely loved justice. That quality, alone, makes a sovereign
+great. Elizabeth, like her mother, Anne Boleyn, had great faith in
+her personal beauty; like her father, she had unbounded confidence
+in her powers of mind. She took great pride in the ease with which
+she controlled persons. She believed that no one was so adroit as
+Elizabeth Tudor in extracting secrets from others, and in
+unravelling mysterious situations, nor so cunning in hunting out
+plots and in running down plotters. In all such matters she
+delighted to act secretly and alone.</p>
+<p>During the numerous councils held at Haddon, Elizabeth allowed
+Cecil to question John to his heart's content; but while she
+listened she formulated a plan of her own which she was sure would
+be effective in extracting all the truth from John, if all the
+truth had not already been extracted. Elizabeth kept her cherished
+plan to herself. It was this:&mdash;</p>
+<p><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339"></a>She would visit Dorothy,
+whom she knew to be ill, and would by her subtle art steal from
+John's sweetheart all that the girl knew of the case. If John had
+told Dorothy part of the affair concerning Mary Stuart, he had
+probably told her all, and Elizabeth felt confident that she could
+easily pump the girl dry. She did not know Dorothy. Accordingly our
+queen, Elizabeth, the adroit, went to Dorothy's room under the
+pretence of paying the girl a gracious visit. Dorothy wished to
+arise and receive her royal guest, but Elizabeth said
+gently:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Do not arise, Dorothy; rest quietly, and I will sit here beside
+you on the bed. I have come to tell you that you must recover your
+health at once. We miss you greatly in the Hall."</p>
+<p>No one could be more gracious than Elizabeth when the humor was
+upon her; though, in truth, the humor was often lacking.</p>
+<p>"Let us send all save you and me from the room," said the queen,
+"that we may have a quiet little chat together."</p>
+<p>All who were in the room save Dorothy and Elizabeth of course
+departed at once.</p>
+<p>When the door was closed, the queen said: "I wish to thank you
+for telling me of the presence of her Scottish Majesty at Rutland.
+You know there is a plot on foot to steal my throne from me."</p>
+<p>"God forbid that there should be such a plot," replied Dorothy,
+resting upon her elbow in the bed.</p>
+<p>"I fear it is only too true that there is such a plot," returned
+Elizabeth, "and I owe you a great debt of gratitude for warning me
+of the Scottish queen's presence in my kingdom."</p>
+<p>"I hope the danger will be averted from your Majesty," said
+Dorothy; "but that which I did will cause my death&mdash;it will
+kill me. No human being ever before has lived <a name="Page_340"
+id="Page_340"></a>through the agony I have suffered since that
+terrible night. I was a traitress. I betrayed the man who is dearer
+to me than my immortal soul. He says that he forgives me, but your
+Majesty knows that my fault is beyond forgiveness."</p>
+<p>"Sir John is a noble gentleman, child," said the queen. "I hope
+that he is loyal to me, but I fear&mdash;I fear."</p>
+<p>"Do not doubt, do not fear, my queen," returned Dorothy,
+eagerly; "there is nothing false in him."</p>
+<p>"Do you love him deeply, little one?" asked the queen.</p>
+<p>"No words can tell you my love for him," answered the girl. "I
+feel shame to say that he has taken even the holy God's place in my
+heart. Perhaps it is for that sin that God now punishes me."</p>
+<p>"Fear not on that score, Dorothy," replied the queen. "God will
+not punish you for feeling the love which He Himself has put into
+your heart. I would willingly give my crown could I feel such love
+for a worthy man who would in return love me for myself. But I
+cannot feel, nor can I have faith. Self-interest, which is so
+dominant in all men, frightens me, and I doubt their vows."</p>
+<p>"Surely, any man would love you for your own sake," said
+Dorothy, tenderly.</p>
+<p>"It may be that you speak truly, child; but I cannot know when
+men's vows are true nor when they are false. The real trouble is
+within myself. If I could but feel truly, I could interpret
+truthfully."</p>
+<p>"Ah, your Majesty," interrupted Dorothy, "you do not know the
+thing for which you are wishing; it is a torture worse than death;
+it is an ecstasy sweeter than heaven. It is killing me. I pity you,
+though you are a queen, if you have never felt it."</p>
+<p>"Would you do anything I might ask of you, if you could thereby
+save Sir John's life?" asked the queen.</p>
+<p>"Ah, I would gladly give my soul to save him," responded<a name=
+"Page_341" id="Page_341"></a> Dorothy, with tears in her eyes and
+eagerness in her voice. "Oh, my queen, do not lead me to hope, and
+then plunge me again into despair. Give me no encouragement unless
+you mean to free him. As for my part, take my life and spare
+John's. Kill me by torture, burn me at the stake, stretch me upon
+the rack till my joints are severed and my flesh is torn asunder.
+Let me die by inches, my queen; but spare him, oh, spare him, and
+do with me as you will. Ask from me what you wish. Gladly will I do
+all that you may demand; gladly will I welcome death and call it
+sweet, if I can thereby save him. The faint hope your Majesty's
+words hold out makes me strong again. Come, come, take my life;
+take all that I can give. Give me him."</p>
+<p>"Do you believe that I am an ogress thirsting for blood,
+Dorothy, that you offer me your life for his? You can purchase Sir
+John's life at a much smaller cost." Dorothy rose to the queen with
+a cry, and put her arms about her neck. "You may purchase his
+freedom," continued the queen, "and you may serve your loving queen
+at one and the same time, if you wish to do so."</p>
+<p>Dorothy had sunk back into the bed, and Elizabeth was sitting
+close by her side; but when the queen spoke she turned her head on
+the pillow and kissed the royal hand which was resting upon the
+coverlid.</p>
+<p>"Ah, you are so good, so true, and so beautiful," said
+Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Her familiarity toward the queen was sweet to the woman, to whom
+it was new.</p>
+<p>Dorothy did not thank the queen for her graciousness. She did
+not reply directly to her offer. She simply said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"John has told me many times that he was first attracted to me
+because I resembled you."</p>
+<p>The girl had ample faith in her own beauty, and knew full well
+the subtle flattery which lay in her words. "He <a name="Page_342"
+id="Page_342"></a>said," she continued, "that my hair in some faint
+degree resembled yours, but he said it was not of so beautiful a
+hue. I have loved my hair ever since the day he told me that it
+resembled your Majesty's." The girl leaned forward toward the queen
+and gently kissed the royal locks. They no more resembled Dorothy's
+hair than brick dust resembles the sheen of gold.</p>
+<p>The queen glanced at the reflection of her hair in the mirror
+and it flatly contradicted Dorothy. But the girl's words were
+backed by Elizabeth's vanity, and the adroit flattery went
+home.</p>
+<p>"Ah, my child," exclaimed her Majesty softly, as she leaned
+forward and kissed Dorothy's fair cheek.</p>
+<p>Dorothy wept gently for a moment and familiarly rested her face
+upon the queen's breast. Then she entwined her white arms about
+Elizabeth's neck and turned her glorious eyes up to the queen's
+face that her Majesty might behold their wondrous beauty and feel
+the flattery of the words she was about to utter.</p>
+<p>"He said also," continued Dorothy, "that my eyes in some slight
+degree resembled your Majesty's, but he qualified his compliment by
+telling me&mdash;he did not exactly tell me that my eyes were not
+so large and brilliant as your Majesty's, for he was making love to
+me, and of course he would not have dared to say that my eyes were
+not the most perfect on earth; but he did say that&mdash;at least I
+know that he meant&mdash;that my eyes, while they resembled yours,
+were hardly so glorious, and&mdash;and I am very jealous of your
+Majesty. John will be leaving me to worship at your feet."</p>
+<p>Elizabeth's eyes were good enough. The French called them
+"marcassin," that is, wild boar's eyes. They were little and
+sparkling; they were not luminous and large like Dorothy's, and the
+girl's flattery was rank. Elizabeth, however, saw Dorothy's eyes
+and believed her words rather <a name="Page_343" id=
+"Page_343"></a>than the reply of the lying mirror, and her
+Majesty's heart was soft from the girl's kneading. Consider, I pray
+you, the serpent-like wisdom displayed by Dorothy's method of
+attack upon the queen. She did not ask for John's liberty. She did
+not seek it. She sought only to place John softly on Elizabeth's
+heart. Some natures absorb flattery as the desert sands absorb the
+unfrequent rain, and Elizabeth&mdash;but I will speak no ill of
+her. She is the greatest and the best sovereign England has ever
+had. May God send to my beloved country others like her. She had
+many small shortcomings; but I have noticed that those persons who
+spend their evil energies in little faults have less force left for
+greater ones. I will show you a mystery: Little faults are
+personally more disagreeable and rasping to us than great ones.
+Like flying grains of sand upon a windy day, they vex us
+constantly. Great faults come like an avalanche, but they come less
+frequently, and we often admire their possessor, who sooner or
+later is apt to become our destroyer.</p>
+<p>"I can hardly tell you," said Dorothy in response to a question
+by Elizabeth, "I can hardly tell you why I informed your Majesty of
+Queen Mary's presence at Rutland. I did it partly for love of your
+Majesty and partly because I was jealous of that white, plain woman
+from Scotland."</p>
+<p>"She is not a plain woman, is she?" said Elizabeth, delighted to
+hear Mary of Scotland so spoken of for once. One way to flatter
+some women is to berate those whom they despise or fear. Elizabeth
+loved Dorothy better for the hatred which the girl bore to Mary.
+Both stood upon a broad plane of mutual sympathy-jealousy of the
+same woman. It united the queen and the maiden in a common
+heart-touching cause.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's confidence grew apace. "She is plain," replied
+Dorothy, poutingly. "She appears plain, colorless, and repulsive by
+the side of your Majesty."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_344" id="Page_344"></a>No, no, Dorothy, that
+cannot be," returned Queen Elizabeth, gently patting. Dorothy's
+cheek and glancing stealthily at the reflection of her own face in
+the mirror. At this point Dorothy considered that the time had come
+for a direct attack.</p>
+<p>"Your Majesty need have no fear of a plot to place Queen Mary
+upon your throne. The English people would not endure her wicked
+pale face for a moment."</p>
+<p>"But there is such a plot in existence," said Elizabeth.</p>
+<p>"What you say may be true," returned Dorothy; "but, your
+Majesty, John is not in the plot, and he knows nothing of it."</p>
+<p>"I hope&mdash;I believe&mdash;he is not in the plot," said
+Elizabeth, "but I fear&mdash;"</p>
+<p>The girl kissed the sleeve of Elizabeth's gown, and then she
+drew the queen closer to her and kissed her hair and her face.</p>
+<p>"Ah, my beauteous queen," said Dorothy, "I thank you for those
+words. You must know that John loves you, and is your loyal
+subject. Take pity upon me. Help me. Hold out your gracious hand
+and lift me from my despair."</p>
+<p>Dorothy slipped from the bed and fell on her knees, burying her
+face in the queen's lap.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth was touched by the girl's appeal, and caressingly
+stroked her hair, as she said: "I believe he is innocent, but I
+fear he knows or suspects others who harbor treasonable designs.
+Tell me, Dorothy, do you know of any such persons? If you can tell
+me their names, you will serve your queen, and will save your
+lover. No harm shall come to Sir John, and no one save myself shall
+have knowledge of any word that you may speak. If I do not learn
+the names of the traitors through you or through Sir John, I may be
+compelled to hold him a prisoner until I discover them. If through
+you I learn them, Sir John shall go free at once."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_345" id="Page_345"></a>Gladly, for your Majesty's
+sake alone would I tell you the names of such traitorous men, did I
+know them;" replied Dorothy, "and thrice gladly would I do so if I
+might thereby liberate John. Your Majesty must see that these
+motives are strong enough to induce me to speak if I knew aught to
+tell you. I would betray the whole world to save him, of that you
+may be sure. But alas! I know no man whom I can betray. John told
+me nothing of his expedition to the Scottish border save what was
+in two letters which he sent to me. One of these I received before
+he left Rutland, and the other after his return."</p>
+<p>She fetched the letters to the queen, who read them
+carefully.</p>
+<p>"Perhaps if I were to see him, he might, upon my importunity,
+tell me all he knows concerning the affair and those connected with
+it if he knows anything more than he has already told," said
+Dorothy, by a great effort suppressing her eagerness. "I am sure,
+your Majesty, he would tell me all Should he tell me the names of
+any persons connected with any treasonable plot, I will certainly
+tell you. It would be base in me again to betray John's confidence;
+but your Majesty has promised me his life and liberty, and to
+obtain those I would do anything, however evil it might be. If I
+may see John, I promise to learn all that he knows, if he knows
+anything; and I also promise to tell you word for word all that he
+says."</p>
+<p>The girl felt safe in making these promises, since she was sure
+that John knew nothing of a treasonable character.</p>
+<p>The queen, thinking that she had adroitly led Dorothy up to
+making the offer, said, "I accept the conditions. Be in readiness
+to visit Sir John, upon my command."</p>
+<p>Thus the compact was sealed, and the queen, who thought herself
+wise, was used by the girl, who thought herself simple.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346"></a>For the purpose of hiding
+her exultation, Dorothy appeared to be ill, but when the queen
+passed out at the door and closed it behind her, the girl sprang
+from the bed and danced around the room as if she were a
+bear-baiter. From the depths of despair she flew to the pinnacle of
+hope. She knew, however, that she must conceal her happiness;
+therefore she went back to bed and waited impatiently the summons
+of Elizabeth requiring her to go to John.</p>
+<p>But now I must pause to tell you of my troubles which followed
+so swiftly upon the heels of my fault that I was fairly stunned by
+them. My narrative will be brief, and I shall soon bring you back
+again to Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Queen Mary had no sooner arrived at Haddon Hall than she opened
+an attack upon Leicester, somewhat after the same plan, I suppose,
+which she had followed with me in the coach. She could no more
+easily resist inviting homage from men than a swallow can refrain
+from flying. Thus, from inclination and policy, she sought
+Leicester and endeavored by the pleasant paths of her blandishments
+to lead him to her cause. There can be no doubt concerning
+Leicester's wishes in the premises. Had Mary's cause held elements
+of success, he would have joined her; but he feared Elizabeth, and
+he hoped some day to share her throne. He would, however, prefer to
+share the throne with Mary.</p>
+<p>Mary told him of her plans and hopes. She told him that I had
+ridden with Dorothy for the purpose of rescuing John and herself,
+and that I had promised to help her to escape to France. She told
+him she would use me for her tool in making her escape, and would
+discard me when once she should be safe out of England. Then would
+come Leicester's turn. Then should my lord have his recompense, and
+together they would regain the Scottish crown.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347"></a>How deeply Leicester became
+engaged in the plot I cannot say, but this I know: through fear of
+Elizabeth, or for the purpose of winning her favor, he unfolded to
+our queen all the details of Mary's scheme, together with the full
+story of my ride with Dorothy to Rutland, and my return with
+Dorothy and Mary in the coach. Thereupon Mary was placed under
+strict guard. The story spread quickly through the Hall, and Dawson
+brought it to me. On hearing it, my first thought was of Madge. I
+knew it would soon reach her. Therefore I determined to go to her
+at once and make a clean breast of all my perfidy. Had I done so
+sooner, I should at least have had the benefit of an honest,
+voluntary confession; but my conscience had made a coward of me,
+and the woman who had been my curse for years had so completely
+disturbed my mind that I should have been quite as well off without
+any at all. It led me from one mistake into another.</p>
+<p>After Dawson told me that my miserable story was known
+throughout the Hall, I sought Madge, and found her with Aunt
+Dorothy. She was weeping, and I at once knew that I was too late
+with my confession. I spoke her name, "Madge," and stood by her
+side awaiting her reply.</p>
+<p>"Is it true, Malcolm?" she asked. "I cannot believe it till I
+hear it from your lips."</p>
+<p>"It was true," I responded. "I promised to help Queen Mary
+escape, and I promised to go with her; but within one hour of the
+time when I gave my word I regretted it as I have never regretted
+anything else in all my life. I resolved that, while I should,
+according to my promise, help the Scottish queen escape, I would
+not go with her. I resolved to wait here at Haddon to tell all to
+you and to our queen, and then I would patiently take my just
+punishment from each. My doom from the queen, I believed, would
+probably be death; but I feared more your&mdash;God help me! It is
+useless for me to speak." Here I broke <a name="Page_348" id=
+"Page_348"></a>down and fell upon my knees, crying, "Madge, Madge,
+pity me, pity me! Forgive me if you can, and, if our queen decrees
+it, I shall die happy."</p>
+<p>In my desperation I caught the girl's hand, but she drew it
+quickly from me, and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Do not touch me!"</p>
+<p>She arose to her feet, and groped her way to her bedroom. We
+were in Aunt Dorothy's room. I watched Madge as she sought with her
+outstretched hand the doorway; and when she passed slowly through
+it, the sun of my life seemed to turn black. Just as Madge passed
+from the room, Sir William St. Loe, with two yeomen, entered by Sir
+George's door and placed irons upon my wrist and ankles. I was led
+by Sir William to the dungeon, and no word was spoken by either of
+us.</p>
+<p>I had never in my life feared death, and now I felt that I would
+welcome it. When a man is convinced that his life is useless,
+through the dire disaster that he is a fool, he values it little,
+and is even more than willing to lose it.</p>
+<p>Then there were three of us in the dungeon,&mdash;John, Lord
+Rutland, and myself; and we were all there because we had meddled
+in the affairs of others, and because Dorothy had inherited from
+Eve a capacity for insane, unreasoning jealousy.</p>
+<p>Lord Rutland was sitting on the ground in a corner of the
+dungeon. John, by the help of a projecting stone in the masonry,
+had climbed to the small grated opening which served to admit a few
+straggling rays of light into the dungeon's gloom. He was gazing
+out upon the fair day, whose beauty he feared would soon fade away
+from him forever.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth's coldness had given him no hope. It had taken all
+hope from his father.</p>
+<p>The opening of the door attracted John's attention, and he
+turned his face toward me when I entered. He had <a name="Page_349"
+id="Page_349"></a>been looking toward the light, and his eyes,
+unaccustomed for the moment to the darkness, failed at first to
+recognize of me. When the dungeon door had closed behind me, he
+sprang down from his perch by the window, and came toward me with
+outstretched hands. He said sorrowfully:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Malcolm, have I brought you here, too? Why are you in irons? It
+seems that I am destined to bring calamity upon all whom I
+love."</p>
+<p>"It is a long story," I replied laughingly. "I will tell it to
+you when the time begins to drag; but I tell you now it is through
+no fault of yours that I am here. No one is to blame for my
+misfortune but myself." Then I continued bitterly, "Unless it be
+the good God who created me a fool."</p>
+<p>John went to his father's side and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Sir Malcolm is here, father. Will you not rise and greet
+him?"</p>
+<p>John's voice aroused his father, and the old lord came to the
+little patch of light in which I was standing and said: "A terrible
+evil has fallen upon us, Sir Malcolm, and without our fault. I
+grieve to learn that you also are entangled in the web. The future
+looks very dark."</p>
+<p>"Cheer up, father," said John, taking the old man's hand. "Light
+will soon come; I am sure it will."</p>
+<p>"I have tried all my life to be a just man," said Lord Rutland.
+"I have failed at times, I fear, but I have tried. That is all any
+man can do. I pray that God in His mercy will soon send light to
+you, John, whatever of darkness there may be in store for me."</p>
+<p>I thought, "He will surely answer this just man's prayer," and
+almost before the thought was completed the dungeon door turned
+upon its hinges and a great light came with glorious refulgence
+through the open portal&mdash;Dorothy.</p>
+<p>"John!"</p>
+<p>Never before did one word express so much of mingled <a name=
+"Page_350" id="Page_350"></a>joy and grief. Fear and confidence,
+and, greater than all, love unutterable were blended in its
+eloquent tones. She sprang to John as the lightning leaps from
+cloud to cloud, and he caught her to his heart. He gently kissed
+her hair, her face being hidden in the folds of his doublet.</p>
+<p>"Let me kneel, John, let me kneel," she murmured.</p>
+<p>"No, Dorothy, no," he responded, holding her closely in his
+arms.</p>
+<p>"But one moment, John," she pleased.</p>
+<p>"No, no; let me see your eyes, sweet one," said John, trying to
+turn her face upward toward his own.</p>
+<p>"I cannot yet, John, I cannot. Please let me kneel for one
+little moment at your feet."</p>
+<p>John saw that the girl would find relief in self-abasement, so
+he relaxed his arms, and she sank to her knees upon the dungeon
+floor. She wept softly for a moment, and then throwing back her
+head with her old impulsive manner looked up into his face.</p>
+<p>"Oh, forgive me, John! Forgive me! Not that I deserve your
+forgiveness, but because you pity me."</p>
+<p>"I forgave you long ago, Dorothy. You had my full forgiveness
+before you asked it."</p>
+<p>He lifted the weeping girl to her feet and the two clung
+together in silence. After a pause Dorothy spoke:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You have not asked me, John, why I betrayed you."</p>
+<p>"I want to know nothing, Dorothy, save that you love me."</p>
+<p>"That you already know. But you cannot know how much I love you.
+I myself don't know. John, I seem to have turned all to love.
+'However much there is of me, that much there is of love for you.
+As the salt is in every drop of the sea, so love is in every part
+of my being; but John," she continued, drooping her head and
+speaking regretfully, "the salt in the sea is not unmixed with many
+<a name="Page_351" id="Page_351"></a>things hurtful." Her face
+blushed with shame and she continued limpingly: "And my love is
+not&mdash;is not without evil. Oh, John, I feel deep shame in
+telling you, but my love is terribly jealous. At times a jealousy
+comes over me so fierce and so distracting that under its influence
+I am mad, John, mad. I then see nothing in its true light; my eyes
+seem filled with&mdash;with blood, and all things appear red or
+black and&mdash;and&mdash;oh! John, I pray you never again cause me
+jealousy. It makes a demon of me."</p>
+<p>You may well know that John was nonplussed.</p>
+<p>"I cause you jealousy?" he asked in surprise. "When did
+I&mdash;" But Dorothy interrupted him, her eyes flashing darkly and
+a note of fierceness in her voice. He saw for himself the effects
+of jealousy upon her.</p>
+<p>"That white&mdash;white Scottish wanton! God's curse be upon
+her! She tried to steal you from me."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps she did," replied John, smilingly, "of that I do not
+know. But this I do know, and you, Dorothy, must know it too
+henceforth and for all time to come. No woman can steal my love
+from you. Since I gave you my troth I have been true to you; I have
+not been false even in one little thought."</p>
+<p>"I feel sure, John, that you have not been untrue to me," said
+the girl with a faint smile playing about her lips; "but&mdash;but
+you remember the strange woman at Bowling Green Gate whom you would
+have&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Dorothy, I hope you have not come to my dungeon for the purpose
+of making me more wretched than I already am?"</p>
+<p>"No, no, John, forgive me," she cried softly; "but John, I hate
+her, I hate her! and I want you to promise that you too will hate
+her."</p>
+<p>"I promise," said John, "though, you have had no cause for
+jealousy of Queen Mary."</p>
+<p>"Perhaps&mdash;not," she replied hesitatingly. "I have <a name=
+"Page_352" id="Page_352"></a>never thought," the girl continued
+poutingly, "that you did anything of which I should be jealous; but
+she&mdash;she&mdash;oh, I hate her! Let us not talk about her.
+Jennie Faxton told me&mdash;I will talk about her, and you shall
+not stop me&mdash;Jennie Faxton told me that the white woman made
+love to you and caused you to put your arm about her waist one
+evening on the battlements and-"</p>
+<p>"Jennie told you a lie," said John.</p>
+<p>"Now don't interrupt me," the girl cried nervously, almost ready
+for tears, "and I will try to tell you all. Jennie told me
+the&mdash;the white woman looked up to you this fashion," and the
+languishing look she gave John in imitation of Queen Mary was so
+beautiful and comical that he could do nothing but laugh and cover
+her face with kisses, then laugh again and love the girl more
+deeply and yet more deeply with each new breath he drew. Dorothy
+was not sure whether she wanted to laugh or to cry, so she did
+both.</p>
+<p>"Jennie told me in the middle of the night," continued Dorothy,
+"when all things seem so vivid and appear so distorted
+and&mdash;and that terrible blinding jealousy of which I told you
+came upon me and drove me mad. I really thought, John, that I
+should die of the agony. Oh, John, if you could know the anguish I
+suffered that night you would pity me; you would not blame me."</p>
+<p>"I do not blame you, Dorothy."</p>
+<p>"No, no, there-" she kissed him softly, and quickly continued:
+"I felt that I must separate her from you at all cost. I would have
+done murder to accomplish my purpose. Some demon whispered to me,
+'Tell Queen Elizabeth,' and&mdash;and oh, John, let me kneel
+again."</p>
+<p>"No, no, Dorothy, let us talk of something else," said John,
+soothingly.</p>
+<p>"In one moment, John. I thought only of the evil that would come
+to her&mdash;her of Scotland. I did not think of <a name="Page_353"
+id="Page_353"></a>the trouble I would bring to you, John, until the
+queen, after asking me if you were my lover, said angrily: 'You may
+soon seek another.' Then, John, I knew that I had also brought evil
+upon you. Then I <i>did</i> suffer. I tried to reach Rutland, and
+you know all else that happened on that terrible night. Now John,
+you know all&mdash;all. I have withheld nothing. I have, confessed
+all, and I feel that a great weight is taken from my heart. You
+will not hate me, will you, John?"</p>
+<p>He caught the girl to his breast and tried to turn her face
+toward his.</p>
+<p>"I could not hate you if I would," he replied, with quick-coming
+breath, "and God knows I would not. To love you is the sweetest joy
+in life," and he softly kissed the great lustrous eyes till they
+closed as if in sleep. Then he fiercely sought the rich red lips,
+waiting soft and passive for his caresses, while the fair head fell
+back upon the bend of his elbow in a languorous, half-conscious
+sweet surrender to his will. Lord Rutland and I had turned our
+backs on the shameless pair, and were busily discussing the
+prospect for the coming season's crops.</p>
+<p>Remember, please, that Dorothy spoke to John of Jennie Faxton.
+Her doing so soon bore bitter fruit for me.</p>
+<p>Dorothy had been too busy with John to notice any one else, but
+he soon presented her to his father. After the old lord had
+gallantly kissed her hand, she turned scornfully to me and
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"So you fell a victim to her wanton wiles? If it were not for
+Madge's sake, I could wish you might hang."</p>
+<p>"You need not balk your kindly desire for Madge's sake," I
+answered. "She cares little about my fate. I fear she will never
+forgive me."</p>
+<p>"One cannot tell what a woman will do," Dorothy replied. "She is
+apt to make a great fool of herself when it comes to forgiving the
+man she loves."</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_354" id="Page_354"></a>Men at times have
+something to forgive," I retorted, looking with a smile toward
+John. The girl made no reply, but took John's hand and looked at
+him as if to say, "John, please don't let this horrid man abuse
+me."</p>
+<p>"But Madge no longer cares for me," I continued, wishing to talk
+upon the theme, "and your words do not apply to her."</p>
+<p>The girl turned her back disdainfully on me and said, "You seem
+to be quite as easily duped by the woman who loves you and says she
+doesn't as by the one who does not care for you but says she
+does."</p>
+<p>"Damn that girl's tongue!" thought I; but her words, though
+biting, carried joy to my heart and light to my soul.</p>
+<p>After exchanging a few words with Lord Rutland, Dorothy turned
+to John and said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Tell me upon your knightly honor, John, do you know aught of a
+wicked, treasonable plot to put the Scottish woman on the English
+throne?"</p>
+<p>I quickly placed my finger on my lips and touched my ear to
+indicate that their words would be overheard; for a listening-tube
+connected the dungeon with Sir George's closet.</p>
+<p>"Before the holy God, upon my knighthood, by the sacred love we
+bear each other, I swear I know of no such plot," answered John. "I
+would be the first to tell our good queen did I suspect its
+existence."</p>
+<p>Dorothy and John continued talking upon the subject of the plot,
+but were soon interrupted by a warning knock upon the dungeon
+door.</p>
+<p>Lord Rutland, whose heart was like twenty-two carat gold, soft,
+pure, and precious, kissed Dorothy's hand when she was about to
+leave, and said: "Dear lady, grieve not for our sake. I can easily
+see that more pain has come to you than to us. I thank you for the
+great fearless love <a name="Page_355" id="Page_355"></a>you bear
+my son. It has brought him trouble, but it is worth its cost. You
+have my forgiveness freely, and I pray God's choicest benediction
+may be with you." She kissed the old lord and said, "I hope some
+day to make you love me."</p>
+<p>"That will be an easy task," said his Lordship, gallantly.
+Dorothy was about to leave. Just at the doorway she remembered the
+chief purpose of her visit; so she ran back to John, put her hand
+over his mouth to insure silence, and whispered in his ear.</p>
+<p>On hearing Dorothy's whispered words, signs of joy were so
+apparent in John's face that they could not be mistaken. He said
+nothing, but kissed her hand and she hurriedly left the
+dungeon.</p>
+<p>After the dungeon door closed upon Dorothy, John went to his
+father and whispered a few words to him. Then he came to me, and in
+the same secretive manner said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"The queen has promised Dorothy our liberty." I was not at all
+sure that "our liberty" included me,&mdash;I greatly doubted
+it,&mdash;but I was glad for the sake of my friends, and, in truth,
+cared little for myself.</p>
+<p>Dorothy went from our dungeon to the queen, and that afternoon,
+according to promise, Elizabeth gave orders for the release of John
+and his father. Sir George, of course, was greatly chagrined when
+his enemies slipped from his grasp; but he dared not show his ill
+humor in the presence of the queen nor to any one who would be apt
+to enlighten her Majesty on the subject.</p>
+<p>Dorothy did not know the hour when her lover would leave Haddon;
+but she sat patiently at her window till at last John and Lord
+Rutland appeared. She called to Madge, telling her of the joyous
+event, and Madge, asked:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Is Malcolm with them?"</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_356" id="Page_356"></a>No," replied Dorothy, "he
+has been left in the dungeon, where he deserves to remain."</p>
+<p>After a short pause, Madge said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If John had acted toward the Scottish queen as Malcolm did,
+would you forgive him?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, of course. I would forgive him anything."</p>
+<p>"Then why shall we not forgive Malcolm?" asked Madge.</p>
+<p>"Because he is not John," was the absurd reply.</p>
+<p>"No," said Madge, promptly; "but he is 'John' to me."</p>
+<p>"That is true," responded Dorothy, "and I will forgive him if
+you will."</p>
+<p>"I don't believe it makes much difference to Malcolm whether or
+not you forgive him," said Madge, who was provoked at Dorothy's
+condescending offer. "My forgiveness, I hope, is what he
+desires."</p>
+<p>"That is true, Madge," replied Dorothy, laughingly; "but may not
+I, also, forgive him?"</p>
+<p>"If you choose," responded Madge, quietly; "as for me, I know
+not what I wish to do."</p>
+<p>You remember that Dorothy during her visit to the dungeon spoke
+of Jennie Faxton. The girl's name reached Sir George's ear through
+the listening-tube and she was at once brought in and put to the
+question.</p>
+<p>Jennie, contrary to her wont, became frightened and told all she
+knew concerning John and Dorothy, including my part in their
+affairs. In Sir George's mind, my bad faith to him was a greater
+crime than my treason to Elizabeth, and he at once went to the
+queen with his tale of woe.</p>
+<p>Elizabeth, the most sentimental of women, had heard from Dorothy
+the story of her tempestuous love, and also of mine, and the queen
+was greatly interested in the situation.</p>
+<p>I will try to be brief.</p>
+<p><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357"></a>Through the influence of
+Dorothy and Madge, as I afterward learned, and by the help of a
+good word from Cecil, the queen was induced to order my liberation
+on condition that I should thenceforth reside in France. So one
+morning, three days after John's departure from Haddon, I was
+overjoyed to hear the words, "You are free."</p>
+<p>I did not know that Jennie Faxton had given Sir George her large
+stock of disturbing information concerning my connection with the
+affairs of Dorothy and John. So when I left the dungeon, I,
+supposing that my stormy cousin would be glad to forgive me if
+Queen Elizabeth would, sought and found him in Aunt Dorothy's room.
+Lady Crawford and Sir George were sitting near the fire and Madge
+was standing near the door in the next room beyond. When I entered,
+Sir George sprang to his feet and cried out angrily:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"You traitorous dog, the queen has seen fit to liberate you, and
+I cannot interfere with her orders; but if you do not leave my Hall
+at once I shall set the hounds on you. Your effects will be sent to
+The Peacock, and the sooner you quit England the safer you will
+be." There was of course nothing for me to do but to go.</p>
+<p>"You once told me, Sir George&mdash;you remember our interview
+at The Peacock&mdash;that if you should ever again order me to
+leave Haddon, I should tell you to go to the devil. I now take
+advantage of your kind permission, and will also say farewell."</p>
+<p>I kissed Aunt Dorothy's cheek, took my leave, and sought Cecil,
+from whom I obtained a passport to France. Then I asked Dawson to
+fetch my horse.</p>
+<p>I longed to see Madge before I left Haddon, but I knew that my
+desire could not be gratified; so I determined to stop at Rowsley
+and send back a letter to her which Dawson undertook to deliver. In
+my letter I would ask Madge's permission to return for her from
+France <a name="Page_358" id="Page_358"></a>and to take her home
+with me as my wife. After I had despatched my letter I would wait
+at The Peacock for an answer.</p>
+<p>Sore at heart, I bade good-by to Dawson, mounted my horse, and
+turned his head toward the Dove-cote Gate. As I rode under
+Dorothy's window she was sitting there. The casement was open, for
+the day was mild, although the season was little past midwinter. I
+heard her call to Madge, and then she called to me:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Farewell, Malcolm! Forgive me for what I said to you in the
+dungeon. I was wrong, as usual. Forgive me, and God bless you.
+Farewell!"</p>
+<p>While Dorothy was speaking, and before I replied, Madge came to
+the open casement and called:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Wait for me, Malcolm, I am going down to you."</p>
+<p>Great joy is a wonderful purifier, and Madge's cry finished the
+work of the past few months and made a good man of me, who all my
+life before had known little else than evil.</p>
+<p>Soon Madge's horse was led by a groom to the mounting block, and
+in a few minutes she emerged gropingly from the great door of
+Entrance Tower. Dorothy was again a prisoner in her rooms and could
+not come down to bid me farewell. Madge mounted, and the groom led
+her horse to me and placed the reins in my hands.</p>
+<p>"Is it you, Malcolm?" asked Madge.</p>
+<p>"Yes," I responded, in a voice husky with emotion. "I cannot
+thank you enough for coming to say farewell. You have forgiven
+me?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," responded Madge, almost in tears, "but I have not come to
+say farewell."</p>
+<p>I did not understand her meaning.</p>
+<p>"Are you going to ride part of the way with me&mdash;perhaps to
+Rowsley?" I asked, hardly daring to hope for so much.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_359" id="Page_359"></a>To France, Malcolm, if you
+wish to take me," she responded murmuringly.</p>
+<p>For a little time I could not feel the happiness that had come
+upon me in so great a flood. But when I had collected my scattered
+senses, I said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I thank God that He has turned your heart again to me. May I
+feel His righteous anger if ever I give you cause to regret the
+step you are taking."</p>
+<p>"I shall never regret it, Malcolm," she answered softly, as she
+held out her hand to me.</p>
+<p>Then we rode by the dove-cote, out from Haddon Hall, never to
+see its walls again.</p>
+<p>We went to Rutland, whence after a fortnight we journeyed to
+France. There I received my mother's estates, and never for one
+moment, to my knowledge, has Madge regretted having intrusted her
+life and happiness to me. I need not speak for myself.</p>
+<p>Our home is among the warm, sunlit, vine-covered hills of
+southern France, and we care not for the joys of golden streets so
+long as God in His goodness vouchsafes to us our earthly paradise.
+Age, with the heart at peace, is the fairest season of life; and
+love, leavened of God, robs even approaching death of his sting and
+makes for us a broad flower-strewn path from the tempestuous sea of
+time to the calm, sweet ocean of eternity.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><a name="Page_360"
+id="Page_360"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+<h2>LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE</h2>
+<p>I shall now tell you of the happenings in Haddon Hall during the
+fortnight we spent at Rutland before our departure for France.</p>
+<p>We left Dorothy, you will remember, a prisoner in her rooms.</p>
+<p>After John had gone Sir George's wrath began to gather, and
+Dorothy was not permitted to depart from the Hall for even a walk
+upon the terrace, nor could she leave her own apartments save when
+the queen requested her presence.</p>
+<p>A few days after my departure from Haddon, Sir George sent
+Dawson out through the adjoining country to invite the nobility and
+gentry to a grand ball to be given at the Hall in honor of Queen
+Elizabeth. Queen Mary had been sent a prisoner to Chatsworth.</p>
+<p>Tom Shaw, the most famous piper of his times, and a choice
+company of musicians to play with him were hired for the occasion,
+and, in short, the event was so glorious that its wonders have been
+sung in minstrelsy throughout Derbyshire ever since.</p>
+<p>Dorothy's imprisonment saddened Leicester's heart, and he longed
+to see her, for her beauty had touched him nearly. Accordingly, the
+earl one day intimated to Sir George his wish in terms that almost
+bespoke an intention to ask for the girl's hand when upon proper
+oppor<a name="Page_361" id="Page_361"></a>tunity the queen's
+consent might be sought and perchance obtained. His equivocal words
+did not induce Sir George to grant a meeting by which Dorothy might
+be compromised; but a robust hope for the ultimate accomplishment
+of the "Leicester possibility" was aroused in the breast of the
+King of the Peak, and from hope he could, and soon did, easily step
+to faith. He saw that the earl was a handsome man, and he believed,
+at least he hoped, that the fascinating lord might, if he were
+given an opportunity, woo Dorothy's heart away from the hated scion
+of a hated race. Sir George, therefore, after several interviews
+with the earl, grew anxious to give his Lordship an opportunity to
+win her. But both Sir George and my lord feared Elizabeth's
+displeasure, and the meeting between Leicester and the girl seemed
+difficult to contrive. Sir George felt confident that Dorothy
+could, if she would, easily capture the great lord in a few private
+interviews; but would she? Dorothy gave her father no encouragement
+in the matter, and took pains to shun Leicester rather than to seek
+him.</p>
+<p>As Dorothy grew unwilling, Leicester and Sir George grew eager,
+until at length the latter felt that it was almost time to exert
+his parental authority. He told Aunt Dorothy his feeling on the
+subject, and she told her niece. It was impossible to know from
+what source Dorothy might draw inspiration for mischief. It came to
+her with her father's half-command regarding Leicester.</p>
+<p>Winter had again asserted itself. The weather was bitter cold
+and snow covered the ground to the depth of a horse's fetlock.</p>
+<p>The eventful night of the grand ball arrived, and Dorothy's
+heart throbbed till she thought surely it would burst.</p>
+<p>At nightfall guests began to arrive, and Sir George, hospitable
+soul that he was, grew boisterous with good humor and delight.</p>
+<p>The rare old battlements of Haddon were ablaze with <a name=
+"Page_362" id="Page_362"></a>flambeaux, and inside the rooms were
+alight with waxen tapers. The long gallery was brilliant with the
+smiles of bejewelled beauty, and laughter, song, and merriment
+filled the grand old Hall from terrace to Entrance Tower. Dorothy,
+of course, was brought down from her prison to grace the occasion
+with a beauty which none could rival. Her garments were of soft,
+clinging, bright-colored silks and snowy laces, and all who saw her
+agreed that a creature more radiant never greeted the eye of
+man.</p>
+<p>When the guests had all arrived, the pipers in the balcony burst
+forth in heart-swelling strains of music, and every foot in the
+room longed for the dance to begin.</p>
+<p>I should like to tell you how Elizabeth most graciously opened
+the ball with his Majesty, the King of the Peak, amid the plaudits
+of worshipping subjects, and I should enjoy describing the riotous
+glory which followed,&mdash;for although I was not there, I know
+intimately all that happened,&mdash;but I will balk my desire and
+tell you only of those things which touched Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Leicester, of course, danced with her, and during a pause in the
+figure, the girl in response to pleadings which she had adroitly
+incited, reluctantly promised to grant the earl the private
+interview he so much desired if he could suggest some means for
+bringing it about. Leicester was in raptures over her complaisance
+and glowed with triumph and delightful anticipation. But he could
+think of no satisfactory plan whereby his hopes might be brought to
+a happy fruition. He proposed several, but all seemed impracticable
+to the coy girl, and she rejected them. After many futile attempts
+he said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"I can suggest no good plan, mistress. I pray you, gracious
+lady, therefore, make full to overflowing the measure of your
+generosity, and tell me how it may be accomplished."</p>
+<p>Dorothy hung her head as if in great shame and said:<a name=
+"Page_363" id="Page_363"></a> "I fear, my lord, we had better
+abandon the project for a time. Upon another occasion
+perhaps&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"No, no," interrupted the earl, pleadingly, "do not so
+grievously disappoint me. My heart yearns to have you to myself for
+one little moment where spying eyes cannot see nor prying ears
+hear. It is cruel in you to raise my hopes only to cast them down.
+I beg you, tell me if you know in what manner I may meet you
+privately."</p>
+<p>After a long pause, Dorothy with downcast eyes said, "I am full
+of shame, my lord, to consent to this meeting, and then find the
+way to it, but&mdash;but&mdash;" ("Yes, yes, my Venus, my gracious
+one," interrupted the earl)&mdash;"but if my father would permit me
+to&mdash;to leave the Hall for a few minutes, I might&mdash;oh, it
+is impossible, my lord. I must not think of it."</p>
+<p>"I pray you, I beg you," pleaded Leicester. "Tell me, at least,
+what you might do if your father would permit you to leave the
+Hall. I would gladly fall to my knees, were it not for the
+assembled company."</p>
+<p>With reluctance in her manner and gladness in her heart, the
+girl said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"If my father would permit me to leave the Hall, I
+might&mdash;only for a moment, meet you at the stile, in the
+northeast corner of the garden back of the terrace half an hour
+hence. But he would not permit me, and&mdash;and, my lord, I ought
+not to go even should father consent."</p>
+<p>"I will ask your father's permission for you. I will seek him at
+once," said the eager earl.</p>
+<p>"No, no, my lord, I pray you, do not," murmured Dorothy, with
+distracting little troubled wrinkles in her forehead. Her trouble
+was more for fear lest he would not than for dread that he
+would.</p>
+<p>"I will, I will," cried his Lordship, softly; "I insist, and you
+shall not gainsay me."</p>
+<p>The girl's only assent was silence, but that was sufficient
+<a name="Page_364" id="Page_364"></a>for so enterprising a gallant
+as the noble Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. So he at once went
+to seek Sir George.</p>
+<p>The old gentleman, although anxious to give Leicester a chance
+to press his suit with Dorothy, at first refused, but Leicester
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My intentions are honorable, Sir George. If I can win your
+daughter's heart, it is my wish, if the queen's consent can be
+obtained, to ask Mistress Vernon's hand in marriage."</p>
+<p>Sir George's breast swelled with pride and satisfaction, for
+Leicester's words were as near an offer of marriage as it was in
+his power to make. So the earl received, for Dorothy, permission to
+leave the Hall, and eagerly carried it to her.</p>
+<p>"Your father consents gladly," said the earl. "Will you meet me
+half an hour hence at the stile?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," murmured the girl, with shamelessly cast down eyes and
+drooping head. Leicester bowed himself away, and fully fifteen
+minutes before the appointed time left the Hall to wait in the cold
+at the stile for Dorothy.</p>
+<p>Before the expiration of the tedious half hour our meek maiden
+went to her father and with deep modesty and affected shame
+said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Father, is it your wish that I go out of the Hall for a few
+minutes to meet&mdash;to meet&mdash;" She apparently could not
+finish the sentence, so modest and shame-faced was she.</p>
+<p>"Yes, Doll, I wish you to go on this condition: if Leicester
+asks you to marry him, you shall consent to be his wife."</p>
+<p>"I promise, father," replied the dutiful girl, "if Lord
+Leicester asks me this night, I will be his wife."</p>
+<p>"That is well, child, that is well. Once more you are my good,
+obedient daughter, and I love you. Wear your sable cloak, Doll; the
+weather is very cold out of doors."</p>
+<p>Her father's solicitude touched her nearly, and she <a name=
+"Page_365" id="Page_365"></a>gently led him to a secluded alcove
+near by, threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him
+passionately. The girl's affection was sweet to the old man who had
+been without it so long, and his eyes grew moist as he returned her
+caresses. Dorothy's eyes also were filled with tears. Her throat
+was choked with sobs, and her heart was sore with pain. Poor young
+heart! Poor old man!</p>
+<p>Soon after Dorothy had spoken with her father she left the Hall
+by Dorothy's Postern. She was wrapped in her sable cloak&mdash;the
+one that had saved John's life in Aunt Dorothy's room; but instead
+of going across the garden to the stile where Lord Leicester was
+waiting, which was north and east of the terrace, she sped
+southward down the terrace and did not stop till she reached the
+steps which led westward to the lower garden. She stood on the
+terrace till she saw a man running toward her from the postern in
+the southwest corner of the lower garden. Then down the steps she
+sped with winged feet, and outstretching her arms, fell upon the
+man's breast, whispering: "John, my love! John, my love!"</p>
+<p>As for the man&mdash;well, during the first minute or two he
+wasted no time in speech.</p>
+<p>When he spoke he said:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"We must not tarry here. Horses are waiting at the south end of
+the footbridge. Let us hasten away at once."</p>
+<p>Then happened the strangest of all the strange things I have had
+to record of this strange, fierce, tender, and at time almost
+half-savage girl.</p>
+<p>Dorothy for months had longed for that moment. Her heart had
+almost burst with joy when a new-born hope for it was suggested by
+the opportunities of the ball and her father's desire touching my
+lord of Leicester. But now that the longed-for moment was at hand,
+the tender heart, which had so anxiously awaited it, failed, and
+the girl broke down weeping hysterically.</p>
+<p>"<a name="Page_366" id="Page_366"></a>Oh, John, you have
+forgiven so many faults in me," she said between sobs, "that I know
+you will forgive me when I tell you I cannot go with you to-night.
+I thought I could and I so intended when I came out here to meet
+you. But oh, John, my dearest love, I cannot go; I cannot go.
+Another time I will go with you, John. I promise that I will go
+with you soon, very soon, John; but I cannot go now, oh, I cannot.
+You will forgive me, won't you, John? You will forgive me?"</p>
+<p>"No," cried John in no uncertain tones, "I will not forgive you.
+I will take you. If you cry out, I will silence you." Thereupon he
+rudely took the girl in his arms and ran with her toward the garden
+gate near the north end of the stone footbridge.</p>
+<p>"John, John!" she cried in terror. But he placed his hand over
+her mouth and forced her to remain silent till they were past the
+south wall. Then he removed his hand and she screamed and struggled
+against him with all her might. Strong as she was, her strength was
+no match for John's, and her struggles were in vain.</p>
+<p>John, with his stolen bride, hurriedly crossed the footbridge
+and ran to the men who were holding the horses. There he placed
+Dorothy on her feet and said with a touch of anger:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Will you mount of your own will or shall I put you in the
+saddle?"</p>
+<p>"I'll mount of my own will, John," she replied submissively,
+"and John, I&mdash;I thank you, I thank you for&mdash;for&mdash;"
+she stopped speaking and toyed with the tufts of fur that hung from
+the edges of her cloak.</p>
+<p>"For what, my love? For what do you thank me?" asked John after
+a little pause.</p>
+<p>"For making&mdash;me&mdash;do&mdash;what I&mdash;I longed to do.
+My conscience would not let me do it of my own free will."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367"></a>Then tears came from her
+eyes in a great flood, and throwing her arms about John's neck she
+gave him herself and her heart to keep forever and forever.</p>
+<p>And Leicester was shivering at the stile! The girl had forgotten
+even the existence of the greatest lord in the realm.</p>
+<p>My wife, Lord Rutland, and I waited in the watch-room above the
+castle gates for the coming of Dorothy and John; and when they
+came&mdash;but I will not try to describe the scene. It were a vain
+effort. Tears and laughter well compounded make the sweetest joy;
+grief and joy the truest happiness; happiness and pain the grandest
+soul, and none of these may be described. We may analyze them, and
+may take them part from part; but, like love, they cannot be
+compounded. We may know all the component parts, but when we try to
+create these great emotions in description, we lack the subtle
+compounding flux to unite the ingredients, and after all is done,
+we have simply said that black is black and that white is
+white.</p>
+<p>Next day, in the morning, Madge and I started for our new home
+in France. We rode up the hill down which poor Dolcy took her last
+fatal plunge, and when we reached the crest, we paused to look
+back. Standing on the battlements, waving a kerchief in farewell to
+us, was the golden-crowned form of a girl. Soon she covered her
+face with her kerchief, and we knew she was weeping Then we, also,
+wept as we turned away from the fair picture; and since that
+far-off morning&mdash;forty long, long years ago&mdash;we have not
+seen the face nor heard the voice of our sweet, tender friend.
+Forty years! What an eternity it is if we tear it into minutes!</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="LENVOI" id="LENVOI"></a><a name="Page_368" id=
+"Page_368"></a>L'ENVOI</h2>
+<p>The fire ceases to burn; the flames are sucked back into the
+earth; the doe's blood has boiled away; the caldron cools, and my
+shadowy friends&mdash;so real to me&mdash;whom I love with a
+passionate tenderness beyond my power to express, have sunk into
+the dread black bank of the past, and my poor, weak wand is
+powerless to recall them for the space of even one fleeting moment.
+So I must say farewell to them; but all my life I shall carry a
+heart full of tender love and pain for the fairest, fiercest,
+gentlest, weakest, strongest of them all&mdash;Dorothy Vernon.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="MALCOLM_POSSIBLY_IN_ERROR" id=
+"MALCOLM_POSSIBLY_IN_ERROR"></a><a name="Page_369" id=
+"Page_369"></a>MALCOLM POSSIBLY IN ERROR</h2>
+<p>Malcolm Vernon is the only writer on the life of Dorothy Vernon
+who speaks of Rutland Castle. All others writing on the subject say
+that Belvoir Castle was the home of the Earl of Rutland.</p>
+<p>No other writer mentions the proposed marriage, spoken of by
+Malcolm, between Dorothy and Lord Derby's son. They do, however,
+say that Dorothy had an elder sister who married a Stanley, but
+died childless, leaving Dorothy sole heiress to Sir George Vernon's
+vast estate.</p>
+<p>All writers agree with Malcolm upon the main fact that brave
+Dorothy eloped with John Manners and brought to him the fair estate
+of Haddon, which their descendant, the present Duke of Rutland, now
+possesses.</p>
+<p>No other writer speaks of Mary Stuart having been at Haddon, and
+many chroniclers disagree with Malcolm as to the exact date of her
+imprisonment in Lochleven and her escape.</p>
+<p>In all other essential respects the history of Dorothy Vernon as
+told by Malcolm agrees with other accounts of her life.</p>
+<p>I do not pretend to reconcile the differences between these
+great historical authorities, but I confess to considerable faith
+in Malcolm.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall, by Charles Major
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL ***
+
+***** This file should be named 14671-h.htm or 14671-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/6/7/14671/
+
+Produced by Rick Niles, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/old/14671-h/images/v001.jpg b/old/14671-h/images/v001.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fb41d99
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-h/images/v001.jpg
diff --git a/old/14671-h/images/v072.jpg b/old/14671-h/images/v072.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9798c68
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-h/images/v072.jpg
diff --git a/old/14671-h/images/v170.jpg b/old/14671-h/images/v170.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c0d7c3f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-h/images/v170.jpg
diff --git a/old/14671-h/images/v204.jpg b/old/14671-h/images/v204.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cde9668
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-h/images/v204.jpg
diff --git a/old/14671-h/images/v238.jpg b/old/14671-h/images/v238.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..edcd2af
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-h/images/v238.jpg
diff --git a/old/14671-h/images/v271.jpg b/old/14671-h/images/v271.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5223b98
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-h/images/v271.jpg
diff --git a/old/14671-h/images/v337.jpg b/old/14671-h/images/v337.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6a2eaf0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671-h/images/v337.jpg
diff --git a/old/14671.txt b/old/14671.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..88374e5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,12989 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall, by Charles Major
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall
+
+Author: Charles Major
+
+Release Date: January 11, 2005 [EBook #14671]
+[Last updated: January 11, 2016]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Rick Niles, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+Mary Pickford Edition
+
+Dorothy Vernon of
+Haddon Hall
+
+BY
+
+CHARLES MAJOR
+
+AUTHOR OF
+WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WAS IN FLOWER,
+YOLANDA, ETC.
+
+
+ILLUSTRATED WITH
+SCENES FROM THE PHOTOPLAY
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
+
+Made in the United States of America
+
+Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1908
+
+
+Printed in U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+To My Wife
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                     Page
+
+A TOUCH OF BLACK MAGIC                                  1
+
+CHAPTER
+   I. I RIDE DOWN TO HADDON                             3
+  II. THE IRON, THE SEED, THE CLOUD, AND THE RAIN      19
+ III. THE PITCHER GOES TO THE WELL                     35
+  IV. THE GOLDEN HEART                                 62
+   V. MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE                           91
+  VI. A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN                  108
+ VII. TRIBULATION IN HADDON                           130
+VIII. MALCOLM NO. 2                                   163
+  IX. A TRYST AT BOWLING GREEN GATE                   181
+   X. THOMAS THE MAN-SERVANT                          211
+  XI. THE COST MARK OF JOY                            239
+ XII. THE LEICESTER POSSIBILITY                       260
+XIII. PROUD DAYS FOR THE OLD HALL                     281
+ XIV. MARY STUART                                     302
+  XV. LIGHT                                           333
+ XVI. LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE                    360
+
+
+
+
+
+A TOUCH OF BLACK MAGIC
+
+
+I draw the wizard's circle upon the sands, and blue flames spring from its
+circumference. I describe an inner circle, and green flames come
+responsive to my words of magic. I touch the common centre of both with my
+wand, and red flames, like adders' tongues, leap from the earth. Over
+these flames I place my caldron filled with the blood of a new-killed doe,
+and as it boils I speak my incantations and make my mystic signs and
+passes, watching the blood-red mist as it rises to meet the spirits of
+Air. I chant my conjurations as I learned them from the Great Key of
+Solomon, and while I speak, the ruddy fumes take human forms. Out of the
+dark, fathomless Past--the Past of near four hundred years ago--comes a
+goodly company of simple, pompous folk all having a touch of childish
+savagery which shows itself in the fierceness of their love and of their
+hate.
+
+The fairest castle-chateau in all England's great domain, the walls and
+halls of which were builded in the depths of time, takes on again its
+olden form quick with quivering life, and from the gates of Eagle Tower
+issues my quaint and radiant company. Some are clad in gold lace, silks,
+and taffetas; some wear leather, buckram and clanking steel. While the
+caldron boils, their cloud-forms grow ever more distinct and definite,
+till at length I can trace their every feature. I see the color of their
+eyes. I discern the shades of their hair. Some heads are streaked with
+gray; others are glossy with the sheen of youth. As a climax to my
+conjurations I speak the word of all words magical, "Dorothy," and lo! as
+though God had said, "Let there be light," a fair, radiant girl steps from
+the portals of Haddon Hall and illumines all my ancient company so that I
+may see even the workings of their hearts.
+
+They, and the events of their lives, their joys and sorrows, their virtues
+and sins, their hatreds, jealousies, and loves--the seven numbers in the
+total sum of life--pass before me as in a panorama, moving when I bid them
+move, pausing when I bid them pause, speaking when I bid them speak, and
+alas! fading back into the dim gray limbo of the past long, long ere I
+would have them go.
+
+But hark! my radiant shades are about to speak. The play is about to
+begin.
+
+
+
+
+Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+I RIDE DOWN TO HADDON
+
+
+Since I play no mean part in the events of this chronicle, a few words
+concerning my own history previous to the opening of the story I am about
+to tell you will surely not be amiss, and they may help you to a better
+understanding of my narrative.
+
+To begin with an unimportant fact--unimportant, that is, to you--my name
+is Malcolm Francois de Lorraine Vernon. My father was cousin-german to Sir
+George Vernon, at and near whose home, Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, occurred
+the events which will furnish my theme.
+
+Of the ancient lineage of the house of Vernon I need not speak. You
+already know that the family is one of the oldest in England, and while it
+is not of the highest nobility, it is quite gentle and noble enough to
+please those who bear its honored name. My mother boasted nobler blood
+than that of the Vernons. She was of the princely French house of Guise--a
+niece and ward to the Great Duke, for whose sake I was named.
+
+My father, being a younger brother, sought adventure in the land of
+France, where his handsome person and engaging manner won the smiles of
+Dame Fortune and my mother at one and the same cast. In due time I was
+born, and upon the day following that great event my father died. On the
+day of his burial my poor mother, unable to find in me either compensation
+or consolation for the loss of her child's father, also died, of a broken
+heart, it was said. But God was right, as usual, in taking my parents; for
+I should have brought them no happiness, unless perchance they could have
+moulded my life to a better form than it has had--a doubtful chance, since
+our great virtues and our chief faults are born and die with us. My
+faults, alas! have been many and great. In my youth I knew but one virtue:
+to love my friend; and that was strong within me. How fortunate for us it
+would be if we could begin our life in wisdom and end it in simplicity,
+instead of the reverse which now obtains!
+
+I remained with my granduncle, the Great Duke, and was brought up amid the
+fighting, vice, and piety of his sumptuous court. I was trained to arms,
+and at an early age became Esquire in Waiting to his Grace of Guise. Most
+of my days between my fifteenth and twenty-fifth years were spent in the
+wars. At the age of twenty-five I returned to the chateau, there to reside
+as my uncle's representative, and to endure the ennui of peace. At the
+chateau I found a fair, tall girl, fifteen years of age: Mary Stuart,
+Queen of Scotland, soon afterward Queen of France and rightful heiress to
+the English throne. The ennui of peace, did I say? Soon I had no fear of
+its depressing effect, for Mary Stuart was one of those women near whose
+fascinations peace does not thrive. When I found her at the chateau, my
+martial ardor lost its warmth. Another sort of flame took up its home in
+my heart, and no power could have turned me to the wars again.
+
+Ah! what a gay, delightful life, tinctured with bitterness, we led in the
+grand old chateau, and looking back at it how heartless, godless, and
+empty it seems. Do not from these words conclude that I am a fanatic, nor
+that I shall pour into your ears a ranter's tale; for cant is more to be
+despised even than godlessness; but during the period of my life of which
+I shall write I learned--but what I learned I shall in due time tell you.
+
+While at the court of Guise I, like many another man, conceived for Mary
+Stuart a passion which lay heavy upon my heart for many years. Sweethearts
+I had by the scores, but she held my longings from all of them until I
+felt the touch of a pure woman's love, and then--but again I am going
+beyond my story.
+
+I did not doubt, nor do I hesitate to say, that my passion was returned by
+Mary with a fervor which she felt for no other lover; but she was a queen,
+and I, compared with her, was nobody. For this difference of rank I have
+since had good cause to be thankful. Great beauty is diffusive in its
+tendency. Like the sun, it cannot shine for one alone. Still, it burns and
+dazzles the one as if it shone for him and for no other; and he who basks
+in its rays need have no fear of the ennui of peace.
+
+The time came when I tasted the unutterable bitterness of Mary's marriage
+to a simpering fool, Francis II., whom she loathed, notwithstanding absurd
+stories of their sweet courtship and love.
+
+After her marriage to Francis, Mary became hard and callous of heart, and
+all the world knows her sad history. The stories of Darnley, Rizzio, and
+Bothwell will be rich morsels, I suppose, for the morbid minds of men and
+women so long as books are read and scandal is loved.
+
+Ah, well, that was long ago; so long ago that now as I write it seems but
+a shadow upon the horizon of time.
+
+And so it happened that Francis died, and when the queen went back to
+Scotland to ascend her native throne, I went with her, and mothlike
+hovered near the blaze that burned but did not warm me.
+
+Then in the course of time came the Darnley tragedy. I saw Rizzio killed.
+Gods! what a scene for hell was that! Then followed the Bothwell
+disgrace, the queen's imprisonment at Lochleven, and my own flight from
+Scotland to save my head.
+
+You will hear of Mary again in this history, and still clinging to her you
+will find that same strange fatality which during all her life brought
+evils upon her that were infectious to her friends and wrought their ruin.
+
+One evening, in the autumn of the year 1567, I was sitting moodily before
+my fire in the town of Dundee, brooding over Mary's disgraceful liaison
+with Bothwell. I had solemnly resolved that I would see her never again,
+and that I would turn my back upon the evil life I had led for so many
+years, and would seek to acquire that quiescence of nature which is
+necessary to an endurable old age. A tumultuous soul in the breast of an
+old man breeds torture, but age, with the heart at rest, I have found is
+the best season of life.
+
+In the midst of my gloomy thoughts and good resolves my friend, Sir Thomas
+Douglas, entered my room without warning and in great agitation.
+
+"Are you alone?" he asked hurriedly, in a low voice.
+
+"Save for your welcome presence, Sir Thomas," I answered, offering my
+hand.
+
+"The queen has been seized," he whispered, "and warrants for high treason
+have been issued against many of her friends--you among the number.
+Officers are now coming to serve the writ. I rode hither in all haste to
+warn you. Lose not a moment, but flee for your life. The Earl of Murray
+will be made regent to-morrow."
+
+"My servant? My horse?" I responded.
+
+"Do not wait. Go at once. I shall try to send a horse for you to Craig's
+ferry. If I fail, cross the firth without one. Here is a purse. The queen
+sends it to you. Go! Go!"
+
+I acted upon the advice, of Sir Thomas and hurried into the street,
+snatching up my hat, cloak, and sword as I went. Night had fallen, and
+darkness and rain, which at first I was inclined to curse, proved to be my
+friends. I sought the back streets and alleys and walked rapidly toward
+the west gates of the city. Upon arriving at the gates I found them
+closed. I aroused the warden, and with the artful argument of gold had
+almost persuaded him to let me pass. My evident eagerness was my undoing,
+for in the hope of obtaining more gold the warden delayed opening the
+gates till two men approached on horseback, and, dismounting, demanded my
+surrender.
+
+I laughed and said: "Two against one! Gentlemen, I am caught." I then drew
+my sword as if to offer it to them. My action threw the men off their
+guard, and when I said, "Here it is," I gave it to the one standing near
+me, but I gave it to him point first and in the heart.
+
+It was a terrible thing to do, and bordered so closely on a broken parole
+that I was troubled in conscience. I had not, however, given my parole,
+nor had I surrendered; and if I had done so--if a man may take another's
+life in self-defence, may he not lie to save himself?
+
+The other man shot at me with his fusil, but missed. He then drew his
+sword; but he was no match for me, and soon I left him sprawling on the
+ground, dead or alive, I knew not which.
+
+At the time of which I write I was thirty-five years of age, and since my
+fifteenth birthday my occupations had been arms and the ladies--two arts
+requiring constant use if one would remain expert in their practice.
+
+I escaped, and ran along the wall to a deep breach which had been left
+unrepaired. Over the sharp rocks I clambered, and at the risk of breaking
+my neck I jumped off the wall into the moat, which was almost dry. Dawn
+was breaking when I found a place to ascend from the moat, and I hastened
+to the fields and forests, where all day and all night long I wandered
+without food or drink. Two hours before sunrise next morning I reached
+Craig's Ferry. The horse sent by Douglas awaited me, but the ferry-master
+had been prohibited from carrying passengers across the firth, and I could
+not take the horse in a small boat. In truth, I was in great alarm lest I
+should be unable to cross, but I walked up the Tay a short distance, and
+found a fisherman, who agreed to take me over in his frail craft. Hardly
+had we started when another boat put out from shore in pursuit of us. We
+made all sail, but our pursuers overtook us when we were within half a
+furlong of the south bank, and as there were four men in the other boat,
+all armed with fusils, I peaceably stepped into their craft and handed my
+sword to their captain.
+
+I seated myself on one of the thwarts well forward in the boat. By my side
+was a heavy iron boat-hook. I had noticed that all the occupants of the
+boat, except the fisherman who sailed her, wore armor; and when I saw the
+boat-hook, a diabolical thought entered my mind and I immediately acted
+upon its suggestion. Noiselessly I grasped the hook, and with its point
+pried loose a board in the bottom of the boat, first having removed my
+boots, cloak, and doublet. When the board was loosened I pressed my heel
+against it with all the force I could muster, and through an opening six
+inches broad and four feet long came a flood of water that swamped the
+boat before one could utter twenty words. I heard a cry from one of the
+men: "The dog has scuttled the boat. Shoot him!" At the same instant the
+blaze and noise of two fusils broke the still blackness of the night, but
+I was overboard and the powder and lead were wasted. The next moment the
+boat sank in ten fathoms of water, and with it went the men in armor. I
+hope the fisherman saved himself. I have often wondered if even the law of
+self-preservation justified my act. It is an awful thing to inflict death,
+but it is worse to endure it, and I feel sure that I am foolish to allow
+my conscience to trouble me for the sake of those who would have led me
+back to the scaffold.
+
+I fear you will think that six dead men in less than as many pages make a
+record of bloodshed giving promise of terrible things to come, but I am
+glad I can reassure you on that point. Although there may be some good
+fighting ahead of us, I believe the last man has been killed of whom I
+shall chronicle--the last, that is, in fight or battle.
+
+In truth, the history which you are about to read is not my own. It is the
+story of a beautiful, wilful girl, who was madly in love with the one man
+in all the world whom she should have avoided--as girls are wont to be.
+This perverse tendency, philosophers tell us, is owing to the fact that
+the unattainable is strangely alluring to womankind. I, being a man, shall
+not, of course, dwell upon the foibles of my own sex. It were a foolish
+candor.
+
+As I said, there will be some good fighting ahead of us, for love and
+battle usually go together. One must have warm, rich blood to do either
+well; and, save religion, there is no source more fruitful of quarrels and
+death than that passion which is the source of life.
+
+You, of course, know without the telling, that I reached land safely after
+I scuttled the boat, else I should not be writing this forty years
+afterwards.
+
+The sun had risen when I waded ashore. I was swordless, coatless, hatless,
+and bootless; but I carried a well-filled purse in my belt. Up to that
+time I had given no thought to my ultimate destination; but being for the
+moment safe, I pondered the question and determined to make my way to
+Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, where I was sure a warm welcome would await me
+from my cousin, Sir George Vernon. How I found a peasant's cottage,
+purchased a poor horse and a few coarse garments, and how in the disguise
+of a peasant I rode southward to the English border, avoiding the cities
+and the main highways, might interest you; but I am eager to come to my
+story, and I will not tell you of my perilous journey.
+
+One frosty morning, after many hairbreadth escapes, I found myself well
+within the English border, and turned my horse's head toward the city of
+Carlisle. There I purchased a fine charger. I bought clothing fit for a
+gentleman, a new sword, a hand-fusil, a breastplate, and a steel-lined
+cap, and feeling once again like a man rather than like a half-drowned
+rat, I turned southward for Derbyshire and Haddon Hall.
+
+When I left Scotland I had no fear of meeting danger in England; but at
+Carlisle I learned that Elizabeth held no favor toward Scottish refugees.
+I also learned that the direct road from Carlisle to Haddon, by way of
+Buxton, was infested with English spies who were on the watch for friends
+of the deposed Scottish queen. Several Scotchmen had been arrested, and it
+was the general opinion that upon one pretext or another they would be
+hanged. I therefore chose a circuitous road leading to the town of Derby,
+which lay south of Haddon at a distance of six or seven leagues. It would
+be safer for me to arrive at Haddon travelling from the south than from
+the north. Thus, after many days, I rode into Derby-town and stabled my
+horse at the Royal Arms.
+
+I called for supper, and while I was waiting for my joint of beef a
+stranger entered the room and gave his orders in a free, offhand manner
+that stamped him a person of quality.
+
+The night outside was cold. While the stranger and I sat before the fire
+we caught its infectious warmth, and when he showed a disposition to talk,
+I gladly fell in with his humor. Soon we were filling our glasses from the
+same bowl of punch, and we seemed to be on good terms with each other. But
+when God breathed into the human body a part of himself, by some
+mischance He permitted the devil to slip into the tongue and loosen it. My
+tongue, which ordinarily was fairly well behaved, upon this occasion
+quickly brought me into trouble.
+
+I told you that the stranger and I seemed to be upon good terms. And so we
+were until I, forgetting for the moment Elizabeth's hatred of Mary's
+friends, and hoping to learn the stranger's name and quality, said:--
+
+"My name is Vernon--Sir Malcolm Vernon, knight by the hand of Queen Mary
+of Scotland and of France." This remark, of course, required that my
+companion should in return make known his name and degree; but in place of
+so doing he at once drew away from me and sat in silence. I was older than
+he, and it had seemed to me quite proper and right that I should make the
+first advance. But instantly after I had spoken I regretted my words. I
+remembered not only my danger, being a Scottish refugee, but I also
+bethought me that I had betrayed myself. Aside from those causes of
+uneasiness, the stranger's conduct was an insult which I was in duty bound
+not to overlook. Neither was I inclined to do so, for I loved to fight. In
+truth, I loved all things evil.
+
+"I regret, sir," said I, after a moment or two of embarrassing silence,
+"having imparted information that seems to annoy you. The Vernons, whom
+you may not know, are your equals in blood, it matters not who you are."
+
+"I know of the Vernons," he replied coldly, "and I well know that they are
+of good blood and lineage. As for wealth, I am told Sir George could
+easily buy the estates of any six men in Derbyshire."
+
+"You know Sir George?" I asked despite myself.
+
+"I do not know him, I am glad to say," returned the stranger.
+
+"By God, sir, you shall answer-"
+
+"At your pleasure, Sir Malcolm."
+
+"My pleasure is now," I retorted eagerly.
+
+I threw off my doublet and pushed the table and chairs against the wall to
+make room for the fight; but the stranger, who had not drawn his sword,
+said:--
+
+"I have eaten nothing since morning, and I am as hungry as a wolf. I would
+prefer to fight after supper; but if you insist--"
+
+"I do insist," I replied. "Perhaps you will not care for supper when I
+have--"
+
+"That may be true," he interrupted; "but before we begin I think it right
+to tell you, without at all meaning to boast of my skill, that I can kill
+you if I wish to do so. Therefore you must see that the result of our
+fight will be disagreeable to you in any case. You will die, or you will
+owe me your life."
+
+His cool impertinence angered me beyond endurance. He to speak of killing
+me, one of the best swordsmen in France, where the art of sword-play is
+really an art! The English are but bunglers with a gentleman's blade, and
+should restrict themselves to pike and quarterstaff.
+
+"Results be damned!" I answered. "I can kill you if I wish." Then it
+occurred to me that I really did not wish to kill the handsome young
+fellow toward whom I felt an irresistible attraction.
+
+I continued: "But I prefer that you should owe me your life. I do not wish
+to kill you. Guard!"
+
+My opponent did not lift his sword, but smilingly said:--
+
+"Then why do you insist upon fighting? I certainly do not wish to kill
+you. In truth, I would be inclined to like you if you were not a Vernon."
+
+"Damn your insolence! Guard! or I will run you through where you stand," I
+answered angrily.
+
+"But why do we fight?" insisted the stubborn fellow, with a coolness that
+showed he was not one whit in fear of me.
+
+"You should know," I replied, dropping my sword-point to the floor, and
+forgetting for the moment the cause of our quarrel. "I--I do not."
+
+"Then let us not fight," he answered, "until we have discovered the matter
+of our disagreement."
+
+At this remark neither of us could resist smiling. I had not fought since
+months before, save for a moment at the gates of Dundee, and I was loath
+to miss the opportunity, so I remained in thought during the space of half
+a minute and remembered our cause of war.
+
+"Oh! I recall the reason for our fighting," I replied, "and a good one it
+was. You offered affront to the name of Sir George Vernon, and insultingly
+refused me the courtesy of your name after I had done you the honor to
+tell you mine."
+
+"I did not tell you my name," replied the stranger, "because I believed
+you would not care to hear it; and I said I was glad not to know Sir
+George Vernon because--because he is my father's enemy. I am Sir John
+Manners. My father is Lord Rutland."
+
+Then it was my turn to recede. "You certainly are right. I do not care to
+hear your name."
+
+I put my sword in its scabbard and drew the table back to its former
+place. Sir John stood in hesitation for a moment or two, and then said:--
+
+"Sir Malcolm, may we not declare a truce for to-night? There is nothing
+personal in the enmity between us."
+
+"Nothing," I answered, staring at the fire, half regretful that we bore
+each other enmity at all.
+
+"You hate me, or believe you do," said Manners, "because your father's
+cousin hates my father; and I try to make myself believe that I hate you
+because my father hates your father's cousin. Are we not both mistaken?"
+
+I was quick to anger and to fight, but no man's heart was more sensitive
+than mine to the fair touch of a kind word.
+
+"I am not mistaken, Sir John, when I say that I do not hate you," I
+answered.
+
+"Nor do I hate you, Sir Malcolm. Will you give me your hand?"
+
+"Gladly," I responded, and I offered my hand to the enemy of my house.
+
+"Landlord," I cried, "bring us two bottles of your best sack. The best in
+the house, mind you."
+
+After our amicable understanding, Sir John and myself were very
+comfortable together, and when the sack and roast beef, for which the
+Royal Arms was justly famous, were brought in, we sat down to an enjoyable
+meal.
+
+After supper Sir John lighted a small roll or stick made from the leaves
+of tobacco. The stick was called a cigarro, and I, proud not to be behind
+him in new-fashioned, gentlemanly accomplishments, called to the landlord
+for a pipe. Manners interrupted me when I gave the order and offered me a
+cigarro which I gladly accepted.
+
+Despite my effort to reassure myself, I could not quite throw off a
+feeling of uneasiness whenever I thought of the manner in which I had
+betrayed to Sir John the fact that I was a friend to Mary Stuart. I knew
+that treachery was not native to English blood, and my knowledge of
+mankind had told me that the vice could not live in Sir John Manners's
+heart. But he had told me of his residence at the court of Elizabeth, and
+I feared trouble might come to me from the possession of so dangerous a
+piece of knowledge by an enemy of my house.
+
+I did not speak my thoughts upon the matter, and we sat the evening
+through discussing many subjects. We warmed toward each other and became
+quite confidential. I feel ashamed when I admit that one of my many sins
+was an excessive indulgence in wine. While I was not a drunkard, I was
+given to my cups sometimes in a degree both dangerous and disgraceful; and
+during the evening of which I have just spoken I talked to Sir John with a
+freedom that afterward made me blush, although my indiscretion brought me
+no greater trouble.
+
+My outburst of confidence was prompted by Sir John's voluntary assurance
+that I need fear nothing from having told him that I was a friend of Queen
+Mary. The Scottish queen's name had been mentioned, and Sir John had
+said--
+
+"I take it, Sir Malcolm, that you are newly arrived in England, and I feel
+sure you will accept the advice I am about to offer in the kindly spirit
+in which it is meant. I deem it unsafe for you to speak of Queen Mary's
+friendship in the open manner you have used toward me. Her friends are not
+welcome visitors to England, and I fear evil will befall those who come to
+us as refugees. You need have no fear that I will betray you. Your secret
+is safe with me. I will give you hostage. I also am Queen Mary's friend. I
+would not, of course, favor her against the interest of our own queen. To
+Elizabeth I am and always shall be loyal; but the unfortunate Scottish
+queen has my sympathy in her troubles, and I should be glad to help her. I
+hear she is most beautiful and gentle in person."
+
+Thus you see the influence of Mary's beauty reached from Edinburgh to
+London. A few months only were to pass till this conversation was to be
+recalled by each of us, and the baneful influence of Mary's beauty upon
+all whom it touched was to be shown more fatally than had appeared even in
+my own case. In truth, my reason for speaking so fully concerning the,
+Scottish queen and myself will be apparent to you in good time.
+
+When we were about to part for the night, I asked Sir John, "What road do
+you travel to-morrow?"
+
+"I am going to Rutland Castle by way of Rowsley," he answered.
+
+"I, too, travel by Rowsley to Haddon Hall. Shall we not extend our truce
+over the morrow and ride together as far as Rowsley?" I asked.
+
+"I shall be glad to make the truce perpetual," he replied laughingly.
+
+"So shall I," was my response.
+
+Thus we sealed our compact and knitted out of the warp and woof of enmity
+a friendship which became a great joy and a sweet grief to each of us.
+
+That night I lay for hours thinking of the past and wondering about the
+future. I had tasted the sweets--all flavored with bitterness--of court
+life. Women, wine, gambling, and fighting had given me the best of all the
+evils they had to offer. Was I now to drop that valorous life, which men
+so ardently seek, and was I to take up a browsing, kinelike existence at
+Haddon Hall, there to drone away my remaining days in fat'ning, peace, and
+quietude? I could not answer my own question, but this I knew: that Sir
+George Vernon was held in high esteem by Elizabeth, and I felt that his
+house was, perhaps, the only spot in England where my head could safely
+lie. I also had other plans concerning Sir George and his household which
+I regret to say I imparted to Sir John in the sack-prompted outpouring of
+my confidence. The plans of which I shall now speak had been growing in
+favor with me for several months previous to my enforced departure from
+Scotland, and that event had almost determined me to adopt them. Almost, I
+say, for when I approached Haddon Hall I wavered in my resolution.
+
+At the time when I had last visited Sir George at Haddon, his daughter
+Dorothy--Sir George called her Doll--was a slipshod girl of twelve. She
+was exceedingly plain, and gave promise of always so remaining. Sir
+George, who had no son, was anxious that his vast estates should remain
+in the Vernon name. He had upon the occasion of my last visit intimated to
+me that when Doll should become old enough to marry, and I, perchance, had
+had my fill of knocking about the world, a marriage might be brought about
+between us which would enable him to leave his estates to his daughter and
+still to retain the much-loved Vernon name for his descendants.
+
+Owing to Doll's rusty red hair, slim shanks, and freckled face, the
+proposition had not struck me with favor, yet to please Sir George I had
+feigned acquiescence, and had said that when the time should come, we
+would talk it over. Before my flight from Scotland I had often thought of
+Sir George's proposition made six or seven years before. My love for Mary
+Stuart had dimmed the light of other beauties in my eyes, and I had never
+married. For many months before my flight, however, I had not been
+permitted to bask in the light of Mary's smiles to the extent of my
+wishes. Younger men, among them Darnley, who was but eighteen years of
+age, were preferred to me, and I had begun to consider the advisability of
+an orderly retreat from the Scottish court before my lustre should be
+entirely dimmed. It is said that a man is young so long as he is strong,
+and I was strong as in the days of my youth. My cheeks were fresh, my eyes
+were bright, and my hair was red as when I was twenty, and without a
+thread of gray. Still, my temperament was more exacting and serious, and
+the thought of becoming settled for life, or rather for old age and death,
+was growing in favor with me. With that thought came always a suggestion
+of slim, freckled Dorothy and Sir George's offer. She held out to me
+wealth and position, a peaceful home for my old age, and a grave with a
+pompous, pious epitaph at Bakewell church, in death.
+
+When I was compelled to leave Scotland, circumstances forced me to a
+decision, and my resolution was quickly taken. I would go to Derbyshire
+and would marry Dorothy. I did not expect ever again to feel great love
+for a woman. The fuse, I thought, had burned out when I loved Mary Stuart.
+One woman, I believed, was like another to me, and Dorothy would answer as
+well as any for my wife. I could and would be kind to her, and that alone
+in time would make me fond. It is true, my affection would be of a fashion
+more comfortable than exciting; but who, having passed his galloping
+youth, will contemn the joys that come from making others happy? I believe
+there is no person, past the age of forty, at all given to pondering the
+whys of life, who will gainsay that the joy we give to others is our chief
+source of happiness. Why, then, should not a wise man, through purely
+selfish motives, begin early to cultivate the gentle art of giving joy?
+
+But the fates were to work out the destinies of Dorothy and myself without
+our assistance. Self-willed, arrogant creatures are those same fates, but
+they save us a deal of trouble by assuming our responsibilities.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE IRON, THE SEED, THE CLOUD, AND THE RAIN
+
+
+The morning following my meeting with Manners, he and I made an early
+start. An hour before noon we rode into the town of Rowsley and halted at
+The Peacock for dinner.
+
+When we entered the courtyard of the inn we saw three ladies warmly
+wrapped in rich furs leave a ponderous coach and walk to the inn door,
+which they entered. One of them was an elderly lady whom I recognized as
+my cousin, Lady Dorothy Crawford, sister to Sir George Vernon. The second
+was a tall, beautiful girl, with an exquisite ivory-like complexion and a
+wonderful crown of fluffy red hair which encircled her head like a halo of
+sunlit glory. I could compare its wondrous lustre to no color save that of
+molten gold deeply alloyed with copper. But that comparison tells you
+nothing. I can find no simile with which to describe the beauties of its
+shades and tints. It was red, but it also was golden, as if the enamoured
+sun had gilded every hair with its radiance. In all my life I had never
+seen anything so beautiful as this tall girl's hair. Still, it was the
+Vernon red. My cousin, Sir George, and many Vernons had hair of the same
+color. Yet the girl's hair differed from all other I had ever seen. It had
+a light and a lustre of its own which was as distinct from the ordinary
+Vernon red, although that is very good and we are proud of it, as the
+sheen of gold is from the glitter of brass. I knew by the girl's hair
+that she was my cousin, Dorothy Vernon, whom I reluctantly had come to
+wed.
+
+I asked myself, "Can this be the plain, freckled girl I knew seven years
+ago?" Compared with her beauty even Mary Stuart's was pale as the vapid
+moon at dawn. The girl seemed to be the incarnated spirit of universal
+life and light, and I had condescendingly come to marry this goddess. I
+felt a dash of contemptuous pity for my complacent self.
+
+In my cogitations concerning marriage with Dorothy Vernon, I had not at
+all taken into consideration her personal inclination. A girl, after all,
+is but the chattel of her father, and must, perforce, if needs be, marry
+the man who is chosen for her. But leaving parental authority out of the
+question, a girl with brick-red hair and a multitude of freckles need not
+be considered when an agreeable, handsome man offers himself as a husband.
+She usually is willing to the point of eagerness. That is the manner in
+which I had thought about Dorothy Vernon, if I considered her at all. But
+when a man is about to offer himself to a goddess, he is apt to pause. In
+such a case there are always two sides to the question, and nine chances
+to one the goddess will coolly take possession of both. When I saw Dorothy
+in the courtyard of The Peacock, I instantly knew that she was a girl to
+be taken into account in all matters wherein she was personally concerned.
+Her every feature, every poise and gesture, unconsciously bore the stamp
+of "I will" or "I will not."
+
+Walking by Dorothy's side, holding her hand, was a fair young woman whose
+hair was black, and whose skin was of the white, clear complexion such as
+we see in the faces of nuns. She walked with a hesitating, cautious step,
+and clung to Dorothy, who was gentle and attentive to her. But of this
+fair, pale girl I have so much to say in the pages to come that I shall
+not further describe her here.
+
+When the ladies had entered the inn, my companion and I dismounted, and
+Manners exclaimed:--
+
+"Did you see the glorious girl who but now entered the inn door? Gods! I
+never before saw such beauty."
+
+"Yes," I replied, "I know her."
+
+"How fortunate I am," said Sir John. "Perhaps I may induce you to present
+me to her. At least you will tell me her name, that I may seek her
+acquaintance by the usual means. I am not susceptible, but by my faith,
+I--I--she looked at me from the door-steps, and when I caught her eyes it
+seemed--that is, I saw--or I felt a stream of burning life enter my soul,
+and--but you will think I am a fool. I know I am a fool. But I feel as if
+I were--as if I had been bewitched in one little second of time, and by a
+single glance from a pair of brown eyes. You certainly will think I am a
+fool, but you cannot understand--"
+
+"Why can't I understand?" I asked indignantly. "The thing you have seen
+and felt has been in this world long enough for every man to understand.
+Eve used it upon Adam. I can't understand? Damme, sir, do you think I am a
+clod? I have felt it fifty times."
+
+"Not--" began Sir John, hesitatingly.
+
+"Nonsense!" I replied. "You, too, will have the same experience fifty
+times again before you are my age."
+
+"But the lady," said Sir John, "tell me of her. Will you--can you present
+me to her? If not, will you tell me who she is?"
+
+I remained for a moment in thought, wondering if it were right for me to
+tell him that the girl whom he so much admired was the daughter of his
+father's enemy. I could see no way of keeping Dorothy's name from him, so
+I determined to tell him.
+
+"She is my cousin, Mistress Dorothy Vernon," I said. "The eldest is Lady
+Dorothy Crawford. The beautiful, pale girl I do not know."
+
+"I am sorry," returned Sir John; "she is the lady whom you have come to
+marry, is she not?"
+
+"Y-e-s," said I, hesitatingly.
+
+"You certainly are to be congratulated," returned Manners.
+
+"I doubt if I shall marry her," I replied.
+
+"Why?" asked Manners.
+
+"For many reasons, chief among which is her beauty."
+
+"That is an unusual reason for declining a woman," responded Sir John,
+with a low laugh.
+
+"I think it is quite usual," I replied, having in mind the difficulty with
+which great beauties are won. But I continued, "A woman of moderate beauty
+makes a safer wife, and in the long run is more comforting than one who is
+too attractive."
+
+"You are a philosopher, Sir Malcolm," said Manners, laughingly.
+
+"And a liar," I muttered to myself. I felt sure, however, that I should
+never marry Dorothy Vernon, and I do not mind telling you, even at this
+early stage in my history, that I was right in my premonition. I did not
+marry her.
+
+"I suppose I shall now be compelled to give you up to your relatives,"
+said Manners.
+
+"Yes," I returned, "we must say good-by for the present; but if we do not
+meet again, it shall not be for the lack of my wishing. Your father and
+Sir George would feel deeply injured, should they learn of our friendship,
+therefore--"
+
+"You are quite right," he interrupted. "It is better that no one should
+know of it. Nevertheless, between you and me let there be no feud."
+
+"The secrecy of our friendship will give it zest," said I. "That is true,
+but 'good wine needs no bush.' You will not mention my name to the
+ladies?"
+
+"No, if you wish that I shall not."
+
+"I do so wish."
+
+When the stable boys had taken our horses, I gave my hand to Sir John,
+after which we entered the inn and treated each other as strangers.
+
+Soon after I had washed the stains of travel from my hands and face, I
+sent the maid to my cousins, asking that I might be permitted to pay my
+devotions, and Dorothy came to the tap-room in response to my message.
+
+When she entered she ran to me with outstretched hands and a gleam of
+welcome in her eyes. We had been rare friends when she was a child.
+
+"Ah, Cousin Malcolm, what a fine surprise you have given us!" she
+exclaimed, clasping both my hands and offering me her cheek to kiss.
+"Father's delight will be beyond measure when he sees you."
+
+"As mine now is," I responded, gazing at her from head to foot and
+drinking in her beauty with my eyes. "Doll! Doll! What a splendid girl you
+have become. Who would have thought that--that--" I hesitated, realizing
+that I was rapidly getting myself into trouble.
+
+"Say it. Say it, cousin! I know what is in your mind. Rusty red hair,
+angular shoulders, sharp elbows, freckles thickly set as stars upon a
+clear night, and so large and brown that they fairly twinkled. Great
+staring green eyes. Awkward!--" And she threw up her hands in mimic horror
+at the remembrance. "No one could have supposed that such a girl would
+have become--that is, you know," she continued confusedly, "could have
+changed. I haven't a freckle now," and she lifted her face that I might
+prove the truth of her words by examination, and perhaps that I might also
+observe her beauty.
+
+Neither did I waste the opportunity. I dwelt longingly upon the wondrous
+red golden hair which fringed her low broad forehead, and upon the heavy
+black eyebrows, the pencilled points of whose curves almost touched
+across the nose. I saw the rose-tinted ivory of her skin and the long jet
+lashes curving in a great sweep from her full white lids, and I thought
+full sure that Venus herself was before me. My gaze halted for a moment at
+the long eyes which changed chameleon-like with the shifting light, and
+varied with her moods from deep fathomless green to violet, and from
+violet to soft voluptuous brown, but in all their tints beaming forth a
+lustre that would have stirred the soul of an anchorite. Then I noted the
+beauty of her clean-cut saucy nose and the red arch of her lips, slightly
+parted for the purpose of showing her teeth. But I could not stop long to
+dwell upon any one especial feature, for there were still to be seen her
+divine round chin, her large white throat, and the infinite grace in poise
+and curve of her strong young form. I dared not pause nor waste my time if
+I were to see it all, for such a girl as Dorothy waits no man's
+leisure--that is, unless she wishes to wait. In such case there is no
+moving her, and patience becomes to her a delightful virtue.
+
+After my prolonged scrutiny Dorothy lowered her face and said
+laughingly:--
+
+"Now come, cousin, tell me the truth. Who would have thought it possible?"
+
+"Not I, Doll, not I, if you will pardon me the frankness."
+
+"Oh, that is easily done." Then with a merry ripple of laughter, "It is
+much easier, I fancy, for a woman to speak of the time when she was plain
+than to refer to the time when--when she was beautiful. What an absurd
+speech that is for me to make," she said confusedly.
+
+"I certainly did not expect to find so great a change," said I. "Why,
+Doll, you are wondrous, glorious, beautiful. I can't find words--"
+
+"Then don't try, Cousin Malcolm," she said with a smile that fringed her
+mouth in dimples. "Don't try. You will make me vain."
+
+"You are that already, Doll," I answered, to tease her.
+
+"I fear I am, cousin--vain as a man. But don't call me Doll. I am tall
+enough to be called Dorothy."
+
+She straightened herself up to her full height, and stepping close to my
+side, said: "I am as tall as you. I will now try to make you vain. You
+look just as young and as handsome as when I last saw you and so ardently
+admired your waving black mustachio and your curling chin beard."
+
+"Did you admire them, Doll--Dorothy?" I asked, hoping, though with little
+faith, that the admiration might still continue.
+
+"Oh, prodigiously," she answered with unassuring candor. "Prodigiously.
+Now who is vain, Cousin Malcolm Francois de Lorraine Vernon?"
+
+"I," I responded, shrugging my shoulders and confessing by compulsion.
+
+"But you must remember," she continued provokingly, "that a girl of twelve
+is very immature in her judgment and will fall in love with any man who
+allows her to look upon him twice."
+
+"Then I am to believe that the fire begins very early to burn in the
+feminine heart," I responded.
+
+"With birth, my cousin, with birth," she replied; "but in my heart it
+burned itself out upon your curling beard at the mature age of twelve."
+
+"And you have never been in love since that time, Doll--Dorothy?" I asked
+with more earnestness in my heart than in my voice.
+
+"No, no; by the Virgin, no! Not even in the shadow of a thought. And by
+the help of the Virgin I hope I never shall be; for when it comes to me,
+mark my word, cousin, there will be trouble in Derbyshire."
+
+"By my soul, I believe you speak the truth," I answered, little dreaming
+how quickly our joint prophecy would come true.
+
+I then asked Dorothy to tell me about her father.
+
+"Father is well in health," she said. "In mind he has been much troubled
+and disturbed. Last month he lost the lawsuit against detestable old Lord
+Rutland. He was much angered by the loss, and has been moody and morose in
+brooding over it ever since. He tries, poor father, to find relief from
+his troubles, and--and I fear takes too much liquor. Rutland and his
+friends swore to one lie upon another, and father believes that the judge
+who tried the case was bribed. Father intends to appeal to Parliament, but
+even in Parliament he fears he cannot obtain justice. Lord Rutland's
+son--a disreputable fellow, who for many years has lived at court--is a
+favorite with the queen, and his acquaintance with her Majesty and with
+the lords will be to father's prejudice."
+
+"I have always believed that your father stood in the queen's good
+graces?" I said interrogatively.
+
+"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.
+
+After a little time she said: "Is it not cool here? Let us go over to the
+fireplace where it is warmer."
+
+I turned to go with her, and at once saw that it was not the fire in the
+fireplace which had attracted Dorothy, but quite a different sort of
+flame. In short, much to my consternation, I discovered that it was
+nothing less than my handsome new-found friend, Sir John Manners, toward
+whom Dorothy had been glancing.
+
+We walked over to the fireplace, and one of the fires, Sir John, moved
+away. But the girl turned her face that she might see him in his new
+position. The movement, I confess, looked bold to the point of brazenness;
+but if the movement was bold, what shall I say of her glances and the
+expression of her face? She seemed unable to take her eager eyes from the
+stranger, or to think of anything but him, and after a few moments she did
+not try. Soon she stopped talking entirely and did not even hear what I
+was saying. I, too, became silent, and after a long pause the girl
+asked:--
+
+"Cousin, who is the gentleman with whom you were travelling?"
+
+I was piqued by Dorothy's conduct, and answered rather curtly: "He is a
+stranger. I picked him up at Derby, and we rode here together."
+
+A pause followed, awkward in its duration.
+
+"Did you--not--learn--his--name?" asked Dorothy, hesitatingly.
+
+"Yes," I replied.
+
+Then came another pause, broken by the girl, who spoke in a quick,
+imperious tone touched with irritation:--
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"It is better that I do not tell you," I answered. "It was quite by
+accident that we met. Neither of us knew the other. Please do not ask me
+to tell you his name."
+
+"Oh, but you make me all the more eager to learn. Mystery, you know, is
+intolerable to a woman, except in the unravelling. Come, tell me! Tell me!
+Not, of course, that I really care a farthing to know--but the mystery! A
+mystery drives me wild. Tell me, please do, Cousin Malcolm."
+
+She certainly was posing for the stranger's benefit, and was doing all in
+her power, while coaxing me, to display her charms, graces, and pretty
+little ways. Her attitude and conduct spoke as plainly as the spring
+bird's song speaks to its mate. Yet Dorothy's manner did not seem bold.
+Even to me it appeared modest, beautiful, and necessary. She seemed to act
+under compulsion. She would laugh, for the purpose, no doubt, of showing
+her dimples and her teeth, and would lean her head to one side pigeon-wise
+to display her eyes to the best advantage, and then would she shyly glance
+toward Sir John to see if he was watching her. It was shameless, but it
+could not be helped by Dorothy nor any one else. After a few moments of
+mute pleading by the girl, broken now and then by, "Please, please," I
+said:--
+
+"If you give to me your promise that you will never speak of this matter
+to any person, I will tell you the gentleman's name. I would not for a
+great deal have your father know that I have held conversation with him
+even for a moment, though at the time I did not know who he was."
+
+"Oh, this is delightful! He must be some famous, dashing highwayman. I
+promise, of course I promise--faithfully." She was glancing constantly
+toward Manners, and her face was bright with smiles and eager with
+anticipation.
+
+"He is worse than a highwayman, I regret to say. The gentleman toward whom
+you are so ardently glancing is--Sir John Manners."
+
+A shock of pain passed over Dorothy's face, followed by a hard, repellent
+expression that was almost ugly.
+
+"Let us go to Aunt Dorothy," she said, as she turned and walked across the
+room toward the door.
+
+When we had closed the door of the tap-room behind us Dorothy said
+angrily:--
+
+"Tell me, cousin, how you, a Vernon, came to be in his company?"
+
+"I told you that I met him quite by accident at the Royal Arms in
+Derby-town. We became friends before either knew the other's name. After
+chance had disclosed our identities, he asked for a truce to our feud
+until the morrow; and he was so gentle and open in his conduct that I
+could not and would not refuse his proffered olive branch. In truth,
+whatever faults may be attributable to Lord Rutland,--and I am sure he
+deserves all the evil you have spoken of him,--his son, Sir John, is a
+noble gentleman, else I have been reading the book of human nature all my
+life in vain. Perhaps he is in no way to blame for his father's conduct
+He may have had no part in it"
+
+"Perhaps he has not," said Dorothy, musingly.
+
+It was not a pleasant task for me to praise Sir John, but my sense of
+justice impelled me to do so. I tried to make myself feel injured and
+chagrined because of Dorothy's manner toward him; for you must remember I
+had arranged with myself to marry this girl, but I could not work my
+feelings into a state of indignation against the heir to Rutland. The
+truth is, my hope of winning Dorothy had evaporated upon the first sight
+of her, like the volatile essence it really was. I cannot tell you why,
+but I at once seemed to realize that all the thought and labor which I had
+devoted to the arduous task of arranging with myself this marriage was
+labor lost. So I frankly told her my kindly feelings for Sir John, and
+gave her my high estimate of his character.
+
+I continued: "You see, Dorothy, I could not so easily explain to your
+father my association with Sir John, and I hope you will not speak of it
+to any one, lest the news should reach Sir George's ears."
+
+"I will not speak of it," she returned, sighing faintly. "After all, it is
+not his fault that his father is such a villain. He doesn't look like his
+father, does he?"
+
+"I cannot say. I never saw Lord Rutland," I replied.
+
+"He is the most villanous-looking--" but she broke off the sentence and
+stood for a moment in revery. We were in the darkened passage, and Dorothy
+had taken my hand. That little act in another woman of course would have
+led to a demonstration on my part, but in this girl it seemed so entirely
+natural and candid that it was a complete bar to undue familiarity. In
+truth, I had no such tendency, for the childish act spoke of an innocence
+and faith that were very sweet to me who all my life had lived among men
+and women who laughed at those simple virtues. The simple conditions of
+life are all that are worth striving for. They come to us fresh from
+Nature and from Nature's God. The complex are but concoctions of man after
+recipes in the devil's alchemy. So much gold, so much ambition, so much
+lust. Mix well. Product: so much vexation.
+
+"He must resemble his mother," said Dorothy, after a long pause. "Poor
+fellow! His mother is dead. He is like me in that respect. I wonder if his
+father's villanies trouble him?"
+
+"I think they must trouble him. He seems to be sad," said I, intending to
+be ironical.
+
+My reply was taken seriously.
+
+"I am sorry for him," she said, "it is not right to hate even our enemies.
+The Book tells us that."
+
+"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," said I, amused and provoked.
+
+Unexpected and dangerous symptoms were rapidly developing in the perverse
+girl, and trouble was brewing "in Derbyshire."
+
+The adjective perverse, by the way, usually is superfluous when used to
+modify the noun girl.
+
+"Yet you hate Lord Rutland," I repeated.
+
+"Why, y-e-s," she responded. "I cannot help that, but you know it would be
+very wrong to--to hate all his family. To hate him is bad enough."
+
+I soon began to fear that I had praised Sir John overmuch.
+
+"I think Sir John is all there is of Lord Rutland's family," I said,
+alarmed yet amused at Dorothy's search for an excuse not to hate my
+new-found friend.
+
+"Well," she continued after a pause, throwing her head to one side, "I am
+sorry there are no more of that family not to hate."
+
+"Dorothy! Dorothy!" I exclaimed. "What has come over you? You surprise
+me."
+
+"Yes," she answered, with a little sigh, "I certainly have surprised
+myself by--by my willingness to forgive those who have injured my house. I
+did not know there was so much--so much good in me."
+
+"Mistress Pharisee," thought I, "you are a hypocrite."
+
+Again intending to be ironical, I said, "Shall I fetch him from the
+tap-room and present him to you?"
+
+Once more my irony was lost upon the girl. Evidently that sort of humor
+was not my strong point.
+
+"No, no," she responded indignantly, "I would not speak to him for--"
+Again she broke her sentence abruptly, and after a little pause, short in
+itself but amply long for a girl like Dorothy to change her mind two score
+times, she continued: "It would not be for the best. What think you,
+Cousin Malcolm?"
+
+"Surely the girl has gone mad," thought I. Her voice was soft and
+conciliating as if to say, "I trust entirely to your mature, superior
+judgment."
+
+My judgment coincided emphatically with her words, and I said: "I spoke
+only in jest. It certainly would not be right. It would be all wrong if
+you were to meet him."
+
+"That is true," the girl responded with firmness, "but--but no real harm
+could come of it," she continued, laughing nervously. "He could not strike
+me nor bite me. Of course it would be unpleasant for me to meet him, and
+as there is no need--I am curious to know what one of his race is like.
+It's the only reason that would induce me to consent. Of course you know
+there could be no other reason for me to wish--that is, you know--to be
+willing to meet him. Of course you know."
+
+"Certainly," I replied, still clinging to my unsuccessful irony. "I will
+tell you all I know about him, so that you may understand what he is
+like. As for his personal appearance, you saw him, did you not?"
+
+I thought surely that piece of irony would not fail, but it did, and I
+have seldom since attempted to use that form of humor.
+
+"Yes--oh, yes, I saw him for a moment."
+
+"But I will not present him to you, Dorothy, however much you may wish to
+meet him," I said positively.
+
+"It is almost an insult, Cousin Malcolm, for you to say that I wish to
+meet him," she answered in well-feigned indignation.
+
+The French blood in my veins moved me to shrug my shoulders. I could do
+nothing else. With all my knowledge of womankind this girl had sent me to
+sea.
+
+But what shall we say of Dorothy's conduct? I fancy I can hear you mutter,
+"This Dorothy Vernon must have been a bold, immodest, brazen girl."
+Nothing of the sort. Dare you of the cold blood--if perchance there be any
+with that curse in their veins who read these lines--dare you, I say, lift
+your voice against the blessed heat in others which is but a greater,
+stronger, warmer spark of God's own soul than you possess or than you can
+comprehend? "Evil often comes of it," I hear you say. That I freely admit;
+and evil comes from eating too much bread, and from hearing too much
+preaching. But the universe, from the humblest blade of grass to the
+infinite essence of God, exists because of that warmth which the mawkish
+world contemns. Is the iron immodest when it creeps to the lodestone and
+clings to its side? Is the hen bird brazen when she flutters to her mate
+responsive to his compelling woo-song? Is the seed immodest when it sinks
+into the ground and swells with budding life? Is the cloud bold when it
+softens into rain and falls to earth because it has no other choice? or is
+it brazen when it nestles for a time on the bosom of heaven's arched dome
+and sinking into the fathomless depths of a blue black infinity ceases to
+be itself? Is the human soul immodest when, drawn by a force it cannot
+resist, it seeks a stronger soul which absorbs its ego as the blue sky
+absorbs the floating cloud, as the warm earth swells the seed, as the
+magnet draws the iron? All these are of one quality. The iron, the seed,
+the cloud, and the soul of man are _what_ they are, do _what_ they do,
+love as they love, live as they live, and die as they die because they
+must--because they have no other choice. We think we are free because at
+times we act as we please, forgetting that God gives us the "please," and
+that every act of our being is but the result of a dictated motive.
+Dorothy was not immodest. This was her case. She was the iron, the seed,
+the cloud, and the rain. You, too, are the iron, the seed, the cloud, and
+the rain. It is only human vanity which prompts you to believe that you
+are yourself and that you are free. Do you find any freedom in this world
+save that which you fondly believe to exist within yourself? Self! There
+is but one self, God. I have been told that the people of the East call
+Him Brahma. The word, it is said, means "Breath," "Inspiration," "All." I
+have felt that the beautiful pagan thought has truth in it; but my
+conscience and my priest tell me rather to cling to truths I have than to
+fly to others that I know not of. As a result, I shall probably die
+orthodox and mistaken.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE PITCHER GOES TO THE WELL.
+
+
+Dorothy and I went to the inn parlors, where I received a cordial welcome
+from my cousin, Lady Crawford. After our greeting, Dorothy came toward me
+leading the fair, pale girl whom I had seen in the courtyard.
+
+"Madge, this is my cousin, Malcolm Vernon," said Dorothy. "He was a dear
+friend of my childhood and is much beloved by my father. Lady Magdalene
+Stanley, cousin," and she placed the girl's soft white hand in mine. There
+was a peculiar hesitancy in the girl's manner which puzzled me. She did
+not look at me when Dorothy placed her hand in mine, but kept her eyes
+cast down, the long, black lashes resting upon the fair curves of her
+cheek like a shadow on the snow. She murmured a salutation, and when I
+made a remark that called for a response, she lifted her eyes but seemed
+not to look at me. Unconsciously I turned my face toward Dorothy, who
+closed her eyes and formed with her lips the word "blind."
+
+I retained the girl's hand, and she did not withdraw it. When I caught
+Dorothy's unspoken word I led Lady Madge to a chair and asked if I might
+sit beside her.
+
+"Certainly," she answered smilingly; "you know I am blind, but I can hear
+and speak, and I enjoy having persons I like sit near me that I may touch
+them now and then while we talk. If I could only see!" she exclaimed.
+Still, there was no tone of complaint in her voice and very little even of
+regret. The girl's eyes were of a deep blue and were entirely without scar
+or other evidence of blindness, except that they did not seem to see. I
+afterward learned that her affliction had come upon her as the result of
+illness when she was a child. She was niece to the Earl of Derby, and
+Dorothy's mother had been her aunt. She owned a small estate and had lived
+at Haddon Hall five or six years because of the love that existed between
+her and Dorothy. A strong man instinctively longs to cherish that which
+needs his strength, and perhaps it was the girl's helplessness that first
+appealed to me. Perhaps it was her rare, peculiar beauty, speaking
+eloquently of virtue such as I had never known, that touched me. I cannot
+say what the impelling cause was, but this I know: my heart went out in
+pity to her, and all that was good within me--good, which I had never
+before suspected--stirred in my soul, and my past life seemed black and
+barren beyond endurance. Even Dorothy's marvellous beauty lacked the
+subtle quality which this simple blind girl possessed. The first step in
+regeneration is to see one's faults; the second is to regret them; the
+third is to quit them. The first and second steps constitute repentance;
+the second and third regeneration. One hour within the radius of Madge
+Stanley's influence brought me to repentance. But repentance is an
+everyday virtue. Should I ever achieve regeneration? That is one of the
+questions this history will answer. To me, Madge Stanley's passive force
+was the strongest influence for good that had ever impinged on my life.
+With respect to her, morally, I was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the
+rain, for she, acting unconsciously, moved me with neither knowledge nor
+volition on my part.
+
+Soon after my arrival at the ladies' parlor dinner was served, and after
+dinner a Persian merchant was ushered in, closely followed by his
+servants bearing bales of rare Eastern fabrics. A visit and a dinner at
+the inn were little events that made a break in the monotony of life at
+the Hall, and the ladies preferred to visit the merchant, who was stopping
+at The Peacock for a time, rather than to have him take his wares to
+Haddon.
+
+While Lady Crawford and Dorothy were revelling in Persian silks, satins,
+and gold cloths, I sat by Lady Madge and was more than content that we
+were left to ourselves. My mind, however, was as far from thoughts of
+gallantry as if she had been a black-veiled nun. I believe I have not told
+you that I was of the Holy Catholic Faith. My religion, I may say, has
+always been more nominal and political than spiritual, although there ran
+through it a strong vein of inherited tendencies and superstitions which
+were highly colored by contempt for heresy and heretics. I was Catholic by
+habit. But if I analyzed my supposed religious belief, I found that I had
+none save a hatred for heresy. Heretics, as a rule, were low-born persons,
+vulgarly moral, and as I had always thought, despisedly hypocritical.
+Madge Stanley, however, was a Protestant, and that fact shook the
+structure of my old mistakes to its foundation, and left me religionless.
+
+After the Persian merchant had packed his bales and departed, Dorothy and
+Lady Crawford joined Madge and me near the fireplace. Soon Dorothy went
+over to the window and stood there gazing into the courtyard. After a few
+minutes Lady Crawford said, "Dorothy, had we not better order Dawson to
+bring out the horses and coach?" Will Dawson was Sir George's forester.
+
+Lady Crawford repeated her question, but Dorothy was too intently watching
+the scene in the courtyard to hear. I went over to her, and looking out at
+the window discovered the object of Dorothy's rapt attention. There is no
+need for me to tell you who it was. Irony, as you know, and as I had
+learned, was harmless against this thick-skinned nymph. Of course I had no
+authority to scold her, so I laughed. The object of Dorothy's attention
+was about to mount his horse. He was drawing on his gauntleted gloves and
+held between his teeth a cigarro. He certainly presented a handsome figure
+for the eyes of an ardent girl to rest upon while he stood beneath the
+window, clothed in a fashionable Paris-made suit of brown, doublet,
+trunks, and hose. His high-topped boots were polished till they shone, and
+his broad-rimmed hat, of soft beaver, was surmounted by a flowing plume.
+Even I, who had no especial taste nor love for masculine beauty, felt my
+sense of the beautiful strongly moved by the attractive picture my
+new-found friend presented. His dress, manner, and bearing, polished by
+the friction of life at a luxurious court, must have appeared god-like to
+Dorothy. She had never travelled farther from home than Buxton and
+Derby-town, and had met only the half-rustic men belonging to the
+surrounding gentry and nobility of Derbyshire, Nottingham, and Stafford.
+She had met but few even of them, and their lives had been spent chiefly
+in drinking, hunting, and gambling--accomplishments that do not fine down
+the texture of a man's nature or fit him for a lady's bower. Sir John
+Manners was a revelation to Dorothy; and she, poor girl, was bewildered
+and bewitched by him.
+
+When John had mounted and was moving away, he looked up to the window
+where Dorothy stood, and a light came to her eyes and a smile to her face
+which no man who knows the sum of two and two can ever mistake if he but
+once sees it.
+
+When I saw the light in Dorothy's eyes, I knew that all the hatred that
+was ever born from all the feuds that had ever lived since the quarrelling
+race of man began its feuds in Eden could not make Dorothy Vernon hate the
+son of her father's enemy.
+
+"I was--was--watching him draw smoke through the--the little stick which
+he holds in his mouth, and--and blow it out again," said Dorothy, in
+explanation of her attitude. She blushed painfully and continued, "I hope
+you do not think--"
+
+"I do not think," I answered. "I would not think of thinking."
+
+"Of course not," she responded, with a forced smile, as she watched Sir
+John pass out of sight under the arch of the innyard gate. I did not
+think. I knew. And the sequel, so full of trouble, soon proved that I was
+right. After John had passed through the gate, Dorothy was willing to go
+home; and when Will Dawson brought the great coach to the inn door, I
+mounted my horse and rode beside the ladies to Haddon Hall, two miles
+north from Rowsley.
+
+I shall not stop to tell you of the warm welcome given me by Sir George
+Vernon, nor of his delight when I briefly told him my misfortunes in
+Scotland--misfortunes that had brought me to Haddon Hall. Nor shall I
+describe the great boar's head supper given in my honor, at which there
+were twenty men who could have put me under the table. I thought I knew
+something of the art of drinking, but at that supper I soon found I was a
+mere tippler compared with these country guzzlers. At that feast I learned
+also that Dorothy, when she had hinted concerning Sir George's excessive
+drinking, had told the truth. He, being the host, drank with all his
+guests. Near midnight he grew distressingly drunk, talkative, and violent,
+and when toward morning he was carried from the room by his servants, the
+company broke up. Those who could do so reeled home; those who could not
+walk at all were put to bed by the retainers at Haddon Hall. I had chosen
+my bedroom high up in Eagle Tower. At table I had tried to remain sober.
+That, however, was an impossible task, for at the upper end of the hall
+there was a wrist-ring placed in the wainscoting at a height of ten or
+twelve inches above the head of an ordinary man, and if he refused to
+drink as much as the other guests thought he should, his wrist was
+fastened above his head in the ring, and the liquor which he should have
+poured down his throat was poured down his sleeve. Therefore to avoid this
+species of rustic sport I drank much more than was good for me. When the
+feast closed I thought I was sober enough to go to my room unassisted; so
+I took a candle, and with a great show of self-confidence climbed the
+spiral stone stairway to the door of my room. The threshold of my door was
+two or three feet above the steps of the stairway, and after I had
+contemplated the distance for a few minutes, I concluded that it would not
+be safe for me to attempt to climb into my sleeping apartments without
+help. Accordingly I sat down upon the step on which I had been standing,
+placed my candle beside me, called loudly for a servant, received no
+response, and fell asleep only to be awakened by one of Sir George's
+retainers coming downstairs next morning.
+
+After that supper, in rapid succession, followed hunting and drinking,
+feasting and dancing in my honor. At the dances the pipers furnished the
+music, or, I should rather say, the noise. Their miserable wailings
+reminded me of Scotland. After all, thought I, is the insidious, polished
+vice of France worse than the hoggish, uncouth practices of Scotland and
+of English country life? I could not endure the latter, so I asked Sir
+George, on the pretext of ill health, to allow me to refuse invitations to
+other houses, and I insisted that he should give no more entertainments at
+Haddon Hall on my account. Sir George eagerly acquiesced in all my wishes.
+In truth, I was treated like an honored guest and a member of the family,
+and I congratulated myself that my life had fallen in such pleasant lines.
+Dorothy and Madge became my constant companions, for Sir George's time
+was occupied chiefly with his estates and with his duties as magistrate. A
+feeling of rest and contentment came over me, and my past life drifted
+back of me like an ever receding cloud.
+
+Thus passed the months of October and November.
+
+In the meantime events in Scotland and in England proved my wisdom in
+seeking a home at Haddon Hall, and showed me how great was my good fortune
+in finding it.
+
+Queen Mary was a prisoner at Lochleven Castle, and her brother Murray had
+beheaded many of her friends. Elizabeth, hating Mary as only a plain,
+envious woman can hate one who is transcendently beautiful, had, upon
+different pretexts, seized many of Mary's friends who had fled to England
+for sanctuary, and some of them had suffered imprisonment or death.
+
+Elizabeth, in many instances, had good cause for her attitude toward
+Mary's friends, since plots were hatching thick and fast to liberate Mary
+from Lochleven; and many such plots, undoubtedly, had for their chief end
+the deposition of Elizabeth, and the enthronement of Mary as Queen of
+England.
+
+As a strict matter of law, Mary was rightful heir to the English throne,
+and Elizabeth was an usurper. Parliament, at Henry's request, had declared
+that Elizabeth, his issue by Anne Boleyn, was illegitimate, and that being
+true, Mary was next in line of descent. The Catholics of England took that
+stand, and Mary's beauty and powers of fascination had won for her friends
+even in the personal household of the Virgin Queen. Small cause for wonder
+was it that Elizabeth, knowing all these facts, looked with suspicion and
+fear upon Mary's refugee friends.
+
+The English queen well knew that Sir George Vernon was her friend,
+therefore his house and his friendship were my sanctuary, without which
+my days certainly would have been numbered in the land of Elizabeth, and
+their number would have been small. I was dependent on Sir George not only
+for a roof to shelter me, but for my very life. I speak of these things
+that you may know some of the many imperative reasons why I desired to
+please and conciliate my cousin. In addition to those reasons, I soon grew
+to love Sir George, not only because of his kindness to me, but because he
+was a lovable man. He was generous, just, and frank, and although at times
+he was violent almost to the point of temporary madness, his heart was
+usually gentle, and was as easily touched by kindness as it was quickly
+moved to cruelty by injury, fancied or actual. I have never known a more
+cruel, tender man than he. You will see him in each of his natures before
+you have finished this history. But you must judge him only after you have
+considered his times, which were forty years ago, his surroundings, and
+his blood.
+
+During those two months remarkable changes occurred within the walls of
+Haddon, chief of which were in myself, and, alas! in Dorothy.
+
+My pilgrimage to Haddon, as you already know, had been made for the
+purpose of marrying my fair cousin; for I did not, at the time I left
+Scotland, suppose I should need Sir George's protection against Elizabeth.
+When I met Dorothy at Rowsley, my desire to marry her became personal, in
+addition to the mercenary motives with which I had originally started. But
+I quickly recognized the fact that the girl was beyond my reach. I knew I
+could not win her love, even though I had a thousand years to try for it;
+and I would not accept her hand in marriage solely at her father's
+command. I also soon learned that Dorothy was the child of her father,
+gentle, loving, and tender beyond the naming, but also wilful, violent,
+and fierce to the extent that no command could influence her.
+
+First I shall speak of the change within myself. I will soon be done with
+so much "I" and "me," and you shall have Dorothy to your heart's content,
+or trouble, I know not which.
+
+Soon after my arrival at Haddon Hall the sun ushered in one of those
+wonderful days known only to the English autumn, when the hush of Nature's
+drowsiness, just before her long winter's sleep, imparts its soft
+restfulness to man, as if it were a lotus feast. Dorothy was
+ostentatiously busy with her household matters, and was consulting with
+butler, cook, and steward. Sir George had ridden out to superintend his
+men at work, and I, wandering aimlessly about the hail, came upon Madge
+Stanley sitting in the chaplain's room with folded hands.
+
+"Lady Madge, will you go with me for a walk this beautiful morning?" I
+asked.
+
+"Gladly would I go, Sir Malcolm," she responded, a smile brightening her
+face and quickly fading away, "but I--I cannot walk in unfamiliar places.
+I should fail. You would have to lead me by the hand, and that, I fear,
+would mar the pleasure of your walk."
+
+"Indeed, it would not, Lady Madge. I should enjoy my walk all the more."
+
+"If you really wish me to go, I shall be delighted," she responded, as the
+brightness came again to her face. "I sometimes grow weary, and, I
+confess, a little sad sitting alone when Dorothy cannot be with me. Aunt
+Dorothy, now that she has her magnifying glasses,--spectacles, I think
+they are called,--devotes all her time to reading, and dislikes to be
+interrupted."
+
+"I wish it very much," I said, surprised by the real eagerness of my
+desire, and unconsciously endeavoring to keep out of the tones of my voice
+a part of that eagerness.
+
+"I shall take you at your word," she said. "I will go to my room to get my
+hat and cloak."
+
+She rose and began to grope her way toward the door, holding out her
+white, expressive hands in front of her. It was pitiful and beautiful to
+see her, and my emotions welled up in my throat till I could hardly speak.
+
+"Permit me to give you my hand," I said huskily. How I longed to carry
+her! Every man with the right sort of a heart in his breast has a touch of
+the mother instinct in him; but, alas I only a touch. Ah, wondrous and
+glorious womanhood! If you had naught but the mother instinct to lift you
+above your masters by the hand of man-made laws, those masters were still
+unworthy to tie the strings of your shoes.
+
+"Thank you," said the girl, as she clasped my hand, and moved with
+confidence by my side. "This is so much better than the dreadful fear of
+falling. Even through these rooms where I have lived for many years I feel
+safe only in a few places,--on the stairs, and in my rooms, which are also
+Dorothy's. When Dorothy changes the position of a piece of furniture in
+the Hall, she leads me to it several times that I may learn just where it
+is. A long time ago she changed the position of a chair and did not tell
+me. I fell against it and was hurt. Dorothy wept bitterly over the mishap,
+and she has never since failed to tell me of such changes. I cannot make
+you know how kind and tender Dorothy is to me. I feel that I should die
+without her, and I know she would grieve terribly were we to part."
+
+I could not answer. What a very woman you will think I was! I, who could
+laugh while I ran my sword through a man's heart, could hardly restrain my
+tears for pity of this beautiful blind girl.
+
+"Thank you; that will do," she said, when we came to the foot of the great
+staircase. "I can now go to my rooms alone."
+
+When she reached the top she hesitated and groped for a moment; then she
+turned and called laughingly to me while I stood at the bottom of the
+steps, "I know the way perfectly well, but to go alone in any place is not
+like being led."
+
+"There are many ways in which one may be led, Lady Madge," I answered
+aloud. Then I said to myself, "That girl will lead you to Heaven, Malcolm,
+if you will permit her to do so."
+
+But thirty-five years of evil life are hard to neutralize. There is but
+one subtle elixir that can do it--love; and I had not thought of that
+magic remedy with respect to Madge.
+
+I hurriedly fetched my hat and returned to the foot of the staircase.
+Within a minute or two Madge came down stairs holding up the skirt of her
+gown with one hand, while she grasped the banister with the other. As I
+watched her descending I was enraptured with her beauty. Even the
+marvellous vital beauty of Dorothy could not compare with this girl's
+fair, pale loveliness. It seemed to be almost a profanation for me to
+admire the sweet oval of her face. Upon her alabaster skin, the black
+eyebrows, the long lashes, the faint blue veins and the curving red lips
+stood in exquisite relief. While she was descending the stairs, I caught a
+gleam of her round, snowy forearm and wrist; and when my eyes sought the
+perfect curves of her form disclosed by the clinging silk gown she wore, I
+felt that I had sinned in looking upon her, and I was almost glad she
+could not see the shame which was in my face.
+
+"Cousin Malcolm, are you waiting?" she asked from midway in the staircase.
+
+"Yes, I am at the foot of the steps," I answered.
+
+"I called you 'Cousin Malcolm,'" she said, holding out her hand when she
+came near me. "Pardon me; it was a slip of the tongue. I hear 'Cousin
+Malcolm' so frequently from Dorothy that the name is familiar to me."
+
+"I shall be proud if you will call me 'Cousin Malcolm' always. I like the
+name better than any that you can use."
+
+"If you wish it," she said, in sweet, simple candor, "I will call you
+'Cousin Malcolm,' and you may call me 'Cousin Madge' or 'Madge,' just as
+you please."
+
+"'Cousin Madge' it shall be; that is a compact," I answered, as I opened
+the door and we walked out into the fresh air of the bright October
+morning.
+
+"That will stand for our first compact; we are progressing famously," she
+said, with a low laugh of delight.
+
+Ah, to think that the blind can laugh. God is good.
+
+We walked out past the stables and the cottage, and crossed the river on
+the great stone bridge. Then we took our way down the babbling Wye,
+keeping close to its banks, while the dancing waters and even the gleaming
+pebbles seemed to dimple and smile as they softly sang their song of
+welcome to the fair kindred spirit who had come to visit them. If we
+wandered from the banks for but a moment, the waters seemed to struggle
+and turn in their course until they were again by her side, and then would
+they gently flow and murmur their contentment as they travelled forward to
+the sea, full of the memory of her sweet presence. And during all that
+time I led her by the hand. I tell you, friends, 'tis sweet to write of
+it.
+
+When we returned we crossed the Wye by the stone footbridge and entered
+the garden below the terrace at the corner postern. We remained for an
+hour resting upon the terrace balustrade, and before we went indoors Madge
+again spoke of Dorothy.
+
+"I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed this walk, nor how thankful I
+am to you for taking me," she said.
+
+I did not interrupt her by replying, for I loved to hear her talk.
+
+"Dorothy sometimes takes me with her for a short walk, but I seldom have
+that pleasure. Walking is too slow for Dorothy. She is so strong and full
+of life. She delights to ride her mare Dolcy. Have you seen Dolcy?"
+
+"No," I responded.
+
+"You must see her at once. She is the most beautiful animal in the world.
+Though small of limb, she is swift as the wind, and as easy as a cradle in
+her gaits. She is mettlesome and fiery, but full of affection. She often
+kisses Dorothy. Mare and rider are finely mated. Dorothy is the most
+perfect woman, and Dolcy is the most perfect mare. 'The two D's,' we call
+them. But Dorothy says we must be careful not to put a--a dash between
+them," she said with a laugh and a blush.
+
+Then I led Madge into the hall, and she was blithe and happy as if the
+blessed light of day were in her eyes. It was in her soul, and that, after
+all, is where it brings the greatest good.
+
+After that morning, Madge and I frequently walked out when the days were
+pleasant. The autumn was mild, well into winter time, and by the end of
+November the transparent cheeks of the blind girl held an exquisite tinge
+of color, and her form had a new grace from the strength she had acquired
+in exercise. We had grown to be dear friends, and the touch of her hand
+was a pleasure for which I waited eagerly from day to day. Again I say
+thoughts of love for her had never entered my mind. Perhaps their absence
+was because of my feeling that they could not possibly exist in her heart
+for me.
+
+One evening in November, after the servants had all gone to bed, Sir
+George and I went to the kitchen to drink a hot punch before retiring for
+the night. I drank a moderate bowl and sat in a large chair before the
+fire, smoking a pipe of tobacco, while Sir George drank brandy toddy at
+the massive oak table in the middle of the room.
+
+Sir George was rapidly growing drunk. He said: "Dawson tells me that the
+queen's officers arrested another of Mary Stuart's damned French friends
+at Derby-town yesterday,--Count somebody; I can't pronounce their
+miserable names."
+
+"Can you not remember his name?" I asked. "He may be a friend of mine." My
+remark was intended to remind Sir George that his language was offensive
+to me.
+
+"That is true, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "I beg your pardon. I meant
+to speak ill only of Mary's meddlesome friends, who are doing more injury
+than good to their queen's cause by their plotting."
+
+I replied: "No one can regret these plots more than I do. They certainly
+will work great injury to the cause they are intended to help. But I fear
+many innocent men are made to suffer for the few guilty ones. Without your
+protection, for which I cannot sufficiently thank you, my life here would
+probably be of short duration. After my misfortunes in Scotland, I know
+not what I should have done had it not been for your generous welcome. I
+lost all in Scotland, and it would now be impossible for me to go to
+France. An attempt on my part to escape would result in my arrest. Fortune
+certainly has turned her capricious back upon me, with the one exception
+that she has left me your friendship."
+
+"Malcolm, my boy," said Sir George, drawing his chair toward me, "that
+which you consider your loss is my great gain. I am growing old, and if
+you, who have seen so much of the gay world, will be content to live with
+us and share our dulness and our cares, I shall be the happiest man in
+England."
+
+"I thank you more than I can tell," I said, careful not to commit myself
+to any course.
+
+"Barring my quarrel with the cursed race of Manners," continued Sir
+George, "I have little to trouble me; and if you will remain with us, I
+thank God I may leave the feud in good hands. Would that I were young
+again only for a day that I might call that scoundrel Rutland and his imp
+of a son to account in the only manner whereby an honest man may have
+justice of a thief. There are but two of them, Malcolm,--father and
+son,--and if they were dead, the damned race would be extinct."
+
+I believe that Sir George Vernon when sober could not have spoken in that
+fashion even of his enemies.
+
+I found difficulty in replying to my cousin's remarks, so I said
+evasively:--
+
+"I certainly am the most fortunate of men to find so warm a welcome from
+you, and so good a home as that which I have at Haddon Hall. When I met
+Dorothy at the inn, I knew at once by her kindness that my friends of old
+were still true to me. I was almost stunned by Dorothy's beauty."
+
+My mention of Dorothy was unintentional and unfortunate. I had shied from
+the subject upon several previous occasions, but Sir George was
+continually trying to lead up to it. This time my lack of forethought
+saved him the trouble.
+
+"Do you really think that Doll is very beautiful--so very beautiful? Do
+you really think so, Malcolm?" said the old gentleman, rubbing his hands
+in pride and pleasure.
+
+"Surprisingly beautiful," I answered, seeking hurriedly through my mind
+for an excuse to turn the conversation. I had within two months learned
+one vital fact: beautiful as Dorothy was, I did not want her for my wife,
+and I could not have had her even were I dying for love. The more I
+learned of Dorothy and myself during the autumn through which I had just
+passed--and I had learned more of myself than I had been able to discover
+in the thirty-five previous years of my life--the more clearly I saw the
+utter unfitness of marriage between us.
+
+"In all your travels," asked Sir George, leaning his elbows upon his
+knees and looking at his feet between his hands, "in all your travels and
+court life have you ever seen a woman who was so beautiful as my girl
+Doll?"
+
+His pride in Dorothy at times had a tinge of egotism and selfishness. It
+seemed to be almost the pride of possession and ownership. "My girl!" The
+expression and the tone in which the words were spoken sounded as if he
+had said: "My fine horse," "My beautiful Hall," or "My grand estates."
+Dorothy was his property. Still, he loved the girl passionately. She was
+dearer to him than all his horses, cattle, halls, and estates put
+together, and he loved even them to excess. He loved all that he
+possessed; whatever was his was the best of the sort. Such a love is apt
+to grow up in the breasts of men who have descended from a long line of
+proprietary ancestors, and with all its materialism it has in it
+possibilities of great good. The sturdy, unflinching patriotism of the
+English people springs from this source. The thought, "That which I
+possess is the best," has beauty and use in it, though it leads men to
+treat other men, and, alas! women, as mere chattels. All this was passing
+through my mind, and I forgot to answer Sir George's question.
+
+"Have you ever seen a woman more beautiful than Doll?" he again asked.
+
+"I certainly have never seen one whose beauty may even be compared with
+Dorothy's," I answered.
+
+"And she is young, too," continued Sir George; "she is not yet nineteen."
+
+"That is very young," I answered, not knowing what else to say.
+
+"And she will be rich some day. Very rich. I am called 'King of the Peak,'
+you know, and there are not three estates in Derbyshire which, if
+combined, would equal mine."
+
+"That is true, cousin," I answered, "and I rejoice in your good fortune."
+
+"Dorothy will have it all one of these days--all, all," continued my
+cousin, still looking at his feet.
+
+After a long pause, during which Sir George took several libations from
+his bowl of toddy, he cleared his throat and said, "So Dorothy is the most
+beautiful girl and the richest heiress you know?"
+
+"Indeed she is," I responded, knowing full well what he was leading up to.
+Realizing that in spite of me he would now speak his mind, I made no
+attempt to turn the current of the conversation.
+
+After another long pause, and after several more draughts from the bowl,
+my old friend and would-be benefactor said: "You may remember a little
+conversation between us when you were last at Haddon six or seven years
+ago, about--about Dorothy? You remember?"
+
+I, of course, dared not pretend that I had forgotten.
+
+"Yes, I remember," I responded.
+
+"What do you think of the proposition by this time?" asked Sir George.
+"Dorothy and all she will inherit shall be yours--"
+
+"Stop, stop, Sir George!" I exclaimed. "You do not know what you say. No
+one but a prince or a great peer of the realm is worthy of aspiring to
+Dorothy's hand. When she is ready to marry you should take her to London
+court, where she can make her choice from among the nobles of our land.
+There is not a marriageable duke or earl in England who would not eagerly
+seek the girl for a wife. My dear cousin, your generosity overwhelms me,
+but it must not be thought of. I am utterly unworthy of her in person,
+age, and position. No! no!"
+
+"But listen to me, Malcolm," responded Sir George. "Your modesty, which,
+in truth, I did not know you possessed, is pleasing to me; but I have
+reasons of my own for wishing that you should marry Dorothy. I want my
+estates to remain in the Vernon name, and one day you or your children
+will make my house and my name noble. You and Dorothy shall go to court,
+and between you--damme! if you can't win a dukedom, I am no prophet. You
+would not object to change your faith, would you?"
+
+"Oh, no," I responded, "of course I should not object to that."
+
+"Of course not. I knew you were no fool," said Sir George. "Age! why, you
+are only thirty-five years old--little more than a matured boy. I prefer
+you to any man in England for Dorothy's husband."
+
+"You overwhelm me with your kindness," I returned, feeling that I was
+being stranded on a very dangerous shore, amidst wealth and beauty.
+
+"Tut, tut, there's no kindness in it," returned my cousin. "I do not offer
+you Dorothy's hand from an unselfish motive. I have told you one motive,
+but there is another, and a little condition besides, Malcolm." The brandy
+Sir George had been drinking had sent the devil to his brain.
+
+"What is the condition?" I asked, overjoyed to hear that there was one.
+
+The old man leaned toward me and a fierce blackness overclouded his face.
+"I am told, Malcolm, that you have few equals in swordsmanship, and that
+the duello is not new to you. Is it true?"
+
+"I believe I may say it is true," I answered. "I have fought successfully
+with some of the most noted duellists of--"
+
+"Enough, enough! Now, this is the condition, Malcolm,--a welcome one to
+you, I am sure; a welcome one to any brave man." His eyes gleamed with
+fire and hatred. "Quarrel with Rutland and his son and kill both of them."
+
+I felt like recoiling from the old fiend. I had often quarrelled and
+fought, but, thank God, never in cold blood and with deliberate intent to
+do murder.
+
+"Then Dorothy and all I possess shall be yours," said Sir George. "The old
+one will be an easy victim. The young one, they say, prides himself on his
+prowess. I do not know with what cause, I have never seen him fight. In
+fact, I have never seen the fellow at all. He has lived at London court
+since he was a child, and has seldom, if ever, visited this part of the
+country. He was a page both to Edward VI. and to Queen Mary. Why Elizabeth
+keeps the damned traitor at court to plot against her is more than I can
+understand. Do the conditions suit you, Malcolm?" asked Sir George,
+piercing me with his eyes.
+
+I did not respond, and he continued: "All I ask is your promise to kill
+Rutland and his son at the first opportunity. I care not how. The marriage
+may come off at once. It can't take place too soon to please me."
+
+I could not answer for a time. The power to speak and to think had left
+me. To accept Sir George's offer was out of the question. To refuse it
+would be to give offence beyond reparation to my only friend, and you know
+what that would have meant to me. My refuge was Dorothy. I knew, however
+willing I might be or might appear to be, Dorothy would save me the
+trouble and danger of refusing her hand. So I said:--
+
+"We have not consulted Dorothy. Perhaps her inclinations--"
+
+"Doll's inclinations be damned. I have always been kind and indulgent to
+her, and she is a dutiful, obedient daughter. My wish and command in this
+affair will furnish inclinations enough for Doll."
+
+"But, Sir George," I remonstrated, "I would not accept the hand of Dorothy
+nor of any woman unless she desired it. I could not. I could not."
+
+"If Doll consents, I am to understand that you accept?" asked Sir George.
+
+I saw no way out of the dilemma, and to gain time I said, "Few men in
+their right mind would refuse so flattering an offer unless there were a
+most potent reason, and I--I--"
+
+"Good! good! I shall go to bed happy to-night for the first time in years.
+The Rutlands will soon be out of my path."
+
+There is a self-acting retribution in our evil passions which never fails
+to operate. One who hates must suffer, and Sir George for years had paid
+the penalty night and day, unconscious that his pain was of his own
+making.
+
+Before we parted I said, "This is a delicate matter, with reference to
+Dorothy, and I insist that you give me time to win, if possible, her
+kindly regard before you express to her your wish."
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense, Malcolm! I'll tell the girl about it in the morning,
+and save you the trouble. The women will want to make some new gowns
+and--"
+
+"But," I interrupted emphatically, "I will not have it so. It is every
+man's sweet privilege to woo the woman of his choice in his own way. It is
+not a trouble to me; it is a pleasure, and it is every woman's right to be
+wooed by the man who seeks her. I again insist that I only shall speak to
+Dorothy on this subject. At least, I demand that I be allowed to speak
+first."
+
+"That's all damned nonsense," responded Sir George; "but if you will have
+it so, well and good. Take your own course. I suppose it's the fashion at
+court. The good old country way suits me. A girl's father tells her whom
+she is to marry, and, by gad, she does it without a word and is glad to
+get a man. English girls obey their parents. They know what to expect if
+they don't--the lash, by God and the dungeon under the keep. Your
+roundabout method is all right for tenants and peasants; but among people
+who possess estates and who control vast interests, girls are--girls
+are--Well, they are born and brought up to obey and to help forward the
+interests of their houses." The old man was growing very drunk, and after
+a long pause he continued: "Have your own way, Malcolm, but don't waste
+time. Now that the matter is settled, I want to get it off my hands
+quickly."
+
+"I shall speak to Dorothy on the subject at the first favorable
+opportunity," I responded; "but I warn you, Sir George, that if Dorothy
+proves disinclined to marry me, I will not accept her hand."
+
+"Never fear for Doll; she will be all right," and we parted.
+
+Doll all right! Had he only known how very far from "all right" Dorothy
+was, he would have slept little that night.
+
+This brings me to the other change of which I spoke--the change in
+Dorothy. Change? It was a metamorphosis.
+
+A fortnight after the scene at The Peacock I accidentally discovered a
+drawing made by Dorothy of a man with a cigarro in his mouth. The girl
+snatched the paper from my hands and blushed convincingly.
+
+"It is a caricature of--of him," she said. She smiled, and evidently was
+willing to talk upon the subject of "him." I declined the topic.
+
+This happened a month or more previous to my conversation with Sir George
+concerning Dorothy. A few days after my discovery of the cigarro picture,
+Dorothy and I were out on the terrace together. Frequently when she was
+with me she would try to lead the conversation to the topic which I well
+knew was in her mind, if not in her heart, at all times. She would speak
+of our first meeting at The Peacock, and would use every artifice to
+induce me to bring up the subject which she was eager to discuss, but I
+always failed her. On the day mentioned when we were together on the
+terrace, after repeated failures to induce me to speak upon the desired
+topic, she said, "I suppose you never meet--meet--him when you ride out?"
+
+"Whom, Dorothy?" I asked.
+
+"The gentleman with the cigarro," she responded, laughing nervously.
+
+"No," I answered, "I know nothing of him."
+
+The subject was dropped.
+
+At another time she said, "He was in the village--Overhaddon--yesterday."
+
+Then I knew who "him" was.
+
+"How do you know?" I asked.
+
+"Jennie Faxton, the farrier's daughter, told me. She often comes to the
+Hall to serve me. She likes to act as my maid, and is devoted to me."
+
+"Did he send any word to you?" I asked at a venture. The girl blushed and
+hung her head. "N-o," she responded.
+
+"What was it, Dorothy?" I asked gently. "You may trust me."
+
+"He sent no word to me," the girl responded. "Jennie said she heard two
+gentlemen talking about me in front of the farrier's shop, and one of them
+said something about--oh, I don't know what it was. I can't tell you. It
+was all nonsense, and of course he did not mean it."
+
+"Tell me all, Dorothy," I said, seeing that she really wanted to speak.
+
+"Oh, he said something about having seen Sir George Vernon's daughter at
+Rowsley, and--and--I can't tell you what he said, I am too full of shame."
+If her cheeks told the truth, she certainly was "full of shame."
+
+"Tell me all, sweet cousin; I am sorry for you," I said. She raised her
+eyes to mine in quick surprise with a look of suspicion.
+
+"You may trust me, Dorothy. I say it again, you may trust me."
+
+"He spoke of my beauty and called it marvellous," said the girl. "He said
+that in all the world there was not another woman--oh, I can't tell you."
+
+"Yes, yes, go on, Dorothy," I insisted.
+
+"He said," she continued, "that he could think of nothing else but me day
+or night since he had first seen me at Rowsley--that I had bewitched him
+and--and--Then the other gentleman said, 'John, don't play with fire; it
+will burn you. Nothing good can come of it for you.'"
+
+"Did Jennie know who the gentleman was?" I asked.
+
+"No," returned Dorothy.
+
+"How do you know who he was?"
+
+"Jennie described him," she said.
+
+"How did she describe him?" I asked.
+
+"She said he was--he was the handsomest man in the world and--and that he
+affected her so powerfully she fell in love with him in spite of herself.
+The little devil, to dare! You see that describes him perfectly."
+
+I laughed outright, and the girl blushed painfully.
+
+"It does describe him," she said petulantly. "You know it does. No one can
+gainsay that he is wonderfully, dangerously handsome. I believe the woman
+does not live who could refrain from feasting her eyes on his noble
+beauty. I wonder if I shall ever again--again." Tears were in her voice
+and almost in her eyes.
+
+"Dorothy! My God, Dorothy!" I exclaimed in terror.
+
+"Yes! yes! My God, Dorothy!" she responded, covering her face with her
+hands and sighing deeply, as she dropped her head and left me.
+
+Yes, yes, my God, Dorothy! The helpless iron and the terrible loadstone!
+The passive seed! The dissolving cloud and the falling rain!
+
+Less than a week after the above conversation, Dorothy, Madge, and I were
+riding from Yulegrave Church up to the village of Overhaddon, which lies
+one mile across the hills from Haddon Hall. My horse had cast a shoe, and
+we stopped at Faxton's shop to have him shod. The town well is in the
+middle of an open space called by the villagers "The Open," around which
+are clustered the half-dozen houses and shops that constitute the village.
+The girls were mounted, and I was standing beside them in front of the
+farrier's, waiting for my horse. Jennie Faxton, a wild, unkempt girl of
+sixteen, was standing in silent admiration near Dorothy. Our backs were
+turned toward the well. Suddenly a light came into Jennie's face, and she
+plucked Dorothy by the skirt of her habit.
+
+"Look, mistress, look! Look there by the well!" said Jennie in a whisper.
+Dorothy looked toward the well. I also turned my head and beheld my
+friend, Sir John, holding a bucket of water for his horse to drink. I had
+not seen him since we parted at The Peacock, and I did not show that I
+recognized him. I feared to betray our friendship to the villagers. They,
+however, did not know Sir John, and I need not have been so cautious. But
+Dorothy and Madge were with me, and of course I dared not make any
+demonstration of acquaintanceship with the enemy of our house.
+
+Dorothy watched John closely, and when he was ready to mount she struck
+her horse with the whip, and boldly rode to the well.
+
+"May I ask you to give my mare water?" she said.
+
+"Certainly. Ah, I beg pardon. I did not understand," answered Sir John,
+confusedly. John, the polished, self-poised courtier, felt the confusion
+of a country rustic in the presence of this wonderful girl, whose
+knowledge of life had been acquired within the precincts of Haddon Hall.
+Yet the inexperienced girl was self-poised and unconfused, while the wits
+of the courtier, who had often calmly flattered the queen, had all gone
+wool-gathering.
+
+She repeated her request.
+
+"Certainly," returned John, "I--I knew what you said--but--but you
+surprise me."
+
+"Yes," said brazen Dorothy, "I have surprised myself."
+
+John, in his haste to satisfy Dolcy's thirst, dashed the water against the
+skirt of Dorothy's habit, and was profuse in his apologies.
+
+"Do not mention it," said Dorothy. "I like a damp habit. The wind cannot
+so easily blow it about," and she laughed as she shook the garment to free
+it of the water. Dolcy refused to drink, and Dorothy having no excuse to
+linger at the well, drew up her reins and prepared to leave. While doing
+so, she said:--
+
+"Do you often come to Overhaddon?" Her eager eyes shone like red coals,
+and looking at John, she awaited smilingly his response.
+
+"Seldom," answered John; "not often. I mean every day--that is, if I may
+come."
+
+"Any one may come to the village whenever he wishes to do so," responded
+Dorothy, laughing too plainly at Sir John's confusion. "Is it seldom, or
+not often, or every day that you come?" In her overconfidence she was
+chaffing him. He caught the tone, and looked quickly into the girl's eyes.
+Her gaze could not stand against John's for a moment, and the long lashes
+drooped to shade her eyes from the fierce light of his.
+
+"I said I would come to Overhaddon every day," he returned; "and although
+I must have appeared very foolish in my confusion, you cannot
+misunderstand the full meaning of my words."
+
+In John's boldness and in the ring of his voice Dorothy felt the touch of
+her master, against whom she well knew all the poor force she could muster
+would be utterly helpless. She was frightened, and said:--
+
+"I--I must go. Good-by."
+
+When she rode away from him she thought: "I believed because of his
+confusion that I was the stronger. I could not stand against him for a
+moment. Holy Virgin! what have I done, and to what am I coming?"
+
+You may now understand the magnitude of the task which Sir George had set
+for me when he bade me marry his daughter and kill the Rutlands. I might
+perform the last-named feat, but dragon fighting would be mere child's
+play compared with the first, while the girl's heart was filled with the
+image of another man.
+
+I walked forward to meet Dorothy, leaving Madge near the farrier's shop.
+
+"Dorothy, are you mad? What have you been doing?" I asked.
+
+"Could you not see?" she answered, under her breath, casting a look of
+warning toward Madge and a glance of defiance at me. "Are you, too, blind?
+Could you not see what I was doing?"
+
+"Yes," I responded.
+
+"Then why do you ask?"
+
+As I went back to Madge I saw John ride out of the village by the south
+road. I afterward learned that he rode gloomily back to Rutland Castle
+cursing himself for a fool. His duty to his father, which with him was a
+strong motive, his family pride, his self love, his sense of caution, all
+told him that he was walking open-eyed into trouble. He had tried to
+remain away from the vicinity of Haddon Hall, but, despite his
+self-respect and self-restraint, he had made several visits to Rowsley and
+to Overhaddon, and at one time had ridden to Bakewell, passing Haddon
+Hall on his way thither. He had as much business in the moon as at
+Overhaddon, yet he told Dorothy he would be at the village every day, and
+she, it seemed, was only too willing to give him opportunities to transact
+his momentous affairs.
+
+As the floating cloud to the fathomless blue, as the seed to the earth, as
+the iron to the lodestone, so was Dorothy unto John.
+
+Thus you see our beautiful pitcher went to the well and was broken.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE GOLDEN HEART
+
+
+The day after Dorothy's first meeting with Manners at Overhaddon she was
+restless and nervous, and about the hour of three in the afternoon she
+mounted Dolcy and rode toward Bakewell. That direction, I was sure, she
+took for the purpose of misleading us at the Hall, and I felt confident
+she would, when once out of sight, head her mare straight for Overhaddon.
+Within an hour Dorothy was home again, and very ill-tempered.
+
+The next day she rode out in the morning. I asked her if I should ride
+with her, and the emphatic "No" with which she answered me left no room
+for doubt in my mind concerning her desire for my company or her
+destination. Again she returned within an hour and hurried to her
+apartments. Shortly afterward Madge asked me what Dorothy was weeping
+about; and although in my own mind I was confident of the cause of
+Dorothy's tears, I, of course, did not give Madge a hint of my suspicion.
+Yet I then knew, quite as well as I now know, that John, notwithstanding
+the important business which he said would bring him to Overhaddon every
+day, had forced himself to remain at home, and Dorothy, in consequence,
+suffered from anger and wounded pride. She had twice ridden to Overhaddon
+to meet him. She had done for his sake that which she knew she should have
+left undone, and he had refused the offering. A smarting conscience, an
+aching heart, and a breast full of anger were Dorothy's rewards for her
+evil doing. The day after her second futile trip to Overhaddon, I, to test
+her, spoke of John. She turned upon me with the black look of a fury, and
+hurled her words at me.
+
+"Never again speak his despised name in my hearing. Curse him and his
+whole race."
+
+"Now what has he been doing?" I asked.
+
+"I tell you, I will not speak of him, nor will I listen to you," and she
+dashed away from me like a fiery whirlwind.
+
+Four or five days later the girl rode out again upon Dolcy. She was away
+from home for four long hours, and when she returned she was so gentle,
+sweet, and happy that she was willing to kiss every one in the household
+from Welch, the butcher, to Sir George. She was radiant. She clung to
+Madge and to me, and sang and romped through the house like Dorothy of
+old.
+
+Madge said, "I am so glad you are feeling better, Dorothy." Then, speaking
+to me: "She has been ill for several days. She could not sleep."
+
+Dorothy looked quickly over to me, gave a little shrug to her shoulders,
+bent forward her face, which was red with blushing, and kissed Madge
+lingeringly upon the lips.
+
+The events of Dorothy's trip I soon learned from her.
+
+The little scene between Dorothy, Madge, and myself, after Dorothy's
+joyful return, occurred a week before the momentous conversation between
+Sir George and me concerning my union with his house. Ten days after Sir
+George had offered me his daughter and his lands, he brought up the
+subject again. He and I were walking on the ridge of Bowling Green Hill.
+
+"I am glad you are making such fair progress with Doll," said Sir George.
+"Have you yet spoken to her upon the subject?"
+
+I was surprised to hear that I had made any progress. In fact, I did not
+know that I had taken a single step. I was curious to learn in what the
+progress consisted, so I said:--
+
+"I have not spoken to Dorothy yet concerning the marriage, and I fear that
+I have made no progress at all. She certainly is friendly enough to me,
+but--"
+
+"I should say that the gift from you she exhibited would indicate
+considerable progress," said Sir George, casting an expressive glance
+toward me.
+
+"What gift?" I stupidly inquired.
+
+"The golden heart, you rascal. She said you told her it had belonged to
+your mother."
+
+"Holy Mother of Truth!" thought I, "pray give your especial care to my
+cousin Dorothy. She needs it."
+
+Sir George thrust at my side with his thumb and continued:--
+
+"Don't deny it, Malcolm. Damme, you are as shy as a boy in this matter.
+But perhaps you know better than I how to go at her. I was thinking only
+the other day that your course was probably the right one. Doll, I
+suspect, has a dash of her old father's temper, and she may prove a little
+troublesome unless we let her think she is having her own way. Oh, there
+is nothing like knowing how to handle them, Malcolm. Just let them think
+they are having their own way and--and save trouble. Doll may have more of
+her father in her than I suspect, and perhaps it is well for us to move
+slowly. You will be able to judge, but you must not move too slowly. If in
+the end she should prove stubborn, we will break her will or break her
+neck. I would rather have a daughter in Bakewell churchyard than a wilful,
+stubborn, disobedient huzzy in Haddon Hall."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Sir George had been drinking, and my slip concerning the gift passed
+unnoticed by him.
+
+"I am sure you well know how to proceed in this matter, but don't be too
+cautious, Malcolm; the best woman living loves to be stormed."
+
+"Trust me," I answered, "I shall speak--" and my words unconsciously sank
+away to thought, as thought often, and inconveniently at times, grows into
+words.
+
+"Dorothy, Dorothy," said the thoughts again and again, "where came you by
+the golden heart?" and "where learned you so villanously to lie?"
+
+"From love," was the response, whispered by the sighing winds. "From love,
+that makes men and women like unto gods and teaches them the tricks of
+devils." "From love," murmured the dry rustling leaves and the rugged
+trees. "From love," sighed the fleecy clouds as they floated in the sweet
+restful azure of the vaulted sky. "From love," cried the mighty sun as he
+poured his light and heat upon the eager world to give it life. I would
+not give a fig for a woman, however, who would not lie herself black in
+the face for the sake of her lover, and I am glad that it is a virtue few
+women lack. One who would scorn to lie under all other circumstances
+would--but you understand. I suppose that Dorothy had never before uttered
+a real lie. She hated all that was evil and loved all that was good till
+love came a-teaching.
+
+I quickly invented an excuse to leave Sir George, and returned to the Hall
+to seek Dorothy. I found her and asked her to accompany me for a few
+minutes that I might speak with her privately. We went out upon the
+terrace and I at once began:--
+
+"You should tell me when I present you gifts that I may not cause trouble
+by my ignorance nor show surprise when I suddenly learn what I have done.
+You see when a man gives a lady a gift and he does not know it, he is apt
+to--"
+
+"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Dorothy, pale with fear and consternation. "Did
+you--"
+
+"No, I did not betray you, but I came perilously near it."
+
+"I--I wanted to tell you about it. I tried several times to do so--I did
+so long to tell somebody, but I could not bring myself to speak. I was
+full of shame, yet I was proud and happy, for all that happened was good
+and pure and sacred. You are not a woman; you cannot know--"
+
+"But I do know. I know that you saw Manners the other day, and that he
+gave you a golden heart."
+
+"How did you know? Did any one--"
+
+"Tell me? No. I knew it when you returned after five hours' absence,
+looking radiant as the sun."
+
+"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, with a startled movement.
+
+"I also knew," I continued, "that at other times when you rode out upon
+Dolcy you had not seen him."
+
+"How did you know?" she asked, with quick-coming breath.
+
+"By your ill-humor," I answered.
+
+"I knew it was so. I felt that everybody knew all that I had been doing. I
+could almost see father and Madge and you--even the servants--reading the
+wickedness written upon my heart. I knew that I could hide it from
+nobody." Tears were very near the girl's eyes.
+
+"We cannot help thinking that our guilty consciences, through which we see
+so plainly our own evil, are transparent to all the world. In that fact
+lies an evil-doer's greatest danger," said I, preacher fashion; "but you
+need have no fear. What you have done I believe is suspected by no one
+save me."
+
+A deep sigh of relief rose from the girl's heaving breast.
+
+"Well," she began, "I will tell you all about it, and I am only too glad
+to do so. It is heavy, Malcolm, heavy on my conscience. But I would not
+be rid of it for all the kingdoms of the earth."
+
+"A moment since you told me that your conduct was good and pure and
+sacred, and now you tell me that it is heavy on your conscience. Does one
+grieve, Dorothy, for the sake of that which is good and pure and sacred?"
+
+"I cannot answer your question," she replied. "I am no priest. But this I
+know: I have done no evil, and my conscience nevertheless is sore. Solve
+me the riddle, Malcolm, if you can."
+
+"I cannot solve your riddle, Dorothy," I replied; "but I feel sure it will
+be far safer for each of us if you will tell me all that happens
+hereafter."
+
+"I am sure you are right," she responded; "but some secrets are so
+delicious that we love to suck their sweets alone. I believe, however,
+your advice is good, and I will tell you all that has happened, though I
+cannot look you in the face while doing it." She hesitated a moment, and
+her face was red with tell-tale blushes. She continued, "I have acted most
+unmaidenly."
+
+"Unmaidenly perhaps, but not unwomanly," said I.
+
+"I thank you," she said, interrupting my sentence. It probably was well
+that she did so, for I was about to add, "To act womanly often means to
+get yourself into mischief and your friends into as much trouble as
+possible." Had I finished my remark, she would not have thanked me.
+
+"Well," said the girl, beginning her laggard narrative, "after we saw--saw
+him at Overhaddon, you know, I went to the village on each of three
+days--"
+
+"Yes, I know that also," I said.
+
+"How did you--but never mind. I did not see him, and when I returned home
+I felt angry and hurt and--and--but never mind that either. One day I
+found him, and I at once rode to the well where he was standing by his
+horse. He drew water for Dolcy, but the perverse mare would not drink."
+
+"A characteristic of her sex," I muttered.
+
+"What did you say?" asked the girl.
+
+"Nothing."
+
+She continued: "He seemed constrained and distant in his manner, but I
+knew, that is, I thought--I mean I felt--oh, you know--he looked as if he
+were glad to see me and I--I, oh, God! I was so glad and happy to see him
+that I could hardly restrain myself to act at all maidenly. He must have
+heard my heart beat. I thought he was in trouble. He seemed to have
+something he wished to say to me."
+
+"He doubtless had a great deal he wished to say to you," said I, again
+tempted to futile irony.
+
+"I was sure he had something to say," the girl returned seriously. "He was
+in trouble. I knew that he was, and I longed to help him."
+
+"What trouble?" I inquired.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. I forgot to ask, but he looked troubled."
+
+"Doubtless he was troubled," I responded. "He had sufficient cause for
+trouble," I finished the sentence to myself with the words, "in you."
+
+"What was the cause of his trouble?" she hastily asked, turning her face
+toward me.
+
+"I do not know certainly," I answered in a tone of irony which should have
+pierced an oak board, while the girl listened and looked at me eagerly;
+"but I might guess."
+
+"What was it? What was it? Let me hear you guess," she asked.
+
+"You," I responded laconically.
+
+"I!" she exclaimed in surprise.
+
+"Yes, you," I responded with emphasis. "You would bring trouble to any
+man, but to Sir John Manners--well, if he intends to keep up these
+meetings with you it would be better for his peace and happiness that he
+should get him a house in hell, for he would live there more happily than
+on this earth."
+
+"That is a foolish, senseless remark, Malcolm," the girl replied, tossing
+her head with a show of anger in her eyes. "This is no time to jest." I
+suppose I could not have convinced her that I was not jesting.
+
+"At first we did not speak to each other even to say good day, but stood
+by the well in silence for a very long time. The village people were
+staring at us, and I felt that every window had a hundred faces in it, and
+every face a hundred eyes."
+
+"You imagined that," said I, "because of your guilty conscience."
+
+"Perhaps so. But it seemed to me that we stood by the well in silence a
+very long time. You see, Cousin Malcolm, I was not the one who should
+speak first. I had done more than my part in going to meet him."
+
+"Decidedly so," said I, interrupting the interesting narrative.
+
+"When I could bear the gaze of the villagers no longer, I drew up my reins
+and started to leave The Open by the north road. After Dolcy had climbed
+halfway up North Hill, which as you know overlooks the village, I turned
+my head and saw Sir John still standing by the well, resting his hand upon
+his horse's mane. He was watching me. I grew angry, and determined that he
+should follow me, even if I had to call him. So I drew Dolcy to a stand.
+Was not that bold in me? But wait, there is worse to come, Malcolm. He did
+not move, but stood like a statue looking toward me. I knew that he wanted
+to come, so after a little time I--I beckoned to him and--and then he came
+like a thunderbolt. Oh! it was delicious. I put Dolcy to a gallop, for
+when he started toward me I was frightened. Besides I did not want him to
+overtake me till we were out of the village. But when once he had started,
+he did not wait. He was as swift now as he had been slow, and my heart
+throbbed and triumphed because of his eagerness, though in truth I was
+afraid of him. Dolcy, you know, is very fleet, and when I touched her with
+the whip she soon put half a mile between me and the village. Then I
+brought her to a walk and--and he quickly overtook me.
+
+"When he came up to me he said: 'I feared to follow you, though I ardently
+wished to do so. I dreaded to tell you my name lest you should hate me.
+Sir Malcolm at The Peacock said he would not disclose to you my identity.
+I am John Manners. Our fathers are enemies.'
+
+"Then I said to him, 'That is the reason I wish to talk to you. I wished
+you to come to meet me because I wanted to tell you that I regret and
+deplore the feud between our fathers.'--'Ah, you wished me to come?' he
+asked.--'Of course I did,' I answered, 'else why should I be here?'--'No
+one regrets the feud between our houses so deeply as I,' replied Sir John.
+'I can think of nothing else by day, nor can I dream of anything else by
+night. It is the greatest cause for grief and sorrow that has ever come
+into my life.' You see, Cousin Malcolm," the girl continued, "I was right.
+His father's conduct does trouble him. Isn't he noble and broad-minded to
+see the evil of his father's ways?"
+
+I did not tell the girl that Sir John's regret for the feud between the
+houses of Manners and Vernon grew out of the fact that it separated him
+from her; nor did I tell her that he did not grieve over his "father's
+ways."
+
+I asked, "Did Sir John tell you that he grieved because of his father's
+ill-doing?"
+
+"N-o, not in set terms, but--that, of course, would have been very hard
+for him to say. I told you what he said, and there could be no other
+meaning to his words."
+
+"Of course not," I responded.
+
+"No, and I fairly longed to reach out my hand and clutch him,
+because--because I was so sorry for him."
+
+"Was sorrow your only feeling?" I asked.
+
+The girl looked at me for a moment, and her eyes filled with tears. Then
+she sobbed gently and said, "Oh, Cousin Malcolm, you are so old and so
+wise." ("Thank you," thought I, "a second Daniel come to judgment at
+thirty-five; or Solomon and Methuselah in one.") She continued: "Tell me,
+tell me, what is this terrible thing that has come upon me. I seem to be
+living in a dream. I am burning with a fever, and a heavy weight is here
+upon my breast. I cannot sleep at night. I can do nothing but long and
+yearn for--for I know not what--till at times it seems that some
+frightful, unseen monster is slowly drawing the heart out of my bosom. I
+think of--of him at all times, and I try to recall his face, and the tones
+of his voice until, Cousin Malcolm, I tell you I am almost mad. I call
+upon the Holy Virgin hour by hour to pity me; but she is pure, and cannot
+know what I feel. I hate and loathe myself. To what am I coming? Where
+will it all end? Yet I can do nothing to save myself. I am powerless
+against this terrible feeling. I cannot even resolve to resist it. It came
+upon me mildly that day at The Peacock Inn, when I first saw him, and it
+grows deeper and stronger day by day, and, alas! night by night. I seem to
+have lost myself. In some strange way I feel as if I had sunk into
+him--that he had absorbed me."
+
+"The iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain," thought I.
+
+"I believed," continued the girl, "that if he would exert his will I might
+have relief; but there again I find trouble, for I cannot bring myself to
+ask him to will it. The feeling within me is like a sore heart: painful as
+it is, I must keep it. Without it I fear I could not live."
+
+After this outburst there was a long pause during which she walked by my
+side, seemingly unconscious that I was near her. I had known for some time
+that Dorothy was interested in Manners; but I was not prepared to see such
+a volcano of passion. I need not descant upon the evils and dangers of the
+situation. The thought that first came to me was that Sir George would
+surely kill his daughter before he would allow her to marry a son of
+Rutland. I was revolving in my mind how I should set about to mend the
+matter when Dorothy again spoke.
+
+"Tell me, Cousin Malcolm, can a man throw a spell over a woman and bewitch
+her?"
+
+"I do not know. I have never heard of a man witch," I responded.
+
+"No?" asked the girl.
+
+"But," I continued, "I do know that a woman may bewitch a man. John
+Manners, I doubt not, could also testify knowingly on the subject by this
+time."
+
+"Oh, do you think he is bewitched?" cried Dorothy, grasping my arm and
+looking eagerly into my face. "If I could bewitch him, I would do it. I
+would deal with the devil gladly to learn the art. I would not care for my
+soul. I do not fear the future. The present is a thousand-fold dearer to
+me than either the past or the future. I care not what comes hereafter. I
+want him now. Ah, Malcolm, pity my shame."
+
+She covered her face with her hands, and after a moment continued: "I am
+not myself. I belong not to myself. But if I knew that he also suffers, I
+do believe my pain would be less."
+
+"I think you may set your heart at rest upon that point," I answered. "He,
+doubtless, also suffers."
+
+"I hope so," she responded, unconscious of the selfish wish she had
+expressed. "If he does not, I know not what will be my fate."
+
+I saw that I had made a mistake in assuring her that John also suffered,
+and I determined to correct it later on, if possible.
+
+Dorothy was silent, and I said, "You have not told me about the golden
+heart."
+
+"I will tell you," she answered. "We rode for two hours or more, and
+talked of the weather and the scenery, until there was nothing more to be
+said concerning either. Then Sir John told me of the court in London,
+where he has always lived, and of the queen whose hair, he says, is red,
+but not at all like mine. I wondered if he would speak of the beauty of my
+hair, but he did not. He only looked at it. Then he told me about the
+Scottish queen whom he once met when he was on an embassy to Edinburgh. He
+described her marvellous beauty, and I believe he sympathizes with her
+cause--that is, with her cause in Scotland. He says she has no good cause
+in England. He is true to our queen. Well--well he talked so interestingly
+that I could have listened a whole month--yes, all my life."
+
+"I suppose you could," I said.
+
+"Yes," she continued, "but I could not remain longer from home, and when I
+left him he asked me to accept a keepsake which had belonged to his
+mother, as a token that there should be no feud between him and me." And
+she drew from her bosom a golden heart studded with diamonds and pierced
+by a white silver arrow.
+
+"I, of course, accepted it, then we said 'good-by,' and I put Dolcy to a
+gallop that she might speedily take me out of temptation."
+
+"Have you ridden to Overhaddon for the purpose of seeing Manners many
+times since he gave you the heart?" I queried.
+
+"What would you call 'many times'?" she asked, drooping her head.
+
+"Every day?" I said interrogatively. She nodded. "Yes. But I have seen
+him only once since the day when he gave me the heart."
+
+Nothing I could say would do justice to the subject, so I remained silent.
+
+"But you have not yet told me how your father came to know of the golden
+heart," I said.
+
+"It was this way: One morning while I was looking at the heart, father
+came upon me suddenly before I could conceal it. He asked me to tell him
+how I came by the jewel, and in my fright and confusion I could think of
+nothing else to say, so I told him you had given it to me. He promised not
+to speak to you about the heart, but he did not keep his word. He seemed
+pleased."
+
+"Doubtless he was pleased," said I, hoping to lead up to the subject so
+near to Sir George's heart, but now farther than ever from mine.
+
+The girl unsuspectingly helped me.
+
+"Father asked if you had spoken upon a subject of great interest to him
+and to yourself, and I told him you had not. 'When he does speak,' said
+father most kindly, 'I want you to grant his request'--and I will grant
+it, Cousin Malcolm." She looked in my face and continued: "I will grant
+your request, whatever it may be. You are the dearest friend I have in the
+world, and mine is the most loving and lovable father that girl ever had.
+It almost breaks my heart when I think of his suffering should he learn of
+what I have done--that which I just told to you." She walked beside me
+meditatively for a moment and said, "To-morrow I will return Sir John's
+gift and I will never see him again."
+
+I felt sure that by to-morrow she would have repented of her repentance;
+but I soon discovered that I had given her much more time than she needed
+to perform that trifling feminine gymnastic, for with the next breath she
+said:--
+
+"I have no means of returning the heart. I must see him once more and I
+will give--give it--it--back to--to him, and will tell him that I can see
+him never again." She scarcely had sufficient resolution to finish telling
+her intention. Whence, then, would come the will to put it in action?
+Forty thieves could not have stolen the heart from her, though she thought
+she was honest when she said she would take it to him.
+
+"Dorothy," said I, seriously but kindly, "have you and Sir John spoken
+of--"
+
+She evidently knew that I meant to say "of love," for she interrupted me.
+
+"N-o, but surely he knows. And I--I think--at least I hope with all my
+heart that--"
+
+"I will take the heart to Sir John," said I, interrupting her angrily,
+"and you need not see him again. He has acted like a fool and a knave. He
+is a villain, Dorothy, and I will tell him as much in the most emphatic
+terms I have at my command."
+
+"Dare you speak against him or to him upon the subject!" she exclaimed,
+her eyes blazing with anger; "you--you asked for my confidence and I gave
+it. You said I might trust you and I did so, and now you show me that I am
+a fool indeed. Traitor!"
+
+"My dear cousin," said I, seeing that she spoke the truth in charging me
+with bad faith, "your secret is safe with me. I swear it by my knighthood.
+You may trust me. I spoke in anger. But Sir John has acted badly. That you
+cannot gainsay. You, too, have done great evil. That also you cannot
+gainsay."
+
+"No," said the girl, dejectedly, "I cannot deny it; but the greatest evil
+is yet to come."
+
+"You must do something," I continued. "You must take some decisive step
+that will break this connection, and you must take the step at once if you
+would save yourself from the frightful evil that is in store for you.
+Forgive me for what I said, sweet cousin. My angry words sprang from my
+love for you and my fear for your future."
+
+No girl's heart was more tender to the influence of kindness than
+Dorothy's. No heart was more obdurate to unkindness or peremptory command.
+
+My words softened her at once, and she tried to smother the anger I had
+aroused. But she did not entirely succeed, and a spark remained which in a
+moment or two created a disastrous conflagration. You shall hear.
+
+She walked by my side in silence for a little time, and then spoke in a
+low, slightly sullen tone which told of her effort to smother her
+resentment.
+
+"I do trust you, Cousin Malcolm. What is it that you wish to ask of me?
+Your request is granted before it is made."
+
+"Do not be too sure of that, Dorothy," I replied. "It is a request your
+father ardently desires me to make, and I do not know how to speak to you
+concerning the subject in the way I wish."
+
+I could not ask her to marry me, and tell her with the same breath that I
+did not want her for my wife. I felt I must wait for a further opportunity
+to say that I spoke only because her father had required me to do so, and
+that circumstances forced me to put the burden of refusal upon her. I well
+knew that she would refuse me, and then I intended to explain.
+
+"Why, what is it all about?" asked the girl in surprise, suspecting, I
+believe, what was to follow.
+
+"It is this: your father is anxious that his vast estates shall not pass
+out of the family name, and he wishes you to be my wife, so that your
+children may bear the loved name of Vernon."
+
+I could not have chosen a more inauspicious time to speak. She looked at
+me for an instant in surprise, turning to scorn. Then she spoke in tones
+of withering contempt.
+
+"Tell my father that I shall never bear a child by the name of Vernon. I
+would rather go barren to my grave. Ah! that is why Sir John Manners is a
+villain? That is why a decisive step should be taken? That is why you come
+to my father's house a-fortune-hunting? After you have squandered your
+patrimony and have spent a dissolute youth in profligacy, after the women
+of the class you have known will have no more of you but choose younger
+men, you who are old enough to be my father come here and seek your
+fortune, as your father sought his, by marriage. I do not believe that my
+father wishes me to--to marry you. You have wheedled him into giving his
+consent when he was in his cups. But even if he wished it with all his
+heart, I would not marry you." Then she turned and walked rapidly toward
+the Hall.
+
+Her fierce words angered me; for in the light of my real intentions her
+scorn was uncalled for, and her language was insulting beyond endurance.
+For a moment or two the hot blood rushed to my brain and rendered me
+incapable of intelligent thought. But as Dorothy walked from me I realized
+that something must be done at once to put myself right with her. When my
+fit of temper had cooled, and when I considered that the girl did not know
+my real intentions, I could not help acknowledging that in view of all
+that had just passed between us concerning Sir John Manners, and, in fact,
+in view of all that she had seen and could see, her anger was justifiable.
+
+I called to her: "Dorothy, wait a moment. You have not heard all I have to
+say."
+
+She hastened her pace. A few rapid strides brought me to her side. I was
+provoked, not at her words, for they were almost justifiable, but because
+she would not stop to hear me. I grasped her rudely by the arm and
+said:--
+
+"Listen till I have finished."
+
+"I will not," she answered viciously. "Do not touch me."
+
+I still held her by the arm and said: "I do not wish to marry you. I spoke
+only because your father desired me to do so, and because my refusal to
+speak would have offended him beyond any power of mine to make amends. I
+could not tell you that I did not wish you for my wife until you had given
+me an opportunity. I was forced to throw the burden of refusal upon you."
+
+"That is but a ruse--a transparent, flimsy ruse," responded the stubborn,
+angry girl, endeavoring to draw her arm from my grasp.
+
+"It is not a ruse," I answered. "If you will listen to me and will help me
+by acting as I suggest, we may between us bring your father to our way of
+thinking, and I may still be able to retain his friendship."
+
+"What is your great plan?" asked Dorothy, in a voice such as one might
+expect to hear from a piece of ice.
+
+"I have formed no plan as yet," I replied, "although I have thought of
+several. Until we can determine upon one, I suggest that you permit me to
+say to your father that I have asked you to be my wife, and that the
+subject has come upon you so suddenly that you wish a short time,--a
+fortnight or a month--in which to consider your answer."
+
+"That is but a ruse, I say, to gain time," she answered contemptuously. "I
+do not wish one moment in which to consider. You already have my answer. I
+should think you had had enough. Do you desire more of the same sort? A
+little of such treatment should go a long way with a man possessed of one
+spark of honor or self-respect."
+
+Her language would have angered a sheep.
+
+"If you will not listen to me," I answered, thoroughly aroused and
+careless of consequences, "go to your father. Tell him I asked you to be
+my wife, and that you scorned my suit. Then take the consequences. He has
+always been gentle and tender to you because there has been no conflict.
+Cross his desires, and you will learn a fact of which you have never
+dreamed. You have seen the manner in which he treats others who oppose
+him. You will learn that with you, too, he can be one of the cruelest and
+most violent of men."
+
+"You slander my father. I will go to him as you advise and will tell him
+that I would not marry you if you wore the English crown. I, myself, will
+tell him of my meeting with Sir John Manners rather than allow you the
+pleasure of doing so. He will be angry, but he will pity me."
+
+"For God's sake, Dorothy, do not tell your father of your meetings at
+Overhaddon. He would kill you. Have you lived in the same house with him
+all these years and do you not better know his character than to think
+that you may go to him with the tale you have just told me, and that he
+will forgive you? Feel as you will toward me, but believe me when I swear
+to you by my knighthood that I will betray to no person what you have this
+day divulged to me."
+
+Dorothy made no reply, but turned from me and rapidly walked toward the
+Hall. I followed at a short distance, and all my anger was displaced by
+fear for her. When we reached the Hall she quickly sought her father and
+approached him in her old free manner, full of confidence in her influence
+over him.
+
+"Father, this man"--waving her hand toward me--"has come to Haddon Hall
+a-fortune-hunting. He has asked me to be his wife, and says you wish me to
+accept him."
+
+"Yes, Doll, I certainly wish it with all my heart," returned Sir George,
+affectionately, taking his daughter's hand.
+
+"Then you need wish it no longer, for I will not marry him."
+
+"What?" demanded her father, springing to his feet.
+
+"I will not. I will not. I will not."
+
+"You will if I command you to do so, you damned insolent wench," answered
+Sir George, hoarsely. Dorothy's eyes opened in wonder.
+
+"Do not deceive yourself, father, for one moment," she retorted
+contemptuously. "He has come here in sheep's clothing and has adroitly
+laid his plans to convince you that I should marry him, but--"
+
+"He has done nothing of the sort," answered Sir George, growing more angry
+every moment, but endeavoring to be calm. "Nothing of the sort. Many years
+ago I spoke to him on this subject, which is very dear to my heart. The
+project has been dear to me ever since you were a child. When I again
+broached it to Malcolm a fortnight or more since I feared from his manner
+that he was averse to the scheme. I had tried several times to speak to
+him about it, but he warded me off, and when I did speak, I feared that he
+was not inclined to it."
+
+"Yes," interrupted the headstrong girl, apparently bent upon destroying
+both of us. "He pretended that he did not wish to marry me. He said he
+wished me to give a sham consent for the purpose of gaining time till we
+might hit upon some plan by which we could change your mind. He said he
+had no desire nor intention to marry me. It was but a poor, lame ruse on
+his part."
+
+During Dorothy's recital Sir George turned his face from her to me. When
+she had finished speaking, he looked at me for a moment and said:--
+
+"Does my daughter speak the truth? Did you say--"
+
+"Yes," I promptly replied, "I have no intention of marrying your
+daughter." Then hoping to place myself before Sir George in a better
+light, I continued: "I could not accept the hand of a lady against her
+will. I told you as much when we conversed on the subject."
+
+"What?" exclaimed Sir George, furious with anger. "You too? You whom I
+have befriended?"
+
+"I told you, Sir George, I would not marry Dorothy without her free
+consent. No gentleman of honor would accept the enforced compliance of a
+woman."
+
+"But Doll says that you told her you had no intention of marrying her even
+should she consent," replied Sir George.
+
+"I don't know that I spoke those exact words," I replied, "but you may
+consider them said."
+
+"You damned, ungrateful, treacherous hound!" stormed Sir George. "You
+listened to me when I offered you my daughter's hand, and you pretended to
+consent without at the time having any intention of doing so."
+
+"That, I suppose, is true, Sir George," said I, making a masterful effort
+against anger. "That is true, for I knew that Dorothy would not consent;
+and had I been inclined to the marriage, I repeat, I would marry no woman
+against her will. No gentleman would do it."
+
+My remark threw Sir George into a paroxysm of rage.
+
+"I did it, you cur, you dog, you--you traitorous, ungrateful--I did it."
+
+"Then, Sir George," said I, interrupting him, for I was no longer able to
+restrain my anger, "you were a cowardly poltroon."
+
+"This to me in my house!" he cried, grasping a chair with which to strike
+me. Dorothy came between us.
+
+"Yes," said I, "and as much more as you wish to hear." I stood my ground,
+and Sir George put down the chair.
+
+"Leave my house at once," he said in a whisper of rage.
+
+"If you are on my premises in one hour from now I will have you flogged
+from my door by the butcher."
+
+"What have I done?" cried Dorothy. "What have I done?"
+
+"Your regrets come late, Mistress Vernon," said I.
+
+"She shall have more to regret," said Sir George, sullenly. "Go to your
+room, you brazen, disobedient huzzy, and if you leave it without my
+permission, by God, I will have you whipped till you bleed. I will teach
+you to say 'I won't' when I say 'you shall.' God curse my soul, if I don't
+make you repent this day!"
+
+As I left the room Dorothy was in tears, and Sir George was walking the
+floor in a towering rage. The girl had learned that I was right in what I
+had told her concerning her father's violent temper.
+
+I went at once to my room in Eagle Tower and collected my few belongings
+in a bundle. Pitifully small it was, I tell you.
+
+Where I should go I knew not, and where I should remain I knew even less,
+for my purse held only a few shillings--the remnant of the money Queen
+Mary had sent to me by the hand of Sir Thomas Douglas. England was as
+unsafe for me as Scotland; but how I might travel to France without money,
+and how I might without a pass evade Elizabeth's officers who guarded
+every English port, even were I supplied with gold, were problems for
+which I had no solution.
+
+There were but two persons in Haddon Hall to whom I cared to say farewell.
+They were Lady Madge and Will Dawson. The latter was a Scot, and was
+attached to the cause of Queen Mary. He and I had become friends, and on
+several occasions we had talked confidentially over Mary's sad plight.
+
+When my bundle was packed, I sought Madge and found her in the gallery
+near the foot of the great staircase. She knew my step and rose to greet
+me with a bright smile.
+
+"I have come to say good-by to you, Cousin Madge," said I. The smile
+vanished from her face.
+
+"You are not going to leave Haddon Hall?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, and forever," I responded. "Sir George has ordered me to go."
+
+"No, no," she exclaimed. "I cannot believe it. I supposed that you and my
+uncle were friends. What has happened? Tell me if you can--if you wish.
+Let me touch your hand," and as she held out her hands, I gladly grasped
+them.
+
+I have never seen anything more beautiful than Madge Stanley's hands. They
+were not small, but their shape, from the fair, round forearm and wrist to
+the ends of the fingers was worthy of a sculptor's dream. Beyond their
+physical beauty there was an expression in them which would have belonged
+to her eyes had she possessed the sense of sight. The flood of her vital
+energy had for so many years been directed toward her hands as a
+substitute for her lost eyesight that their sensitiveness showed itself
+not only in an infinite variety of delicate gestures and movements,
+changing with her changing moods, but they had an expression of their own,
+such as we look for in the eyes. I had gazed upon her hands so often, and
+had studied so carefully their varying expression, discernible both to my
+sight and to my touch, that I could read her mind through them as we read
+the emotions of others through the countenance. The "feel" of her hands,
+if I may use the word, I can in no way describe. Its effect on me was
+magical. The happiest moments I have ever known were those when I held the
+fair blind girl by the hand and strolled upon the great terrace or
+followed the babbling winding course of dear old Wye, and drank in the
+elixir of all that is good and pure from the cup of her sweet, unconscious
+influence.
+
+Madge, too, had found happiness in our strolling. She had also found
+health and strength, and, marvellous to say, there had come to her a
+slight improvement in vision. She had always been able to distinguish
+sunlight from darkness, but with renewed strength had come the power dimly
+to discern dark objects in a strong light, and even that small change for
+the better had brought unspeakable gladness to her heart. She said she
+owed it all to me. A faint pink had spread itself in her cheeks and a
+plumpness had been imparted to her form which gave to her ethereal beauty
+a touch of the material. Nor was this to be regretted, for no man can
+adequately make love to a woman who has too much of the angel in her. You
+must not think, however, that I had been making love to Madge. On the
+contrary, I again say, the thought had never entered my mind. Neither at
+that time had I even suspected that she would listen to me upon the great
+theme. I had in my self-analysis assigned many reasons other than love for
+my tenderness toward her; but when I was about to depart, and she
+impulsively gave me her hands, I, believing that I was grasping them for
+the last time, felt the conviction come upon me that she was dearer to me
+than all else in life.
+
+"Do you want to tell me why my uncle has driven you from Haddon?" she
+asked.
+
+"He wished me to ask Dorothy to be my wife," I returned.
+
+"And you?" she queried.
+
+"I did so."
+
+Instantly the girl withdrew her hands from mine and stepped back from me.
+Then I had another revelation. I knew what she meant and felt. Her hands
+told me all, even had there been no expression in her movement and in her
+face.
+
+"Dorothy refused," I continued, "and her father desired to force her into
+compliance. I would not be a party to the transaction, and Sir George
+ordered me to leave his house."
+
+After a moment of painful silence Madge said:--"I do not wonder that you
+should wish to marry Dorothy. She--she must be very beautiful."
+
+"I do not wish to marry Dorothy," said I. I heard a slight noise back of
+me, but gave it no heed. "And I should not have married her had she
+consented. I knew that Dorothy would refuse me, therefore I promised Sir
+George that I would ask her to be my wife. Sir George had always been my
+friend, and should I refuse to comply with his wishes, I well knew he
+would be my enemy. He is bitterly angry against me now; but when he
+becomes calm, he will see wherein he has wronged me. I asked Dorothy to
+help me, but she would not listen to my plan."
+
+"--and now she begs your forgiveness," cried Dorothy, as she ran weeping
+to me, and took my hand most humbly.
+
+"Dorothy! Dorothy!" I exclaimed.
+
+"What frightful evil have I brought upon you?" said she. "Where can you
+go? What will you do?"
+
+"I know not," I answered. "I shall probably go to the Tower of London when
+Queen Elizabeth's officers learn of my quarrel with Sir George. But I will
+try to escape to France."
+
+"Have you money?" asked Madge, tightly holding one of my hands.
+
+"A small sum," I answered.
+
+"How much have you? Tell me. Tell me how much have you," insisted Madge,
+clinging to my hand and speaking with a force that would brook no refusal.
+
+"A very little sum, I am sorry to say; only a few shillings," I
+responded.
+
+She quickly withdrew her hand from mine and began to remove the baubles
+from her ears and the brooch from her throat. Then she nervously stripped
+the rings from her fingers and held out the little handful of jewels
+toward me, groping for my hands.
+
+"Take these, Malcolm. Take these, and wait here till I return." She turned
+toward the staircase, but in her confusion she missed it, and before I
+could reach her, she struck against the great newel post.
+
+"God pity me," she said, as I took her hand. "I wish I were dead. Please
+lead me to the staircase, Cousin Malcolm. Thank you."
+
+She was weeping gently when she started up the steps, and I knew that she
+was going to fetch me her little treasure of gold.
+
+Madge held up the skirt of her gown with one hand while she grasped the
+banister with the other. She was halfway up when Dorothy, whose generous
+impulses needed only to be prompted, ran nimbly and was about to pass her
+on the staircase when Madge grasped her gown.
+
+"Please don't, Dorothy. Please do not. I beg you, do not forestall me. Let
+me do this. Let me. You have all else to make you happy. Don't take this
+from me only because you can see and can walk faster than I."
+
+Dorothy did not stop, but hurried past her. Madge sank upon the steps and
+covered her face with her hands. Then she came gropingly back to me just
+as Dorothy returned.
+
+"Take these, Cousin Malcolm," cried Dorothy. "Here are a few stones of
+great value. They belonged to my mother."
+
+Madge was sitting dejectedly upon the lowest step of the staircase.
+Dorothy held her jewel-box toward me, and in the midst of the diamonds and
+gold I saw the heart John Manners had given her. I did not take the box.
+
+"Do you offer me this, too--even this?" I said, lifting the heart from the
+box by its chain.--"Yes, yes," cried Dorothy, "even that, gladly, gladly."
+I replaced it in the box.
+
+Then spoke Madge, while she tried to check the falling tears:--"Dorothy,
+you are a cruel, selfish girl."
+
+"Oh, Madge," cried Dorothy, stepping to her side and taking her hand. "How
+can you speak so unkindly to me?"
+
+"You have everything good," interrupted Madge. "You have beauty, wealth,
+eyesight, and yet you would not leave to me the joy of helping him. I
+could not see, and you hurried past me that you might be first to give him
+the help of which I was the first to think."
+
+Dorothy was surprised at the outburst from Madge, and kneeled by her side.
+
+"We may both help Cousin Malcolm," she said.
+
+"No, no," responded Madge, angrily. "Your jewels are more than enough. He
+would have no need of my poor offering."
+
+I took Madge's hand and said, "I shall accept help from no one but you,
+Madge; from no one but you."
+
+"I will go to our rooms for your box," said Dorothy, who had begun to see
+the trouble. "I will fetch it for you."
+
+"No, I will fetch it," answered Madge. She arose, and I led her to the
+foot of the staircase. When she returned she held in her hands a purse and
+a little box of jewels. These she offered to me, but I took only the
+purse, saying: "I accept the purse. It contains more money than I shall
+need. From its weight I should say there are twenty gold pounds sterling."
+
+"Twenty-five," answered Madge. "I have saved them, believing that the
+time might come when they would be of great use to me. I did not know the
+joy I was saving for myself."
+
+Tears came to my eyes, and Dorothy wept silently.
+
+"Will you not take the jewels also?" asked Madge.
+
+"No," I responded; "the purse will more than pay my expenses to France,
+where I have wealthy relatives. There I may have my mother's estate for
+the asking, and I can repay you the gold. I can never repay your
+kindness."
+
+"I hope you will never offer to repay the gold," said Madge.
+
+"I will not," I gladly answered.
+
+"As to the kindness," she said, "you have paid me in advance for that
+many, many times over."
+
+I then said farewell, promising to send letters telling of my fortune. As
+I was leaving I bent forward and kissed Madge upon the forehead, while she
+gently pressed my hand, but did not speak a word.
+
+"Cousin Malcolm," said Dorothy, who held my other hand, "you are a strong,
+gentle, noble man, and I want you to say that you forgive me."
+
+"I do forgive you, Dorothy, from my heart. I could not blame you if I
+wished to do so, for you did not know what you were doing."
+
+"Not to know is sometimes the greatest of sins," answered Dorothy. I bent
+forward to kiss her cheek in token of my full forgiveness, but she gave me
+her lips and said: "I shall never again be guilty of not knowing that you
+are good and true and noble, Cousin Malcolm, and I shall never again doubt
+your wisdom or your good faith when you speak to me." She did doubt me
+afterward, but I fear her doubt was with good cause. I shall tell you of
+it in the proper place.
+
+Then I forced myself to leave my fair friends and went to the gateway
+under Eagle Tower, where I found Will Dawson waiting for me with my horse.
+
+"Sir George ordered me to bring your horse," said Will. "He seemed much
+excited. Has anything disagreeable happened? Are you leaving us? I see you
+wear your steel cap and breastplate and are carrying your bundle."
+
+"Yes, Will, your master has quarrelled with me and I must leave his
+house."
+
+"But where do you go, Sir Malcolm? You remember that of which we talked?
+In England no place but Haddon Hall will be safe for you, and the ports
+are so closely guarded that you will certainly be arrested if you try to
+sail for France."
+
+"I know all that only too well, Will. But I must go, and I will try to
+escape to France. If you wish to communicate with me, I may be found by
+addressing a letter in care of the Duc de Guise."
+
+"If I can ever be of help to you," said Will, "personally, or in that
+other matter, Queen Mary, you understand,--you have only to call on me."
+
+"I thank you, Will," I returned, "I shall probably accept your kind offer
+sooner than you anticipate. Do you know Jennie Faxton, the ferrier's
+daughter?"
+
+"I do," he responded.
+
+"I believe she may be trusted," I said.
+
+"Indeed, I believe she is true as any steel in her father's shop," Will
+responded.
+
+"Good-by, Will, you may hear from me soon."
+
+I mounted and rode back of the terrace, taking my way along the Wye toward
+Rowsley. When I turned and looked back, I saw Dorothy standing upon the
+terrace. By her side, dressed in white, stood Madge. Her hand was covering
+her eyes. A step or two below them on the terrace staircase stood Will
+Dawson. They were three stanch friends, although one of them had brought
+my troubles upon me. After all, I was leaving Haddon Hall well garrisoned.
+My heart also was well garrisoned with a faithful troop of pain. But I
+shall write no more of that time. It was too full of bitterness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MINE ENEMY'S ROOF-TREE
+
+
+I rode down the Wye to Rowsley, and by the will of my horse rather than by
+any intention of my own took the road up through Lathkil Dale. I had
+determined if possible to reach the city of Chester, and thence to ride
+down into Wales, hoping to find on the rough Welsh coast a fishing boat or
+a smuggler's craft that would carry me to France. In truth, I cared little
+whether I went to the Tower or to France, since in either case I felt that
+I had looked my last upon Haddon Hall, and had spoken farewell to the only
+person in all the world for whom I really cared. My ride from Haddon gave
+me time for deliberate thought, and I fully agreed with myself upon two
+propositions. First, I became thoroughly conscious of my real feeling
+toward Madge, and secondly, I was convinced that her kindness and her
+peculiar attitude toward me when I parted from her were but the promptings
+of a tender heart stirred by pity for my unfortunate situation, rather
+than what I thought when I said farewell to her. The sweet Wye and the
+beautiful Lathkil whispered to me as I rode beside their banks, but in
+their murmurings I heard only the music of her voice. The sun shone
+brightly, but its blessed light only served to remind me of the beautiful
+girl whom I had left in darkness. The light were worthless to me if I
+could not share it with her. What a mooning lout was I!
+
+All my life I had been a philosopher, and as I rode from Haddon, beneath
+all my gloominess there ran a current of amusement which brought to my
+lips an ill-formed, half-born laugh when I thought of the plight and
+condition in which I, by candid self-communion, found myself. Five years
+before that time I had left France, and had cast behind me all the fair
+possibilities for noble achievement which were offered to me in that land,
+that I might follow the fortunes of a woman whom I thought I loved. Before
+my exile from her side I had begun to fear that my idol was but a thing of
+stone; and now that I had learned to know myself, and to see her as she
+really was, I realized that I had been worshipping naught but clay for lo,
+these many years. There was only this consolation in the thought for me:
+every man at some time in his life is a fool--made such by a woman. It is
+given to but few men to have for their fool-maker the rightful queen of
+three kingdoms. All that was left to me of my life of devotion was a
+shame-faced pride in the quality of my fool-maker. "Then," thought I, "I
+have at last turned to be my own fool-maker." But I suppose it had been
+written in the book of fate that I should ride from Haddon a lovelorn
+youth of thirty-five, and I certainly was fulfilling my destiny to the
+letter.
+
+I continued to ride up the Lathkil until I came to a fork in the road. One
+branch led to the northwest, the other toward the southwest. I was at a
+loss which direction to take, and I left the choice to my horse, in whose
+wisdom and judgement I had more confidence than in my own. My horse,
+refusing the responsibility, stopped. So there we stood like an equestrian
+statue arguing with itself until I saw a horseman riding toward me from
+the direction of Overhaddon. When he approached I recognized Sir John
+Manners. He looked as woebegone as I felt, and I could not help laughing
+at the pair of us, for I knew that his trouble was akin to mine. The pain
+of love is ludicrous to all save those who feel it. Even to them it is
+laughable in others. A love-full heart has no room for that sort of
+charity which pities for kinship's sake.
+
+"What is the trouble with you, Sir John, that you look so downcast?" said
+I, offering my hand.
+
+"Ah," he answered, forcing a poor look of cheerfulness into his face, "Sir
+Malcolm, I am glad to see you. Do I look downcast?"
+
+"As forlorn as a lover who has missed seeing his sweetheart," I responded,
+guessing the cause of Sir John's despondency.
+
+"I have no sweetheart, therefore missing her could not have made me
+downcast," he replied.
+
+"So you really did miss her?" I queried. "She was detained at Haddon Hall,
+Sir John, to bid me farewell."
+
+"I do not understand--" began Sir John, growing cold in his bearing.
+
+"I understand quite well," I answered. "Dorothy told me all to-day. You
+need keep nothing from me. The golden heart brought her into trouble, and
+made mischief for me of which I cannot see the end. I will tell you the
+story while we ride. I am seeking my way to Chester, that I may, if
+possible, sail for France. This fork in the road has brought me to a
+standstill, and my horse refuses to decide which route we shall take.
+Perhaps you will direct us."
+
+"Gladly. The road to the southwest--the one I shall take--is the most
+direct route to Chester. But tell me, how comes it that you are leaving
+Haddon Hall? I thought you had gone there to marry-" He stopped speaking,
+and a smile stole into his eyes.
+
+"Let us ride forward together, and I will tell you about it," said I.
+
+While we travelled I told Sir John the circumstances of my departure from
+Haddon Hall, concealing nothing save that which touched Madge Stanley. I
+then spoke of my dangerous position in England, and told him of my great
+desire to reach my mother's people in France.
+
+"You will find difficulty and danger in escaping to France at this time,"
+said Sir John, "the guard at the ports is very strong and strict, and your
+greatest risk will be at the moment when you try to embark without a
+passport."
+
+"That is true," I responded; "but I know of nothing else that I can do."
+
+"Come with me to Rutland Castle," said Sir John. "You may there find
+refuge until such time as you can go to France. I will gladly furnish you
+money which you may repay at your pleasure, and I may soon be able to
+procure a passport for you."
+
+I thanked him, but said I did not see my way clear to accept his kind
+offer.
+
+"You are unknown in the neighborhood of Rutland," he continued, "and you
+may easily remain incognito." Although his offer was greatly to my liking,
+I suggested several objections, chief among which was the distaste Lord
+Rutland might feel toward one of my name. I would not, of course, consent
+that my identity should be concealed from him. But to be brief--an almost
+impossible achievement for me, it seems--Sir John assured me of his
+father's welcome, and it was arranged between us that I should take my
+baptismal name, Francois de Lorraine, and passing for a French gentleman
+on a visit to England, should go to Rutland with my friend. So it happened
+through the strange workings of fate that I found help and refuge under my
+enemy's roof-tree.
+
+Kind old Lord Rutland welcomed me, as his son had foretold, and I was
+convinced ere I had passed an hour under his roof that the feud between
+him and Sir George was of the latter's brewing.
+
+The happenings in Haddon Hall while I lived at Rutland I knew, of course,
+only by the mouth of others; but for convenience in telling I shall speak
+of them as if I had seen and heard all that took place. I may now say once
+for all that I shall take that liberty throughout this entire history.
+
+On the morning of the day after my departure from Haddon, Jennie Faxton
+went to visit Dorothy and gave her a piece of information, small in
+itself, but large in its effect upon that ardent young lady. Will
+Fletcher, the arrow-maker at Overhaddon, had observed Dorothy's movements
+in connection with Manners; and although Fletcher did not know who Sir
+John was, that fact added to his curiosity and righteous indignation.
+
+"It do be right that some one should tell the King of the Peak as how his
+daughter is carrying on with a young man who does come here every day or
+two to meet her, and I do intend to tell Sir George if she put not a stop
+to it," said Fletcher to some of his gossips in Yulegrave churchyard one
+Sunday afternoon.
+
+Dorothy notified John, Jennie being the messenger, of Will's observations,
+visual and verbal, and designated another place for meeting,--the gate
+east of Bowling Green Hill. This gate was part of a wall on the east side
+of the Haddon estates adjoining the lands of the house of Devonshire which
+lay to the eastward. It was a secluded spot in the heart of the forest
+half a mile distant from Haddon Hall.
+
+Sir George, for a fortnight or more after my disappearance, enforced his
+decree of imprisonment against Dorothy, and she, being unable to leave the
+Hall, could not go to Bowling Green Gate to meet Sir John. Before I had
+learned of the new trysting-place John had ridden thither several evenings
+to meet Dorothy, but had found only Jennie bearing her mistress's excuses.
+I supposed his journeyings had been to Overhaddon; but I did not press his
+confidence, nor did he give it.
+
+Sir George's treatment of Dorothy had taught her that the citadel of her
+father's wrath could be stormed only by gentleness, and an opportunity was
+soon presented in which she used that effective engine of feminine warfare
+to her great advantage.
+
+As I have told you, Sir George was very rich. No man, either noble or
+gentle, in Derbyshire or in any of the adjoining counties, possessed so
+great an estate or so beautiful a hall as did he. In France we would have
+called Haddon Hall a grand chateau.
+
+Sir George's deceased wife had been a sister to the Earl of Derby, who
+lived at the time of which I am now writing. The earl had a son, James,
+who was heir to the title and to the estates of his father. The son was a
+dissipated, rustic clown--almost a simpleton. He had the vulgarity of a
+stable boy and the vices of a courtier. His associates were chosen from
+the ranks of gamesters, ruffians, and tavern maids. Still, he was a scion
+of one of the greatest families of England's nobility.
+
+After Sir George's trouble with Dorothy, growing out of his desire that I
+should wed her, the King of the Peak had begun to feel that in his
+beautiful daughter he had upon his hands a commodity that might at any
+time cause him trouble. He therefore determined to marry her to some
+eligible gentleman as quickly as possible, and to place the heavy
+responsibility of managing her in the hands of a husband. The stubborn
+violence of Sir George's nature, the rough side of which had never before
+been shown to Dorothy, in her became adroit wilfulness of a quality that
+no masculine mind may compass. But her life had been so entirely
+undisturbed by opposing influences that her father, firm in the belief
+that no one in his household would dare to thwart his will, had remained
+in dangerous ignorance of the latent trouble which pervaded his daughter
+from the soles of her shapely feet to the top of her glory-crowned head.
+
+Sir George, in casting about for a son-in-law, had hit upon the heir to
+the house of Derby as a suitable match for his child, and had entered into
+an alliance offensive and defensive with the earl against the common
+enemy, Dorothy. The two fathers had partly agreed that the heir to Derby
+should wed the heiress of Haddon. The heir, although he had never seen his
+cousin except when she was a plain, unattractive girl, was entirely
+willing for the match, but the heiress--well, she had not been consulted,
+and everybody connected with the affair instinctively knew there would be
+trouble in that quarter. Sir George, however, had determined that Dorothy
+should do her part in case the contract of marriage should be agreed upon
+between the heads of the houses. He had fully resolved to assert the
+majesty of the law vested in him as a father and to compel Dorothy to do
+his bidding, if there were efficacy in force and chastisement. At the time
+when Sir George spoke to Dorothy about the Derby marriage, she had been a
+prisoner for a fortnight or more, and had learned that her only hope
+against her father lay in cunning. So she wept, and begged for time in
+which to consider the answer she would give to Lord Derby's request. She
+begged for two months, or even one month, in which to bring herself to
+accede to her father's commands.
+
+"You have always been so kind and good to me, father, that I shall try to
+obey if you and the earl eventually agree upon terms," she said tearfully,
+having no intention whatever of trying to do anything but disobey.
+
+"Try!" stormed Sir George. "Try to obey me! By God, girl, I say you shall
+obey!"
+
+"Oh, father, I am so young. I have not seen my cousin for years. I do not
+want to leave you, and I have never thought twice of any man. Do not drive
+me from you."
+
+Sir George, eager to crush in the outset any disposition to oppose his
+will, grew violent and threatened his daughter with dire punishment if she
+were not docile and obedient.
+
+Then said rare Dorothy:--
+
+"It would indeed be a great match." Greater than ever will happen, she
+thought. "I should be a countess." She strutted across the room with head
+up and with dilating nostrils. The truth was, she desired to gain her
+liberty once more that she might go to John, and was ready to promise
+anything to achieve that end. "What sort of a countess would I make,
+father?"
+
+"A glorious countess, Doll, a glorious countess," said her father,
+laughing. "You are a good girl to obey me so readily."
+
+"Oh, but I have not obeyed you yet," returned Dorothy, fearing that her
+father might be suspicious of a too ready acquiescence.
+
+"But you will obey me," answered Sir George, half in command and half in
+entreaty.
+
+"There are not many girls who would refuse the coronet of a countess." She
+then seated herself upon her father's knee and kissed him, while Sir
+George laughed softly over his easy victory.
+
+Blessed is the man who does not know when he is beaten.
+
+Seeing her father's kindly humor, Dorothy said:--
+
+"Father, do you still wish me to remain a prisoner in my rooms?"
+
+"If you promise to be a good, obedient daughter," returned Sir George,
+"you shall have your liberty."
+
+"I have always been that, father, and I am too old to learn otherwise,"
+answered this girl, whose father had taught her deception by his violence.
+You may drive men, but you cannot drive any woman who is worth possessing.
+You may for a time think you drive her, but in the end she will have her
+way.
+
+Dorothy's first act of obedience after regaining liberty was to send a
+letter to Manners by the hand of Jennie Faxton.
+
+John received the letter in the evening, and all next day he passed the
+time whistling, singing, and looking now and again at his horologue. He
+walked about the castle like a happy wolf in a pen. He did not tell me
+there was a project on foot, with Dorothy as the objective, but I knew it,
+and waited with some impatience for the outcome.
+
+Long before the appointed time, which was sunset, John galloped forth for
+Bowling Green Gate with joy and anticipation in his heart and pain in his
+conscience. As he rode, he resolved again and again that the interview
+toward which he was hastening should be the last he would have with
+Dorothy. But when he pictured the girl to himself, and thought upon her
+marvellous beauty and infinite winsomeness, his conscience was drowned in
+his longing, and he resolved that he would postpone resolving until the
+morrow.
+
+John hitched his horse near the gate and stood looking between the massive
+iron bars toward Haddon Hall, whose turrets could be seen through the
+leafless boughs of the trees. The sun was sinking perilously low, thought
+John, and with each moment his heart also sank, while his good resolutions
+showed the flimsy fibre of their fabric and were rent asunder by the fear
+that she might not come. As the moments dragged on and she did not come, a
+hundred alarms tormented him. First among these was a dread that she might
+have made resolves such as had sprung up so plenteously in him, and that
+she might have been strong enough to act upon them and to remain at home.
+But he was mistaken in the girl. Such resolutions as he had been making
+and breaking had never come to her at all. The difference between the man
+and the woman was this: he resolved in his mind not to see her and failed
+in keeping to his resolution; while she resolved in her heart to see
+him--resolved that nothing in heaven or earth or the other place could
+keep her from seeing him, and succeeded in carrying out her resolution.
+The intuitive resolve, the one that does not know it is a resolution, is
+the sort before which obstacles fall like corn before the sickle.
+
+After John had waited a weary time, the form of the girl appeared above
+the crest of the hill. She was holding up the skirt of her gown, and
+glided over the earth so rapidly that she appeared to be running. Beat!
+beat! oh, heart of John, if there is aught in womanhood to make you throb;
+if there is aught in infinite grace and winsomeness; if there is aught in
+perfect harmony of color and form and movement; if there is aught of
+beauty, in God's power to create that can set you pulsing, beat! for the
+fairest creature of His hand is hastening to greet you. The wind had
+dishevelled her hair and it was blowing in fluffy curls of golden red
+about her face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed with joy and exercise,
+her red lips were parted, and her eyes--but I am wasting words. As for
+John's heart it almost smothered him with its beating. He had never before
+supposed that he could experience such violent throbbing within his breast
+and live. But at last she was at the gate, in all her exquisite beauty and
+winsomeness, and something must be done to make the heart conform to the
+usages of good society. She, too, was in trouble with her breathing, but
+John thought that her trouble was owing to exertion. However that may have
+been, nothing in heaven or earth was ever so beautiful, so radiant, so
+graceful, or so fair as this girl who had come to give herself to John. It
+seems that I cannot take myself away from the attractive theme.
+
+"Ah, Sir John, you did come," said the girl, joyously.
+
+"Yes," John succeeded in replying, after an effort, "and you--I thank you,
+gracious lady, for coming. I do not deserve--" the heart again asserted
+itself, and Dorothy stood by the gate with downcast eyes, waiting to learn
+what it was that John did not deserve. She thought he deserved everything
+good.
+
+"I fear I have caused you fatigue," said John, again thinking, and with
+good reason, that he was a fool.
+
+The English language, which he had always supposed to be his mother
+tongue, had deserted him as if it were his step-mother. After all, the
+difficulty, as John subsequently said, was that Dorothy's beauty had
+deprived him of the power to think. He could only see. He was entirely
+disorganized by a girl whom he could have carried away in his arms.
+
+"I feel no fatigue," replied Dorothy.
+
+"I feared that in climbing the hill you had lost your breath," answered
+disorganized John.
+
+"So I did," she returned. Then she gave a great sigh and said, "Now I am
+all right again."
+
+All right? So is the morning sun, so is the arching rainbow, and so are
+the flitting lights of the north in midwinter. All are "all right" because
+God made them, as He made Dorothy, perfect, each after its kind.
+
+A long, uneasy pause ensued. Dorothy felt the embarrassing silence less
+than John, and could have helped him greatly had she wished to do so. But
+she had made the advances at their former meetings, and as she had told
+me, she "had done a great deal more than her part in going to meet him."
+Therefore she determined that he should do his own wooing thenceforward.
+She had graciously given him all the opportunity he had any right to ask.
+
+While journeying to Bowling Green Gate, John had formulated many true and
+beautiful sentiments of a personal nature which he intended expressing to
+Dorothy; but when the opportunity came for him to speak, the weather, his
+horse, Dorothy's mare Dolcy, the queens of England and Scotland were the
+only subjects on which he could induce his tongue to perform, even
+moderately well.
+
+Dorothy listened attentively while John on the opposite side of the gate
+discoursed limpingly on the above-named themes; and although in former
+interviews she had found those topics quite interesting, upon that
+occasion she had come to Bowling Green Gate to listen to something else
+and was piqued not to hear it. After ten or fifteen minutes she said
+demurely:--
+
+"I may not remain here longer. I shall be missed at the Hall. I regained
+my liberty but yesterday, and father will be suspicious of me during the
+next few days. I must be watchful and must have a care of my behavior."
+
+John summoned his wits and might have spoken his mind freely had he not
+feared to say too much. Despite Dorothy's witchery, honor, conscience, and
+prudence still bore weight with him, and they all dictated that he should
+cling to the shreds of his resolution and not allow matters to go too far
+between him and this fascinating girl. He was much in love with her; but
+Dorothy had reached at a bound a height to which he was still climbing.
+Soon John, also, was to reach the pinnacle whence honor, conscience, and
+prudence were to be banished.
+
+"I fear I must now leave you," said Dorothy, as darkness began to gather.
+
+"I hope I may soon see you again," said John.
+
+"Sometime I will see you if--if I can," she answered with downcast eyes.
+"It is seldom I can leave the Hall alone, but I shall try to come here at
+sunset some future day." John's silence upon a certain theme had given
+offence.
+
+"I cannot tell you how greatly I thank you," cried John.
+
+"I will say adieu," said Dorothy, as she offered him her hand through the
+bars of the gate. John raised the hand gallantly to his lips, and when she
+had withdrawn it there seemed no reason for her to remain. But she stood
+for a moment hesitatingly. Then she stooped to reach into her pocket while
+she daintily lifted the skirt of her gown with the other hand and from the
+pocket drew forth a great iron key.
+
+"I brought this key, thinking that you might wish to unlock the gate--and
+come to--to this side. I had great difficulty in taking it from the
+forester's closet, where it has been hanging for a hundred years or more."
+
+She showed John the key, returned it to her pocket, made a courtesy, and
+moved slowly away, walking backward.
+
+"Mistress Vernon," cried John, "I beg you to let me have the key."
+
+"It is too late, now," said the girl, with downcast eyes. "Darkness is
+rapidly falling, and I must return to the Hall."
+
+John began to climb the gate, but she stopped him. He had thrown away his
+opportunity.
+
+"Please do not follow me, Sir John," said she, still moving backward. "I
+must not remain longer."
+
+"Only for one moment," pleaded John.
+
+"No," the girl responded, "I--I may, perhaps, bring the key when I come
+again. I am glad, Sir John, that you came to meet me this evening." She
+courtesied, and then hurried away toward Haddon Hall. Twice she looked
+backward and waved her hand, and John stood watching her through the bars
+till her form was lost to view beneath the crest of Bowling Green Hill.
+
+"'I brought this key, thinking that you might wish to unlock the gate and
+come to this side,'" muttered John, quoting the girl's words. "Compared
+with you, John Manners, there is no other fool in this world." Then
+meditatively: "I wonder if she feels toward me as I feel toward her?
+Surely she does. What other reason could bring her here to meet me unless
+she is a brazen, wanton creature who is for every man." Then came a
+jealous thought that hurt him like the piercing of a knife. It lasted but
+a moment, however, and he continued muttering to himself: "If she loves me
+and will be my wife, I will--I will ... In God's name what will I do? If I
+were to marry her, old Vernon would kill her, and I--I should kill my
+father."
+
+Then John mounted his horse and rode homeward the unhappiest happy man in
+England. He had made perilous strides toward that pinnacle sans honor,
+sans caution, sans conscience, sans everything but love.
+
+That evening while we were walking on the battlements, smoking, John told
+me of his interview with Dorothy and extolled her beauty, grace, and
+winsomeness which, in truth, as you know, were matchless. But when he
+spoke of "her sweet, shy modesty," I came near to laughing in his face.
+
+"Did she not write a letter asking you to meet her?" I asked.
+
+"Why--y-e-s," returned John.
+
+"And," I continued, "has she not from the first sought you?"
+
+"It almost seems to be so," answered John, "but notwithstanding the fact
+that one might say--might call--that one might feel that her conduct
+is--that it might be--you know, well--it might be called by some persons
+not knowing all the facts in the case, immodest--I hate to use the word
+with reference to her--yet it does not appear to me to have been at all
+immodest in Mistress Vernon, and, Sir Malcolm, I should be deeply offended
+were any of my friends to intimate--"
+
+"Now, John," I returned, laughing at him, "you could not, if you wished,
+make me quarrel with you; and if you desire it, I will freely avow my firm
+belief in the fact that my cousin Dorothy is the flower of modesty. Does
+that better suit you?"
+
+I could easily see that my bantering words did not suit him at all; but I
+laughed at him, and he could not find it in his heart to show his
+ill-feeling.
+
+"I will not quarrel with you," he returned; "but in plain words, I do not
+like the tone in which you speak of her. It hurts me, and I do not believe
+you would wilfully give me pain."
+
+"Indeed, I would not," I answered seriously.
+
+"Mistress Vernon's conduct toward me," John continued, "has been gracious.
+There has been no immodesty nor boldness in it."
+
+I laughed again and said: "I make my humble apologies to her Majesty,
+Queen Dorothy. But in all earnestness, Sir John, you are right: Dorothy is
+modest and pure. As for her conduct toward you, there is a royal quality
+about beauty such as my cousin possesses which gives an air of
+graciousness to acts that in a plainer girl would seem bold. Beauty, like
+royalty, has its own prerogatives."
+
+For a fortnight after the adventures just related, John, in pursuance of
+his oft-repeated resolution not to see Dorothy, rode every evening to
+Bowling Green Gate; but during that time he failed to see her, and the
+resolutions, with each failure, became weaker and fewer.
+
+One evening, after many disappointments, John came to my room bearing in
+his hands a letter which he said Jennie Faxton had delivered to him at
+Bowling Green Gate.
+
+"Mistress Vernon," said John, "and Lady Madge Stanley will ride to
+Derby-town to-morrow. They will go in the Haddon Hall coach, and Dawson
+will drive. Mistress Vernon writes to me thus:--
+
+    "'To SIR JOHN MANNERS:--
+
+    "'My good wishes and my kind greeting. Lady Madge Stanley, my good
+    aunt, Lady Crawford, and myself do intend journeying to Derby-town
+    to-morrow. My aunt, Lady Crawford, is slightly ill, and although I
+    should much regret to see her sickness grow greater, yet if ill she
+    must be, I do hope that her worst day will be upon the morrow, in
+    which case she could not accompany Lady Madge and me. I shall nurse my
+    good aunt carefully this day, and shall importune her to take
+    plentifully of physic that she may quickly recover her health--after
+    to-morrow. Should a gentleman ask of Will Dawson, who will be in the
+    tap-room of the Royal Arms at eleven o'clock of the morning, Dawson
+    will be glad to inform the gentleman concerning Lady Crawford's
+    health. Let us hope that the physic will cure Lady Crawford--by the
+    day after to-morrow at furthest. The said Will Dawson may be trusted.
+    With great respect,
+
+    DOROTHY VERNON.'"
+
+"I suppose the gentleman will be solicitous concerning Lady Crawford's
+health to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock," said I.
+
+"The gentleman is now solicitous concerning Lady Crawford's health,"
+answered John, laughingly. "Was there ever a lady more fair and gracious
+than Mistress Vernon?"
+
+I smiled with a superior air at John's weakness, being, as you know,
+entirely free from his complaint myself, and John continued:--
+
+"Perhaps you would call Mistress Dorothy bold for sending me this letter?"
+
+"It is redolent with shyness," I answered. "But would you really wish poor
+Lady Crawford to be ill that you might witness Mistress Dorothy's
+modesty?"
+
+"Please don't jest on that subject," said John, seriously. "I would wish
+anything, I fear, that would bring me an opportunity to see her, to look
+upon her face, and to hear her voice. For her I believe I would sacrifice
+every one who is dear to me. One day she shall be mine--mine at whatever
+cost--if she will be. If she will be. Ah, there is the rub! If she will
+be. I dare not hope for that."
+
+"I think," said I, "that you really have some little cause to hope."
+
+"You speak in the same tone again. Malcolm, you do not understand her. She
+might love me to the extent that I sometimes hope; but her father and mine
+would never consent to our union, and she, I fear, could not be induced to
+marry me under those conditions. Do not put the hope into my heart."
+
+"You only now said she should be yours some day," I answered.
+
+"So she shall," returned John, "so she shall."
+
+"But Lady Madge is to be with her to-morrow," said I, my own heart beating
+with an ardent wish and a new-born hope, "and you may be unable, after
+all, to see Mistress Dorothy."
+
+"That is true," replied John. "I do not know how she will arrange matters,
+but I have faith in her ingenuity."
+
+Well might he have faith, for Dorothy was possessed of that sort of a will
+which usually finds a way.
+
+"If you wish me to go with you to Derby-town, I will do so. Perhaps I may
+be able to entertain Lady Madge while you have a word with Dorothy. What
+think you of the plan?" I asked.
+
+"If you will go with me, Malcolm, I shall thank you with all my heart."
+
+And so it was agreed between us that we should both go to Derby-town for
+the purpose of inquiring about Lady Crawford's health, though for me the
+expedition was full of hazard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A DANGEROUS TRIP TO DERBY-TOWN
+
+
+The next morning broke brightly, but soon clouds began to gather and a
+storm seemed imminent. We feared that the gloomy prospect of the sky might
+keep Dorothy and Madge at home, but long before the appointed hour John
+and I were at the Royal Arms watching eagerly for the Haddon coach. At the
+inn we occupied a room from which we could look into the courtyard, and at
+the window we stood alternating between exaltation and despair.
+
+When my cogitations turned upon myself--a palpitating youth of
+thirty-five, waiting with beating heart for a simple blind girl little
+more than half my age; and when I remembered how for years I had laughed
+at the tenderness of the fairest women of the French and Scottish
+courts--I could not help saying to myself, "Poor fool! you have achieved
+an early second childhood." But when I recalled Madge in all her beauty,
+purity, and helplessness, my cynicism left me, and I, who had enjoyed all
+of life's ambitious possibilities, calmly reached the conclusion that it
+is sometimes a blessed privilege to be a fool. While I dwelt on thoughts
+of Madge, all the latent good within me came uppermost. There is latent
+good in every man, though it may remain latent all his life. Good
+resolves, pure thoughts, and noble aspirations--new sensations to me, I
+blush to confess--bubbled in my heart, and I made a mental prayer, "If
+this is folly, may God banish wisdom." What is there, after all is said,
+in wisdom, that men should seek it? Has it ever brought happiness to its
+possessor? I am an old man at this writing. I have tasted all the cups of
+life, and from the fulness of my experience I tell you that the simple
+life is the only one wherein happiness is found. When you permit your
+heart and your mind to grow complex and wise, you make nooks and crannies
+for wretchedness to lodge in. Innocence is Nature's wisdom; knowledge is
+man's folly.
+
+An hour before noon our patience was rewarded when we saw the Haddon Hall
+coach drive into the courtyard with Dawson on the box. I tried to make
+myself believe that I did not wish Lady Crawford were ill. But there is
+little profit in too close scrutiny of our deep-seated motives, and in
+this case I found no comfort in self-examination. I really did wish that
+Aunt Dorothy were ill.
+
+My motive studying, however, was brought to a joyous end when I saw Will
+Dawson close the coach door after Madge and Dorothy had alighted.
+
+How wondrously beautiful they were! Had we lived in the days when Olympus
+ruled the world, John surely would have had a god for his rival. Dorothy
+seemed luminous, so radiant was she with the fire of life. As for Madge,
+had I beheld a corona hovering over her head I should have thought it in
+all respects a natural and appropriate phenomenon--so fair and saintlike
+did she appear to me. Her warm white furs and her clinging gown of soft
+light-colored woollen stuff seemed to be a saint's robe, and her dainty
+little hat, fashioned with ermine about the edge of the rim--well, that
+was the corona, and I was ready to worship.
+
+Dorothy, as befitted her, wore a blaze of harmonious colors and looked
+like the spirit of life and youth. I wish I could cease rhapsodizing over
+those two girls, but I cannot. You may pass over it as you read, if you do
+not like it.
+
+"Ye gods! did ever a creature so perfect as she tread the earth?" asked
+John, meaning, of course, Dorothy.
+
+"No," answered I, meaning, of course, Madge.
+
+The girls entered the inn, and John and I descended to the tap-room for
+the purpose of consulting Will Dawson concerning the state of Aunt
+Dorothy's health.
+
+When we entered the tap-room Will was standing near the fireplace with a
+mug of hot punch in his hand. When I touched him, he almost dropped the
+mug so great was his surprise at seeing me.
+
+"Sir Mal--" he began to say, but I stopped him by a gesture. He instantly
+recovered his composure and appeared not to recognize me.
+
+I spoke in broken English, for, as you know, I belong more to France than
+to any other country. "I am Sir Francois de Lorraine," said I. "I wish to
+inquire if Lady Crawford is in good health?"
+
+"Her ladyship is ill, sir, I am sorry to say," responded Will, taking off
+his hat. "Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge Stanley are at the inn. If you
+wish to inquire more particularly concerning Lady Crawford's health, I
+will ask them if they wish to receive you. They are in the parlor."
+
+Will was the king of trumps!
+
+"Say to them," said I, "that Sir Francois de Lorraine--mark the name
+carefully, please--and his friend desire to make inquiry concerning Lady
+Crawford's health, and would deem it a great honor should the ladies grant
+them an interview."
+
+Will's countenance was as expressionless as the face upon the mug from
+which he had been drinking. "I shall inform the ladies of your honor's
+request." He thereupon placed the half-emptied mug upon the fire-shelf
+and left the room.
+
+When Will announced his errand to the girls, Dorothy said in surprise:--
+
+"Sir Francois de Lorraine? That is the name of the Grand Duc de Guise, but
+surely--Describe him to me, Will."
+
+"He is about your height, Mistress Dorothy, and is very handsome,"
+responded Will.
+
+The latter part of Will's description placed me under obligation to him to
+the extent of a gold pound sterling.
+
+"Ah, it is John!" thought Dorothy, forgetting the fact that John was a
+great deal taller than she, but feeling that Will's description of "very
+handsome" could apply to only one man in the world. "He has taken
+Malcolm's name." Then she said, "Bring him to us, Will. But who is the
+friend? Do you know him? Tell me his appearance."
+
+"I did not notice the other gentleman," replied Will, "and I can tell you
+nothing of him."
+
+"Will, you are a very stupid man. But bring the gentlemen here." Dorothy
+had taken Will into her confidence to the extent of telling him that a
+gentleman would arrive at the Royal Arms who would inquire for Lady
+Crawford's health, and that she, Dorothy, would fully inform the gentleman
+upon that interesting topic. Will may have had suspicions of his own, but
+if so, he kept them to himself, and at least did not know that the
+gentleman whom his mistress expected to see was Sir John Manners. Neither
+did he suspect that fact. Dawson had never seen Manners, and did not know
+he was in the neighborhood of Derby. The fact was concealed from Dawson by
+Dorothy not so much because she doubted him, but for the reason that she
+wished him to be able truthfully to plead innocence in case trouble should
+grow out of the Derby-town escapade.
+
+"I wonder why John did not come alone?" thought Dorothy. "This friend of
+his will be a great hindrance."
+
+Dorothy ran to the mirror and hurriedly gave a few touches to her hair,
+pressing it lightly with her soft flexible fingers here, and tucking in a
+stray curl there, which for beauty's sake should have been allowed to hang
+loose. She was standing at the pier-glass trying to see the back of her
+head when Will knocked to announce our arrival.
+
+"Come," said Dorothy.
+
+Will opened the door and held it for us to pass in. Madge was seated near
+the fire. When we entered Dorothy was standing with great dignity in the
+centre of the floor, not of course intending to make an exhibition of
+delight over John in the presence of a stranger. But when she saw that I
+was the stranger, she ran to me with outstretched hands.
+
+"Good morning, Mistress Vernon," said I, in mock ceremoniousness.
+
+"Oh, Malcolm! Malcolm!" cried Madge, quickly rising from her chair. "You
+are cruel, Dorothy, to surprise me in this fashion."
+
+"I, too, am surprised. I did not know that Malcolm was coming," replied
+Dorothy, turning to give welcome to John. Then I stepped to Madge's side
+and took her hands, but all I could say was "Madge! Madge!" and all she
+said was "Malcolm! Malcolm!" yet we seemed to understand each other.
+
+John and Dorothy were likewise stricken with a paucity of words, but they
+also doubtless understood each other. After a moment or two there fell
+upon me a shower of questions from Dorothy.
+
+"Did you not go to France? How happens it that you are in Derby-town?
+Where did you meet Sir John? What a delightful surprise you have given us!
+Nothing was wanting to make us happy but your presence."
+
+"I am so happy that it frightens me," said Dorothy in ecstasy. "Trouble
+will come, I am sure. One extreme always follows another. The pendulum
+always swings as far back as it goes forward. But we are happy now, aren't
+we, Madge? I intend to remain so while I can. The pendulum may swing as
+far backward as it chooses hereafter. Sufficient to the day is the evil
+thereof. Sometimes the joy is almost sufficient, isn't it, Madge?"
+
+"The evil is more than sufficient some days," answered Madge.
+
+"Come, Madge, don't be foreboding."
+
+"Dorothy, I have not met the other gentleman," said Madge.
+
+"Ah, pardon me. In my surprise I forgot to present you. Lady Madge
+Stanley, let me present Sir John Manners."
+
+"Sir John Manners!" cried Madge, taking a step backward. Her surprise was
+so great that she forgot to acknowledge the introduction. "Dorothy, what
+means this?" she continued.
+
+"It means," replied Dorothy, nervously, "that Sir John is my very dear
+friend. I will explain it to you at another time."
+
+We stood silently for a few moments, and John said:--
+
+"I hope I may find favor in your heart, Lady Madge. I wish to greet you
+with my sincere homage."
+
+"Sir John, I am glad to greet you, but I fear the pendulum of which
+Dorothy spoke will swing very far backward erelong."
+
+"Let it swing as far back as it chooses," answered Dorothy, with a toss of
+her head, "I am ready to buy and to pay for happiness. That seems to be
+the only means whereby we may have it. I am ready to buy it with pain any
+day, and am willing to pay upon demand. Pain passes away; joy lasts
+forever."
+
+"I know," said Sir John, addressing Madge, "I know it is not prudent for
+Malcolm and me to be here to-day; but imprudent things seem to be the most
+delightful."
+
+"For men, Sir John," returned Madge. "Upon women they leave their mark."
+
+"I fear you are right," he answered. "I had not thought of my visit in
+that light. For Mistress Vernon's sake it is better that I do not remain
+in Derby."
+
+"For Mistress Vernon's sake you shall remain," cried that impetuous young
+woman, clutching John's arm.
+
+After a time, Dorothy wishing to visit one of the shops to make purchases,
+it was agreed between us that we should all walk out. Neither Dorothy nor
+Madge had ever before visited Derby-town. John and I had visited the place
+but once; that was upon the occasion of our first meeting. No one in the
+town knew us, and we felt safe in venturing forth into the streets. So we
+helped Dorothy and Madge to don their furs, and out we went happier and
+more reckless than four people have any good right to be. But before
+setting out I went to the tap-room and ordered dinner.
+
+I found the host and directed him to prepare a dozen partridges in a pie,
+a haunch of venison, a few links of German sausage, and a capon. The host
+informed me that he had in his pantry a barrel of roots called potatoes
+which had been sent to him by a sea-captain who had recently returned from
+the new world. He hurried away and brought a potato for inspection. It was
+of a gray brown color and near the size of an egg. The landlord assured me
+that it was delicious when baked, and I ordered four, at the cost of a
+crown each. I understand that my Lord Raleigh claims to have brought the
+first potatoes and tobacco into England in '85; but I know that I smoked
+tobacco in '66, and I saw potatoes at the Royal Arms in Derby-town in '67.
+I also ordered another new dish for our famous dinner. It was a brown
+beverage called coffee. The berries from which the beverage is made mine
+host showed to me, and said they had been brought to him by a sea-faring
+man from Arabia. I ordered a pot of the drink at a cost of three crowns. I
+have heard it said that coffee was not known in Europe or in England till
+it was introduced by Rawolf in '73, but I saw it at the Royal Arms in '67.
+In addition to this list, I ordered for our drinking sweet wine from
+Madeira and red wine from Burgundy. The latter-named wine had begun to
+grow in favor at the French court when I left France five years before. It
+was little liked in England. All these dainties were rare at the time of
+which I write; but they have since grown into considerable use, and I
+doubt not, as we progress in luxury, they will become common articles of
+food upon the tables of the rich. Prongs, or forks, as they are called,
+which by some are used in cutting and eating one's food at table, I also
+predict will become implements of daily use. It is really a filthy
+fashion, which we have, of handling food with our fingers. The Italians
+have used forks for some time, but our preachers speak against them,
+saying God has given us our fingers with which to eat, and that it is
+impious to thwart his purposes by the use of forks. The preachers will
+probably retard the general use of forks among the common people.
+
+After I had given my order for dinner we started out on our ramble through
+Derby-town.
+
+Shortly after we left the inn we divided into couples for the ostensible
+reason that we did not wish to attract too much attention--Dorothy and
+John, Madge and I! Our real reason for separating was--but you understand.
+
+Madge's hand lay like a span of snow upon my arm, and--but this time I
+will restrain my tendency to rhapsodize.
+
+We walked out through those parts of the town which were little used, and
+Madge talked freely and happily.
+
+She fairly babbled, and to me her voice was like the murmurings of the
+rivers that flowed out of paradise.
+
+We had agreed with John and Dorothy to meet them at the Royal Arms in one
+hour, and that time had almost passed when Madge and I turned our faces
+toward the inn.
+
+When we were within a short distance of our hostelry we saw a crowd
+gathered around a young man who was standing on a box. He was speaking in
+a mournful, lugubrious voice and accompanied his words with violent
+gesticulations. Out of curiosity we stopped to listen, and learned that
+religion was our orator's theme.
+
+I turned to a man standing near me and asked:--
+
+"Who is the fellow speaking?"
+
+"The pious man is Robert Brown. He is exhorting in the name of the Lord of
+Hosts."
+
+"The pious Robert Brown?" I queried, "exhorting in the name of--of the
+Lord of where, did you say?"
+
+"Hosts," laconically responded my friend, while listening intently to the
+words of Brown.
+
+"Hosts, say you? Who is he?" I asked of my interesting neighbor. "I know
+him not."
+
+"Doubtless you know Him not," responded the man, evidently annoyed at my
+interruption and my flippancy.
+
+After a moment or two I, desiring to know more concerning the orator,
+asked:--
+
+"Robert Brown, say you?"
+
+"Even he," came the response. "It will be good for your soul if you but
+listen to him in a prayerful mood. He is a young man upon whom the Spirit
+hath descended plenteously."
+
+"The Spirit?" I asked.
+
+"Ay," returned my neighbor.
+
+I could not extract another word from him, so I had the worst of the
+encounter.
+
+We had been standing there but a short time when the young exhorter
+descended from his improvised pulpit and passed among the crowd for the
+purpose of collecting money. His harangue had appeared ridiculous to me,
+but Madge seemed interested in his discourse. She said:--
+
+"He is very earnest, Malcolm," and at once my heart went out to the young
+enthusiast upon the box. One kind word from Madge, and I was the fellow's
+friend for life. I would have remained his friend had he permitted me that
+high privilege. But that he would not do. When he came to me, I dropped
+into his hat a small silver piece which shone brightly among a few black
+copper coins. My liberal contribution did not induce him to kindness, but,
+on the contrary, it attracted his attention to the giver. He looked at the
+silver coin, and then turning his solemn gaze upon me, eyed me insolently
+from head to foot. While doing so a look of profound disgust spread over
+his mournful countenance. After a calm survey of my person, which to me
+was uncomfortably long, he turned to the bystanders, and in the same
+high-pitched, lugubrious voice which he had used when exhorting, said:--
+
+"Brethren, here behold ye the type of anti-Christ," and he waved his thin
+hand toward me much to my amusement and annoyance. "Here," said he, "we
+find the leading strings to all that is iniquitous--vanity. It is
+betokened in his velvets, satins, and laces. Think ye, young man," he
+said, turning to me, "that such vanities are not an abomination in the
+eyes of the God of Israel?"
+
+"I believe that the God of Israel cares nothing about my apparel," I
+replied, more amused than angered. He paid no attention to my remark.
+
+"And this young woman," he continued, pointing to Madge, "this young
+woman, daughter of the Roman harlot, no doubt, she also is arrayed in
+silks, taffetas, and fine cloth. Look ye, friends, upon this abominable
+collar of Satan; this ruff of fine linen, all smeared in the devil's own
+liquor, starch. Her vanity is an offence in the nostrils of God's people."
+
+As he spoke he stretched forth his hand and caught in his clawlike grasp
+the dainty white ruff that encircled Madge's neck. When I saw his act, my
+first impulse was to run him through, and I drew my sword half from its
+scabbard with that purpose. But he was not the sort of a man upon whom I
+could use my blade. He was hardly more than a boy--a wild, half-crazed
+fanatic, whose reason, if he had ever possessed any, had been lost in the
+Charybdis of his zeal. He honestly thought it was his duty to insult
+persons who apparently disagreed with him. Such a method of proselyting is
+really a powerful means of persuasion among certain classes, and it has
+always been used by men who have successfully founded permanent religious
+sects. To plant successfully a religious thought or system requires more
+violent aggression than to conquer a nation.
+
+Since I could not run the fellow through, I drew back my arm, and striking
+as lightly as possible, I laid our zealous friend sprawling on his back.
+Thus had I the honor of knocking down the founder of the Brownists.
+
+If I mistake not, the time will come, if these men are allowed to harangue
+the populace, when the kings of England will be unable to accomplish the
+feat of knocking down Brown's followers. Heresies, like noxious weeds,
+grow without cultivation, and thrive best on barren soil. Or shall I say
+that, like the goodly vine, they bear better fruit when pruned? I cannot
+fully decide this question for myself; but I admire these sturdy fanatics
+who so passionately love their own faith, and so bitterly hate all others,
+and I am almost prepared to say that each new heresy brings to the world a
+better orthodoxy.
+
+For a little time after my encounter with Brown, all my skill was needed
+to ward off the frantic hero. He quickly rose to his feet, and, with the
+help of his friends, seemed determined to spread the gospel by tearing me
+to pieces. My sword point kept the rabble at a respectful distance for a
+while, but they crowded closely upon me, and I should have been compelled
+to kill some of them had I not been reenforced by two men who came to my
+help and laid about them most joyfully with their quarterstaffs. A few
+broken heads stemmed for a moment the torrent of religious enthusiasm, and
+during a pause in the hostilities I hurriedly retreated with Madge,
+ungratefully leaving my valiant allies to reap the full reward of victory
+should the fortunes of war favor them.
+
+Madge was terribly frightened, and with her by my side I, of course, would
+not have remained to fight the redoubtable Bayard himself.
+
+We hurried forward, but before we reached the inn we were overtaken by our
+allies whom we had abandoned. Our friends were young men. One wore a rich,
+half-rustic habit, and the other was dressed as a horse boy. Both were
+intoxicated. I had been thankful for their help; but I did not want their
+company.
+
+"How now, Cousin Madge?" said our richly dressed ally. "What in the
+devil's name has brought you into this street broil?"
+
+"Ah, Cousin James, is it you?" replied the trembling girl.
+
+"Yes, but who is your friend that so cleverly unloaded his quarrel upon
+us? Hell's fires! but they were like a swarm of wasps. Who is your friend,
+Madge?"
+
+"Sir Malcolm Vernon," replied Madge. "Let me present you, Sir Malcolm, to
+my cousin, Lord James Stanley."
+
+I offered my hand to his Lordship, and said:--
+
+"I thank you much for your timely help. I should not have deserted you had
+I not felt that my first duty was to extricate Lady Madge from the
+disagreeable situation. We must hasten away from here, or the mad rabble
+will follow us."
+
+"Right you are, my hearty," returned Stanley, slapping me on the shoulder.
+"Of course you had to get the wench away. Where do you go? We will bear
+you company."
+
+I longed to pay the fellow for his help by knocking him down; but the
+possibilities of trouble ahead of us were already too great, and I forced
+myself to be content with the prowess already achieved.
+
+"But you have not told me what brought you into the broil," asked his
+Lordship, as we walked toward the inn.
+
+"Sir Malcolm and I were walking out to see the town and--"
+
+"To see the town? By gad, that's good, Cousin Madge. How much of it did
+you see? You are as blind as an owl at noon," answered his Lordship.
+
+"Alas! I am blind," returned Madge, clinging closely to me, and shrinking
+from her cousin's terrible jest. I could not think of anything
+sufficiently holy and sacred upon which to vow my vengeance against this
+fellow, if the time should ever come when I dared take it.
+
+"Are you alone with this--this gentleman?" asked his Lordship, grasping
+Madge by the arm.
+
+"No," returned Madge, "Dorothy is with us."
+
+"She is among the shops," I volunteered reluctantly.
+
+"Dorothy? Dorothy Vernon? By gad, Tod, we are in luck. I must see the
+wench I am to marry," said his Lordship, speaking to his companion, the
+stable boy. "So Dorothy is with you, is she, cousin? I haven't seen her
+for years. They say she is a handsome filly now. By gad, she had room to
+improve, for she was plain enough, to frighten rats away from a barn when
+I last saw her. We will go to the inn and see for ourselves, won't we,
+Tod? Dad's word won't satisfy us when it comes to the matter of marrying,
+will it, Tod?"
+
+Tod was the drunken stable boy who had assisted his Lordship and me in
+our battle with the Brownists.
+
+I was at a loss what course to pursue. I was forced to submit to this
+fellow's company, and to endure patiently his insolence. But John and
+Dorothy would soon return, and there is no need that I should explain the
+dangers of the predicament which would then ensue.
+
+When we were within a few yards of the inn door I looked backward and saw
+Dorothy and John approaching us. I held up my hand warningly. John caught
+my meaning, and instantly leaving Dorothy's side, entered an adjacent
+shop. My movement had attracted Stanley's attention, and he turned in the
+direction I had been looking. When he saw Dorothy, he turned again to me
+and asked:--
+
+"Is that Dorothy Vernon?"
+
+"Yes," I replied.
+
+"Look at her, Tod!" exclaimed my lord, "look at her, Tod! The dad was
+right about her, after all. I thought the old man was hoaxing me when he
+told me that she was beautiful. Holy Virgin, Tod, did you ever see
+anything so handsome? I will take her quick enough; I will take her. Dad
+won't need to tease me. I'm willing."
+
+Dorothy approached to within a few yards of us, and my Lord Stanley
+stepped forward to meet her.
+
+"Ye don't know me, do ye?" said Stanley.
+
+Dorothy was frightened and quickly stepped to my side.
+
+"I--I believe not," responded Dorothy.
+
+"Lord James Stanley," murmured Madge, who knew of the approaching Stanley
+marriage.
+
+"Madge is right," returned. Stanley, grinning foolishly. "I am your cousin
+James, but not so much of a cousin that I cannot be more than cousin,
+heh?" He laughed boisterously, and winking at Tod, thrust his thumb into
+that worthy's ribs. "Say, Tod, something more than cousin; that's the
+thing, isn't it, Tod?"
+
+John was standing half-concealed at the door of the shop in which he had
+sought refuge. Dorothy well knew the peril of the situation, and when I
+frowned at her warningly, she caught the hint that she should not resent
+Stanley's words, however insulting and irritating they might become.
+
+"Let us go to the inn," said Dorothy.
+
+"That's the thing to do. Let us go to the inn and have dinner," said
+Stanley. "It's two hours past dinner time now, and I'm almost famished.
+We'll have a famous dinner. Come, cousin," said he, addressing Dorothy.
+"We'll have kidneys and tripe and--"
+
+"We do not want dinner," said Dorothy. "We must return home at once. Sir
+Malcolm, will you order Dawson to bring out the coach?"
+
+We went to the inn parlor, and I, loath to do so, left the ladies with
+Stanley and his horse-boy friend while I sought Dawson for the purpose of
+telling him to fetch the coach with all haste.
+
+"We have not dined," said the forester.
+
+"We shall not dine," I answered. "Fetch the coach with all the haste you
+can make." The bystanders in the tap-room were listening, and I continued,
+"A storm is brewing, and we must hasten home."
+
+True enough, a storm was brewing.
+
+When I left Dawson, I hurriedly found John and told him we were preparing
+to leave the inn, and that we would expect him to overtake us on the road
+to Rowsley.
+
+I returned to the ladies in the parlor and found them standing near the
+window. Stanley had tried to kiss Dorothy, and she had slapped his face.
+Fortunately he had taken the blow good-humoredly, and was pouring into her
+unwilling ear a fusillade of boorish compliments when. I entered the
+parlor.
+
+I said, "The coach is ready."
+
+The ladies moved toward the door. "I am going to ride with you, my
+beauty," said his Lordship.
+
+"That you shall not do," retorted Dorothy, with blazing eyes.
+
+"That I will do," he answered. "The roads are free to all, and you cannot
+keep me from following you."
+
+Dorothy was aware of her predicament, and I too saw it, but could find no
+way out of it. I was troubled a moment; but my fear was needless, for
+Dorothy was equal to the occasion.
+
+"We should like your company, Cousin Stanley," replied Dorothy, without a
+trace of anger in her manner, "but we cannot let you ride with us in the
+face of the storm that is brewing."
+
+"We won't mind the storm, will we, Tod? We are going with our cousin."
+
+"If you insist upon being so kind to us," said Dorothy, "you may come. But
+I have changed my mind about dinner. I am very hungry, and we accept your
+invitation."
+
+"Now you are coming around nicely," said Lord James, joyfully. "We like
+that, don't we, Tod?"
+
+Tod had been silent under all circumstances.
+
+Dorothy continued: "Madge and I will drive in the coach to one or two of
+the shops, and we shall return in one hour. Meantime, Cousin Stanley, we
+wish you to have a fine dinner prepared for us, and we promise to do ample
+justice to the fare."
+
+"She'll never come back," said silent Tod, without moving a muscle.
+
+"How about it, cousin?" asked Stanley. "Tod says you'll never come back;
+he means that you are trying to give us the slip."
+
+"Never fear, Cousin Stanley," she returned, "I am too eager for dinner
+not to come back. If you fail to have a well-loaded table for me, I shall
+never speak to you again."
+
+We then went to the coach, and as the ladies entered it Dorothy said aloud
+to Dawson:--
+
+"Drive to Conn's shop."
+
+I heard Tod say to his worthy master:--
+
+"She's a slippin' ye."
+
+"You're a fool, Tod. Don't you see she wants me more than she wants the
+dinner, and she's hungry, too."
+
+"Don't see," retorted his laconic friend.
+
+Of course when the coach was well away from the inn, Dawson received new
+instructions, and took the road to Rowsley. When the ladies had departed,
+I went to the tap-room with Stanley, and after paying the host for the
+coffee, the potatoes, and the dinner which alas! we had not tasted, I
+ordered a great bowl of sack and proceeded to drink with my allies in the
+hope that I might make them too drunk to follow us. Within half an hour I
+discovered that I was laboring at a hopeless task. There was great danger
+that I would be the first to succumb; so I, expressing a wish to sleep off
+the liquor before the ladies should return, made my escape from the
+tap-room, mounted my horse, and galloped furiously after Dorothy and
+Madge. John was riding by the coach when I overtook it.
+
+It was two hours past noon when I came up with John and the girls. Snow
+had been falling softly earlier in the afternoon, but as the day advanced
+the storm grew in violence. A cold, bleak wind was blowing from the north,
+and by reason of the weather and because of the ill condition of the
+roads, the progress of the coach was so slow that darkness overtook us
+before we had finished half of our journey to Rowsley. Upon the fall of
+night the storm increased in violence, and the snow came in piercing,
+horizontal shafts which stung like the prick of a needle.
+
+At the hour of six--I but guessed the time--John and I, who were riding
+at the rear of the coach, heard close on our heels the trampling of
+horses. I rode forward to Dawson, who was in the coach box, and told him
+to drive with all the speed he could make. I informed him that some one
+was following us, and that I feared highwaymen were on our track.
+
+Hardly had I finished speaking to Dawson when I heard the report of a
+hand-fusil, back of the coach, near the spot where I had left John. I
+quickly drew my sword, though it was a task of no small labor, owing to
+the numbness of my fingers. I breathed along the blade to warm it, and
+then I hastened to John, whom I found in a desperate conflict with three
+ruffians. No better swordsman than John ever drew blade, and he was
+holding his ground in the darkness right gallantly. When I rode to his
+rescue, another hand-fusil was discharged, and then another, and I knew
+that we need have no more fear from bullets, for the three men had
+discharged their weapons, and they could not reload while John and I were
+engaging them. I heard the bullets tell upon the coach, and I heard the
+girls screaming lustily. I feared they had been wounded, but you may be
+sure I had no leisure to learn the truth. Three against two was terrible
+odds in the dark, where brute force and luck go for more than skill. We
+fought desperately for a while, but in the end we succeeded in beating off
+the highwaymen. When we had finished with the knaves who had attacked us,
+we quickly overtook our party. We were calling Dawson to stop when we saw
+the coach, careening with the slant of the hill, topple over, and fall to
+the bottom of a little precipice five or six feet in height. We at once
+dismounted and jumped down the declivity to the coach, which lay on its
+side, almost covered by drifted snow. The pole had broken in the fall, and
+the horses were standing on the road. We first saw Dawson. He was
+swearing like a Dutchman, and when we had dragged him from his snowy
+grave, we opened the coach door, lifted out the ladies, and seated them
+upon the uppermost side of the coach. They were only slightly bruised, but
+what they lacked in bruises they made up in fright. In respect to the
+latter it were needless for me to attempt a description.
+
+We can laugh about it now and speak lightly concerning the adventure, and,
+as a matter of truth, the humor of the situation appealed to me even then.
+But imagine yourself in the predicament, and you will save me the trouble
+of setting forth its real terrors.
+
+The snow was up to our belts, and we did not at first know how we were to
+extricate the ladies. John and Dawson, however, climbed to the road, and I
+carried Dorothy and Madge to the little precipice where the two men at the
+top lifted them from my arms. The coach was broken, and when I climbed to
+the road, John, Dawson, and myself held a council of war against the
+storm. Dawson said we were three good miles from Rowsley, and that he knew
+of no house nearer than the village at which we could find shelter. We
+could not stand in the road and freeze, so I got the blankets and robes
+from the coach and made riding pads for Dorothy and Madge. These we
+strapped upon the broad backs of the coach horses, and then assisted the
+ladies to mount. I walked by the side of Madge, and John performed the
+same agreeable duty for Dorothy. Dawson went ahead of us, riding my horse
+and leading John's; and thus we travelled to Rowsley, half dead and nearly
+frozen, over the longest three miles in the kingdom.
+
+John left us before entering the village, and took the road to Rutland,
+intending to stop for the night at a cottage two miles distant, upon his
+father's estates. I was to follow Sir John when the ladies were safely
+lodged at The Peacock.
+
+It was agreed between us that nothing should be said concerning the
+presence of any man save Dawson and myself in our party.
+
+When John left us, I rode to The Peacock with Dorothy and Madge, and while
+I was bidding them good-by my violent cousin, Sir George, entered the inn.
+Dorothy ran to her father and briefly related the adventures of the night,
+dwelling with undeserved emphasis upon the help I had rendered. She told
+her father--the statement was literally true--that she had met me at the
+Royal Arms, where I was stopping, and that she had, through fear of the
+storm and in dread of highwaymen, asked me to ride beside their coach to
+Rowsley.
+
+When I saw Sir George enter the room, I expected to have trouble with him;
+but after he had spoken with Dorothy, much to my surprise, he offered me
+his hand and said:--
+
+"I thank you, Malcolm, for the help you have rendered my girls, and I am
+glad you have come back to us."
+
+"I have not come back to you, Sir George," said I, withholding my hand. "I
+met Mistress Vernon and Lady Madge at the Royal Arms, and escorted them to
+Rowsley for reasons which she has just given to you. I was about to depart
+when you entered."
+
+"Tut, tut! Malcolm, you will come with us to Haddon Hall."
+
+"To be ordered away again, Sir George?" I asked.
+
+"I did not order you to go. You left in a childish fit of anger. Why in
+the devil's name did you run away so quickly? Could you not have given a
+man time to cool off? You treated me very badly, Malcolm."
+
+"Sir George, you certainly know--"
+
+"I know nothing of the sort. Now I want not another word from you. Damme!
+I say, not another word. If I ever ordered you to leave Haddon Hall, I
+didn't know what I was doing," cried Sir George, heartily.
+
+"But you may again not know," said I.
+
+"Now, Malcolm, don't be a greater fool than I was. If I say I did not
+order you to leave Haddon Hall, can't you take me at my word? My age and
+my love for you should induce you to let me ease my conscience, if I can.
+If the same illusion should ever come over you again--that is, if you
+should ever again imagine that I am ordering you to leave Haddon
+Hall--well, just tell me to go to the devil. I have been punished enough
+already, man. Come home with us. Here is Dorothy, whom I love better than
+I love myself. In anger I might say the same thing to her that I said to
+you, but--Nonsense, Malcolm, don't be a fool. Come home with us. Haddon is
+your home as freely as it is the home of Dorothy, Madge, and myself."
+
+The old gentleman's voice trembled, and I could not withstand the double
+force of his kindness and my desire. So it came about that when Madge held
+out her fair hand appealingly to me, and when Dorothy said, "Please come
+home with us, Cousin Malcolm," I offered my hand to Sir George, and with
+feeling said, "Let us make this promise to each other: that nothing
+hereafter shall come between us."
+
+"I gladly promise," responded the generous, impulsive old man. "Dorothy,
+Madge, and you are all in this world whom I love. Nothing shall make
+trouble between us. Whatever happens, we will each forgive."
+
+The old gentleman was in his kindest, softest mood.
+
+"Let us remember the words," said I.
+
+"I give my hand and my word upon it," cried Sir George.
+
+How easy it is to stake the future upon a present impulse. But when the
+time for reckoning comes,--when the future becomes the present,--it is
+sometimes hard to pay the priceless present for the squandered past. Next
+morning we all rode home to Haddon,--how sweet the words sound even at
+this distance of time!--and there was rejoicing in the Hall as if the
+prodigal had returned.
+
+In the evening I came upon Madge unawares. She was softly singing a
+plaintive little love song. I did not disturb her, and as I stole away
+again I said to myself, "God is good." A realization of that great truth
+had of late been growing upon me. When once we thoroughly learn it, life
+takes on a different color.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+TRIBULATION IN HADDON
+
+
+After I had left Haddon at Sir George's tempestuous order, he had remained
+in a state of furious anger against Dorothy and myself for a fortnight or
+more. But after her adroit conversation with him concerning the Stanley
+marriage, wherein she neither promised nor refused, and after she learned
+that she could more easily cajole her father than command him, Dorothy
+easily ensconced herself again in his warm heart, and took me into that
+capacious abode along with her.
+
+Then came the trip to Derby, whereby his serene Lordship, James Stanley,
+had been enabled to see Dorothy and to fall in love with her winsome
+beauty, and whereby I was brought back to Haddon. Thereafter came events
+crowding so rapidly one upon the heels of another that I scarce know where
+to begin the telling of them. I shall not stop to say, "Sir George told me
+this," or "Madge, Dorothy, or John told me that," but I shall write as if
+I had personal knowledge of all that happened. After all, the important
+fact is that I know the truth concerning matters whereof I write, and of
+that you may rest with surety.
+
+The snow lay upon the ground for a fortnight after the storm in which we
+rode from Derby, but at the end of that time it melted, and the sun shone
+with the brilliancy and warmth of springtide. So warm and genial was the
+weather that the trees, flowers, and shrubs were cozened into budding
+forth. The buds were withered by a killing frost which came upon us later
+in the season at a time when the spring should have been abroad in all her
+graciousness, and that year was called the year of the leafless summer.
+
+One afternoon Sir George received a distinguished guest in the person of
+the Earl of Derby, and the two old gentlemen remained closeted together
+for several hours. That night at supper, after the ladies had risen from
+table, Sir George dismissed the servants saying that he wished to speak to
+me in private. I feared that he intended again bringing forward the
+subject of marriage with Dorothy, but he soon relieved my mind.
+
+"The Earl of Derby was here to-day. He has asked for Doll's hand in
+marriage with his eldest son and heir, Lord James Stanley, and I have
+granted the request."
+
+"Indeed," I responded, with marvellous intelligence. I could say nothing
+more, but I thought--in truth I knew--that it did not lie within the power
+of any man in or out of England to dispose of Dorothy Vernon's hand in
+marriage to Lord James Stanley. Her father might make a murderess out of
+her, but Countess of Derby, never.
+
+Sir George continued, "The general terms of the marriage contract have
+been agreed upon by the earl and me, and the lawyers will do the rest."
+
+"What is your feeling in the matter?" I asked aimlessly.
+
+"My feeling?" cried Sir George. "Why, sir, my feeling is that the girl
+shall marry Stanley just as soon as arrangements can be made for the
+wedding ceremony. The young fellow, it seems, saw Doll at Derby-town the
+day you came home, and since then he is eager, his father tells me, for
+the union. He is coming to see her when I give my permission, and I will
+send him word at as early a date as propriety will admit. I must not let
+them be seen together too soon, you know. There might be a hitch in the
+marriage negotiations. The earl is a tight one in business matters, and
+might drive a hard bargain with me should I allow his son to place Doll in
+a false position before the marriage contract is signed." He little knew
+how certainly Dorothy herself would avoid that disaster.
+
+He took a long draught from his mug of toddy and winked knowingly at me,
+saying, "I am too wise for that."
+
+"Have you told Dorothy?" I asked.
+
+"No," he replied, "I have not exactly told her. I had a talk with her a
+few days ago on the subject, though the earl and I had not, at that time,
+entirely agreed upon the terms, and I did not know that we should agree.
+But I told her of the pending negotiations, because I wished to prepare
+her for the signing of the contract; and also, by gad, Malcolm, I wanted
+to make the girl understand at the outset that I will have no trifling
+with my commands in this matter. I made that feature of the case very
+plain, you may rest assured. She understands me fully, and although at
+first she was a little inclined to fight, she soon--she soon--well, she
+knuckled under gracefully when she found she must."
+
+"Did she consent to the marriage?" I asked, well knowing that even if she
+had consented in words, she had no thought of doing so in deed.
+
+"Y-e-s," returned Sir George, hesitatingly.
+
+"I congratulate you," I replied.
+
+"I shall grieve to lose Doll," the old man slowly continued with
+perceptible signs of emotion. "I shall grieve to lose my girl, but I am
+anxious to have the wedding over. You see, Malcolm, of late I have noticed
+signs of wilfulness in Doll that can be more easily handled by a husband
+than by a father. Marriage and children anchor a woman, you know. In
+truth, I have opened my eyes to the fact that Doll is growing dangerous.
+I'gad, the other day I thought she was a child, but suddenly I learn she
+is a woman. I had not before noticed the change. Beauty and wilfulness,
+such as the girl has of late developed, are powers not to be
+underestimated by wise men. There is hell in them, Malcolm, I tell you
+there is hell in them." Sir George meditatively snuffed the candle with
+his fingers and continued: "If a horse once learns that he can kick--sell
+him. Only yesterday, as I said, Doll was a child, and now, by Jove, she is
+a full-blown woman, and I catch myself standing in awe of her and calling
+her Dorothy. Yes, damme, standing in awe of my own child! That will never
+do, you know. What has wrought the change? And, after all, what is the
+change? I can't define it, but there has been a great one."
+
+He was in a revery and spoke more to himself than to me. "Yesterday she
+was my child--she was a child, and now--and now--she is--she is--Why the
+devil didn't you take her, Malcolm?" cried the old man, awakening. "But
+there, never mind; that is all past and gone, and the future Earl of Derby
+will be a great match for her."
+
+"Do you know the future Earl of Derby?" I asked. "Have you ever seen him?"
+
+"No," Sir George replied. "I hear he is rather wild and uncouth, but--"
+
+"My dear cousin," said I, interrupting him, "he is a vulgar, drunken
+clown, whose associates have always been stable boys, tavern maids, and
+those who are worse than either."
+
+"What?" cried Sir George, hotly, the liquor having reached his brain. "You
+won't have Doll yourself, and you won't consent to another--damme, would
+you have the girl wither into spinsterhood? How, sir, dare you interfere?"
+
+"I withdraw all I said, Sir George," I replied hastily. "I have not a word
+to say against the match. I thought--"
+
+"Well, damn you, sir, don't think."
+
+"You said you wished to consult me about the affair, and I supposed--"
+
+"Don't suppose either," replied Sir George, sullenly. "Supposing and
+thinking have hanged many a man. I didn't wish to consult you. I simply
+wanted to tell you of the projected marriage." Then after a moment of
+half-maudlin, sullen silence he continued, "Go to bed, Malcolm, go to bed,
+or we'll be quarrelling again."
+
+I was glad enough to go to bed, for my cousin was growing drunk, and drink
+made a demon of this man, whose violence when sober was tempered by a
+heart full of tenderness and love.
+
+Next morning Sir George was feeling irritable from the effects of the
+brandy he had drunk over night. At breakfast, in the presence of Lady
+Crawford, Madge, and myself, he abruptly informed Dorothy that he was
+about to give that young goddess to Lord James Stanley for his wife. He
+told her of the arrangement he had made the day before with the Earl of
+Derby. Lady Crawford looked toward her brother in surprise, and Madge
+pushed her chair a little way back from the table with a startled
+movement. Dorothy sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing fire and her
+breast rising and falling like the storm-wrought pulsing of the sea. I
+coughed warningly and placed my finger on my lips, making the sign of
+silence to Dorothy. The girl made a wondrous and beautiful struggle
+against her wrath, and in a moment all signs of ill-temper disappeared,
+and her face took on an expression of sweet meekness which did not belong
+there of right. She quietly sat down again, and when I looked at her, I
+would have sworn that Griselda in the flesh was sitting opposite me. Sir
+George was right. "Ways such as the girl had of late developed were
+dangerous." Hell was in them to an extent little dreamed of by her father.
+Breakfast was finished in silence. Dorothy did not come down to dinner at
+noon, but Sir George did not mark her absence. At supper her place was
+still vacant.
+
+"Where is Doll?" cried Sir George, angrily. He had been drinking heavily
+during the afternoon. "Where is Doll?" he demanded.
+
+"She is on the terrace," answered Madge. "She said she did not want
+supper."
+
+"Tell your mistress to come to supper," said Sir George, speaking to one
+of the servants. "You will find her on the terrace."
+
+The servant left the room, but soon returned, saying that Mistress Dorothy
+wanted no supper.
+
+"Tell her to come to the table whether she wants supper or not. Tell her I
+will put a stop to her moping about the place like a surly vixen," growled
+Sir George.
+
+"Don't send such a message by a servant," pleaded Lady Crawford.
+
+"Then take it to her yourself, Dorothy," exclaimed her brother.
+
+Dorothy returned with her aunt and meekly took her place at the table.
+
+"I will have none of your moping and pouting," said Sir George, as Dorothy
+was taking her chair.
+
+The girl made no reply, but she did not eat.
+
+"Eat your supper," her father commanded. "I tell you I will have no--"
+
+"You would not have me eat if I am not hungry, would you, father?" she
+asked softly.
+
+"I'd have you hungry, you perverse wench."
+
+"Then make me an appetite," returned the girl. I never heard more ominous
+tones fall from human lips. They betokened a mood in which one could
+easily do murder in cold blood, and I was surprised that Sir George did
+not take warning and remain silent.
+
+"I cannot make an appetite for you, fool," he replied testily.
+
+"Then you cannot make me eat," retorted Dorothy.
+
+"Ah, you would answer me, would you, you brazen, insolent huzzy," cried
+her father, angrily.
+
+Dorothy held up her hand warningly to Sir George, and uttered the one
+word, "Father." Her voice sounded like the clear, low ring of steel as I
+have heard it in the stillness of sunrise during a duel to the death.
+Madge gently placed her hand in Dorothy's, but the caress met no response.
+
+"Go to your room," answered Sir George.
+
+Dorothy rose to her feet and spoke calmly: "I have not said that I would
+disobey you in regard to this marriage which you have sought for me; and
+your harshness, father, grows out of your effort to reconcile your
+conscience with the outrage you would put upon your own flesh and
+blood--your only child."
+
+"Suffering God!" cried Sir George, frenzied with anger and drink. "Am I to
+endure such insolence from my own child? The lawyers will be here
+to-morrow. The contract will be signed, and, thank God, I shall soon be
+rid of you. I'll place you in the hands of one who will break your
+damnable will and curb your vixenish temper." Then he turned to Lady
+Crawford. "Dorothy, if there is anything to do in the way of gowns and
+women's trumpery in preparation for the wedding, begin at once, for the
+ceremony shall come off within a fortnight."
+
+This was beyond Dorothy's power to endure. Madge felt the storm coming and
+clutched her by the arm in an effort to stop her, but nothing could have
+done that.
+
+"I marry Lord Stanley?" she asked in low, bell-like tones, full of
+contempt and disdain. "Marry that creature? Father, you don't know me."
+
+"By God, I know myself," retorted Sir George, "and I say--"
+
+"Now hear me, father," she interrupted in a manner that silenced even
+him. She bent forward, resting one fair hand upon the table, while she
+held out her other arm bared to the elbow. "Hear what I say and take it
+for the truth as if it had come from Holy Writ. I will open the veins in
+this arm and will strew my blood in a gapless circle around Haddon Hall so
+that you shall tread upon it whenever you go forth into the day or into
+the night before I will marry the drunken idiot with whom you would curse
+me. Ay, I will do more. I will kill you, if need be, should you try to
+force him on me. Now, father, we understand each other. At least you
+cannot fail to understand me. For the last time I warn you. Beware of me."
+
+She gently pushed the chair back from the table, quietly adjusted the
+sleeve which she had drawn upward from her wrist, and slowly walked out of
+the room, softly humming the refrain of a roundelay. There was no trace of
+excitement about the girl. Her brain was acting with the ease and
+precision of a perfectly constructed machine. Sir George, by his violence
+and cruelty, had made a fiend of this strong, passionate, tender heart.
+That was all.
+
+The supper, of course, was quickly finished, and the ladies left the room.
+
+Sir George took to his bottle and remained with it till his servants put
+him to bed. I slipped away from him and smoked a pipe in front of the
+kitchen fire. Then I went early to my bed in Eagle Tower.
+
+Dorothy went to her apartments. There she lay upon her bed, and for a time
+her heart was like flint. Soon she thought of her precious golden heart
+pierced with a silver arrow, and tears came to her eyes as she drew the
+priceless treasure from her breast and breathed upon it a prayer to the
+God of love for help. Her heart was soft again, soft only as hers could
+be, and peace came to her as she pressed John's golden heart to her lips
+and murmured over and over the words, "My love, my love, my love," and
+murmuring fell asleep.
+
+I wonder how many of the countless women of this world found peace,
+comfort, and ecstasy in breathing those magic words yesterday? How many
+have found them to-day? How many will find them to-morrow? No one can
+tell; but this I know, they come to every woman at some time in her life,
+righteously or unrighteously, as surely as her heart pulses.
+
+That evening Jennie Faxton bore a letter to John, informing him of the
+projected Stanley marriage. It asked him to meet the writer at Bowling
+Green Gate, and begged him to help her if he could.
+
+The small and intermittent remnants of conscience, sense of duty, and
+caution which still remained in John's head--I will not say in John's
+heart, for that was full to overflowing with something else--were quickly
+banished by the unwelcome news in Dorothy's letter. His first impulse was
+to kill Stanley; but John Manners was not an assassin, and a duel would
+make public all he wished to conceal. He wished to conceal, among other
+things, his presence at Rutland. He had two reasons for so desiring. First
+in point of time was the urgent purpose with which he had come to
+Derbyshire. That purpose was to further a plan for the rescue of Mary
+Stuart and to bring her incognito to Rutland Castle as a refuge until
+Elizabeth could be persuaded to receive her. Of this plan I knew nothing
+till after the disastrous attempt to carry it out, of which I shall
+hereafter tell you. The other reason why John wished his presence at
+Rutland unknown was that if he were supposed to be in London, no one would
+suspect him of knowing Dorothy Vernon.
+
+You must remember there had been no overt love-making between John and
+Dorothy up to that time. The scene at the gate approached perilously near
+it, but the line between concealment and confession had not been crossed.
+Mind you, I say there had been no love-making _between_ them. While
+Dorothy had gone as far in that direction as a maiden should dare go--and
+to tell the exact truth, a great deal farther--John had remained almost
+silent for reasons already given you. He also felt a fear of the girl, and
+failed to see in her conduct those signs of intense love which would have
+been plainly discernible had not his perceptions been blinded by the fury
+of his own infatuation. He had placed a curb on his passion and did not
+really know its strength and power until he learned that another man was
+soon to possess the girl he loved. Then life held but one purpose for him.
+Thus, you see that when Dorothy was moaning, "My love, my love," and was
+kissing the golden heart, she was taking a great deal for granted.
+Perhaps, however, she better understood John's feeling for her than did he
+himself. A woman's sixth sense, intuition, is a great help to her in such
+cases. Perhaps the girl knew with intuitive confidence that her passion
+was returned; and perhaps at first she found John's receptive mode of
+wooing sweeter far than an aggressive attack would have been. It may be
+also there was more of the serpent's cunning than of reticence in John's
+conduct. He knew well the ways of women, and perhaps he realized that if
+he would allow Dorothy to manage the entire affair she would do his wooing
+for him much better than he could do it for himself. If you are a man, try
+the plan upon the next woman whom you seek to win. If she happens to be
+one who has full confidence in her charms, you will be surprised at the
+result. Women lacking that confidence are restrained by fear and doubt.
+But in no case have I much faith in the hammer-and-tongs process at the
+opening of a campaign. Later on, of course--but you doubtless are quite as
+well informed concerning this important subject as I. There is, however,
+so much blundering in that branch of science that I have a mind to endow a
+college at Oxford or at Paris in which shall be taught the gentle,
+universally needed art of making love. What a noble attendance such a
+college would draw. But I have wandered wofully from my story.
+
+I must go back a short time in my narrative. A few days before my return
+to Haddon Hall the great iron key to the gate in the wall east of Bowling
+Green Hill was missed from the forester's closet where it had hung for a
+century or more. Bowling Green Hill, as you know, is eastward from Haddon
+Hall a distance of the fourth part of a mile, and the gate is east of the
+hill about the same distance or less. A wall is built upon the east line
+of the Haddon estate, and east of the wall lies a great trackless forest
+belonging to the house of Devonshire. In olden times there had been a road
+from Bakewell to Rowsley along the east side of the wall; but before Sir
+George's seizin the road had been abandoned and the gate was not used. It
+stood in a secluded, unfrequented spot, and Dorothy thought herself very
+shrewd in choosing it for a trysting-place.
+
+But as I told you, one day the key was missed. It was of no value or use,
+and at first nothing was thought of its loss; but from time to time the
+fact that it could not be found was spoken of as curious. All the servants
+had been questioned in vain, and the loss of the key to Bowling Green Gate
+soon took on the dignity of a mystery--a mystery soon to be solved, alas!
+to Dorothy's undoing.
+
+The afternoon of the day following the terrible scene between Sir George
+and his daughter at the supper table, Dorothy rode forth alone upon her
+mare Dolcy. From the window of my room in Eagle Tower I saw her go down
+the west side of the Wye toward Rowsley. I ascended to the roof of the
+tower, and from that elevation I saw her cross the river, and soon she was
+lost to sight in the forest. At that time I knew nothing of the new
+trysting-place, but I felt sure that Dorothy had gone out to seek John.
+The sun shone brightly, and its gentle warmth enticed me to remain upon
+the tower battlements, to muse, and to dream. I fetched my pipe and
+tobacco from my room. I had been smoking at intervals for several months,
+but had not entirely learned to like the weed, because of a slight nausea
+which it invariably caused me to feel. But I thought by practice now and
+again to inure myself to the habit, which was then so new and fashionable
+among modish gentlemen. While I smoked I mused upon the past and present,
+and tried to peer into the future--a fruitless task wherein we waste much
+valuable time; a vain striving, like Eve's, after forbidden knowledge,
+which, should we possess it, would destroy the little remnant of Eden
+still existing on earth. Could we look forward only to our joys, a
+knowledge of the future might be good to have; but imagine, if you can,
+the horror of anticipating evils to come.
+
+After a short time, a lotuslike dreaminess stole over me, and past and
+future seemed to blend in a supreme present of contentment and rest. Then
+I knew I had wooed and won Tobacco and that thenceforth I had at hand an
+ever ready solace in time of trouble. At the end of an hour my dreaming
+was disturbed by voices, which came distinctly up to me from the base of
+the tower. I leaned over the battlements to listen, and what I heard gave
+me alarm and concern such as all the tobacco in the world could not
+assuage. I looked down the dizzy heights of Eagle Tower and saw Sir George
+in conversation with Ben Shaw, a woodman. I had not heard the words first
+spoken between them.
+
+"Ay, ay, Sir George," said Ben, "they be there, by Bowling Green Gate,
+now. I saw them twenty minutes since,--Mistress Vernon and a gentleman."
+
+"Perhaps the gentleman is Sir Malcolm," answered my cousin. I drew back
+from the battlements, and the woodman replied, "Perhaps he be, but I doubt
+it."
+
+There had been a partial reconciliation--sincere on Sir George's part, but
+false and hollow on Dorothy's--which Madge had brought about between
+father and daughter that morning. Sir George, who was sober and repentant
+of his harshness, was inclined to be tender to Dorothy, though he still
+insisted in the matter of the Stanley marriage. Dorothy's anger had
+cooled, and cunning had taken its place. Sir George had asked her to
+forgive him for the hard words he had spoken, and she had again led him to
+believe that she would be dutiful and obedient. It is hard to determine,
+as a question of right and wrong, whether Dorothy is to be condemned or
+justified in the woful deception she practised upon her father. To use a
+plain, ugly word, she lied to him without hesitation or pain of
+conscience. Still, we must remember that, forty years ago, girls were
+frequently forced, regardless of cries and piteous agony, into marriages
+to which death would have been preferable. They were flogged into
+obedience, imprisoned and starved into obedience, and alas! they were
+sometimes killed in the course of punishment for disobedience by men of
+Sir George's school and temper. I could give you at least one instance in
+which a fair girl met her death from punishment inflicted by her father
+because she would not consent to wed the man of his choice. Can we blame
+Dorothy if she would lie or rob or do murder to avoid a fate which to her
+would have been worse than death? When you find yourself condemning her,
+now or hereafter in this history, if you are a man ask yourself this
+question: "If I had a sweetheart in Dorothy's sad case, should I not wish
+her to do as she did? Should I not wish, if it were possible by any
+means, that she should save herself from the worst of fates, and should
+save me from the agony of losing her to such a man as Sir George had
+selected for Dorothy's husband? Is it not a sin to disobey the law of
+self-preservation actively or passively?" Answer these questions as you
+choose. As for myself, I say God bless Dorothy for lying. Perhaps I am in
+error. Perhaps I am not. I but tell you the story of Dorothy as it
+happened, and I am a poor hand at solving questions of right and wrong
+where a beautiful woman is concerned. To my thinking, she usually is in
+the right. In any case, she is sure to have the benefit of the doubt.
+
+When Sir George heard the woodman's story, he started hurriedly toward
+Bowling Green Gate.
+
+Now I shall tell you of Dorothy's adventures after I saw her cross the
+Wye.
+
+When she reached the gate, John was waiting for her.
+
+"Ah, Sir John, I am so glad you are here. That is, I am glad you are here
+before I arrived--good even," said the girl, confusedly. Her heart again
+was beating in a provoking manner, and her breath would not come with ease
+and regularity. The rapid progress of the malady with which she was
+afflicted or blessed was plainly discernible since the last meeting with
+my friend, Sir John. That is, it would have been plain to any one but
+John, whose ailment had taken a fatal turn and had progressed to the
+ante-mortem state of blindness. By the help of the stimulating hope and
+fear which Dorothy's letter had brought to him, he had planned an
+elaborate conversation, and had determined to speak decisive words. He
+hoped to receive from her the answer for which he longed; but his heart
+and breath seemed to have conspired with Dorothy to make
+intercommunication troublesome.
+
+"I received your gracious letter, Mistress Vernon, and I thank you. I
+was--I am--that is, my thanks are more than I--I can express."
+
+"So I see," said the girl, half amused at John's condition, although it
+was but little worse than her own. This universal malady, love, never
+takes its blind form in women. It opens their eyes. Under its influence
+they can see the truth through a millstone. The girl's heart jumped with
+joy when she saw John's truth-telling manner, and composure quickly came
+to her relief, though she still feigned confusion because she wished him
+to see the truth in her as she had seen it in him. She well knew of his
+blindness, and had almost begun to fear lest she would eventually be
+compelled to tell him in words that which she so ardently wished him to
+see for himself. She thought John was the blindest of his sex; but she
+was, to a certain extent, mistaken. John was blind, as you already know,
+but his reticence was not all due to a lack of sight. He at least had
+reached the condition of a well-developed hope. He hoped the girl cared
+for him. He would have fully believed it had it not been for the
+difficulty he found in convincing himself that a goddess like Dorothy
+could care for a man so unworthy as himself. Most modest persons are
+self-respecting. That was John's condition; he was not vain.
+
+"Jennie brought me your letter also," said the girl, laughing because she
+was happy, though her merriment somewhat disconcerted John.
+
+"It told me," she continued, "that you would come. I have it here in my
+pocket--and--and the gate key." She determined this time to introduce the
+key early in the engagement. "But I feared you might not want to come."
+The cunning, the boldness, and the humility of the serpent was in the
+girl. "That is, you know, I thought--perhaps--that is, I feared that you
+might not come. Your father might have been ill, or you might have changed
+your mind after you wrote the letter."
+
+"No," answered John, whose face was beaming with joy. Here, truly, was a
+goddess who could make the blind to see if she were but given a little
+time.
+
+"Do you mean that your father is not ill, or that you did not change your
+mind?" asked Dorothy, whose face, as it should have been after such a
+speech, was bent low while she struggled with the great iron key,
+entangled in the pocket of her gown.
+
+"I mean that I have not changed my mind," said John, who felt that the
+time to speak had come. "There has been no change in me other than a new
+access of eagerness with every hour, and a new longing to see you and to
+hear your voice."
+
+Dorothy felt a great thrill pass through her breast, and she knew that the
+reward of her labors was at hand.
+
+"Certainly," said the self-complacent girl, hardly conscious of her words,
+so great was the joyous tumult in her heart, "I should have known."
+
+There was another pause devoted to the key, with bended head. "But--but
+you might have changed your mind," she continued, "and I might not have
+known it, for, you see, I did not know your former state of mind; you have
+never told me." Her tongue had led her further than she had intended to
+go, and she blushed painfully, and I think, considering her words,
+appropriately.
+
+"My letter told you my state of mind. At least it told you of my intention
+to come. I--I fear that I do not understand you," said John.
+
+"I mean," she replied, with a saucy, fluttering little laugh as she looked
+up from her conflict with the entangled key, "I mean that--that you don't
+know what I mean. But here is the key at last, and--and--you may, if you
+wish, come to this side of the gate."
+
+She stepped forward to unlock the gate with an air that seemed to say,
+"Now, John, you shall have a clear field."
+
+But to her surprise she found that the lock had been removed. That
+discovery brought back to John his wandering wits.
+
+"Mistress Dorothy," he cried in tones of alarm, "I must not remain here.
+We are suspected and are sure to be discovered. Your father has set a trap
+for us. I care not for myself, but I would not bring upon you the trouble
+and distress which would surely follow discovery. Let us quickly choose
+another place and time of meeting. I pray you, sweet lady, meet me
+to-morrow at this time near the white cliff back of Lathkil mill. I have
+that to say to you which is the very blood of my heart. I must now leave
+you at once."
+
+He took her hand, and kissing it, started to leave through the open gate.
+
+The girl caught his arm to detain him. "Say it now, John, say it now. I
+have dreamed of it by night and by day. You know all, and I know all, and
+I long to hear from your lips the words that will break down all barriers
+between us." She had been carried away by the mad onrush of her passion.
+She was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain, and she spoke because
+she could not help it.
+
+"I will speak, Dorothy, God help me! God help me, I will speak!" said
+John, as he caught the girl to his breast in a fierce embrace. "I love
+you, I love you! God Himself only knows how deeply, how passionately! I do
+not know. I cannot fathom its depths. With all my heart and soul, with
+every drop of blood that pulses through my veins, I love you--I adore you.
+Give me your lips, my beauty, my Aphrodite, my queen!"
+
+"There--they--are, John,--there they are. They are--all yours--all
+yours--now! Oh, God! my blood is on fire." She buried her face on his
+breast for shame, that he might not see her burning eyes and her scarlet
+cheeks. Then after a time she cared not what he saw, and she lifted her
+lips to his, a voluntary offering. The supreme emotions of the moment
+drove all other consciousness from their souls.
+
+"Tell me, Dorothy, that you will be my wife. Tell me, tell me!" cried
+John.
+
+"I will, I will, oh, how gladly, how gladly!"
+
+"Tell me that no power on earth can force you to marry Lord Stanley. Tell
+me that you will marry no man but me; that you will wait--wait for me
+till--"
+
+"I will marry no man but you, John, no man but you," said the girl,
+whisperingly. Her head was thrown back from his breast that she might look
+into his eyes, and that he might see the truth in hers. "I am all yours.
+But oh, John, I cannot wait--I cannot! Do not ask me to wait. It would
+kill me. I wear the golden heart you gave me, John," she continued, as she
+nestled closer in his embrace. "I wear the golden heart always. It is
+never from me, even for one little moment. I bear it always upon my heart,
+John. Here it is." She drew from her breast the golden heart and kissed
+it. Then she pressed it to his lips, and said: "I kiss it twenty times in
+the day and in the night; ay, a hundred times. I do not know how often;
+but now I kiss your real heart, John," and she kissed his breast, and then
+stood tiptoe to lift her lips to his.
+
+There was no room left now in John's heart for doubt that Dorothy Vernon
+was his own forever and forever. She had convinced him beyond the reach of
+fear or doubt. John forgot the lockless gate. He forgot everything but
+Dorothy, and cruel time passed with a rapidity of which they were
+unconscious. They were, however, brought back to consciousness by hearing
+a long blast from the forester's bugle, and John immediately retreated
+through the gate.
+
+Dorothy then closed the gate and hastily seated herself upon a stone
+bench against the Haddon side of the wall. She quickly assumed an attitude
+of listless repose, and Dolcy, who was nibbling at the grass near by,
+doubtless supposed that her mistress had come to Bowling Green Gate to
+rest because it was a secluded place, and because she desired to be alone.
+
+Dorothy's attitude was not assumed one moment too soon, for hardly was her
+gown arranged with due regard to carelessness when Sir George's form rose
+above the crest of Bowling Green Hill. In a few minutes he was standing in
+front of his daughter, red with anger. Dorothy's face wore a look of calm
+innocence, which I believe would have deceived Solomon himself,
+notwithstanding that great man's experience with the sex. It did more to
+throw Sir George off the scent than any words the girl could have spoken.
+
+"Who has been with you?" demanded Sir George, angrily.
+
+"When, father?" queried the girl, listlessly resting her head against the
+wall.
+
+"Now, this afternoon. Who has been with you? Ben Shaw said that a man was
+here. He said that he saw a man with you less than half an hour since."
+
+That piece of information was startling to Dorothy, but no trace of
+surprise was visible in her manner or in her voice. She turned listlessly
+and brushed a dry leaf from her gown. Then she looked calmly up into her
+father's face and said laconically, but to the point:--
+
+"Ben lied." To herself she said, "Ben shall also suffer."
+
+"I do not believe that Ben lied," said Sir George. "I, myself, saw a man
+go away from here."
+
+That was crowding the girl into close quarters, but she did not flinch.
+
+"Which way did he go, father?" she asked, with a fine show of carelessness
+in her manner, but with a feeling of excruciating fear in her breast. She
+well knew the wisdom of the maxim, "Never confess."
+
+"He went northward," answered Sir George.
+
+"Inside the wall?" asked Dorothy, beginning again to breathe freely, for
+she knew that John had ridden southward.
+
+"Inside the wall, of course," her father replied. "Do you suppose I could
+see him through the stone wall? One should be able to see through a stone
+wall to keep good watch on you."
+
+"You might have thought you saw him through the wall," answered the girl.
+"I sometimes think of late, father, that you are losing your mind. You
+drink too much brandy, my dear father. Oh, wouldn't it be dreadful if you
+were to lose your mind?" She rose as she spoke, and going to her father
+began to stroke him gently with her hand. She looked into his face with
+real affection; for when she deceived him, she loved him best as a partial
+atonement for her ill-doing.
+
+"Wouldn't that be dreadful?" she continued, while Sir George stood lost in
+bewilderment. "Wouldn't that be dreadful for my dear old father to lose
+his mind? But I really think it must be coming to pass. A great change has
+of late come over you, father. You have for the first time in your life
+been unkind to me and suspicious. Father, do you realize that you insult
+your daughter when you accuse her of having been in this secluded place
+with a man? You would punish another for speaking so against my fair
+name."
+
+"But, Dorothy," Sir George replied, feeling as if he were in the wrong,
+"Ben Shaw said that he saw you here with a man, and I saw a man pass
+toward Bakewell. Who was he? I command you to tell me his name."
+
+Dorothy knew that her father must have seen a man near the gate, but who
+he was she could not imagine. John surely was beyond the wall and well out
+of sight on his way to Rowsley before her father reached the crest of
+Bowling Green Hill. But it was evident that Shaw had seen John. Evidence
+that a man had been at the gate was too strong to be successfully
+contradicted. Facts that cannot be successfully contradicted had better be
+frankly admitted. Dorothy sought through her mind for an admission that
+would not admit, and soon hit upon a plan which, shrewd as it seemed to
+be, soon brought her to grief.
+
+"Perhaps you saw Cousin Malcolm," said Dorothy, as the result of her
+mental search. "He passed here a little time since and stopped for a
+moment to talk. Perhaps you saw Malcolm, father. You would not find fault
+with me because he was here, would you?"
+
+"Dorothy, my daughter," said Sir George, hesitatingly, "are you telling me
+the truth?"
+
+Then the fair girl lifted up her beautiful head, and standing erect at her
+full height (it pains me to tell you this) said: "Father, I am a Vernon. I
+would not lie."
+
+Her manner was so truthlike that Sir George was almost convinced.
+
+He said, "I believe you."
+
+Her father's confidence touched her keenly; but not to the point of
+repentance, I hardly need say.
+
+Dorothy then grew anxious to return to the Hall that she might prepare me
+to answer whatever idle questions her father should put to me. She took
+Dolcy's rein, and leading the mare with one hand while she rested the
+other upon her father's arm, walked gayly across Bowling Green down to the
+Hall, very happy because of her lucky escape.
+
+But a lie is always full of latent retribution.
+
+I was sitting in the kitchen, dreamily watching the huge fire when Dorothy
+and her father entered.
+
+"Ah, Malcolm, are you here?" asked Sir George in a peculiar tone of
+surprise for which I could see no reason.
+
+"I thought you were walking."
+
+I was smoking. I took my pipe from my lips and said, "No, I am helping old
+Bess and Jennie with supper."
+
+"Have you not been walking?" asked Sir George.
+
+There was an odd expression on his face when I looked up to him, and I was
+surprised at his persistent inquiry concerning so trivial a matter. But
+Sir George's expression, agitated as it was, still was calm when compared
+with that of Dorothy, who stood a step or two behind her father. Not only
+was her face expressive, but her hands, her feet, her whole body were
+convulsed in an effort to express something which, for the life of me, I
+could not understand. Her wonderful eyes wore an expression, only too
+readable, of terror and pleading. She moved her hands rapidly and stamped
+her foot. During this pantomime she was forming words with her lips and
+nodding her head affirmatively. Her efforts at expression were lost upon
+me, and I could only respond with a blank stare of astonishment. The
+expression on my face caused Sir George to turn in the direction of my
+gaze, and he did so just in time to catch Dorothy in the midst of a mighty
+pantomimic effort at mute communication.
+
+"Why in the devil's name are you making those grimaces?" demanded Sir
+George.
+
+"I wasn't making grimaces--I--I think I was about to sneeze," replied
+Dorothy.
+
+"Do you think I am blind?" stormed Sir George. "Perhaps I am losing my
+mind? You are trying to tell Malcolm to say that he was with you at
+Bowling Green Gate. Losing my mind, am I? Damme, I'll show you that if I
+am losing my mind I have not lost my authority in my own house."
+
+"Now, father, what is all this storming about?" asked the girl, coaxingly,
+as she boldly put her hands upon her father's shoulders and turned her
+face in all its wondrous beauty and childish innocence of expression up to
+his. "Ask Malcolm to tell you whatever you wish to know." She was sure
+that her father had told me what she had been so anxious to communicate,
+and she felt certain that I would not betray her. She knew that I, whose
+only virtues were that I loved my friend and despised a lie, would
+willingly bear false witness for her sake. She was right. I had caught the
+truth of the situation from Sir George, and I quickly determined to
+perjure my soul, if need be, to help Dorothy. I cannot describe the
+influence this girl at times exerted over me. When under its spell I
+seemed to be a creature of her will, and my power to act voluntarily was
+paralyzed by a strange force emanating from her marvellous vitality. I
+cannot describe it. I tell you only the incontestable fact, and you may
+make out of it whatever you can. I shall again in the course of this
+history have occasion to speak of Dorothy's strange power, and how it was
+exerted over no less a person than Queen Elizabeth.
+
+"Ask Malcolm," repeated the girl, leaning coaxingly upon her father's
+breast. But I was saved from uttering the lie I was willing to tell; for,
+in place of asking me, as his daughter had desired, Sir George demanded
+excitedly of Dorothy, "What have you in your pocket that strikes against
+my knee?"
+
+"Mother of Heaven!" exclaimed Dorothy in a whisper, quickly stepping back
+from her father and slowly lifting her skirt while she reached toward her
+pocket. Her manner was that of one almost bereft of consciousness by
+sudden fright, and an expression of helplessness came over her face which
+filled my heart with pity. She stood during a long tedious moment holding
+with one hand the uplifted skirt, while with the other she clutched the
+key in her pocket.
+
+"What have you in your pocket?" demanded Sir George with a terrible oath.
+"Bring it out, girl. Bring it out, I tell you." Dorothy started to run
+from the room, but her father caught her by the wrist and violently drew
+her to him. "Bring it out, huzzy; it's the key to Bowling Green Gate. Ah,
+I've lost my mind, have I? Blood of Christ! I have not lost my mind yet,
+but I soon shall lose it at this rate," and he certainly looked as if he
+would.
+
+Poor frightened Dorothy was trying to take the key from her pocket, but
+she was too slow to please her angry father, so he grasped the gown and
+tore a great rent whereby the pocket was opened from top to bottom.
+Dorothy still held the key in her hand, but upon the floor lay a piece of
+white paper which had fallen out through the rent Sir George had made in
+the gown. He divined the truth as if by inspiration. The note, he felt
+sure, was from Dorothy's unknown lover. He did not move nor speak for a
+time, and she stood as if paralyzed by fear. She slowly turned her face
+from her father to me, and in a low tone spoke my name, "Malcolm." Her
+voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but so piteous a cry for help I
+have never heard from human lips. Then she stooped, intending to take the
+letter from the floor, and Sir George drew back his arm as if he would
+strike her with his clenched hand. She recoiled from him in terror, and he
+took up the letter, unfolded it, and began to read:--
+
+"Most gracious lady, I thank you for your letter, and with God's help I
+will meet you at Bowling Green Gate--." The girl could endure no more. She
+sprang with a scream toward her father and tried to snatch the letter. Sir
+George drew back, holding firmly to the paper. She followed him
+frantically, not to be thrown off, and succeeded in clutching the letter.
+Sir George violently thrust her from him. In the scuffle that ensued the
+letter was torn, and the lower portion of the sheet remained in Dorothy's
+hand. She ran to the fireplace, intending to thrust the fragment into the
+fire, but she feared that her father might rescue it from the ashes. She
+glanced at the piece of paper, and saw that the part she had succeeded in
+snatching from her father bore John's name. Sir George strode hurriedly
+across the room toward her and she ran to me.
+
+"Malcolm! Malcolm!" she cried in terror. The cry was like a shriek. Then I
+saw her put the paper in her mouth. When she reached me she threw herself
+upon my breast and clung to me with her arms about my neck. She trembled
+as a single leaf among the thousands that deck a full-leaved tree may
+tremble upon a still day, moved by a convulsive force within itself. While
+she clung to me her glorious bust rose and fell piteously, and her
+wondrous eyes dilated and shone with a marvellous light. The expression
+was the output of her godlike vitality, strung to its greatest tension.
+Her face was pale, but terror dominated all the emotions it expressed. Her
+fear, however, was not for herself. The girl, who would have snapped her
+fingers at death, saw in the discovery which her father was trying to
+make, loss to her of more than life. That which she had possessed for less
+than one brief hour was about to be taken from her. She had not enjoyed
+even one little moment alone in which to brood her new-found love, and to
+caress the sweet thought of it. The girl had but a brief instant of rest
+in my arms till Sir George dragged her from me by his terrible strength.
+
+"Where is the paper?" he cried in rage. "It contained the fellow's
+signature."
+
+"I have swallowed it, father, and you must cut me open to find it.
+Doubtless that would be a pleasant task for you," answered Dorothy, who
+was comparatively calm now that she knew her father could not discover
+John's name. I believe Sir George in his frenzy would have killed the girl
+had he then learned that the letter was from John Manners.
+
+"I command you to tell me this fellow's name," said Sir George, with a
+calmness born of tempest. Dorothy did not answer, and Sir George continued
+"I now understand how you came by the golden heart. You lied to me and
+told me that Malcolm had given it to you. Lie upon lie. In God's name I
+swear that I would rather father a thief than a liar."
+
+"I did give her the heart, Sir George," I said, interrupting him. "It was
+my mother's." I had caught the lying infection. But Sir George, in his
+violence, was a person to incite lies. He of course had good cause for his
+anger. Dorothy had lied to him. Of that there could be no doubt; but her
+deception was provoked by his own conduct and by the masterful love that
+had come upon her. I truly believe that prior to the time of her meeting
+with Manners she had never spoken an untruth, nor since that time I also
+believe, except when driven to do so by the same motive. Dorothy was not a
+thief, but I am sure she would have stolen for the sake of her lover. She
+was gentle and tender to a degree that only a woman can attain; but I
+believe she would have done murder in cold blood for the sake of her love.
+Some few women there are in whose hearts God has placed so great an ocean
+of love that when it reaches its flood all other attributes of heart and
+soul and mind are ingulfed in its mighty flow. Of this rare class was
+Dorothy.
+
+"God is love," says the Book.
+
+"The universe is God," says the philosopher. "Therefore," as the
+mathematician would say, "love is the universe." To that proposition
+Dorothy was a corollary.
+
+The servants were standing open-eyed about us in the kitchen.
+
+"Let us go to the dining hall," I suggested. Sir George led the way by the
+stone steps to the screens, and from the screens to the small banquet
+hail, and I followed, leading Dorothy by the hand.
+
+The moment of respite from her father's furious attack gave her time in
+which to collect her scattered senses.
+
+When we reached the banquet hall, and after I had closed the door, Sir
+George turned upon his daughter, and with oath upon oath demanded to know
+the name of her lover. Dorothy stood looking to the floor and said
+nothing. Sir George strode furiously to and fro across the room.
+
+"Curse the day you were born, you wanton huzzy. Curse you! curse you! Tell
+me the name of the man who wrote this letter," he cried, holding toward
+her the fragment of paper. "Tell me his name or, I swear it before God, I
+swear it upon my knighthood, I will have you flogged in the upper court
+till you bleed. I would do it if you were fifty times my child."
+
+Then Dorothy awakened. The girl was herself again. Now it was only for
+herself she had to fear.
+
+Her heart kept saying, "This for his sake, this for his sake." Out of her
+love came fortitude, and out of her fortitude came action.
+
+Her father's oath had hardly been spoken till the girl tore her bodice
+from her shoulders. She threw the garment to the floor and said:--
+
+"I am ready for the whip, I am ready. Who is to do the deed, father, you
+or the butcher? It must be done. You have sworn it, and I swear before God
+and by my maidenhood that I will not tell you the name of the man who
+wrote the letter. I love him, and before I will tell you his name or
+forego his love for me, or before I will abate one jot or tittle of my
+love for him, I will gladly die by the whip in your hand. I am ready for
+the whip, father. I am ready. Let us have it over quickly."
+
+The girl, whose shoulders were bare, took a few steps toward the door
+leading to the upper court, but Sir George did not move. I was deeply
+affected by the terrible scene, and I determined to prevent the flogging
+if to do so should cost Sir George's life at my hands. I would have
+killed him ere he should have laid a single lash of the whip upon
+Dorothy's back.
+
+"Father," continued the terrible girl, "are you not going to flog me?
+Remember your oaths. Surely you would not be forsworn before God and upon
+your knighthood. A forsworn Christian? A forsworn knight? A forsworn
+Vernon? The lash, father, the lash--I am eager for it."
+
+Sir George stood in silence, and Dorothy continued to move toward the
+door. Her face was turned backward over her shoulder to her father, and
+she whispered the words, "Forsworn, forsworn, forsworn!"
+
+As she put her hand on the latch the piteous old man held forth his arms
+toward her and in a wail of agony cried: "Doll! Doll! My daughter! My
+child! God help me!"
+
+He covered his face with his hands, his great form shook for a moment as
+the tree trembles before the fall, and he fell prone to the floor sobbing
+forth the anguish of which his soul was full.
+
+In an instant Dorothy was by her father's side holding his head upon her
+lap. She covered his face with her kisses, and while the tears streamed
+from her eyes she spoke incoherent words of love and repentance.
+
+"I will tell you all, father; I will tell you all. I will give him up; I
+will see him never again. I will try not to love him. Oh, father, forgive
+me, forgive me. I will never again deceive you so long as I live."
+
+Truly the fate of an overoath is that it shall be broken. When one swears
+to do too much, one performs too little.
+
+I helped Sir George rise to his feet.
+
+Dorothy, full of tenderness and in tears, tried to take his hand, but he
+repulsed her rudely, and uttering terrible oaths coupled with her name
+quitted the room with tottering steps.
+
+When her father had gone Dorothy stood in revery for a little time, and
+then looking toward the door through which her father had just passed, she
+spoke as if to herself: "He does not know. How fortunate!"
+
+"But you said you would tell him," I suggested. "You said you would give
+him up."
+
+Dorothy was in a deep revery. She took her bodice from the floor and
+mechanically put it on.
+
+"I know I said I would tell my father, and I offered to give--give him
+up," she replied; "but I will do neither. Father would not meet my love
+with love. He would not forgive me, nor would he accept my repentance when
+it was he who should have repented. I was alarmed and grieved for father's
+sake when I said that I would tell him about--about John, and would give
+him up." She was silent and thoughtful for a little time. "Give him up?"
+she cried defiantly. "No, not for my soul; not for ten thousand thousand
+souls. When my father refused my love, he threw away the only opportunity
+he shall ever have to learn from me John's name. That I swear, and I shall
+never be forsworn. I asked father's forgiveness when he should have begged
+for mine. Whip me in the courtyard, would he, till I should bleed! Yet I
+was willing to forgive him, and he would not accept my forgiveness. I was
+willing to forego John, who is more than life to me; but my father would
+not accept my sacrifice. Truly will I never be so great a fool the second
+time. Malcolm, I will not remain here to be the victim of another insult
+such as my father put upon me to-day. There is no law, human or divine,
+that gives to a parent the right to treat his daughter as my father has
+used me. Before this day my conscience smote me when I deceived him, and I
+suffered pain if I but thought of my father. But now, thanks to his
+cruelty, I may be happy without remorse. Malcolm, if you betray me, I
+will--I will kill you if I must follow you over the world to do it."
+
+"Do you think that I deserve that threat from you, Dorothy?" I asked.
+
+"No, no, my dear friend, forgive me. I trust you," and she caught up my
+hand and kissed it gently.
+
+Dorothy and I remained in the banquet hail, seated upon the stone bench
+under the blazoned window.
+
+Soon Sir George returned, closely followed by two men, one of whom bore
+manacles such as were used to secure prisoners in the dungeon. Sir George
+did not speak. He turned to the men and motioned with his hand toward
+Dorothy. I sprang to my feet, intending to interfere by force, if need be,
+to prevent the outrage; but before I could speak Lady Crawford hurriedly
+entered the hall and ran to Sir George's side.
+
+"Brother," she said, "old Bess has just told me that you have given orders
+for Dorothy's confinement in the dungeon. I could not believe Bess; but
+these men with irons lead me to suspect that you really intend.--"
+
+"Do not interfere in affairs that do not concern you," replied Sir George,
+sullenly.
+
+"But this does concern me greatly," said Aunt Dorothy, "and if you send
+Doll to the dungeon, Madge and I will leave your house and will proclaim
+your act to all England."
+
+"The girl has disobeyed me and has lied to me, and--"
+
+"I care not what she has done, I shall leave your house and disown you for
+my brother if you perpetrate this outrage upon my niece. She is dear to me
+as if she were my own child. Have I not brought her up since babyhood? If
+you carry out this order, brother, I will leave Haddon Hall forever."
+
+"And I'll go with her," cried old Bess, who stood at the door of the
+screens.
+
+"And I, too," said Dawson, who was one of the men who had entered with Sir
+George.
+
+"And I," cried the other man, throwing the manacles to the floor, "I will
+leave your service."
+
+Sir George took up the manacles and moved toward Dorothy.
+
+"You may all go, every cursed one of you. I rule my own house, and I will
+have no rebels in it. When I have finished with this perverse wench, I'll
+not wait for you to go. I'll drive you all out and you may go to--"
+
+He was approaching Dorothy, but I stepped in front of him.
+
+"This must not be, Sir George," said I, sternly. "I shall not leave Haddon
+Hall, and I fear you not. I shall remain here to protect your daughter and
+you from your own violence. You cannot put me out of Haddon Hall; I will
+not go."
+
+"Why cannot I put you out of Haddon Hail?" retorted Sir George, whose rage
+by that time was frightful to behold.
+
+"Because, sir, I am a better man and a better swordsman than you are, and
+because you have not on all your estates a servant nor a retainer who will
+not join me against you when I tell them the cause I champion."
+
+Dawson and his fellow stepped to my side significantly, and Sir George
+raised the iron manacles as if intending to strike me. I did not move. At
+the same moment Madge entered the room.
+
+"Where is my uncle?" she asked.
+
+Old Bess led her to Sir George. She spoke not a word, but placed her arms
+gently about his neck and drew his face down to hers. Then she kissed him
+softly upon the lips and said:--
+
+"My uncle has never in all his life spoken in aught but kindness to me,
+and now I beg him to be kind to Dorothy."
+
+The heavy manacles fell clanking to the floor. Sir George placed his hand
+caressingly upon Madge's head and turned from Dorothy.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Lady Crawford then approached her brother and put her hand upon his arm,
+saying:--
+
+"Come with me, George, that I may speak to you in private."
+
+She moved toward the door by which she had entered, and Madge quietly took
+her uncle's hand and led him after Lady Crawford. Within five minutes Sir
+George, Aunt Dorothy, and Madge returned to the room.
+
+"Dorothy?" said Madge in a low voice.
+
+"Here I am, Madge," murmured Dorothy, who was sitting on the bench by the
+blazoned window. Madge walked gropingly over to her cousin and sat by her
+side, taking her hand. Then Lady Crawford spoke to Dorothy:--
+
+"Your father wishes me to say that you must go to your apartments in
+Entrance Tower, and that you shall not leave them without his consent. He
+also insists that I say to you if you make resistance or objection to this
+decree, or if you attempt to escape, he will cause you to be manacled and
+confined in the dungeon, and that no persuasion upon our part will lead
+him from his purpose."
+
+"Which shall it be?" asked Sir George, directing his question to Lady
+Crawford.
+
+Dorothy lifted her eyebrows, bit the corner of her lip, shrugged her
+shoulders, and said:--
+
+"Indeed, it makes no difference to me where you send me, father; I am
+willing to do whatever will give you the greatest happiness. If you
+consult my wishes, you will have me whipped in the courtyard till I bleed.
+I should enjoy that more than anything else you can do. Ah, how tender is
+the love of a father! It passeth understanding."
+
+"Come to your apartments, Dorothy," said Lady Crawford, anxious to
+separate the belligerents. "I have given your father my word of honor that
+I will guard you and will keep you prisoner in your rooms. Do you not pity
+me? I gave my promise only to save you from the dungeon, and painful as
+the task will be, I will keep my word to your father."
+
+"Which shall it be, father?" asked Dorothy. "You shall finish the task you
+began. I shall not help you in your good work by making choice. You shall
+choose my place of imprisonment. Where shall it be? Shall I go to my rooms
+or to the dungeon?"
+
+"Go to your rooms," answered Sir George, "and let me never see--" but Sir
+George did not finish the sentence. He hurriedly left the hall, and
+Dorothy cheerfully went to imprisonment in Entrance Tower.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+MALCOLM No. 2
+
+
+Sir George had done a bad day's work. He had hardened Dorothy's heart
+against himself and had made it more tender toward John. Since her father
+had treated her so cruelly, she felt she was at liberty to give her heart
+to John without stint. So when once she was alone in her room the
+flood-gates of her heart were opened, and she poured forth the ineffable
+tenderness and the passionate longings with which she was filled. With
+solitude came the memory of John's words and John's kisses. She recalled
+every movement, every word, every tone, every sensation. She gave her soul
+unbridled license to feast with joyous ecstasy upon the thrilling
+memories. All thoughts of her father's cruelty were drowned in a sea of
+bliss. She forgot him. In truth, she forgot everything but her love and
+her lover. That evening, after she had assisted Madge to prepare for bed,
+as was her custom, Dorothy stood before her mirror making her toilet for
+the night. In the flood of her newly found ecstasy she soon forgot that
+Madge was in the room.
+
+Dorothy stood before her mirror with her face near to its polished
+surface, that she might scrutinize every feature, and, if possible, verify
+John's words.
+
+"He called me 'my beauty' twice," she thought, "and 'my Aphrodite' once."
+Then her thoughts grew into unconscious words, and she spoke aloud:--
+
+"I wish he could see me now." And she blushed at the thought, as she
+should have done. "He acted as if he meant all he said," she thought. "I
+know he meant it. I trust him entirely. But if he should change? Holy
+Mother, I believe I should die. But I do believe him. He would not lie,
+even though he is not a Vernon."
+
+With thoughts of the scene between herself and her father at the gate,
+there came a low laugh, half of amusement, half of contentment, and the
+laugh meant a great deal that was to be regretted; it showed a sad change
+in Dorothy's heart. But yesterday the memory of her deceit would have
+filled her with grief. To-night she laughed at it. Ah, Sir George!
+Pitiable old man! While your daughter laughs, you sigh and groan and moan,
+and your heart aches with pain and impotent rage. Even drink fails to
+bring comfort to you. I say impotent rage, because Dorothy is out of your
+reach, and as surely as the sun rises in the east she is lost to you
+forever. The years of protection and tender love which you have given to
+her go for nothing. Now comes the son of your mortal enemy, and you are
+but an obstruction in her path. Your existence is forgotten while she
+revels in the memory of his words, his embraces, and his lips. She laughs
+while you suffer, in obedience to the fate that Heaven has decreed for
+those who bring children into this world.
+
+Who is to blame for the pitiable mite which children give in return for a
+parent's flood of love? I do not know, but of this I am sure: if parents
+would cease to feel that they own their children in common with their
+horses, their estates, and their cattle; if they would not, as many do in
+varying degrees, treat their children as their property, the return of
+love would be far more adequate than it is.
+
+Dorothy stood before her mirror plaiting her hair. Her head was turned
+backward a little to one side that she might more easily reach the great
+red golden skein. In that entrancing attitude the reflection of the nether
+lip of which John had spoken so fondly came distinctly to Dorothy's
+notice. She paused in the braiding of her hair and held her face close to
+the mirror that she might inspect the lip, whose beauty John had so
+ardently admired. She turned her face from one side to the other that she
+might view it from all points, and then she thrust it forward with a
+pouting movement that would have set the soul of a mummy pulsing if he had
+ever been a man. She stood for a moment in contemplation of the full red
+lip, and then resting her hands upon the top of the mirror table leaned
+forward and kissed its reflected image.
+
+Again forgetfulness fell upon her and her thoughts grew into words.
+
+"He was surely right concerning my lower lip," she said, speaking to
+herself. Then without the least apparent relevance, "He had been smoking."
+Again her words broke her revery, and she took up the unfinished braid of
+hair. When she did so, she caught a glimpse of her arm which was as
+perfectly rounded as the fairest marble of Phidias. She stretched the arm
+to its full length that the mirror might reflect its entire beauty. Again
+she thought aloud: "I wish he could see my arm. Perhaps some day--" But
+the words ceased, and in their place came a flush that spread from her
+hair to her full white throat, and she quickly turned the mirror away so
+that even it should not behold her beauty.
+
+You see after all is told Dorothy was modest.
+
+She finished her toilet without the aid of her mirror; but before she
+extinguished the candle she stole one more fleeting glance at its polished
+surface, and again came the thought, "Perhaps some day--" Then she covered
+the candle, and amid enfolding darkness lay down beside Madge, full of
+thoughts and sensations that made her tremble; for they were strange to
+her, and she knew not what they meant.
+
+Dorothy thought that Madge was asleep, but after a few minutes the latter
+said:--
+
+"Tell me, Dorothy, who was on fire?"
+
+"Who was on fire?" asked Dorothy in surprise. "What do you mean, Madge?"
+
+"I hope they have not been trying to burn any one," said Madge.
+
+"What do you mean?" again asked Dorothy.
+
+"You said 'He had been smoking,'" responded Madge.
+
+"Oh," laughed Dorothy, "that is too comical. Of course not, dear one. I
+was speaking of--of a man who had been smoking tobacco, as Malcolm does."
+Then she explained the process of tobacco smoking.
+
+"Yes, I know," answered Madge. "I saw Malcolm's pipe. That is, I held it
+in my hands for a moment while he explained to me its use."
+
+Silence ensued for a moment, and Madge again spoke:--
+
+"What was it he said about your lower lip, and who was he? I did not learn
+why Uncle George wished to confine you in the dungeon. I am so sorry that
+this trouble has come upon you."
+
+"Trouble, Madge?" returned Dorothy. "Truly, you do not understand. No
+trouble has come upon me. The greatest happiness of my life has come to
+pass. Don't pity me. Envy me. My happiness is so sweet and so great that
+it frightens me."
+
+"How can you be happy while your father treats you so cruelly?" asked
+Madge.
+
+"His conduct makes it possible for my happiness to be complete," returned
+Dorothy. "If he were kind to me, I should be unhappy, but his cruelty
+leaves me free to be as happy as I may. For my imprisonment in this room I
+care not a farthing. It does not trouble me, for when I wish to see--see
+him again, I shall do so. I don't know at this time just how I shall
+effect it; but be sure, sweet one, I shall find a way." There was no doubt
+in Madge's mind that Dorothy would find a way.
+
+"Who is he, Dorothy? You may trust me. Is he the gentleman whom we met at
+Derby-town?"
+
+"Yes," answered Dorothy, "he is Sir John Manners."
+
+"Dorothy!" exclaimed Madge in tones of fear.
+
+"It could not be worse, could it, Madge?" said Dorothy.
+
+"Oh, Dorothy!" was the only response.
+
+"You will not betray me?" asked Dorothy, whose alarm made her suspicious.
+
+"You know whether or not I will betray you," answered Madge.
+
+"Indeed, I know, else I should not have told you my secret. Oh, you should
+see him, Madge; he is the most beautiful person living. The poor soft
+beauty of the fairest woman grows pale beside him. You cannot know how
+wonderfully beautiful a man may be. You have never seen one."
+
+"Yes, I have seen many men, and I well remember their appearance. I was
+twelve years old, you know, when I lost my sight."
+
+"But, Madge," said Dorothy, out of the fulness of her newly acquired
+knowledge, "a girl of twelve cannot see a man."
+
+"No woman sees with her eyes the man whom she loves," answered Madge,
+quietly.
+
+"How does she see him?" queried Dorothy.
+
+"With her heart."
+
+"Have you, too, learned that fact?" asked Dorothy.
+
+Madge hesitated for a moment and murmured "Yes."
+
+"Who is he, dear one?" whispered Dorothy.
+
+"I may not tell even you, Dorothy," replied Madge, "because it can come
+to nothing. The love is all on my part."
+
+Dorothy insisted, but Madge begged her not to ask for her secret.
+
+"Please don't even make a guess concerning him," said Madge. "It is my
+shame and my joy."
+
+It looked as if this malady which had fallen upon Dorothy were like the
+plague that infects a whole family if one but catch it.
+
+Dorothy, though curious, was generous, and remained content with Madge's
+promise that she should be the first one to hear the sweet story if ever
+the time should come to tell it.
+
+"When did you see him?" asked Madge, who was more willing to receive than
+to impart intelligence concerning affairs of the heart.
+
+"To-day," answered Dorothy. Then she told Madge about the scenes at the
+gate and described what had happened between her and Sir George in the
+kitchen and banquet hall.
+
+"How could you tell your father such a falsehood?" asked Madge in
+consternation.
+
+"It was very easy. You see I had to do it. I never lied until recently.
+But oh, Madge, this is a terrible thing to come upon a girl!" "This" was
+somewhat indefinite, but Madge understood, and perhaps it will be clear to
+you what Dorothy meant. The girl continued: "She forgets all else. It will
+drive her to do anything, however wicked. For some strange cause, under
+its influence she does not feel the wrong she does. It acts upon a girl's
+sense of right and wrong as poppy juice acts on pain. Before it came upon
+me in--in such terrible force, I believe I should have become ill had I
+told my father a falsehood. I might have equivocated, or I might have
+evaded the truth in some slight degree, but I could not have told a lie.
+But now it is as easy as winking."
+
+"And I fear, Dorothy," responded Madge, "that winking is very easy for
+you."
+
+"Yes," answered candid Dorothy with a sigh.
+
+"It must be a very great evil," said Madge, deploringly.
+
+"One might well believe so," answered Dorothy, "but it is not. One
+instinctively knows it to be the essence of all that is good."
+
+Madge asked, "Did Sir John tell you that--that he--"
+
+"Yes," said Dorothy, covering her face even from the flickering rays of
+the rushlight.
+
+"Did you tell him?"
+
+"Yes," came in reply from under the coverlet.
+
+After a short silence Dorothy uncovered her face.
+
+"Yes," she said boldly, "I told him plainly; nor did I feel shame in so
+doing. It must be that this strange love makes one brazen. You, Madge,
+would die with shame had you sought any man as I have sought John. I would
+not for worlds tell you how bold and over-eager I have been."
+
+"Oh, Dorothy!" was all the answer Madge gave.
+
+"You would say 'Oh, Dorothy,' many times if you knew all." Another pause
+ensued, after which Madge asked:--
+
+"How did you know he had been smoking?"
+
+"I--I tasted it," responded Dorothy.
+
+"How could you taste it? I hope you did not smoke?" returned Madge in
+wonderment.
+
+Dorothy smothered a little laugh, made two or three vain attempts to
+explain, tenderly put her arms about Madge's neck and kissed her.
+
+"Oh, Dorothy, that certainly was wrong," returned Madge, although she had
+some doubts in her own mind upon the point.
+
+"Well, if it is wrong," answered Dorothy, sighing, "I don't care to live."
+
+"Dorothy, I fear you are an immodest girl," said Madge.
+
+"I fear I am, but I don't care--John, John, John!"
+
+"How came he to speak of your lower lip?" asked Madge. "It certainly is
+very beautiful; but how came he to speak of it?"
+
+"It was after--after--once," responded Dorothy.
+
+"And your arm," continued remorseless Madge, "how came he to speak of it?
+You surely did not--"
+
+"No, no, Madge; I hope you do not think I would show him my arm. I have
+not come to that. I have a poor remnant of modesty left; but the Holy
+Mother only knows how long it will last. No, he did not speak of my arm."
+
+"You spoke of your arm when you were before the mirror," responded Madge,
+"and you said, 'Perhaps some day--'"
+
+"Oh, don't, Madge. Please spare me. I indeed fear I am very wicked. I will
+say a little prayer to the Virgin to-night. She will hear me, even If I am
+wicked; and she will help me to become good and modest again."
+
+The girls went to sleep, and Dorothy dreamed "John, John, John," and
+slumbered happily.
+
+That part of the building of Haddon Hall which lies to the northward, west
+of the kitchen, consists of rooms according to the following plan:--
+
+The two rooms in Entrance Tower over the great doors at the northwest
+corner of Haddon Hall were occupied by Dorothy and Madge. The west room
+overlooking the Wye was their parlor. The next room to the east was their
+bedroom. The room next their bedroom was occupied by Lady Crawford. Beyond
+that was Sir George's bedroom, and east of his room was one occupied by
+the pages and two retainers. To enter Dorothy's apartments one must pass
+through all the other rooms I have mentioned. Her windows were twenty-five
+feet from the ground and were barred with iron. After Dorothy's sentence
+of imprisonment, Lady Crawford, or some trusted person in her place, was
+always on guard in Aunt Dorothy's room to prevent Dorothy's escape, and
+guards were also stationed in the retainer's room for the same purpose. I
+tell you this that you may understand the difficulties Dorothy would have
+to overcome before she could see John, as she declared to Madge she would.
+But my opinion is that there are no limits to the resources of a wilful
+girl. Dorothy saw Manners. The plan she conceived to bring about the
+desired end was so seemingly impossible, and her execution of it was so
+adroit and daring, that I believe it will of itself interest you in the
+telling, aside from the bearing it has upon this history. No sane man
+would have deemed it possible, but this wilful girl carried it to
+fruition. She saw no chance of failure. To her it seemed a simple, easy
+matter. Therefore she said with confidence and truth, "I will see him when
+I wish to."
+
+Let me tell you of it.
+
+During Dorothy's imprisonment I spent an hour or two each evening with her
+and Madge at their parlor in the tower. The windows of the room, as I have
+told you, faced westward, overlooking the Wye, and disclosed the
+beautiful, undulating scenery of Overhaddon Hill in the distance.
+
+One afternoon when Madge was not present Dorothy asked me to bring her a
+complete suit of my garments,--boots, hose, trunks, waistcoat, and
+doublet. I laughed, and asked her what she wanted with them, but she
+refused to tell me. She insisted, however, and I promised to fetch the
+garments to her. Accordingly the next evening I delivered the bundle to
+her hands. Within a week she returned them all, saving the boots. Those
+she kept--for what reason I could not guess.
+
+Lady Crawford, by command of Sir George, carried in her reticule the key
+of the door which opened from her own room into Sir George's apartments,
+and the door was always kept locked.
+
+Dorothy had made several attempts to obtain possession of the key, with
+intent, I believe, of making a bold dash for liberty. But Aunt Dorothy,
+mindful of Sir George's wrath and fearing him above all men, acted
+faithfully her part of gaoler. She smiled, half in sadness, when she told
+me of the girl's simplicity in thinking she could hoodwink a person of
+Lady Crawford's age, experience, and wisdom. The old lady took great pride
+in her own acuteness. The distasteful task of gaoler, however, pained good
+Aunt Dorothy, whose simplicity was, in truth, no match for Dorothy's
+love-quickened cunning. But Aunt Dorothy's sense of duty and her fear of
+Sir George impelled her to keep good and conscientious guard.
+
+One afternoon near the hour of sunset I knocked for admission at Lady
+Crawford's door. When I had entered she locked the door carefully after
+me, and replaced the key in the reticule which hung at her girdle.
+
+I exchanged a few words with her Ladyship, and entered Dorothy's bedroom,
+where I left my cloak, hat, and sword. The girls were in the parlor. When
+I left Lady Crawford she again took her chair near the candle, put on her
+great bone-rimmed spectacles, and was soon lost to the world in the pages
+of "Sir Philip de Comynges." The dear old lady was near-sighted and was
+slightly deaf. Dorothy's bedroom, like Lady Crawford's apartments, was in
+deep shadow. In it there was no candle.
+
+My two fair friends were seated in one of the west windows watching the
+sunset. They rose, and each gave me her hand and welcomed me with the rare
+smiles I had learned to expect from them. I drew a chair near to the
+window and we talked and laughed together merrily for a few minutes. After
+a little time Dorothy excused herself, saying that she would leave Madge
+and me while she went into the bedroom to make a change in her apparel.
+
+Madge and I sat for a few minutes at the window, and I said, "You have not
+been out to-day for exercise."
+
+I had ridden to Derby with Sir George and had gone directly on my return
+to see my two young friends. Sir George had not returned.
+
+"Will you walk with me about the room?" I asked. My real reason for making
+the suggestion was that I longed to clasp her hand, and to feel its
+velvety touch, since I should lead her if we walked.
+
+She quickly rose in answer to my invitation and offered me her hand. As we
+walked to and fro a deep, sweet contentment filled my heart, and I felt
+that any words my lips could coin would but mar the ineffable silence.
+
+Never shall I forget the soft light of that gloaming as the darkening red
+rays of the sinking sun shot through the panelled window across the floor
+and illumined the tapestry upon the opposite wall.
+
+The tapestries of Haddon Hall are among the most beautiful in England, and
+the picture upon which the sun's rays fell was that of a lover kneeling at
+the feet of his mistress. Madge and I passed and repassed the illumined
+scene, and while it was softly fading into shadow a great flood of tender
+love for the girl whose soft hand I held swept over my heart. It was the
+noblest motive I had ever felt.
+
+Moved by an impulse I could not resist, I stopped in our walk, and falling
+to my knee pressed her hand ardently to my lips. Madge did not withdraw
+her hand, nor did she attempt to raise me. She stood in passive silence.
+The sun's rays had risen as the sun had sunk, and the light was falling
+like a holy radiance from the gates of paradise upon the girl's head. I
+looked upward, and never in my eyes had woman's face appeared so fair and
+saintlike. She seemed to see me and to feel the silent outpouring of my
+affection. I rose to my feet, and clasping both her hands spoke only her
+name "Madge."
+
+She answered simply, "Malcolm, is it possible?" And her face, illumined by
+the sunlight and by the love-god, told me all else. Then I gently took her
+to my arms and kissed her lips again and again and again, and Madge by no
+sign nor gesture said me nay. She breathed a happy sigh, her head fell
+upon my breast, and all else of good that the world could offer compared
+with her was dross to me.
+
+We again took our places by the window, since now I might hold her hand
+without an excuse. By the window we sat, speaking little, through the
+happiest hour of my I life. How dearly do I love to write about it, and to
+lave my soul in the sweet aromatic essence of its memory. But my
+rhapsodies must have an end.
+
+When Dorothy left me with Madge at the window she entered her bedroom and
+quickly arrayed herself in garments which were facsimiles of those I had
+lent her. Then she put her feet into my boots and donned my hat and cloak.
+She drew my gauntleted gloves over her hands, buckled my sword to her slim
+waist, pulled down the broad rim of my soft beaver hat over her face, and
+turned up the collar of my cloak. Then she adjusted about her chin and
+upper lip a black chin beard and moustachio, which she had in some manner
+contrived to make, and, in short, prepared to enact the role of Malcolm
+Vernon before her watchful gaoler, Aunt Dorothy.
+
+While sitting silently with Madge I heard the clanking of my sword against
+the oak floor in Dorothy's bedroom. I supposed she had been toying with it
+and had let it fall. She was much of a child, and nothing could escape her
+curiosity. Then I heard the door open into Aunt Dorothy's apartments. I
+whispered to Madge requesting her to remain silently by the window, and
+then I stepped softly over to the door leading into the bedroom. I
+noiselessly opened the door and entered. From my dark hiding-place in
+Dorothy's bedroom I witnessed a scene in Aunt Dorothy's room which filled
+me with wonder and suppressed laughter. Striding about in the
+shadow-darkened portions of Lady Crawford's apartment was my other self,
+Malcolm No. 2, created from the flesh and substance of Dorothy Vernon.
+
+The sunlight was yet abroad, though into Lady Crawford's room its slanting
+rays but dimly entered at that hour, and the apartment was in deep shadow,
+save for the light of one flickering candle, close to the flame of which
+the old lady was holding the pages of the book she was laboriously
+perusing.
+
+The girl held her hand over her mouth trumpet-wise that her voice might be
+deepened, and the swagger with which she strode about the room was the
+most graceful and ludicrous movement I ever beheld. I wondered if she
+thought she was imitating my walk, and I vowed that if her step were a
+copy of mine, I would straightway amend my pace.
+
+"What do you read, Lady Crawford?" said my cloak and hat, in tones that
+certainly were marvellously good imitations of my voice.
+
+"What do you say, Malcolm?" asked the deaf old lady, too gentle to show
+the ill-humor she felt because of the interruption to her reading.
+
+"I asked what do you read?" repeated Dorothy.
+
+"The 'Chronicle of Sir Philip de Comynges,'" responded Lady Crawford.
+"Have you read it? It is a rare and interesting history."
+
+"Ah, indeed, it is a rare book, a rare book. I have read it many times."
+There was no need for that little fabrication, and it nearly brought
+Dorothy into trouble.
+
+"What part of the 'Chronicle' do you best like?" asked Aunt Dorothy,
+perhaps for lack of anything else to say. Here was trouble already for
+Malcolm No. 2.
+
+"That is hard for me to say. I so well like it all. Perhaps--ah--perhaps I
+prefer the--the ah--the middle portion."
+
+"Ah, you like that part which tells the story of Mary of Burgundy,"
+returned Aunt Dorothy. "Oh, Malcolm, I know upon what theme you are always
+thinking--the ladies, the ladies."
+
+"Can the fair Lady Crawford chide me for that?" my second self responded
+in a gallant style of which I was really proud. "She who has caused so
+much of that sort of thought surely must know that a gentleman's mind
+cannot be better employed than--"
+
+"Malcolm, you are incorrigible. But it is well for a gentleman to keep in
+practice in such matters, even though he have but an old lady to practise
+on."
+
+"They like it, even if it be only practice, don't they?" said Dorothy,
+full of the spirit of mischief.
+
+"I thank you for nothing, Sir Malcolm Vernon," retorted Aunt Dorothy with
+a toss of her head. "I surely don't value your practice, as you call it,
+one little farthing's worth."
+
+But Malcolm No. 2, though mischievously inclined, was much quicker of wit
+than Malcolm No. 1, and she easily extricated herself.
+
+"I meant that gentlemen like it, Lady Crawford."
+
+"Oh!" replied Lady Crawford, again taking up her book. "I have been
+reading Sir Philip's account of the death of your fair Mary of Burgundy.
+Do you remember the cause of her death?"
+
+Malcolm No. 2, who had read Sir Philip so many times, was compelled to
+admit that he did not remember the cause of Mary's death.
+
+"You did not read the book with attention," replied Lady Crawford. "Sir
+Philip says that Mary of Burgundy died from an excess of modesty."
+
+"That disease will never depopulate England," was the answer that came
+from my garments, much to my chagrin.
+
+"Sir Malcolm," exclaimed the old lady, "I never before heard so ungallant
+a speech from your lips."--"And," thought I, "she never will hear its like
+from me."
+
+"Modesty," continued Lady Crawford, "may not be valued so highly by young
+women nowadays as it was in the time of my youth, but--"
+
+"I am sure it is not," interrupted Dorothy.
+
+"But," continued Lady Crawford, "the young women of England are modest and
+seemly in their conduct, and they do not deserve to be spoken of in
+ungallant jest."
+
+I trembled lest Dorothy should ruin my reputation for gallantry.
+
+"Do you not," said Lady Crawford, "consider Dorothy and Madge to be
+modest, well-behaved maidens?"
+
+"Madge! Ah, surely she is all that a maiden should be. She is a saint, but
+as to Dorothy--well, my dear Lady Crawford, I predict another end for her
+than death from modesty. I thank Heaven the disease in its mild form does
+not kill. Dorothy has it mildly," then under her breath, "if at all."
+
+The girl's sense of humor had vanquished her caution, and for the moment
+it caused her to forget even the reason for her disguise.
+
+"You do not speak fairly of your cousin Dorothy," retorted Lady Crawford.
+"She is a modest girl, and I love her deeply."
+
+"Her father would not agree with you," replied Dorothy.
+
+"Perhaps not," responded the aunt. "Her father's conduct causes me great
+pain and grief."
+
+"It also causes me pain," said Dorothy, sighing.
+
+"But, Malcolm," continued the old lady, putting down her book and turning
+with quickened interest toward my other self, "who, suppose you, is the
+man with whom Dorothy has become so strangely entangled?"
+
+"I cannot tell for the life of me," answered Malcolm No. 2. "Surely a
+modest girl would not act as she does."
+
+"Surely a modest girl would," replied Aunt Dorothy, testily. "Malcolm, you
+know nothing of women."
+
+"Spoken with truth," thought I.
+
+The old lady continued: "Modesty and love have nothing whatever to do with
+each other. When love comes in at the door, modesty flies out at the
+window. I do pity my niece with all my heart, and in good truth I wish I
+could help her, though of course I would not have her know my feeling. I
+feign severity toward her, but I do not hesitate to tell you that I am
+greatly interested in her romance. She surely is deeply in love."
+
+"That is a true word, Aunt Dorothy," said the lovelorn young woman. "I am
+sure she is fathoms deep in love."
+
+"Nothing," said Lady Crawford, "but a great passion would have impelled
+her to act as she did. Why, even Mary of Burgundy, with all her modesty,
+won the husband she wanted, ay, and had him at the cost of half her rich
+domain."
+
+"I wonder if Dorothy will ever have the man she wants?" said Malcolm,
+sighing in a manner entirely new to him.
+
+"No," answered the old lady, "I fear there is no hope for Dorothy. I
+wonder who he is? Her father intends that she shall soon marry Lord
+Stanley. Sir George told me as much this morning when he started for
+Derby-town to arrange for the signing of the marriage contract within a
+day or two. He had a talk yesterday with Dorothy. She, I believe, has
+surrendered to the inevitable, and again there is good feeling between her
+and my brother."
+
+Dorothy tossed her head expressively.
+
+"It is a good match," continued Lady Crawford, "a good match, Malcolm. I
+pity Dorothy; but it is my duty to guard her, and I shall do it
+faithfully."
+
+"My dear Lady Crawford," said my hat and cloak, "your words and feelings
+do great credit to your heart. But have you ever thought that your niece
+is a very wilful girl, and that she is full of disturbing expedients? Now
+I am willing to wager my beard that she will, sooner than you suspect, see
+her lover. And I am also willing to lay a wager that she will marry the
+man of her choice despite all the watchfulness of her father and yourself.
+Keep close guard over her, my lady, or she will escape."
+
+Lady Crawford laughed. "She shall not escape. Have no fear of that,
+Malcolm. The key to the door is always safely locked in my reticule. No
+girl can outwit me. I am too old to be caught unawares by a mere child
+like Dorothy. It makes me laugh, Malcolm--although I am sore at heart for
+Dorothy's sake--it makes me laugh, with a touch of tears, when I think of
+poor simple Dorothy's many little artifices to gain possession of this
+key. They are amusing and pathetic. Poor child! But I am too old to be
+duped by a girl, Malcolm, I am too old. She has no chance to escape."
+
+I said to myself: "No one has ever become too old to be duped by a girl
+who is in love. Her wits grow keen as the otter's fur grows thick for the
+winter's need. I do not know your niece's plan; but if I mistake not, Aunt
+Dorothy, you will in one respect, at least, soon be rejuvenated."
+
+"I am sure Lady Crawford is right in what she says," spoke my other self,
+"and Sir George is fortunate in having for his daughter a guardian who
+cannot be hoodwinked and who is true to a distasteful trust. I would the
+trouble were over and that Dorothy were well married."
+
+"So wish I, Malcolm, with all my heart," replied Aunt Dorothy.
+
+After a brief pause in the conversation Malcolm No. 2 said:--
+
+"I must now take my leave. Will you kindly unlock the door and permit me
+to say good night?"
+
+"If you must go," answered my lady, glad enough to be left alone with her
+beloved Sir Philip. Then she unlocked the door.
+
+"Keep good watch, my dear aunt," said Malcolm. "I greatly fear that
+Dorothy--" but the door closed on the remainder of the sentence and on
+Dorothy Vernon.
+
+"Nonsense!" ejaculated the old lady somewhat impatiently. "Why should he
+fear for Dorothy? I hope I shall not again be disturbed." And soon she was
+deep in the pages of her book.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A TRYST AT BOWLING GREEN GATE
+
+
+I was at a loss what course to pursue, and I remained for a moment in
+puzzling thought. I went back to Madge, and after closing the door, told
+her of all I had seen. She could not advise me, and of course she was
+deeply troubled and concerned. After deliberating, I determined to speak
+to Aunt Dorothy that she might know what had happened. So I opened the
+door and walked into Lady Crawford's presence. After viewing my lady's
+back for a short time, I said:--
+
+"I cannot find my hat, cloak, and sword. I left them in Dorothy's bedroom.
+Has any one been here since I entered?"
+
+The old lady turned quickly upon me, "Since you entered?" she cried in
+wonderment and consternation. "Since you left, you mean. Did you not leave
+this room a few minutes ago? What means this? How found you entrance
+without the key?"
+
+"I did not leave this room, Aunt Dorothy; you see I am here," I responded.
+
+"Who did leave? Your wraith? Some one--Dorothy!" screamed the old lady in
+terror. "That girl!!--Holy Virgin! where is she?"
+
+Lady Crawford hastened to Dorothy's room and returned to me in great
+agitation.
+
+"Were you in the plot?" she demanded angrily.
+
+"No more than were you, Lady Crawford," I replied, telling the exact
+truth. If I were accessory to Dorothy's crime, it was only as a witness
+and Aunt Dorothy had seen as much as I.
+
+I continued: "Dorothy left Lady Madge and me at the window, saying she
+wished to make a change in her garments. I was watching the sunset and
+talking with Lady Madge."
+
+Lady Crawford, being full of concern about the main event,--Dorothy's
+escape,--was easily satisfied that I was not accessory before the fact.
+
+"What shall I do, Malcolm? What shall I do? Help me, quickly. My brother
+will return in the morning--perhaps he will return to-night--and he will
+not believe that I have not intentionally permitted Dorothy to leave the
+Hall. I have of late said so much to him on behalf of the girl that he
+suspects me already of being in sympathy with her. He will not believe me
+when I tell him that I have been duped. The ungrateful, selfish girl! How
+could she so unkindly return my affection!"
+
+The old lady began to weep.
+
+I did not believe that Dorothy intended to leave Haddon Hall permanently.
+I felt confident she had gone out only to meet John, and was sure she
+would soon return. On the strength of that opinion I said: "If you fear
+that Sir George will not believe you--he certainly will blame you--would
+it not be better to admit Dorothy quietly when she returns and say nothing
+to any one concerning the escapade? I will remain here in these rooms, and
+when she returns I will depart, and the guards will never suspect that
+Dorothy has left the Hall."
+
+"If she will but return," wailed Aunt Dorothy, "I shall be only too glad
+to admit her and to keep silent."
+
+"I am sure she will," I answered. "Leave orders with the guard at Sir
+George's door to admit me at any time during the night, and Dorothy will
+come in without being recognized. Her disguise must be very complete if
+she could deceive you."
+
+"Indeed, her disguise is complete," replied the tearful old lady.
+
+Dorothy's disguise was so complete and her resemblance to me had been so
+well contrived that she met with no opposition from the guards in the
+retainer's room nor from the porter. She walked out upon the terrace where
+she strolled for a short time. Then she climbed over the wall at the stile
+back of the terrace and took her way up Bowling Green Hill toward the
+gate. She sauntered leisurely until she was out of sight of the Hall. Then
+gathering up her cloak and sword she sped along the steep path to the hill
+crest and thence to the gate.
+
+Soon after the first day of her imprisonment she had sent a letter to John
+by the hand of Jennie Faxton, acquainting him with the details of all that
+had happened. In her letter, among much else, she said:--
+
+"My true love, I beg you to haunt with your presence Bowling Green Gate
+each day at the hour of sunset. I cannot tell you when I shall be there to
+meet you, or surely I would do so now. But be there I will. Let no doubt
+of that disturb your mind. It does not lie in the power of man to keep me
+from you. That is, it lies in the power of but one man, you, my love and
+my lord, and I fear not that you will use your power to that end. So it is
+that I beg you to wait for me at sunset hour each day near by Bowling
+Green Gate. You may be caused to wait for me a long weary time; but one
+day, sooner or later, I shall go to you, and then--ah, then, if it be in
+my power to reward your patience, you shall have no cause for complaint."
+
+When Dorothy reached the gate she found it securely locked. She peered
+eagerly through the bars, hoping to see John. She tried to shake the
+heavy iron structure to assure herself that it could not be opened.
+
+"Ah, well," she sighed, "I suppose the reason love laughs at locksmiths is
+because he--or she--can climb."
+
+Then she climbed the gate and sprang to the ground on the Devonshire side
+of the wall.
+
+"What will John think when he sees me in this attire?" she said half
+aloud. "Malcolm's cloak serves but poorly to cover me, and I shall instead
+be covered with shame and confusion when John comes. I fear he will think
+I have disgraced myself." Then, with a sigh, "But necessity knows no
+raiment."
+
+She strode about near the gate for a few minutes, wishing that she were
+indeed a man, save for one fact: if she were not a woman, John would not
+love her, and, above all, she could not love John. The fact that she could
+and did love John appealed to Dorothy as the highest, sweetest privilege
+that Heaven or earth could offer to a human being.
+
+The sun had sunk in the west, and his faint parting glory was but dimly to
+be seen upon a few small clouds that floated above Overhaddon Hill. The
+moon was past its half; and the stars, still yellow and pale from the
+lingering glare of day, waited eagerly to give their twinkling help in
+lighting the night. The forest near the gate was dense, and withal the
+fading light of the sun and the dawning beams of the moon and stars, deep
+shadow enveloped Dorothy and all the scene about her. The girl was
+disappointed when she did not see Manners, but she was not vexed. There
+was but one person in all the world toward whom she held a patient, humble
+attitude--John. If he, in his greatness, goodness, and condescension,
+deigned to come and meet so poor a person as Dorothy Vernon, she would be
+thankful and happy; if he did not come, she would be sorrowful. His will
+was her will, and she would come again and again until she should find
+him waiting for her, and he should stoop to lift her into heaven.
+
+If there is a place in all the earth where red warm blood counts for its
+full value, it is in a pure woman's veins. Through self-fear it brings to
+her a proud reserve toward all mankind till the right one comes. Toward
+him it brings an eager humbleness that is the essence and the life of
+Heaven and of love. Poets may praise snowy women as they will, but the
+compelling woman is she of the warm blood. The snowy woman is the lifeless
+seed, the rainless cloud, the unmagnetic lodestone, the drossful iron. The
+great laws of nature affect her but passively. If there is aught in the
+saying of the ancients, "The best only in nature can survive," the day of
+her extermination will come. Fire is as chaste as snow, and infinitely
+more comforting.
+
+Dorothy's patience was not to be tried for long. Five minutes after she
+had climbed the gate she beheld John riding toward her from the direction
+of Rowsley, and her heart beat with thrill upon thrill of joy. She felt
+that the crowning moment of her life was at hand. By the help of a subtle
+sense--familiar spirit to her love perhaps--she knew that John would ask
+her to go with him and to be his wife, despite all the Rutlands and
+Vernons dead, living, or to be born. The thought of refusing him never
+entered her mind. Queen Nature was on the throne in the fulness of power,
+and Dorothy, in perfect attune with her great sovereign, was fulfilling
+her destiny in accordance with the laws to which her drossless being was
+entirely amenable.
+
+Many times had the fear come to her that Sir John Manners, who was heir to
+the great earldom of Rutland,--he who was so great, so good, and so
+beautiful,--might feel that his duty to his house past, present, and
+future, and the obligations of his position among the grand nobles of the
+realm, should deter him from a marriage against which so many good reasons
+could be urged. But this evening her familiar spirit whispered to her that
+she need not fear, and her heart was filled with joy and certainty. John
+dismounted and tethered his horse at a short distance from the gate. He
+approached Dorothy, but halted when he beheld a man instead of the girl
+whom he longed to meet. His hesitancy surprised Dorothy, who, in her
+eagerness, had forgotten her male attire. She soon saw, however, that he
+did not recognize her, and she determined, in a spirit of mischief, to
+maintain her incognito till he should penetrate her disguise.
+
+She turned her back on John and sauntered leisurely about, whistling
+softly. She pretended to be unconscious of his presence, and John, who
+felt that the field was his by the divine right of love, walked to the
+gate and looked through the bars toward Bowling Green. He stood at the
+gate for a short time with indifference in his manner and irritation in
+his heart. He, too, tried to hum a tune, but failed. Then he tried to
+whistle, but his musical efforts were abortive. There was no music in him.
+A moment before his heart had been full of harmony; but when he found a
+man instead of his sweetheart, the harmony quickly turned to rasping
+discord.
+
+John was not a patient man, and his impatience was apt to take the form of
+words and actions. A little aimless stalking about at the gate was more
+than enough for him, so he stepped toward the intruder and lifted his hat.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, "I thought when first I saw you that you
+were Sir Malcolm Vernon. I fancied you bore resemblance to him. I see that
+I was in error."
+
+"Yes, in error," answered my beard.
+
+Again the two gentlemen walked around each other with great amusement on
+the part of one, and with ever increasing vexation on the part of the
+other.
+
+Soon John said, "May I ask whom have I the honor to address?"
+
+"Certainly, you may ask," was the response.
+
+A silence ensued during which Dorothy again turned her back on John and
+walked a few paces away from him. John's patience was rapidly oozing, and
+when the unknown intruder again turned in his direction, John said with
+all the gentleness then at his command:--
+
+"Well, sir, I do ask."
+
+"Your curiosity is flattering," said the girl.
+
+"Pardon me, sir," returned John. "My curiosity is not intended to be
+flattering. I--"
+
+"I hope it is not intended to be insulting, sir?" asked my hat and cloak.
+
+"That, sir, all depends upon yourself," retorted John, warmly. Then after
+an instant of thought, he continued in tones of conciliation:--
+
+"I have an engagement of a private nature at this place. In short, I hope
+to meet a--a friend here within a few minutes and I feel sure that under
+the circumstances so gallant a gentleman as yourself will act with due
+consideration for the feelings of another. I hope and believe that you
+will do as you would be done by."
+
+"Certainly, certainly," responded the gallant. "I find no fault at all
+with your presence. Please take no account whatever of me. I assure you I
+shall not be in the least disturbed."
+
+John was somewhat disconcerted.
+
+"Perhaps you will not be disturbed," replied John, struggling to keep down
+his temper, "but I fear you do not understand me. I hope to meet a--a lady
+and--"
+
+"I hope also to meet a--a friend," the fellow said; "but I assure you we
+shall in no way conflict."
+
+"May I ask," queried John, "if you expect to meet a gentleman or a lady?"
+
+"Certainly you may ask," was the girl's irritating reply.
+
+"Well, well, sir, I do ask," said John. "Furthermore, I demand to know
+whom you expect to meet at this place."
+
+"That, of course, sir, is no business of yours."
+
+"But I shall make it my affair. I expect to meet a lady here, my
+sweetheart." The girl's heart jumped with joy. "And if you have any of the
+feelings of a gentleman, you must know that your presence will be
+intolerable to me."
+
+"Perhaps it will be, my dear sir, but I have as good a right here as you
+or any other. If you must know all about my affairs, I tell you I, too,
+hope to meet my sweetheart at this place. In fact, I know I shall meet my
+sweetheart, and, my good fellow, I beg to inform you that a stranger's
+presence would be very annoying to me."
+
+John was at his wit's end. He must quickly do or say something to persuade
+this stubborn fellow to leave. If Dorothy should come and see two persons
+at the gate she, of course, would return to the Hall. Jennie Faxton, who
+knew that the garments were finished, had told Sir John that he might
+reasonably expect to see Dorothy at the gate on that evening, for Sir
+George had gone to Derby-town, presumably to remain over night.
+
+In sheer desperation John said, "I was here first, and I claim the
+ground."
+
+"That is not true," replied the other. "I have been waiting here for
+you--I mean for the person I am to meet--" Dorothy thought she had
+betrayed herself, and that John would surely recognize her. "I had been
+waiting full five minutes before you arrived."
+
+John's blindness in failing to recognize Dorothy is past my understanding.
+He explained it to me afterward by saying that his eagerness to see
+Dorothy, and his fear, nay almost certainty, that she could not come,
+coupled with the hope which Jennie Faxton had given him, had so completely
+occupied his mind that other subjects received but slight consideration.
+
+"But I--I have been here before this night to meet--"
+
+"And I have been here to meet--quite as often as you, I hope," retorted
+Dorothy.
+
+They say that love blinds a man. It must also have deafened John, since he
+did not recognize his sweetheart's voice.
+
+"It may be true that you have been here before this evening," retorted
+John, angrily; "but you shall not remain here now. If you wish to save
+yourself trouble, leave at once. If you stalk about in the forest, I will
+run you through and leave you for the crows to pick."
+
+"I have no intention of leaving, and if I were to do so you would regret
+it; by my beard, you would regret it," answered the girl, pleased to see
+John in his overbearing, commanding mood. His stupidity was past
+comprehension.
+
+"Defend yourself," said John, drawing his sword.
+
+"Now he will surely know the truth," thought Dorothy, but she said: "I am
+much younger than you, and am not so large and strong. I am unskilled in
+the use of a sword, and therefore am I no match for Sir John Manners than
+whom, I have heard, there is no better swordsman, stronger arm, nor braver
+heart in England."
+
+"You flatter me, my friend," returned John, forced into a good humor
+against his will; "but you must leave. He who cannot defend himself must
+yield; it is the law of nature and of men."
+
+John advanced toward Dorothy, who retreated stepping backward, holding her
+arm over her face.
+
+"I am ready to yield if you wish. In fact, I am eager to yield--more eager
+than you can know," she cried.
+
+"It is well," answered John, putting his sword in sheath.
+
+"But," continued Dorothy, "I will not go away."
+
+"Then you must fight," said John.
+
+"I tell you again I am willing, nay, eager to yield to you, but I also
+tell you I cannot fight in the way you would have me. In other ways
+perhaps I can fight quite as well as anybody. But really, I am ashamed to
+draw my sword, since to do so would show you how poorly I am equipped to
+defend myself under your great laws of nature and of man. Again, I wish to
+assure you that I am more than eager to yield; but I cannot fight you, and
+I will not go away."
+
+The wonder never ceases that John did not recognize her. She took no pains
+to hide her identity, and after a few moments of concealment she was
+anxious that John should discover her under my garments.
+
+"I would know his voice," she thought, "did he wear all the petticoats in
+Derbyshire."
+
+"What shall I do with you?" cried John, amused and irritated. "I cannot
+strike you."
+
+"No, of course you would not murder me in cold blood," answered Dorothy,
+laughing heartily. She was sure her laughter would open John's eyes.
+
+"I cannot carry you away," said John.
+
+"I would come back again, if you did," answered the irrepressible fellow.
+
+"I suppose you would," returned John, sullenly. "In the devil's name, tell
+me what you will do. Can I not beg you to go?"
+
+"Now, Sir John, you have touched me. I make you this offer: you expect
+Mistress Vernon to come from the Hall--"
+
+"What do you know about Mistress Vernon?" cried John. "By God, I will--"
+
+"Now don't grow angry, Sir John, and please don't swear in my presence.
+You expect her, I say, to come from the Hall. What I propose is this: you
+shall stand by the gate and watch for Doll--oh, I mean Mistress
+Vernon--and I will stand here behind the wall where she cannot see me.
+When she comes in sight--though in truth I don't think she will come, and
+I believe were she under your very nose you would not see her--you shall
+tell me and I will leave at once; that is, if you wish me to leave. After
+you see Dorothy Vernon if you still wish me to go, I pledge my faith no
+power can keep me. Now is not that fair? I like you very much, and I want
+to remain here, if you will permit me, and talk to you for a little
+time--till you see Doll Vernon."
+
+"Doll Vernon, fellow? How dare you so speak of her?" demanded John, hotly.
+
+"Your pardon and her pardon, I beg; Mistress Vernon, soon to be Countess
+of Derbyshire. By the way, I wager you a gold pound sterling that by the
+time you see Doll Vernon--Mistress Vernon, I pray your pardon--you will
+have grown so fond of me that you will not permit me to leave you." She
+thought after that speech he could not help but know her; but John's skull
+was like an oaken board that night. Nothing could penetrate it. He began
+to fancy that his companion was a simple witless person who had escaped
+from his keepers.
+
+"Will you take the wager?" asked Dorothy.
+
+"Nonsense!" was the only reply John deigned to give to so foolish a
+proposition.
+
+"Then will you agree that I shall remain at the gate till Doll--Mistress
+Vernon comes?"
+
+"I suppose I shall have to make the best terms possible with you," he
+returned. "You are an amusing fellow and as perverse as a woman."
+
+"I knew you would soon learn to like me," she responded. "The first step
+toward a man's affection is to amuse him. That old saw which says the road
+to a man's heart is through his stomach, is a sad mistake. Amusement is
+the highway to a man's affections."
+
+"It is better that one laugh with us than at us. There is a vast
+difference in the two methods," answered John, contemptuously.
+
+"You dare to laugh at me," cried Dorothy, grasping the hilt of her sword,
+and pretending to be angry. John waved her off with his hand, and
+laughingly said, "Little you know concerning the way to a man's heart, and
+no doubt less of the way to a woman's."
+
+"I, perhaps, know more about it than you would believe," returned Malcolm
+No. 2.
+
+"If you know aught of the latter subject, it is more than I would
+suppose," said John. "It is absurd to say that a woman can love a man who
+is unable to defend himself."
+
+"A vain man thinks that women care only for men of his own pattern,"
+retorted Dorothy. "Women love a strong arm, it is true, but they also love
+a strong heart, and you see I am not at all afraid of you, even though you
+have twice my strength. There are as many sorts of bravery, Sir John,
+as--as there are hairs in my beard."
+
+"That is not many," interrupted John.
+
+"And," continued the girl, "I believe, John,--Sir John,--you possess all
+the kinds of bravery that are good."
+
+"You flatter me," said John.
+
+"Yes," returned Dorothy, "that was my intent."
+
+After that unflattering remark there came a pause. Then the girl continued
+somewhat hesitatingly: "Doubtless many women, Sir John, have seen your
+virtues more clearly than even I see them. Women have a keener perception
+of masculine virtues than--than we have."
+
+Dorothy paused, and her heart beat with a quickened throb while she
+awaited his reply. A new field of discovery was opening up to her and a
+new use for her disguise.
+
+John made no reply, but the persistent girl pursued her new line of
+attack.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Surely Sir John Manners has had many sweethearts," said Dorothy, in
+flattering tones. There were rocks and shoals ahead for John's love barge.
+"Many, many, I am sure," the girl persisted.
+
+"Ah, a few, a few, I admit," John like a fool replied. Dorothy was
+accumulating disagreeable information rapidly.
+
+"While you were at London court," said she, "the fine ladies must have
+sought you in great numbers--I am sure they did."
+
+"Perhaps, oh, perhaps," returned John. "One cannot always remember such
+affairs." His craft was headed for the rocks. Had he observed Dorothy's
+face, he would have seen the storm a-brewing.
+
+"To how many women, Sir John, have you lost your heart, and at various
+times how many have lost their hearts to you?" asked the persistent
+girl.--"What a senseless question," returned John. "A dozen times or more;
+perhaps a score or two score times. I cannot tell the exact number. I did
+not keep an account."
+
+Dorothy did not know whether she wanted to weep or be angry. Pique and a
+flash of temper, however, saved her from tears, and she said, "You are so
+brave and handsome that you must have found it a very easy task--much
+easier than it would be for me--to convince those confiding ones of your
+affection?"
+
+"Yes," replied John, plunging full sail upon the breakers, "I admit that
+usually they have been quite easy to convince. I am naturally bold, and I
+suppose that perhaps--that is, I may possibly have a persuasive trick
+about me."
+
+Shades of good men who have blundered into ruin over the path of petty
+vanity, save this man! But no, Dorothy must drink the bitter cup of
+knowledge to the dregs.
+
+"And you have been false to all of these women? she said.
+
+"Ah, well, you know--the devil take it! A man can't be true to a score of
+women," replied John.
+
+"I am sure none of them wished you to be true," the girl answered,
+restraining her tears with great difficulty.
+
+At that point in the conversation John began to suspect from the manner
+and shapeliness of his companion that a woman had disguised herself in
+man's attire. Yet it did not once occur to him that Dorothy's fair form
+was concealed within the disguise. He attempted to lift my soft beaver
+hat, the broad rim of which hid Dorothy's face, but to that she made a
+decided objection, and John continued: "By my soul I believe you are a
+woman. Your walk"--Dorothy thought she had been swaggering like a
+veritable swash-buckler--"your voice, the curves of your form, all betray
+you." Dorothy gathered the cloak closely about her.
+
+"I would know more of you," said John, and he stepped toward the now
+interesting stranger. But she drew away from him, and told him to keep
+hands off.
+
+"Oh, I am right. You are a woman," said John.
+
+Dorothy had maintained the disguise longer than she wished, and was
+willing that John should discover her identity. At first it had been rare
+sport to dupe him; but the latter part of her conversation had given her
+no pleasure. She was angry, jealous, and hurt by what she had learned.
+
+"Yes," she answered, "I admit that I am a--a woman. Now I must go."
+
+"Stay but one moment," pleaded John, whose curiosity and gallantry were
+aroused. "I will watch for Mistress Vernon, and when she appears, then you
+may go."
+
+"I told you that you would want me to remain," said the girl with a sigh.
+She was almost ready to weep. Then she thought: "I little dreamed I was
+coming here for this. I will carry the disguise a little farther, and
+will, perhaps, learn enough to--to break my heart."
+
+She was soon to learn all she wanted to know and a great deal more.
+
+"Come sit by me on this stone," said John, coaxingly. The girl complied,
+and drew the cloak over her knees.
+
+"Tell me why you are here," he asked.
+
+"To meet a gentleman," she replied, with low-bent face.
+
+"Tell me your name," John asked, as he drew my glove from her passive
+hand. John held the hand in his, and after examining it in the dim light
+saw that it was a great deal more than good to look upon. Then he lifted
+it to his lips and said:
+
+"Since our sweethearts have disappointed us, may we not console ourselves
+with each other?" He placed his arm around the girl's waist and drew her
+yielding form toward him. Dorothy, unobserved by John, removed the false
+beard and moustachio, and when John put his arm about her waist and leaned
+forward to kiss the fair accommodating neighbor she could restrain her
+tears no longer and said:--
+
+"That would be no consolation for me, John; that would be no consolation
+for me. How can you? How can you?"
+
+She rose to her feet and covered her face with her hands in a paroxysm of
+weeping. John, too, sprang to his feet, you may be sure. "Dorothy! God
+help me! I am the king of fools. Curse this hour in which I have thrown
+away my heaven. You must hate and despise me, fool, fool that I am."
+
+John knew that it were worse than useless for him to attempt an
+explanation. The first thought that flashed through his mind was, to tell
+the girl that he had only pretended not to know her. He thought he would
+try to make her believe that he had been turning her trick upon herself;
+but he was wise in his day and generation, and did not seek refuge in that
+falsehood.
+
+The girl would never have forgiven him for that.
+
+"The only amends I can make," he said, in very dolefulness, "is that I may
+never let you see my face again."
+
+"That will not help matters," sobbed Dorothy.
+
+"I know it will not," returned John. "Nothing can help me. I can remain
+here no longer. I must leave you. I cannot even ask you to say farewell.
+Mistress Vernon, you do not despise me half so bitterly as I despise
+myself."
+
+Dorothy was one of those rare natures to whom love comes but once. It had
+come to her and had engulfed her whole being. To part with it would be
+like parting with life itself. It was her tyrant, her master. It was her
+ego. She could no more throw it off than she could expel herself from her
+own existence. All this she knew full well, for she had analyzed her
+conditions, and her reason had joined with all her other faculties in
+giving her a clear concept of the truth. She knew she belonged to John
+Manners for life and for eternity. She also knew that the chance of seeing
+him soon again was very slight, and to part from him now in aught but
+kindness would almost kill her.
+
+Before John had recognized Dorothy he certainly had acted like a fool, but
+with the shock of recognition came wisdom. All the learning of the
+ancients and all the cunning of the prince of darkness could not have
+taught him a wiser word with which to make his peace, "I may never let you
+see my face again." That was more to be feared by Dorothy than even John's
+inconstancy.
+
+Her heart was full of trouble. "I do not know what I wish," she said
+simply. "Give me a little time to think."
+
+John's heart leaped with joy, but he remained silent.
+
+Dorothy continued: "Oh, that I had remained at home. I would to God I had
+never seen Derby-town nor you."
+
+John in the fulness of his wisdom did not interrupt her.
+
+"To think that I have thus made a fool of myself about a man who has
+given his heart to a score of women."
+
+"This is torture," moaned John, in real pain.
+
+"But," continued Dorothy, "I could not remain away from this place when I
+had the opportunity to come to you. I felt that I must come. I felt that I
+should die if I did not. And you are so false. I wish I were dead. A
+moment ago, had I been another woman, you would have kissed her. You
+thought I was another woman."
+
+John's wisdom stood by him nobly. He knew he could neither explain
+successfully nor beg forgiveness. He simply said: "I cannot remain and
+look you in the face. If I dare make any request, it is that despite all
+you have heard from my lips you will still believe that I love you, and
+that in all my life I have never loved any one so dearly. There is no
+other woman for me."
+
+"You doubtless spoke the same false words to the other two score women,"
+said Dorothy. Tears and sobs were playing sad havoc with her powers of
+speech.
+
+"Farewell, Mistress Vernon," replied John. "I should be shameless if I
+dared ask you to believe any word I can utter. Forget, if possible, that I
+ever existed; forget me that you may not despise me. I am unworthy to
+dwell even in the smallest of your thoughts. I am altogether base and
+contemptible."
+
+"N-o-o," sighed Dorothy, poutingly, while she bent low her head and toyed
+with the gold lace of my cloak.
+
+"Farewell," said John. He took a step or two backward from her.
+
+"You are over-eager to leave, it seems to me," said the girl in an injured
+tone. "I wonder that you came at all." John's heart was singing hosanna.
+He, however, maintained his voice at a mournful pitch and said: "I must
+go. I can no longer endure to remain." While he spoke he moved toward his
+horse, and his head was bowed with real shame as he thought of the
+pitiable fool he had made of himself. Dorothy saw him going from her, and
+she called to him softly and reluctantly, "John."
+
+He did not hear her, or perhaps he thought best to pretend that he did not
+hear, and as he moved from her the girl became desperate. Modesty,
+resentment, insulted womanhood and injured pride were all swept away by
+the stream of her mighty love, and she cried again, this time without
+hesitancy or reluctance, "John, John." She started to run toward him, but
+my cloak was in her way, and the sword tripped her feet. In her fear lest
+John might leave her, she unclasped the sword-belt from her waist and
+snatched the cloak from her shoulders. Freed from these hindrances, she
+ran toward John.
+
+"John, do not leave me. Do not leave me." As she spoke, she reached an
+open space among the trees and John turned toward her. Her hat had fallen
+off, and the red golden threads of her hair, freed from their fastenings,
+streamed behind her. Never before had a vision of such exquisite
+loveliness sped through the moonbeams. So entrancing was her beauty to
+John that he stood motionless in admiration. He did not go to meet her as
+he should have done, and perhaps as he would have done had his senses not
+been wrapped in benumbing wonderment. His eyes were unable to interpret to
+his brain all her marvellous beauty, and his other senses abandoning their
+proper functions had hastened to the assistance of his sight He saw, he
+heard, he felt her loveliness. Thus occupied he did not move, so Dorothy
+ran to him and fell upon his breast.
+
+"You did not come to meet me," she sobbed. "You made me come all the way,
+to forgive you. Cruel, cruel!"
+
+John held the girl in his arms, but he did not dare to kiss her, and his
+self-denial soon brought its reward. He had not expected that she would
+come a beggar to him. The most he had dared to hope was that she would
+listen to his prayer for forgiveness. With all his worldly wisdom John had
+not learned the fact that inconstancy does not destroy love in the one who
+suffers by reason of it; nor did he know of the exquisite pain-touched
+happiness which comes to a gentle, passionate heart such as Dorothy's from
+the mere act of forgiving.
+
+"Is it possible you can forgive me for the miserable lies I have uttered?"
+asked John, almost unconscious of the words he was speaking. "Is it
+possible you can forgive me for uttering those lies, Dorothy?" he
+repeated.
+
+She laid her head upon his breast, and softly passing her hand over the
+lace of his doublet, whispered:--
+
+"If I could believe they were lies, I could easily forgive you," she
+answered between low sobs and soft sighs. Though she was a woman, the
+sweet essence of childhood was in her heart.
+
+"But you cannot believe me, even when I tell you that I spoke not the
+truth," answered John, with growing faith in his system of passive
+repentance. Again came the sighs, and a few struggling, childish sobs.
+
+"It is easy for us to believe that which we long to believe," she said.
+Then she turned her face upward to him, and John's reward was altogether
+disproportioned to the self-denial he had exercised a few minutes before.
+She rewarded him far beyond his deserts; and after a pause she said
+mischievously:--
+
+"You told me that you were a bold man with women, and I know that at least
+that part of what you said was untrue, for you are a bashful man, John,
+you are downright bashful. It is I who have been bold. You were too timid
+to woo me, and I so longed for you that I--I--was not timid."
+
+"For God's sake, Dorothy, I beg you to have pity and to make no jest of
+me. Your kindness almost kills me, and your ridicule--"
+
+"There, there, John," whispered the girl, "I will never again make a jest
+of you if it gives you pain. Tell me, John, tell me truly, was it all
+false--that which you told me about the other women?"
+
+There had been more truth in John's bragging than he cared to confess. He
+feared and loathed a lie; so he said evasively, but with perfect truth:--
+
+"You must know, my goddess. If you do not know without the telling that I
+love you with all my being; if you do not know that there is for me and
+ever will be no woman but you in all the world; if you do not know that
+you have stolen my soul and that I live only in your presence, all that I
+can say will avail nothing toward convincing you. I am almost crazed with
+love for you, and with pain and torture. For the love of God let me leave
+you that I may hide my face."
+
+"Never," cried the girl, clasping her hands about his neck and pressing
+her lips gently upon his. "Never. There, that will soothe you, won't it,
+John?"
+
+It did soothe him, and in the next moment, John, almost frenzied with joy,
+hurt the girl by the violence of his embraces; but she, woman-like, found
+her heaven in the pain.
+
+They went back to the stone bench beside the gate, and after a little time
+Dorothy said:--
+
+"But tell me, John, would you have kissed the other woman? Would you
+really have done it?"
+
+John's honesty certainly was good policy in that instance. The adroit girl
+had set a trap for him.
+
+"I suppose I would," answered John, with a groan.
+
+"It hurts me to hear the fact," said Dorothy, sighing; "but it pleases me
+to hear the truth. I know all else you tell me is true. I was trying you
+when I asked the question, for I certainly knew what you intended to do. A
+woman instinctively knows when a man is going to--to--when anything of
+that sort is about to happen."
+
+"How does she know?" asked John.
+
+Rocks and breakers ahead for Dorothy.
+
+"I cannot tell you," replied the girl, naively, "but she knows."
+
+"Perhaps it is the awakened desire in her own heart which forewarns her,"
+said John, stealthily seeking from Dorothy a truth that would pain him
+should he learn it.
+
+"I suppose that is partly the source of her knowledge," replied the
+knowing one, with a great show of innocence in her manner. John was in no
+position to ask impertinent questions, nor had he any right to grow angry
+at unpleasant discoveries; but he did both, although for a time he
+suppressed the latter.
+
+"You believe she is sure to know, do you?" he asked.
+
+"Usually," she replied. "Of course there are times when--when it happens
+so suddenly that--"
+
+John angrily sprang to his feet, took a few hurried steps in front of
+Dorothy, who remained demurely seated with her eyes cast down, and then
+again he took his place beside her on the stone bench. He was trembling
+with anger and jealousy. The devil was in the girl that night for
+mischief.
+
+"I suppose you speak from the fulness of your experience," demanded John,
+in tones that would have been insulting had they not been pleasing to the
+girl. She had seen the drift of John's questions at an early stage of the
+conversation, and his easily aroused jealousy was good proof to her of his
+affection. After all, she was in no danger from rocks and breakers. She
+well knew the currents, eddies, rocks, and shoals of the sea she was
+navigating, although she had never before sailed it. Her fore-mothers, all
+the way back to Eve, had been making charts of those particular waters for
+her especial benefit. Why do we, a slow-moving, cumbersome army of men,
+continue to do battle with the foe at whose hands defeat is always our
+portion?
+
+"Experience?" queried Dorothy, her head turned to one side in a
+half-contemplative attitude. "Experience? Of course that is the only way
+we learn anything."
+
+John again sprang to his feet, and again he sat down beside the girl. He
+had so recently received forgiveness for his own sins that he dared not be
+unforgiving toward Dorothy. He did not speak, and she remained silent,
+willing to allow time for the situation to take its full effect. The
+wisdom of the serpent is black ignorance compared with the cunning of a
+girl in Dorothy's situation. God gives her wit for the occasion as He
+gives the cat soft paws, sharp claws, and nimbleness. She was teaching
+John a lesson he would never forget. She was binding him to her with hoops
+of steel.
+
+"I know that I have not the right to ask," said John, suppressing his
+emotions, "but may I know merely as a matter of trivial information--may I
+know the name of--of the person--this fellow with whom you have had so
+full an experience? God curse him! Tell me his name." He caught the girl
+violently by both arms as if he would shake the truth out of her. He was
+unconsciously making full amends for the faults he had committed earlier
+in the evening. The girl made no answer. John's powers of self-restraint,
+which were not of the strongest order, were exhausted, and he again sprang
+to his feet and stood towering before her in a passion. "Tell me his
+name," he said hoarsely. "I demand it. I will not rest till I kill him."
+
+"If you would kill him, I surely will not tell you his name. In truth, I
+admit I am very fond of him."
+
+"Speak not another word to me till you tell me his name," stormed John. I
+feel sorry for John when I think of the part he played in this interview;
+but every man knows well his condition.
+
+"I care not," continued John, "in what manner I have offended you, nor
+does my debt of gratitude to you for your generosity in forgiving my sins
+weigh one scruple against this you have told me. No man, unless he were a
+poor clown, would endure it; and I tell you now, with all my love for you,
+I will not--I will not!"
+
+Dorothy was beginning to fear him. She of course did not fear personal
+violence; but after all, while he was slower than she, he was much
+stronger every way, and when aroused, his strength imposed itself upon her
+and she feared to play him any farther.
+
+"Sit beside me, John, and I will tell you his name," said the girl,
+looking up to him, and then casting down her eyes. A dimpling smile was
+playing about her lips.
+
+"No, I will not sit by you," replied John, angrily. She partly rose, and
+taking him by the arm drew him to her side.
+
+"Tell me his name," again demanded John, sitting rigidly by Dorothy. "Tell
+me his name."
+
+"Will you kill him?" she asked.
+
+"That I will," he answered. "Of that you may rest assured."
+
+"If you kill him, John, it will break my heart; for to do so, you must
+commit suicide. There is no other man but you, John. With you I had my
+first, last, and only experience."
+
+John, of course, was speechless. He had received only what he deserved. I
+freely admit he played the part of a fool during this entire interview
+with Dorothy, and he was more fully convinced of the fact than either you
+or I can be. I do not like to have a fool for the hero of my history; but
+this being a history and not a romance, I must tell you of events just as
+they happened, and of persons exactly as they were, else my conscience
+will smite me for untruthfulness. Dorothy's last assault was too much for
+John. He could neither parry nor thrust.
+
+Her heart was full of mirth and gladness.
+
+"None other but you, John," she repeated, leaning forward in front of him,
+and looking up into his eyes. A ray of moonlight stealing its way between
+the forest boughs fell upon her upturned face and caused it to glow with a
+goddess-like radiance.
+
+"None but you, John. There never has been and there never shall be
+another."
+
+When John's consciousness returned he said, "Dorothy, can you love such a
+fool as I?"
+
+"That I can and that I do with all my heart," she returned.
+
+"And can you forgive me for this last fault--for doubting you?"
+
+"That is easily done," she answered softly, "because doubt is the child of
+love."
+
+"But you do not doubt me?" he replied.
+
+"N-o-o," she answered somewhat haltingly; "but I--I am a woman."
+
+"And a woman's heart is the home of faith," said John, reverentially.
+
+"Y-e-s," she responded, still not quite sure of her ground. "Sometimes it
+is the home of too much faith, but faith, like virtue, is its own reward.
+Few persons are false to one who gives a blind, unquestioning faith. Even
+a poor degree of honor responds to it in kind."
+
+"Dorothy, I am so unworthy of you that I stand abashed in your presence,"
+replied John.
+
+"No, you are not unworthy of me. We don't look for unmixed good in men,"
+said the girl with a mischievous little laugh. Then seriously: "Those
+virtues you have are so great and so strong, John, that my poor little
+virtues, while they perhaps are more numerous than yours, are but weak
+things by comparison. In truth, there are some faults in men which we
+women do not--do not altogether dislike. They cause us--they make us--oh,
+I cannot express exactly what I mean. They make us more eager perhaps. A
+too constant man is like an overstrong sweet: he cloys us. The faults I
+speak of hurt us; but we thrive on them. Women enjoy pain now and then.
+Malcolm was telling me the other day that the wise people of the East have
+a saying: 'Without shadow there can be no light; without death there can
+be no life; without suffering there can be no joy.' Surely is that saying
+true of women. She who suffers naught enjoys naught. When a woman becomes
+passive, John, she is but a clod. Pain gives us a vent--a vent for
+something, I know not what it is; but this I know, we are happier for it."
+
+"I fear, Dorothy, that I have given you too much 'vent,' as you call it,"
+said John.
+
+"No, no," she replied. "That was nothing. My great vent is that I can pour
+out my love upon you, John, without stint. Now that I know you are mine, I
+have some one whom I can deluge with it. Do you know, John, I believe that
+when God made me He collected together the requisite portions of reason,
+imagination, and will,--there was a great plenty of will, John,--and all
+the other ingredients that go to make a human being. But after He had
+gotten them all together there was still a great space left to be filled,
+and He just threw in an immensity of love with which to complete me.
+Therefore, John, am I not in true proportion. There is too much love in
+me, and it wells up at times and overflows my heart. How thankful I should
+be that I may pour it upon you and that it will not be wasted. How good
+you are to give me the sweet privilege."
+
+"How thankful should I be, Dorothy. I have never known you till this
+night. I am unworthy--"
+
+"Not another word of that sort, John," she interrupted, covering his mouth
+with her hand.
+
+They stood for a long time talking a deal of celestial nonsense which I
+shall not give you. I fear I have already given you too much of what John
+and Dorothy did and said in this very sentimental interview. But in no
+other way can I so well make you to know the persons of whom I write. I
+might have said Dorothy was so and so, and John was such and such. I might
+have analyzed them in long, dull pages of minute description; but it is
+that which persons do and say that gives us true concept of their
+characters; what others say about them is little else than a mere
+statement that black is black and white is white. But to my story again.
+
+Dorothy by her beauty had won John's admiration when first he beheld her.
+When he met her afterward, her charms of mind and her thousand winsome
+ways moved him deeply. But upon the evening of which I am now telling you
+he beheld for the first time her grand burning soul, and he saw her pure
+heart filled to overflowing with its dangerous burden of love, right from
+the hands of God Himself, as the girl had said. John was of a coarser
+fibre than she who had put him up for her idol; but his sensibilities were
+keen, and at their awakening he saw clearly the worth of the priceless
+treasure which propitious fate had given him in the love of Dorothy, and
+he sat humbly at her feet. Yet she knew it not, but sat humbly at John's
+feet the happiest woman in all the world because of her great good fortune
+in having a demi-god upon whom she could lavish the untold wealth of her
+heart. If you are a woman, pray God that He may touch your eyes with
+Dorothy's blessed blindness. There is a heaven in the dark for you, if you
+can find it.
+
+I must leave the scene, though I am loath to do so. Seldom do we catch a
+glimpse of a human soul, and more seldom still does it show itself like a
+gust of God's breath upon the deep of eternity as it did that night in
+Dorothy.
+
+After a time John said: "I have your promise to be my wife. Do you still
+wish to keep it?"
+
+"What an absurd question, John," replied the girl, laughing softly and
+contentedly. "Why else am I here? Tell me, think you, John, should I be
+here if I were not willing and eager to--to keep that promise?"
+
+"Will you go with me notwithstanding your father's hatred of my house?" he
+asked.
+
+"Ah, truly that I will, John," she answered; "surely you know I will go
+with you."
+
+"Let us go at once. Let us lose not a moment. We have already delayed too
+long," cried John in eager ecstasy.
+
+"Not to-night, John; I cannot go to-night," she pleaded. "Think of my
+attire," and she drew my cloak more closely about her. "I cannot go with
+you this time. My father is angry with me because of you, although he does
+not know who you are. Is it not famous to have a lover in secret of whom
+nobody knows? Father is angry with me, and as I told you in my letter, he
+keeps me a prisoner in my rooms. Aunt Dorothy stands guard over me. The
+dear, simple old soul! She told me, thinking I was Malcolm, that she was
+too old to be duped by a girl! Oh, it was too comical!" And she threw back
+her head and gave forth a peal of laughter that John was reluctantly
+compelled to silence. "I would so delight to tell you of the scene when I
+was in Aunt Dorothy's room impersonating Malcolm; but I have so much else
+to say of more importance that I know I shall not tell the half. When you
+have left me, I shall remember what I most wished to say but forgot."
+
+"No, John," she continued seriously, "my father has been cruel to me, and
+I try to make myself think I do not love him; but I fail, for I do love
+him." Tears were welling up in her eyes and stifling her voice. In a
+moment she continued: "It would kill him, John, were I to go with you
+now. I _will_ go with you soon,--I give you my solemn promise to that--but
+I cannot go now,--not now. I cannot leave him and the others. With all his
+cruelty to me, I love him, John, next to you. He will not come to see me
+nor will he speak to me. Think of that." The tears that had welled up to
+her eyes fell in a piteous stream over her cheeks. "Aunt Dorothy and
+Madge," she continued, "are so dear to me that the thought of leaving them
+is torture. But I will go with you some day, John, some day soon, I
+promise you. They have always been kind and gentle to me, and I love them
+and my father and my dear home where I was born and where my sweet mother
+died--and Dolcy--I love them all so dearly that I must prepare myself to
+leave them, John, even to go with you. The heart strings of my whole life
+bind me to them. Forgive me, John, forgive me. You must think of the grief
+and pain I shall yet pass through to go to you. It is as I told you: we
+women reach heaven only through purgatory. I must forsake all else I love
+when I go to you. All, all! All that has been dear to me in life I must
+forsake for--for that which is dearer to me than life itself. I promise,
+John, to go with you, but--but forgive me. I cannot go to-night."
+
+"Nor can I ask it of you, Dorothy," said John. "The sacrifice would be all
+on one side. I should forego nothing, and I should receive all. You would
+forego everything, and God help me, you would receive nothing worth
+having. I am unworthy--"
+
+"Not that word, John," cried Dorothy, again covering his mouth with--well,
+not with her hand. "I shall give up a great deal," she continued, "and I
+know I shall suffer. I suffer even now when I think of it, for you must
+remember that I am rooted to my home and to the dear ones it shelters; but
+I will soon make the exchange, John; I shall make it gladly when the time
+comes, because--because I feel that I could not live if I did not make
+it."
+
+"My father has already consented to our marriage," said John. "I told him
+to-day all that had passed between you and me. He, of course, was greatly
+pained at first; but when I told him of your perfections, he said that if
+you and I were dear to each other, he would offer no opposition, but would
+welcome you to his heart."
+
+"Is your father that--that sort of a man?" asked Dorothy, half in revery.
+"I have always heard--" and she hesitated.
+
+"I know," replied John, "that you have heard much evil of my father,
+but--let us not talk on that theme. You will know him some day, and you
+may judge him for yourself. When will you go with me, Dorothy?"
+
+"Soon, very soon, John," she answered. "You know father intends that I
+shall marry Lord Stanley. _I_ intend otherwise. The more father hurries
+this marriage with my beautiful cousin the sooner I shall be--be
+your--that is, you know, the sooner I shall go with you."
+
+"You will not allow your father to force you to marry Lord Stanley?" asked
+John, frightened by the thought.
+
+"Ah," cried the girl, softly, "you know I told you that God had put into
+me a great plenty of will. Father calls it wilfulness; but whichever it
+is, it stands me in good hand now. You don't know how much I have of it!
+You never will know until I am your--your--wife." The last word was spoken
+in a soft, hesitating whisper, and her head sought shamefaced refuge on
+John's breast. Of course the magic word "wife" on Dorothy's lips aroused
+John to action, and--but a cloud at that moment passed over the moon and
+kindly obscured the scene.
+
+"You do not blame me, John," said Dorothy, "because I cannot go with you
+to-night? You do not blame me?"
+
+"Indeed I do not, my goddess," answered John. "You will soon be mine. I
+shall await your pleasure and your own time, and when you choose to come
+to me--ah, then--" And the kindly cloud came back to the moon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THOMAS THE MAN SERVANT
+
+
+After a great effort of self-denial John told Dorothy it was time for her
+to return to the Hall, and he walked with her down Bowling Green Hill to
+the wall back of the terrace garden.
+
+Dorothy stood for a moment on the stile at the old stone wall, and John,
+clasping her hand, said:--
+
+"You will perhaps see me sooner than you expect," and then the cloud
+considerately floated over the moon again, and John hurried away up
+Bowling Green Hill.
+
+Dorothy crossed the terrace garden, going toward the door since known as
+"Dorothy's Postern." She had reached the top of the postern steps when she
+heard her father's voice, beyond the north wall of the terrace garden well
+up toward Bowling Green Hill. John, she knew, was at that moment climbing
+the hill. Immediately following the sound of her father's voice she heard
+another voice--that of her father's retainer, Sir John Guild. Then came
+the word "Halt!" quickly followed by the report of a fusil, and the sharp
+clinking of swords upon the hillside. She ran back to the wall, and saw
+the dimly outlined forms of four men. One of them was John, who was
+retreating up the hill. The others were following him. Sir George and Sir
+John Guild had unexpectedly returned from Derby. They had left their
+horses with the stable boys and were walking toward the kitchen door when
+Sir George noticed a man pass from behind the corner of the terrace
+garden wall and proceed up Bowling Green Hill. The man of course was John.
+Immediately Sir George and Guild, accompanied by a servant who was with
+them, started in pursuit of the intruder, and a moment afterward Dorothy
+heard her father's voice and the discharge of the fusil. She climbed to
+the top of the stile, filled with an agony of fear. Sir George was fifteen
+or twenty yards in advance of his companion, and when John saw that his
+pursuers were attacking him singly, he turned and quickly ran back to meet
+the warlike King of the Peak. By a few adroit turns with his sword John
+disarmed his antagonist, and rushing in upon him easily threw him to the
+ground by a wrestler's trick. Guild and the servant by that time were
+within six yards of Sir George and John.
+
+"Stop!" cried Manners, "your master is on the ground at my feet. My sword
+point is at his heart. Make but one step toward me and Sir George Vernon
+will be a dead man."
+
+Guild and the servant halted instantly.
+
+"What are your terms?" cried Guild, speaking with the haste which he well
+knew was necessary if he would save his master's life.
+
+"My terms are easy," answered John. "All I ask is that you allow me to
+depart in peace. I am here on no harmful errand, and I demand that I may
+depart and that I be not followed nor spied upon by any one."
+
+"You may depart in peace," said Guild. "No one will follow you; no one
+will spy upon you. To this I pledge my knightly word in the name of Christ
+my Saviour."
+
+John at once took his way unmolested up the hill and rode home with his
+heart full of fear lest his tryst with Dorothy had been discovered.
+
+Guild and the servant assisted Sir George to rise, and the three started
+down the hill toward the stile where Dorothy was standing. She was hidden
+from them, however, by the wall. Jennie Faxton, who had been on guard
+while John and Dorothy were at the gate, at Dorothy's suggestion stood on
+top of the stile where she could easily be seen by Sir George when he
+approached.
+
+"When my father comes here and questions you," said Dorothy to Jennie
+Faxton, "tell him that the man whom he attacked was your sweetheart."
+
+"Never fear, mistress," responded Jennie. "I will have a fine story for
+the master."
+
+Dorothy crouched inside the wall under the shadow of a bush, and Jennie
+waited on the top of the stile. Sir George, thinking the girl was Dorothy,
+lost no time in approaching her. He caught her roughly by the arm and
+turned her around that he might see her face.
+
+"By God, Guild," he muttered, "I have made a mistake. I thought the girl
+was Doll."
+
+He left instantly and followed Guild and the servant to the kitchen door.
+When Sir George left the stile, Dorothy hastened back to the postern of
+which she had the key, and hurried toward her room. She reached the door
+of her father's room just in time to see Sir George and Guild enter it.
+They saw her, and supposed her to be myself. If she hesitated, she was
+lost. But Dorothy never hesitated. To think, with her, was to act. She did
+not of course know that I was still in her apartments. She took the
+chance, however, and boldly followed Sir John Guild into her father's
+room. There she paused for a moment that she might not appear to be in too
+great haste, and then entered Aunt Dorothy's room where I was seated,
+waiting for her.
+
+"Dorothy, my dear child," exclaimed Lady Crawford, clasping her arms about
+Dorothy's neck.
+
+"There is no time to waste in sentiment, Aunt Dorothy," responded the
+girl. "Here are your sword and cloak, Malcolm. I thank you for their use.
+Don them quickly." I did so, and walked into Sir George's room, where that
+worthy old gentleman was dressing a slight wound in the hand. I stopped to
+speak with him; but he seemed disinclined to talk, and I left the room. He
+soon went to the upper court, and I presently followed him.
+
+Dorothy changed her garments, and she, Lady Crawford, and Madge also came
+to the upper court. The braziers in the courtyard had been lighted and
+cast a glare over two score half-clothed men and women who had been
+aroused from their beds by the commotion of the conflict on the hillside.
+Upon the upper steps of the courtyard stood Sir George and Jennie Faxton.
+
+"Who was the man you were with?" roughly demanded Sir George of the
+trembling Jennie. Jennie's trembling was assumed for the occasion.
+
+"I will not tell you his name," she replied with tears. "He is my
+sweetheart, and I will never come to the Hall again. Matters have come to
+a pretty pass when a maiden cannot speak with her sweetheart at the stile
+without he is set upon and beaten as if he were a hedgehog. My father is
+your leal henchman, and his daughter deserves better treatment at your
+hands than you have given me."
+
+"There, there!" said Sir George, placing his hand upon her head. "I was in
+the wrong. I did not know you had a sweetheart who wore a sword. When I
+saw you at the stile, I was sure you were another. I am glad I was wrong."
+So was Dorothy glad.
+
+"Everybody be off to bed," said Sir George. "Ben Shaw, see that the
+braziers are all blackened."
+
+Dorothy, Madge, and Lady Crawford returned to the latter's room, and Sir
+George and I entered after them. He was evidently softened in heart by the
+night's adventures and by the mistake he supposed he had made.
+
+A selfish man grows hard toward those whom he injures. A generous heart
+grows tender. Sir George was generous, and the injustice he thought he had
+done to Dorothy made him eager to offer amends. The active evil in all Sir
+George's wrong-doing was the fact that he conscientiously thought he was
+in the right. Many a man has gone to hell backward--with his face honestly
+toward heaven. Sir George had not spoken to Dorothy since the scene
+wherein the key to Bowling Green Gate played so important a part.
+
+"Doll," said Sir George, "I thought you were at the stile with a man. I
+was mistaken. It was the Faxton girl. I beg your pardon, my daughter. I
+did you wrong."
+
+"You do me wrong in many matters, father," replied Dorothy.
+
+"Perhaps I do," her father returned, "perhaps I do, but I mean for the
+best. I seek your happiness."
+
+"You take strange measures at times, father, to bring about my happiness,"
+she replied.
+
+"Whom God loveth He chasteneth," replied Sir George, dolefully.
+
+"That manner of loving may be well enough for God," retorted Dorothy with
+no thought of irreverence, "but for man it is dangerous. Whom man loves he
+should cherish. A man who has a good, obedient daughter--one who loves
+him--will not imprison her, and, above all, he will not refuse to speak to
+her, nor will he cause her to suffer and to weep for lack of that love
+which is her right. A man has no right to bring a girl into this world and
+then cause her to suffer as you--as you--"
+
+She ceased speaking and sought refuge in silent feminine eloquence--tears.
+One would have sworn she had been grievously injured that night.
+
+"But I am older than you, Doll, and I know what is best for your
+happiness," said Sir George.
+
+"There are some things, father, which a girl knows with better, surer
+knowledge than the oldest man living. Solomon was wise because he had so
+many wives from whom he could absorb wisdom."
+
+"Ah, well!" answered Sir George, smiling in spite of himself, "you will
+have the last word."
+
+"Confess, father," she retorted quickly, "that you want the last word
+yourself."
+
+"Perhaps I do want it, but I'll never have it," returned Sir George; "kiss
+me, Doll, and be my child again."
+
+"That I will right gladly," she answered, throwing her arms about her
+father's neck and kissing him with real affection. Then Sir George said
+good night and started to leave. At the door he stopped, and stood for a
+little time in thought.
+
+"Dorothy," said he, speaking to Lady Crawford, "I relieve you of your duty
+as a guard over Doll. She may go and come when she chooses."
+
+"I thank you, George," said Aunt Dorothy. "The task has been painful to
+me."
+
+Dorothy went to her father and kissed him again, and Sir George departed.
+
+When the door was closed, Lady Crawford breathed a great sigh and said: "I
+thank Heaven, Dorothy, he does not know that you have been out of your
+room. How could you treat me so cruelly? How could you deceive me?"
+
+"That, Aunt Dorothy," replied the niece, "is because you are not old
+enough yet to be a match for a girl who is--who is in love."
+
+"Shame upon you, Dorothy!" said Lady Crawford. "Shame upon you, to act as
+you did, and now to speak so plainly about being in love! Malcolm said you
+were not a modest girl, and I am beginning to believe him."
+
+"Did Malcolm speak so ill of me?" asked Dorothy, turning toward me with a
+smile in her eyes.
+
+"My lady aunt," said I, turning to Lady Crawford, "when did I say that
+Dorothy was an immodest girl?"
+
+"You did not say it," the old lady admitted. "Dorothy herself said it, and
+she proves her words to be true by speaking so boldly of her feelings
+toward this--this strange man. And she speaks before Madge, too."
+
+"Perhaps Madge is in the same sort of trouble. Who knows?" cried Dorothy,
+laughing heartily. Madge blushed painfully. "But," continued Dorothy,
+seriously, "I am not ashamed of it; I am proud of it. For what else, my
+dear aunt, was I created but to be in love? Tell me, dear aunt, for what
+else was I created?"
+
+"Perhaps you are right," returned the old lady, who in fact was
+sentimentally inclined.
+
+"The chief end of woman, after all, is to love," said Dorothy. "What would
+become of the human race if it were not?"
+
+"Child, child," cried the aunt, "where learned you such things?"
+
+"They were written upon my mother's breast," continued Dorothy, "and I
+learned them when I took in my life with her milk. I pray they may be
+written upon my breast some day, if God in His goodness shall ever bless
+me with a baby girl. A man child could not read the words."
+
+"Dorothy, Dorothy!" cried Lady Crawford, "you shock me. You pain me."
+
+"Again I ask," responded Dorothy, "for what else was I created? I tell
+you, Aunt Dorothy, the world decrees that women shall remain in ignorance,
+or in pretended ignorance--in silence at least--regarding the things
+concerning which they have the greatest need to be wise and talkative."
+
+"At your age, Dorothy, I did not have half your wisdom on the subject,"
+answered Lady Crawford.
+
+"Tell me, my sweet Aunt Dorothy, were you really in a state of ignorance
+such as you would have me believe?"
+
+"Well," responded the old lady, hesitatingly, "I did not speak of such
+matters."
+
+"Why, aunt, did you not?" asked Dorothy. "Were you ashamed of what God had
+done? Were you ashamed of His great purpose in creating you a woman, and
+in creating your mother and your mother's mother before you?"
+
+"No, no, child; no, no. But I cannot argue with you. Perhaps you are
+right," said Aunt Dorothy.
+
+"Then tell me, dear aunt, that I am not immodest and bold when I speak
+concerning that of which my heart is full to overflowing. God put it
+there, aunt, not I. Surely I am not immodest by reason of His act."
+
+"No, no, my sweet child," returned Aunt Dorothy, beginning to weep softly.
+"No, no, you are not immodest. You are worth a thousand weak fools such as
+I was at your age."
+
+Poor Aunt Dorothy had been forced into a marriage which had wrecked her
+life. Dorothy's words opened her aunt's eyes to the fact that the girl
+whom she so dearly loved was being thrust by Sir George into the same
+wretched fate through which she had dragged her own suffering heart for so
+many years. From that hour she was Dorothy's ally.
+
+"Good night, Malcolm," said Lady Crawford, offering me her hand. I kissed
+it tenderly; then I kissed the sweet old lady's cheek and said:--
+
+"I love you with all my heart, Aunt Dorothy."
+
+"I thank you, Malcolm," she returned.
+
+I took my leave, and soon Madge went to her room, leaving Dorothy and Lady
+Crawford together.
+
+When Madge had gone the two Dorothys, one at each end of life, spanned the
+long years that separated them, and became one in heart by reason of a
+heartache common to both.
+
+Lady Crawford seated herself and Dorothy knelt by her chair.
+
+"Tell me, Dorothy," said the old lady, "tell me, do you love this man so
+tenderly, so passionately that you cannot give him up?"
+
+"Ah, my dear aunt," the girl responded, "words cannot tell. You cannot
+know what I feel."
+
+"Alas! I know only too well, my child. I, too, loved a man when I was your
+age, and none but God knows what I suffered when I was forced by my
+parents and the priests to give him up, and to wed one whom--God help
+me--I loathed."
+
+"Oh, my sweet aunt!" cried Dorothy softly, throwing her arms about the old
+lady's neck and kissing her cheek. "How terribly you must have suffered!"
+
+"Yes," responded Lady Crawford, "and I am resolved you shall not endure
+the same fate. I hope the man who has won your love is worthy of you. Do
+not tell me his name, for I do not wish to practise greater deception
+toward your father than I must. But you may tell me of his station in
+life, and of his person, that I may know he is not unworthy of you."
+
+"His station in life," answered Dorothy, "is far better than mine. In
+person he is handsome beyond any woman's wildest dream of manly beauty. In
+character he is noble, generous, and good. He is far beyond my deserts,
+Aunt Dorothy."
+
+"Then why does he not seek your hand from your father?" asked the aunt.
+
+"That I may not tell you, Aunt Dorothy," returned the girl, "unless you
+would have me tell you his name, and that I dare not do. Although he is
+vastly my superior in station, in blood, and in character, still my father
+would kill me before he would permit me to marry this man of my choice;
+and I, dear aunt, fear I shall die if I have him not."
+
+Light slowly dawned upon Aunt Dorothy's mind, and she exclaimed in a
+terrified whisper:--
+
+"My God, child, is it he?"
+
+"Yes," responded the girl, "yes, it is he."
+
+"Do not speak his name, Dorothy," the old lady said. "Do not speak his
+name. So long as you do not tell me, I cannot know with certainty who he
+is." After a pause Aunt Dorothy continued, "Perhaps, child, it was his
+father whom I loved and was compelled to give up."
+
+"May the blessed Virgin pity us, sweet aunt," cried Dorothy, caressingly.
+
+"And help us," returned Lady Crawford. "I, too, shall help you," she
+continued. "It will be through no fault of mine if your life is wasted as
+mine has been."
+
+Dorothy kissed her aunt and retired.
+
+Next morning when Dorothy arose a song came from her heart as it comes
+from the skylark when it sees the sun at dawn--because it cannot help
+singing. It awakened Aunt Dorothy, and she began to live her life anew, in
+brightness, as she steeped her soul in the youth and joyousness of Dorothy
+Vernon's song.
+
+I have spoken before in this chronicle of Will Dawson. He was a Conformer.
+Possibly it was by reason of his religious faith that he did not share the
+general enmity that existed in Haddon Hall against the house of Rutland.
+He did not, at the time of which I speak, know Sir John Manners, and he
+did not suspect that the heir to Rutland was the man who had of late been
+causing so much trouble to the house of Vernon. At least, if he did
+suspect it, no one knew of his suspicions.
+
+Sir George made a great effort to learn who the mysterious interloper was,
+but he wholly failed to obtain any clew to his identity. He had jumped to
+the conclusion that Dorothy's mysterious lover was a man of low degree. He
+had taken for granted that he was an adventurer whose station and person
+precluded him from openly wooing his daughter. He did not know that the
+heir to Rutland was in the Derbyshire country; for John, after his first
+meeting with Dorothy, had carefully concealed his presence from everybody
+save the inmates of Rutland. In fact, his mission to Rutland required
+secrecy, and the Rutland servants and retainers were given to understand
+as much. Even had Sir George known of John's presence at Rutland, the old
+gentleman's mind could not have compassed the thought that Dorothy, who,
+he believed, hated the race of Manners with an intensity equalled only by
+his own feelings, could be induced to exchange a word with a member of the
+house. His uncertainty was not the least of his troubles; and although
+Dorothy had full liberty to come and go at will, her father kept constant
+watch over her. As a matter of fact, Sir George had given Dorothy liberty
+partly for the purpose of watching her, and he hoped to discover thereby
+and, if possible, to capture the man who had brought trouble to his
+household. Sir George had once hanged a man to a tree on Bowling Green
+Hill by no other authority than his own desire. That execution was the
+last in England under the old Saxon law of Infangthef and Outfangthef. Sir
+George had been summoned before Parliament for the deed; but the writ had
+issued against the King of the Peak, and that being only a sobriquet, was
+neither Sir George's name nor his title. So the writ was quashed, and the
+high-handed act of personal justice was not farther investigated by the
+authorities. Should my cousin capture his daughter's lover, there would
+certainly be another execution under the old Saxon law. So you see that my
+friend Manners was tickling death with a straw for Dorothy's sake.
+
+One day Dawson approached Sir George and told him that a man sought
+employment in the household of Haddon Hall. Sir George placed great
+confidence in his forester; so he told Dawson to employ the man if his
+services were needed. The new servant proved to be a fine, strong fellow,
+having a great shock of carrot-colored hair and a bushy beard of rusty
+red.
+
+Dawson engaged the newcomer, and assigned to him the duty of kindling the
+fires in the family apartments of the Hall. The name of the new servant
+was Thomas Thompson, a name that Dorothy soon abbreviated to Tom-Tom.
+
+One day she said to him, by way of opening the acquaintance, "Thomas, you
+and I should be good friends; we have so much in common."
+
+"Thank you, my lady," responded Thomas, greatly pleased. "I hope we shall
+be good friends; indeed, indeed I do, but I cannot tell wherein I am so
+fortunate as to have anything in common with your Ladyship. What is it,
+may I ask, of which we have so much in common?"
+
+"So much hair," responded Dorothy, laughing.
+
+"It were blasphemy, lady, to compare my hair with yours," returned Thomas.
+"Your hair, I make sure, is such as the blessed Virgin had. I ask your
+pardon for speaking so plainly; but your words put the thought into my
+mind, and perhaps they gave me license to speak."
+
+Thomas was on his knees, placing wood upon the fire.
+
+"Thomas," returned Dorothy, "you need never apologize to a lady for making
+so fine a speech. I declare a courtier could not have made a better one."
+
+"Perhaps I have lived among courtiers, lady," said Thomas.
+
+"I doubt not," replied Dorothy, derisively. "You would have me believe you
+are above your station. It is the way with all new servants. I suppose
+you have seen fine company and better days."
+
+"I have never seen finer company than now, and I have never known better
+days than this," responded courtier Thomas. Dorothy thought he was
+presuming on her condescension, and was about to tell him so when he
+continued: "The servants at Haddon Hall are gentlefolk compared with
+servants at other places where I have worked, and I desire nothing more
+than to find favor in Sir George's eyes. I would do anything to achieve
+that end."
+
+Dorothy was not entirely reassured by Thomas's closing words; but even if
+they were presumptuous, she admired his wit in giving them an inoffensive
+turn. From that day forth the acquaintance grew between the servant and
+mistress until it reached the point of familiarity at which Dorothy dubbed
+him Tom-Tom.
+
+Frequently Dorothy was startled by remarks made by Thomas, having in them
+a strong dash of familiarity; but he always gave to his words a harmless
+turn before she could resent them. At times, however, she was not quite
+sure of his intention.
+
+Within a week after Thomas's advent to the hall, Dorothy began to suspect
+that the new servant looked upon her with eyes of great favor. She
+frequently caught him watching her, and at such times his eyes, which
+Dorothy thought were really very fine, would glow with an ardor all too
+evident. His manner was cause for amusement rather than concern, and since
+she felt kindly toward the new servant, she thought to create a faithful
+ally by treating him graciously. She might, she thought, need Thomas's
+help when the time should come for her to leave Haddon Hall with John, if
+that happy time should ever come. She did not realize that the most
+dangerous, watchful enemy to her cherished scheme would be a man who was
+himself in love with her, even though he were a servant, and she looked on
+Thomas's evident infatuation with a smile. She did not once think that in
+the end it might cause her great trouble, so she accepted his mute
+admiration, and thought to make use of it later on. To Tom, therefore,
+Dorothy was gracious.
+
+John had sent word to Dorothy, by Jennie Faxton, that he had gone to
+London, and would be there for a fortnight or more.
+
+Sir George had given permission to his daughter to ride out whenever she
+wished to do so, but he had ordered that Dawson or I should follow in the
+capacity of spy, and Dorothy knew of the censorship, though she pretended
+ignorance of it. So long as John was in London she did not care who
+followed her; but I well knew that when Manners should return, Dorothy
+would again begin manoeuvring, and that by some cunning trick she would
+see him.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+One afternoon I was temporarily absent from the Hall and Dorothy wished to
+ride. Dawson was engaged, and when Dorothy had departed, he ordered Tom to
+ride after his mistress at a respectful distance. Nearly a fortnight had
+passed since John had gone to London, and when Dorothy rode forth that
+afternoon she was beginning to hope he might have returned, and that by
+some delightful possibility he might then be loitering about the old
+trysting-place at Bowling Green Gate. There was a half-unconscious
+conviction in her heart that he would be there. She determined therefore,
+to ride toward Rowsley, to cross the Wye at her former fording-place, and
+to go up to Bowling Green Gate on the Devonshire side of the Haddon wall.
+She had no reason, other than the feeling born of her wishes, to believe
+that John would be there; but she loved the spot for the sake of the
+memories which hovered about it. She well knew that some one would follow
+her from the Hall; but she felt sure that in case the spy proved to be
+Dawson or myself, she could easily arrange matters to her satisfaction, if
+by good fortune she should find her lover at the gate.
+
+Tom rode so far behind his mistress that she could not determine who was
+following her. Whenever she brought Dolcy to a walk, Tom-Tom also walked
+his horse. When Dorothy galloped, he galloped; but after Dorothy had
+crossed the Wye and had taken the wall over into the Devonshire lands, Tom
+also crossed the river and wall and quickly rode to her side. He uncovered
+and bowed low with a familiarity of manner that startled her. The act of
+riding up to her and the manner in which he took his place by her side
+were presumptuous to the point of insolence, and his attitude, although
+not openly offensive, was slightly alarming. She put Dolcy to a gallop;
+but the servant who, she thought, was presuming on her former
+graciousness, kept close at Dolcy's heels. The man was a stranger, and she
+knew nothing of his character. She was alone in the forest with him, and
+she did not know to what length his absurd passion for her might lead him.
+She was alarmed, but she despised cowardice, although she knew herself to
+be a coward, and she determined to ride to the gate, which was but a short
+distance ahead of her. She resolved that if the insolent fellow continued
+his familiarity, she would teach him a lesson he would never forget. When
+she was within a short distance of the gate she sprang from Dolcy and
+handed her rein to her servant. John was not there, but she went to the
+gate in the hope that a letter might be hidden beneath the stone bench
+where Jennie was wont to find them in times past. Dorothy found no letter,
+but she could not resist the temptation to sit down upon the bench where
+he and she had sat, and to dream over the happy moments she had spent
+there. Tom, instead of holding the horses, hitched them, and walked toward
+Dorothy. That act on the part of her servant was effrontery of the most
+insolent sort. Will Dawson himself would not have dared do such a thing.
+It filled her with alarm, and as Tom approached she was trying to
+determine in what manner she would crush him. But when the audacious
+Thomas, having reached the gate, seated himself beside his mistress on the
+stone bench, the girl sprang to her feet in fright and indignation. She
+began to realize the extent of her foolhardiness in going to that secluded
+spot with a stranger.
+
+"How dare you approach me in this insolent fashion?" cried Dorothy,
+breathless with fear.
+
+"Mistress Vernon," responded Thomas, looking boldly up into her pale face,
+"I wager you a gold pound sterling that if you permit me to remain here by
+your side ten minutes you will be unwilling--"
+
+"John, John!" cried the girl, exultantly. Tom snatched the red beard from
+his face, and Dorothy, after one fleeting, luminous look into his eyes,
+fell upon her knees and buried her face in her hands. She wept, and John,
+bending over the kneeling girl, kissed her sunlit hair.
+
+"Cruel, cruel," sobbed Dorothy. Then she lifted her head and clasped her
+hands about his neck. "Is it not strange," she continued, "that I should
+have felt so sure of seeing you? My reason kept telling me that my hopes
+were absurd, but a stronger feeling full of the breath of certainty seemed
+to assure me that you would be here. It impelled me to come, though I
+feared you after we crossed the wall. But reason, fear, and caution were
+powerless to keep me away."
+
+"You did not know my voice," said John, "nor did you penetrate my
+disguise. You once said that you would recognize me though I wore all the
+petticoats in Derbyshire."
+
+"Please don't jest with me now," pleaded Dorothy. "I cannot bear it. Great
+joy is harder to endure than great grief. Why did you not reveal yourself
+to me at the Hall?" she asked plaintively.
+
+"I found no opportunity," returned John, "others were always present."
+
+I shall tell you nothing that followed. It is no affair of yours nor of
+mine.
+
+They were overjoyed in being together once more. Neither of them seemed to
+realize that John, while living under Sir George's roof, was facing death
+every moment. To Dorothy, the fact that John, who was heir to one of
+England's noblest houses, was willing for her sake to become a servant, to
+do a servant's work, and to receive the indignities constantly put upon a
+servant, appealed most powerfully. It added to her feeling for him a
+tenderness which is not necessarily a part of passionate love.
+
+It is needless for me to tell you that while John performed faithfully the
+duty of keeping bright the fires in Haddon Hall, he did not neglect the
+other flame--the one in Dorothy's heart--for the sake of whose warmth he
+had assumed the leathern garb of servitude and had placed his head in the
+lion's mouth.
+
+At first he and Dorothy used great caution in exchanging words and
+glances, but familiarity with danger breeds contempt for it. So they
+utilized every opportunity that niggard chance offered, and blinded by
+their great longing soon began to make opportunities for speech with each
+other, thereby bringing trouble to Dorothy and deadly peril to John. Of
+that I shall soon tell you.
+
+During the period of John's service in Haddon Hall negotiations for
+Dorothy's marriage with Lord Stanley were progressing slowly but surely.
+Arrangements for the marriage settlement by the Stanleys, and for
+Dorothy's dower to be given by Sir George, were matters that the King of
+the Peak approached boldly as he would have met any other affair of
+business. But the Earl of Derby, whose mind moved slowly, desiring that a
+generous portion of the Vernon wealth should be transferred with Dorothy
+to the Stanley holdings without the delay incident to Sir George's death,
+put off signing the articles of marriage in his effort to augment the cash
+payment. In truth, the great wealth which Dorothy would bring to the house
+of Stanley was the earl's real reason for desiring her marriage with his
+son. The earl was heavily in debt, and his estate stood in dire need of
+help.
+
+Sir George, though attracted by the high nobility of the house of Stanley,
+did not relish the thought that the wealth he had accumulated by his own
+efforts, and the Vernon estates which had come down to him through
+centuries, should go to pay Lord Derby's debts. He therefore insisted that
+Dorothy's dower should be her separate estate, and demanded that it should
+remain untouched and untouchable by either of the Stanleys. That
+arrangement did not suit my lord earl, and although the son since he had
+seen Dorothy at Derby-town was eager to possess the beautiful girl, his
+father did not share his ardor. Lawyers were called in who looked
+expensively wise, but they accomplished the purpose for which they were
+employed. An agreement of marriage was made and was drawn up on an
+imposing piece of parchment, brave with ribbons, pompous with seals, and
+fair in clerkly penmanship.
+
+One day Sir George showed me the copy of the contract which had been
+prepared for him. That evening at the cost of much labor he and I went
+over the indenture word for word, and when we had finished Sir George
+thought it was very good indeed. He seemed to think that all difficulties
+in the way of the marriage were overcome when the agreement that lay
+before us on the table had been achieved between him and the earl. I knew
+Sir George's troubles had only begun; for I was aware of a fact which it
+seemed impossible for him to learn, though of late Dorothy had given him
+much teaching thereto. I knew that he had transmitted to his daughter a
+large portion of his own fierce, stubborn, unbreakable will, and that in
+her it existed in its most deadly form--the feminine. To me after supper
+that night was assigned the task of reading and rereading many times to
+Sir George the contents of the beautiful parchment. When I would read a
+clause that particularly pleased my cousin, he insisted on celebrating the
+event by drinking a mug of liquor drawn from a huge leather stoup which
+sat upon the table between us. By the time I had made several readings of
+the interesting document the characters began to mingle in a way that did
+not impart ease and clearness to my style. Some of the strange
+combinations which I and the liquor extracted from amid the seals and
+ribbons puzzled Sir George not a little. But with each new libation he
+found new clauses and fresh causes for self-congratulation, though to
+speak exact truth I more than once married Sir George to the Earl of
+Derby, and in my profanity gave Lord James Stanley to the devil to have
+and to hold.
+
+Sir George was rapidly falling before his mighty enemy, drink, and I was
+not far behind him, though I admit the fault with shame. My cousin for a
+while was mightily pleased with the contract; but when the liquor had
+brought him to a point where he was entirely candid with himself, he let
+slip the fact that after all there was regret at the bottom of the goblet,
+metaphorically and actually. Before his final surrender to drink he
+dropped the immediate consideration of the contract and said:--
+
+"Malcolm, I have in my time known many fools, but if you will permit an
+old man, who loves you dearly, to make a plain statement of his
+conviction--"
+
+"Certainly," I interrupted.
+
+"It would be a great relief to me," he continued, "to say that I believe
+you to be the greatest fool the good God ever permitted to live."
+
+"I am sure, Sir George, that your condescending flattery is very
+pleasing," I said.
+
+Sir George, unmindful of my remark, continued, "Your disease is not
+usually a deadly malady, as a look about you will easily show; but,
+Malcolm, if you were one whit more of a fool, you certainly would perish."
+
+I was not offended, for I knew that my cousin meant no offence.
+
+"Then, Sir George, if the time ever comes when I wish to commit suicide, I
+have always at hand an easy, painless mode of death. I shall become only a
+little more of a fool." I laughingly said, "I will do my utmost to absorb
+a little wisdom now and then as a preventive."
+
+"Never a bit of wisdom will you ever absorb. A man who would refuse a girl
+whose wealth and beauty are as great as Dorothy's, is past all hope. I
+often awaken in the dark corners of the night when a man's troubles stalk
+about his bed like livid demons; and when I think that all of this evil
+which has come up between Dorothy and me, and all of this cursed
+estrangement which is eating out my heart could have been averted if you
+had consented to marry her, I cannot but feel--"
+
+"But, Sir George," I interrupted, "it was Dorothy, not I, who refused. She
+could never have been brought to marry me."
+
+"Don't tell me, Malcolm; don't tell me," cried the old man, angrily. Drink
+had made Sir George sullen and violent. It made me happy at first; but
+with liquor in excess there always came to me a sort of frenzy.
+
+"Don't tell me," continued Sir George. "There never lived a Vernon who
+couldn't win a woman if he would try. But put all that aside. She would
+have obeyed me. I would have forced her to marry you, and she would have
+thanked me afterward."
+
+"You could never have forced her to marry me," I replied.
+
+"But that I could and that I would have done," said Sir George. "The like
+is done every day. Girls in these modern times are all perverse, but they
+are made to yield. Take the cases of Sir Thomas Mobley, Sir Grant Rhodas,
+and William Kimm. Their daughters all refused to marry the men chosen for
+them, but the wenches were made to yield. If I had a daughter who refused
+to obey me, I would break her; I would break her. Yes, by God, I would
+break her if I had to kill her," and the old man brought his clenched hand
+down upon the oak table with a crash. His eyes glared frightfully, and his
+face bore a forbidding expression which boded no good for Dorothy.
+
+"She will make trouble in this matter," Sir George continued, tapping the
+parchment with his middle finger.
+
+"She will make trouble about this; but, by God, Malcolm, she shall obey
+me."
+
+He struck the oaken table another great blow with his fist, and glared
+fiercely across at me.
+
+"Lord Wyatt had trouble with his daughter when he made the marriage with
+Devonshire," continued Sir George.
+
+"A damned good match it was, too, for the girl. But she had her heart set
+on young Gillman, and she refused to obey her father. She refused, by God,
+point blank, to obey her father. She refused to obey the man who had given
+her life. What did Wyatt do? He was a man who knew what a child owes to
+its father, and, by God, Malcolm, after trying every other means to bring
+the wench to her senses, after he had tried persuasion, after having in
+two priests and a bishop to show her how badly she was acting, and after
+he had tried to reason with her, he whipped her; yes, he whipped her till
+she bled--till she bled, Malcolm, I tell you. Ah, Wyatt knew what is due
+from a child to its parents. The whipping failed to bring the perverse
+huzzy to obedience, so Wyatt threw her into a dungeon and starved her
+till--till--"
+
+"Till she died," I interrupted.
+
+"Yes, till she died," mumbled Sir George, sullenly, "till she died, and it
+served her right, by God, served her right."
+
+The old man was growing very drunk, and everything was beginning to
+appear distorted to me. Sir George rose to his feet, leaned toward me with
+glaring eyes, struck the table a terrible blow with his fist, and said:--
+
+"By the blood of God I swear that if Doll refuses to marry Stanley, and
+persists in her refusal, I'll whip her. Wyatt is a man after my own heart.
+I'll starve her. I'll kill her. Ay, if I loved her ten thousand times more
+than I do, I would kill her or she should obey me."
+
+Then dawned upon me a vision of terrible possibilities. I was sure Sir
+George could not force Dorothy to marry against her will; but I feared
+lest he might kill her in his effort to "break her." I do not mean that I
+feared he would kill her by a direct act, unless he should do so in a
+moment of frenzy induced by drink and passion, but I did fear for the
+results of the breaking process. The like had often happened. It had
+happened in the case of Wyatt's daughter. Dorothy under the intoxicating
+influence of her passion might become so possessed by the spirit of a
+martyr that she could calmly take a flogging, but my belief was that
+should matters proceed to that extreme, should Sir George flog his
+daughter, the chords of her highly strung nature would snap under the
+tension, and she would die. I loved Dorothy for the sake of her fierce,
+passionate, tender heart, and because she loved me; and even in my sober,
+reflective moments I had resolved that my life, ay, and Sir George's life
+also, should stand between the girl and the lash. If in calmness I could
+deliberately form such a resolution, imagine the effect on my
+liquor-crazed brain of Sir George's words and the vista of horrors they
+disclosed. I was intoxicated. I was drunk. I say it with shame; and on
+hearing Sir George's threat my half-frenzied imagination ran riot into the
+foreboding future.
+
+All the candles, save one tottering wick, were dead in their sockets, and
+the room was filled with lowering phantom-like shadows from oaken floor
+to grimy vaulted roof beams. Sir George, hardly conscious of what he did
+and said, all his evil passions quickened with drink, leaned his hands
+upon the table and glared across at me. He seemed to be the incarnation of
+rage and ferocity, to so great a pitch had he wrought himself. The
+sputtering candle feebly flickered, and seemed to give its dim light only
+that the darksome shadows might flit and hover about us like vampires on
+the scent of blood. A cold perspiration induced by a nameless fear came
+upon me, and in that dark future to which my heated imagination travelled
+I saw, as if revealed by black magic, fair, sweet, generous Dorothy,
+standing piteously upon Bowling Green hillside. Over her drooping form
+there hung in air a monster cloudlike image of her father holding in its
+hand a deadly bludgeon. So black, so horrid was this shadow-demon that I
+sprang from my chair with a frightful oath, and shrieked:--
+
+"Hell is made for man because of his cruelty to woman."
+
+Sir George had sunk into his chair. Liquor had finished its work, and the
+old man, resting his head upon his folded arms, leaned forward on the
+table. He was drunk--dead to the world. How long I stood in frenzied
+stupor gazing at shadow-stricken Dorothy upon the hillside I do not know.
+It must have been several minutes. Blood of Christ, how vividly I remember
+the vision! The sunny radiance of the girl's hair was darkened and dead.
+Her bending attitude was one of abject grief. Her hands covered her face,
+and she was the image of woe. Suddenly she lifted her head with the quick
+impulsive movement so familiar in her, and with a cry eloquent as a
+child's wail for its mother called, "John," and held out her arms
+imploringly toward the dim shadowy form of her lover standing upon the
+hill crest. Then John's form began to fade, and as its shadowy essence
+grew dim, despair slowly stole like a mask of death over Dorothy's face.
+She stood for a moment gazing vacantly into space. Then she fell to the
+ground, the shadow of her father hovering over her prostrate form, and the
+words, "Dead, dead, dead," came to me in horrifying whispers from every
+dancing shadow-demon in the room.
+
+In trying to locate the whispers as they reverberated from floor to oaken
+rafters, I turned and saw Sir George. He looked as if he were dead.
+
+"Why should you not be dead in fact?" I cried. "You would kill your
+daughter. Why should I not kill you? That will solve the whole question."
+
+I revelled in the thought; I drank it in; I nursed it; I cuddled it; I
+kissed it. Nature's brutish love for murder had deluged my soul. I put my
+hand to my side for the purpose of drawing my sword or my knife. I had
+neither with me. Then I remember staggering toward the fireplace to get
+one of the fire-irons with which to kill my cousin. I remember that when I
+grasped the fire-iron, by the strange working of habit I employed it for
+the moment in its proper use; and as I began to stir the embers on the
+hearth, my original purpose was forgotten. That moment of habit-wrought
+forgetfulness saved me and saved Sir George's life. I remember that I sank
+into the chair in front of the fireplace, holding the iron, and I thank
+God that I remember nothing more.
+
+During the night the servants aroused me, and I staggered up the stone
+stairway of Eagle Tower and clambered into my room.
+
+The next morning I awakened feeling ill. There was a taste in my mouth as
+If I had been chewing a piece of the devil's boot over night. I wanted no
+breakfast, so I climbed to the top of the tower, hoping the fresh morning
+breeze might cool my head and cleanse my mouth. For a moment or two I
+stood on the tower roof bareheaded and open-mouthed while I drank in the
+fresh, purifying air. The sweet draught helped me physically; but all the
+winds of Boreas could not have blown out of my head the vision of the
+previous night. The question, "Was it prophetic?" kept ringing in my ears,
+answerless save by a superstitious feeling of fear. Then the horrid
+thought that I had only by a mere chance missed becoming a murderer came
+upon me, and again was crowded from my mind by the memory of Dorothy and
+the hovering spectre which had hung over her head on Bowling Green
+hillside.
+
+I walked to the north side of the tower and on looking down the first
+person I saw was our new servant, Thomas, holding two horses at the
+mounting stand. One of them was Dolcy, and I, feeling that a brisk ride
+with Dorothy would help me to throw off my wretchedness, quickly descended
+the tower stairs, stopped at my room for my hat and cloak, and walked
+around to the mounting block. Dorothy was going to ride, and I supposed
+she would prefer me to the new servant as a companion.
+
+I asked Thomas if his mistress were going out for a ride, and he replied
+affirmatively.
+
+"Who is to accompany her?" I asked.
+
+"She gave orders for me to go with her," he answered.
+
+"Very well," I responded, "take your horse back to the stable and fetch
+mine." The man hesitated, and twice he began to make reply, but finally he
+said:--
+
+"Very well, Sir Malcolm."
+
+He hitched Dolcy to the ring in the mounting block and started back toward
+the stable leading his own horse. At that moment Dorothy came out of the
+tower gate, dressed for the ride. Surely no woman was ever more beautiful
+than she that morning.
+
+"Tom-Tom, where are you taking the horse?" she cried.
+
+"To the stable, Mistress," answered the servant. "Sir Malcolm says he will
+go with you."
+
+Dorothy's joyousness vanished. From radiant brightness her expression
+changed in the twinkling of an eye to a look of disappointment so
+sorrowful that I at once knew there was some great reason why she did not
+wish me to ride with her. I could not divine the reason, neither did I
+try. I quickly said to Thomas:--
+
+"Do not bring my horse. If Mistress Vernon will excuse me, I shall not
+ride with her this morning. I forgot for the moment that I had not
+breakfasted."
+
+Again came to Dorothy's face the radiant look of joy as if to affirm what
+it had already told me. I looked toward Thomas, and his eyes, too, were
+alight. I could make nothing of it. Thomas was a fine-looking fellow,
+notwithstanding his preposterous hair and beard; but I felt sure there
+could be no understanding between the man and his mistress.
+
+When Thomas and Dorothy had mounted, she timidly ventured to say:--
+
+"We are sorry, Cousin Malcolm, that you cannot ride with us."
+
+She did not give me an opportunity to change my mind, but struck Dolcy a
+sharp blow with her whip that sent the spirited mare galloping toward the
+dove-cote, and Thomas quickly followed at a respectful distance. From the
+dove-cote Dorothy took the path down the Wye toward Rowsley. I, of course,
+connected her strange conduct with John. When a young woman who is well
+balanced physically, mentally, and morally acts in a strange, unusual
+manner, you may depend on it there is a man somewhere behind her motive.
+
+I knew that John was in London. Only the night before I had received word
+from Rutland Castle that he had not returned, and that he was not expected
+home for many days.
+
+So I concluded that John could not be behind my fair cousin's motive. I
+tried to stop guessing at the riddle Dorothy had set me, but my effort was
+useless. I wondered and thought and guessed, but I brought to myself only
+the answer, "Great is the mystery of womanhood."
+
+After Dorothy had ridden away I again climbed to the top of Eagle Tower
+and saw the riders cross the Wye at Dorothy's former fording-place, and
+take the wall. I then did a thing that fills me with shame when I think of
+it. For the only time in my whole life I acted the part of a spy. I
+hurried to Bowling Green Gate, and horror upon horror, there I beheld my
+cousin Dorothy in the arms of Thomas, the man-servant. I do not know why
+the truth of Thomas's identity did not dawn upon me, but it did not, and I
+stole away from the gate, thinking that Dorothy, after all, was no better
+than the other women I had known at various times in my life, and I
+resolved to tell John what I had seen. You must remember that the women I
+had known were of the courts of Mary Stuart and of Guise, and the less we
+say about them the better. God pity them! Prior to my acquaintance with
+Dorothy and Madge I had always considered a man to be a fool who would put
+his faith in womankind. To me women were as good as men,--no better, no
+worse. But with my knowledge of those two girls there had grown up in me a
+faith in woman's virtue which in my opinion is man's greatest comforter;
+the lack of it his greatest torment.
+
+I went back to Eagle Tower and stood at my window looking down the Wye,
+hoping soon to see Dorothy returning home. I did not feel jealousy in the
+sense that a lover would feel it; but there was a pain in my heart, a
+mingling of grief, anger, and resentment because Dorothy had destroyed not
+only my faith in her, but, alas! my sweet, new-born faith in womankind.
+Through her fault I had fallen again to my old, black belief that virtue
+was only another name for the lack of opportunity. It is easy for a man
+who has never known virtue in woman to bear and forbear the lack of it;
+but when once he has known the priceless treasure, doubt becomes
+excruciating pain.
+
+After an hour or two Dorothy and her servant appeared at the ford and took
+the path up the Wye toward Haddon. Thomas was riding a short distance
+behind his accommodating mistress, and as they approached the Hall, I
+recognized something familiar in his figure. At first, the feeling of
+recognition was indistinct, but when the riders drew near, something about
+the man--his poise on the horse, a trick with the rein or a turn with his
+stirrup, I could not tell what it was--startled me like a flash in the
+dark, and the word "John!" sprang to my lips. The wonder of the thing
+drove out of my mind all power to think. I could only feel happy, so I lay
+down upon my bed and soon dropped off to sleep.
+
+When I awakened I was rapt in peace, for I had again found my treasured
+faith in womankind. I had hardly dared include Madge in my backsliding,
+but I had come perilously near doing it, and the thought of my narrow
+escape from such perfidy frightened me. I have never taken the risk since
+that day. I would not believe the testimony of my own eyes against the
+evidence of my faith in Madge.
+
+I knew that Thomas was Sir John Manners, and yet I did not know it
+certainly. I determined, if possible, to remain in partial ignorance,
+hoping that I might with some small show of truth be able to plead
+ignorance should Sir George accuse me of bad faith in having failed to
+tell him of John's presence in Haddon Hall. That Sir George would sooner
+or later discover Thomas's identity I had little doubt. That he would kill
+him should he once have him in his power, I had no doubt at all. Hence,
+although I had awakened in peace concerning Dorothy, you may understand
+that I awakened to trouble concerning John.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE COST MARK OF JOY
+
+
+Peace had been restored between Dorothy and her father. At least an
+armistice had been tacitly declared. But, owing to Dorothy's knowledge of
+her father's intention that she should marry Lord Stanley, and because of
+Sir George's feeling that Dorothy had determined to do nothing of the
+sort, the belligerent powers maintained a defensive attitude which
+rendered an absolute reconciliation impossible. They were ready for war at
+a moment's notice.
+
+The strangest part of their relation was the failure of each to comprehend
+and fully to realize the full strength of the other's purpose. Dorothy
+could not bring herself to believe that her father, who had until within
+the last few weeks, been kind and indulgent to her, seriously intended to
+force her into marriage with a creature so despicable as Stanley. In fact,
+she did not believe that her father could offer lasting resistance to her
+ardent desire in any matter. Such an untoward happening had never befallen
+her. Dorothy had learned to believe from agreeable experience that it was
+a crime in any one, bordering on treason, to thwart her ardent desires. It
+is true she had in certain events, been compelled to coax and even to weep
+gently. On a few extreme occasions she had been forced to do a little
+storming in order to have her own way; but that any presumptuous
+individuals should resist her will after the storming had been resorted
+to was an event of such recent happening in her life that she had not
+grown familiar with the thought of it. Therefore, while she felt that her
+father might seriously annoy her with the Stanley project, and while she
+realized that she might be compelled to resort to the storming process in
+a degree thitherto uncalled for, she believed that the storm she would
+raise would blow her father entirely out of his absurd and utterly
+untenable position. On the other hand, while Sir George anticipated
+trouble with Dorothy, he had never been able to believe that she would
+absolutely refuse to obey him. In those olden times--now nearly half a
+century past--filial disobedience was rare. The refusal of a child to obey
+a parent, and especially the refusal of a daughter to obey her father in
+the matter of marriage, was then looked upon as a crime and was frequently
+punished in a way which amounted to barbarous ferocity. Sons, being of the
+privileged side of humanity, might occasionally disobey with impunity, but
+woe to the poor girl who dared set up a will of her own. A man who could
+not compel obedience from his daughter was looked upon as a poor weakling,
+and contempt was his portion in the eyes of his fellow-men--in the eyes of
+his fellow-brutes, I should like to say.
+
+Growing out of such conditions was the firm belief on the part of Sir
+George that Dorothy would in the end obey him; but if by any hard chance
+she should be guilty of the high crime of disobedience--Well! Sir George
+intended to prevent the crime. Perhaps mere stubborness and fear of the
+contempt in which he would be held by his friends in case he were defeated
+by his own daughter were no small parts of Sir George's desire to carry
+through the enterprise in which he had embarked with the Stanleys.
+Although there was no doubt in Sir George's mind that he would eventually
+conquer in the conflict with Dorothy, he had a profound respect for the
+power of his antagonist to do temporary battle, and he did not care to
+enter into actual hostilities until hostilities should become actually
+necessary.
+
+Therefore, upon the second day after I had read the beribboned, besealed
+contract to Sir George, he sent an advance guard toward the enemy's line.
+He placed the ornamental piece of parchment in Lady Crawford's hands and
+directed her to give it to Dorothy.
+
+But before I tell you of the parchment I must relate a scene that occurred
+in Aunt Dorothy's room a few hours after I recognized John as he rode up
+the Wye with Dorothy. It was late in the afternoon of the day after I read
+the contract to Sir George and saw the horrid vision on Bowling Green.
+
+I was sitting with Madge at the west window of Dorothy's parlor. We were
+watching the sun as it sank in splendor beneath Overhaddon Hill.
+
+I should like first to tell you a few words--only a few, I pray
+you--concerning Madge and myself. I will.
+
+I have just said that Madge and I were watching the sun at the west
+window, and I told you but the truth, for Madge had learned to see with my
+eyes. Gladly would I have given them to her outright, and willingly would
+I have lived in darkness could I have given light to her. She gave light
+to me--the light of truth, of purity, and of exalted motive. There had
+been no words spoken by Madge nor me to any one concerning the strange and
+holy chain that was welding itself about us, save the partial confession
+which she had whispered to Dorothy. But notwithstanding our silence, our
+friends in the Hall understood that Madge and I were very dear to each
+other. I, of course, saw a great deal of her; but it was the evening hour
+at the west window to which I longingly looked forward all the day. I am
+no poet, nor do my words and thoughts come with the rhythmic flow and
+eloquent imagery of one to whom the talent of poesy is given. But during
+those evening hours it seemed that with the soft touch of Madge's hand
+there ran through me a current of infectious dreaming which kindled my
+soul till thoughts of beauty came to my mind and words of music sprang to
+my lips such as I had always considered not to be in me. It was not I who
+spoke; it was Madge who saw with my eyes and spoke with my voice. To my
+vision, swayed by Madge's subtle influence, the landscape became a thing
+of moving beauty and of life, and the floating clouds became a panorama of
+ever shifting pictures. I, inspired by her, described so eloquently the
+wonders I saw that she, too, could see them. Now a flock of white-winged
+angels rested on the low-hung azure of the sky, watching the glory of
+Phoebus as he drove his fiery steeds over the western edge of the world.
+Again, Mount Olympus would grow before my eyes, and I would plainly see
+Jove sitting upon his burnished throne, while gods and goddesses floated
+at his feet and revelled on the fleecy mountain sides. Then would
+mountain, gods, and goddesses dissolve,--as in fact they did dissolve ages
+ago before the eyes of millions who had thought them real,--and in their
+places perhaps would come a procession of golden-maned lions, at the
+description of which would Madge take pretended fright. Again, would I see
+Madge herself in flowing white robes made of the stuff from which fleecy
+clouds are wrought. All these wonders would I describe, and when I would
+come to tell her of the fair cloud image of herself I would seize the
+joyous chance to make her understand in some faint degree how altogether
+lovely in my eyes the vision was. Then would she smile and softly press my
+hand and say:--
+
+"Malcolm, it must be some one else you see in the cloud," though she was
+pleased.
+
+But when the hour was done then came the crowning moment of the day, for
+as I would rise to take my leave, if perchance we were alone, she would
+give herself to my arms for one fleeting instant and willingly would her
+lips await--but there are moments too sacred for aught save holy thought.
+The theme is sweet to me, but I must go back to Dorothy and tell you of
+the scene I have promised you.
+
+As I have already said, it was the evening following that upon which I had
+read the marriage contract to Sir George, and had seen the vision on the
+hillside. Madge and I were sitting at the west window. Dorothy, in
+kindness to us, was sitting alone by the fireside in Lady Crawford's
+chamber. Thomas entered the room with an armful of fagots, which he
+deposited in the fagot-holder. He was about to replenish the fire, but
+Dorothy thrust him aside, and said:--
+
+"You shall kindle no more fires for me. At least you shall not do so when
+no one else is by. It pains me that you, at whose feet I am unworthy to
+kneel, should be my servant"
+
+Thereupon she took in her hands the fagot John had been holding. He
+offered to prevent her, but she said:--
+
+"Please, John, let me do this."
+
+The doors were open, and we heard all that was said by Dorothy and Tom.
+Madge grasped my hand in surprise and fear.
+
+"Please, John," said Dorothy, "if it gives me pleasure to be your servant,
+you should not wish to deny me. There lives but one person whom I would
+serve. There, John, I will give you another, and you shall let me do as I
+will."
+
+Dorothy, still holding the fagot in her hands, pressed it against John's
+breast and gently pushed him backward toward a large armchair, in which
+she had been sitting by the west side of the fireplace.
+
+"You sit there, John, and we will make believe that this is our house, and
+that you have just come in very cold from a ride, and that I am making a
+fine fire to warm you. Isn't it pleasant, John? There, you sit and warm
+yourself--my--my--husband," she said laughingly. "It is fine sport even to
+play at. There is one fagot on the fire," she said, as she threw the wood
+upon the embers, causing them to fly in all directions. John started up to
+brush the scattered embers back into the fireplace, but Dorothy stopped
+him.
+
+"I will put them all back," she said. "You know you are cold and very
+tired. You have been overseeing the tenantry and have been hunting. Will
+you have a bowl of punch, my--my husband?" and she laughed again and
+kissed him as she passed to the holder for another fagot.
+
+"I much prefer that to punch," said John, laughing softly. "Have you
+more?"
+
+"Thousands of them, John, thousands of them." She rippled forth a little
+laugh and continued: "I occupy my time nowadays in making them that I may
+always have a great supply when we are--that is, you know, when you--when
+the time comes that you may require a great many to keep you in good
+humor." Again came the laugh, merry and clear as the tinkle of sterling
+silver.
+
+She laughed again within a minute or two; but when the second laugh came,
+it sounded like a knell.
+
+Dorothy delighted to be dressed in the latest fashion. Upon this occasion
+she wore a skirt vast in width, of a pattern then much in vogue. The
+sleeves also were preposterously large, in accordance with the custom of
+the times. About her neck a beautiful white linen ruff stood out at least
+the eighth part of an ell. The day had been damp and cold, and the room in
+which she had been sitting was chilly. For that reason, most fortunately,
+she had thrown over her shoulders a wide sable cloak broad enough to
+enfold her many times and long enough to reach nearly to her knees:
+Dorothy thus arrayed was standing in front of John's chair. She had just
+spoken the words "good humor," when the door leading to her father's room
+opened and in walked Sir George. She and her ample skirts and broad
+sleeves were between John and the door. Not one brief instant did Dorothy
+waste in thought. Had she paused to put in motion the machinery of reason,
+John would have been lost. Thomas sitting in Lady Crawford's chair and
+Dorothy standing beside him would have told Sir George all he needed to
+know. He might not have discovered John's identity, but a rope and a tree
+in Bowling Green would quickly have closed the chapter of Dorothy's
+mysterious love affair. Dorothy, however, did not stop to reason nor to
+think. She simply acted without preliminary thought, as the rose unfolds
+or as the lightning strikes. She quietly sat down upon John's knees,
+leaned closely back against him, spread out the ample folds of her skirt,
+threw the lower parts of her broad cape over her shoulders and across the
+back of the chair, and Sir John Manners was invisible to mortal eyes.
+
+"Come in, father," said Dorothy, in dulcet tones that should have betrayed
+her.
+
+"I heard you laughing and talking," said Sir George, "and I wondered who
+was with you."
+
+"I was talking to Madge and Malcolm who are in the other room," replied
+Dorothy.
+
+"Did not Thomas come in with fagots?" asked Sir George.
+
+"I think he is replenishing the fire in the parlor, father, or he may have
+gone out. I did not notice. Do you want him?"
+
+"I do not especially want him," Sir George answered.
+
+"When he finishes in the parlor I will tell him that you want him," said
+Dorothy.
+
+"Very well," replied Sir George.
+
+He returned to his room, but he did not close the door.
+
+The moment her father's back was turned Dorothy called:--
+
+"Tom--Tom, father wants you," and instantly Thomas was standing
+deferentially by her side, and she was seated in the great chair. It was a
+rapid change, I assure you. But a man's life and his fortune for good or
+ill often hang upon a tiny peg--a second of time protruding from the wall
+of eternity. It serves him briefly; but if he be ready for the vital
+instant, it may serve him well.
+
+"Yes, mistress," said Thomas, "I go to him at once."
+
+John left the room and closed the door as he passed out. Then it was that
+Dorothy's laugh sounded like the chilling tones of a knell. It was the
+laugh of one almost distraught. She came to Madge and me laughing, but the
+laugh quickly changed to convulsive sobs. The strain of the brief moment
+during which her father had been in Lady Crawford's room had been too
+great for even her strong nerves to bear. She tottered and would have
+fallen had I not caught her. I carried her to the bed, and Madge called
+Lady Crawford. Dorothy had swooned.
+
+When she wakened she said dreamily:--
+
+"I shall always keep this cloak and gown."
+
+Aunt Dorothy thought the words were but the incoherent utterances of a
+dimly conscious mind, but I knew they were the deliberate expression of a
+justly grateful heart.
+
+The following evening trouble came about over the matter of the marriage
+contract.
+
+You remember I told you that Sir George had sent Lady Crawford as an
+advance guard to place the parchment in the enemy's hands. But the advance
+guard feared the enemy and therefore did not deliver the contract directly
+to Dorothy. She placed it conspicuously upon the table, knowing well that
+her niece's curiosity would soon prompt an examination.
+
+I was sitting before the fire in Aunt Dorothy's room, talking to Madge
+when Lady Crawford entered, placed the parchment on the table, and took a
+chair by my side. Soon Dorothy entered the room. The roll of parchment,
+brave with ribbons, was lying on the table. It attracted her attention at
+once, and she took it in her hands.
+
+"What is this?" she asked carelessly. Her action was prompted entirely by
+idle curiosity. That, by the way, was no small motive with Dorothy. She
+had the curiosity of a young doe. Receiving no answer, she untied the
+ribbons and unrolled the parchment to investigate its contents for
+herself. When the parchment was unrolled, she began to read:--
+
+"In the name of God, amen. This indenture of agreement, looking to union
+in the holy bonds of marriage between the Right Honorable Lord James
+Stanley of the first part, and Mistress Dorothy Vernon of Haddon of the
+second part--"
+
+She read no farther. She crumpled the beautiful parchment in her hands,
+walked over to the fire, and quietly placed the sacred instrument in the
+midst of the flames. Then she turned away with a sneer of contempt upon
+her face and--again I grieve to tell you this--said:--
+
+"In the name of God, amen. May this indenture be damned."
+
+"Dorothy!" exclaimed Lady Crawford, horrified at her niece's profanity. "I
+feel shame for your impious words."
+
+"I don't care what you feel, aunt," retorted Dorothy, with a dangerous
+glint in her eyes. "Feel as you wish, I meant what I said, and I will say
+it again if you would like to hear it. I will say it to father when I see
+him. Now, Aunt Dorothy, I love you and I love my father, but I give you
+fair warning there is trouble ahead for any one who crosses me in this
+matter."
+
+She certainly looked as if she spoke the truth. Then she hummed a tune
+under her breath--a dangerous signal in Dorothy at certain times. Soon the
+humming turned to whistling. Whistling in those olden days was looked upon
+as a species of crime in a girl.
+
+Dorothy stood by the window for a short time and then taking up an
+embroidery frame, drew a chair nearer to the light and began to work at
+her embroidery. In a moment or two she stopped whistling, and we could
+almost feel the silence in the room. Madge, of course, only partly knew
+what had happened, and her face wore an expression of expectant, anxious
+inquiry. Aunt Dorothy looked at me, and I looked at the fire. The
+parchment burned slowly. Lady Crawford, from a sense of duty to Sir George
+and perhaps from politic reasons, made two or three attempts to speak, and
+after five minutes of painful silence she brought herself to say:--
+
+"Dorothy, your father left the contract here for you to read. He will be
+angry when he learns what you have done. Such disobedience is sure to--"
+
+"Not another word from you," screamed Dorothy, springing like a tigress
+from her chair. "Not another word from you or I will--I will scratch you.
+I will kill some one. Don't speak to me. Can't you see that I am trying to
+calm myself for an interview with father? An angry brain is full of
+blunders. I want to make none. I will settle this affair with father. No
+one else, not even you, Aunt Dorothy, shall interfere." The girl turned to
+the window, stood beating a tattoo upon the glass for a moment or two,
+then went over to Lady Crawford and knelt by her side. She put her arms
+about Aunt Dorothy's neck, softly kissed her, and said:--
+
+"Forgive me, dear aunt; forgive me. I am almost crazed with my troubles. I
+love you dearly indeed, indeed I do."
+
+Madge gropingly went to Dorothy's side and took her hand. Dorothy kissed
+Madge's hand and rose to her feet.
+
+"Where is my father?" asked Dorothy, to whom a repentant feeling toward
+Lady Crawford had brought partial calmness. "I will go to him immediately
+and will have this matter over. We might as well understand each other at
+once. Father seems very dull at understanding me. But he shall know me
+better before long."
+
+Sir George may have respected the strength of his adversary, but Dorothy
+had no respect for the strength of her foe. She was eager for the fray.
+When she had a disagreeable thing to do, she always wanted to do it
+quickly.
+
+Dorothy was saved the trouble of seeking her father, for at that moment he
+entered the room.
+
+"You are welcome, father," said Dorothy in cold, defiant tones. "You have
+come just in time to see the last flickering flame of your fine marriage
+contract." She led him to the fireplace. "Does it not make a beautiful
+smoke and blaze?"
+
+"Did you dare--"
+
+"Ay, that I did," replied Dorothy.
+
+"You dared?" again asked her father, unable to believe the evidence of his
+eyes.
+
+"Ay, so I said; that I did," again said Dorothy.
+
+"By the death of Christ--" began Sir George.
+
+"Now be careful, father, about your oaths," the girl interrupted. "You
+must not forget the last batch you made and broke."
+
+Dorothy's words and manner maddened Sir George. The expression of her
+whole person, from her feet to her hair, breathed defiance. The poise of
+her body and of her limbs, the wild glint in her eyes, and the turn of her
+head, all told eloquently that Sir George had no chance to win and that
+Dorothy was an unconquerable foe. It is a wonder he did not learn in that
+one moment that he could never bring his daughter to marry Lord Stanley.
+
+"I will imprison you," cried Sir George, gasping with rage.
+
+"Very well," responded Dorothy, smilingly. "You kept me prisoner for a
+fortnight. I did not ask you to liberate me. I am ready to go back to my
+apartments."
+
+"But now you shall go to the dungeon," her father said.
+
+"Ah, the dungeon!" cried the girl, as if she were delighted at the
+thought. "The dungeon! Very well, again. I am ready to go to the dungeon.
+You may keep me there the remainder of my natural life. I cannot prevent
+you from doing that, but you cannot force me to marry Lord Stanley."
+
+"I will starve you until you obey me!" retorted her father. "I will starve
+you!"
+
+"That, again, you may easily do, my dear father; but again I tell you I
+will never marry Stanley. If you think I fear to die, try to kill me. I do
+not fear death. You have it not in your power to make me fear you or
+anything you can do. You may kill me, but I thank God it requires my
+consent for my marriage to Stanley, and I swear before God that never
+shall be given."
+
+The girl's terrible will and calm determination staggered Sir George, and
+by its force beat down even his strong will. The infuriated old man
+wavered a moment and said:--
+
+"Fool, I seek only your happiness in this marriage. Only your happiness.
+Why will you not consent to it?"
+
+I thought the battle was over, and that Dorothy was the victor. She
+thought so, too, but was not great enough to bear her triumph silently.
+She kept on talking and carried her attack too far.
+
+"And I refuse to obey because of my happiness. I refuse because I hate
+Lord Stanley, and because, as you already know, I love another man."
+
+When she spoke the words "because I love another man," the cold, defiant
+expression of her face changed to one of ecstasy.
+
+"I will have you to the dungeon this very hour, you brazen huzzy," cried
+Sir George.
+
+"How often, father, shall I repeat that I am ready to go to the dungeon? I
+am eager to obey you in all things save one."
+
+"You shall have your wish," returned Sir George. "Would that you had died
+ere you had disgraced your house with a low-bred dog whose name you are
+ashamed to utter."
+
+"Father, there has been no disgrace," Dorothy answered, and her words bore
+the ring of truth.
+
+"You have been meeting the fellow at secluded spots in the forest--how
+frequently you have met him God only knows--and you lied to me when you
+were discovered at Bowling Green Gate."
+
+"I would do it again gladly if I but had the chance," answered the girl,
+who by that time was reckless of consequences.
+
+"But the chance you shall not have," retorted Sir George.
+
+"Do not be too sure, father," replied Dorothy. She was unable to resist
+the temptation to mystify him. "I may see him before another hour. I will
+lay you this wager, father, if I do not within one hour see the man--the
+man whom I love--I will marry Lord Stanley. If I see him within that time
+you shall permit me to marry him. I have seen him two score times since
+the day you surprised me at the gate."
+
+That was a dangerous admission for the girl to make, and she soon
+regretted it with all her heart. Truly she was right. An angry brain is
+full of blunders.
+
+Of course Dorothy's words, which were so full of meaning to Madge and me,
+meant little to Sir George. He looked upon them only as irritating
+insolence on her part. A few minutes later, however, they became full of
+significance.
+
+Sir George seemed to have forgotten the Stanley marriage and the burning
+of the contract in his quarrel with Dorothy over her unknown lover.
+
+Conceive, if you can, the situation in Haddon Hall at that time. There was
+love-drunk Dorothy, proud of the skill which had enabled her to outwit her
+wrathful father. There was Sir George, whose mental condition, inflamed by
+constant drinking, bordered on frenzy because he felt that his child, whom
+he had so tenderly loved from the day of her birth, had disgraced herself
+with a low-born wretch whom she refused to name. And there, under the same
+roof, lived the man who was the root and source of all the trouble. A
+pretty kettle of fish!
+
+"The wager, father, will you take it?" eagerly asked Dorothy.
+
+Sir George, who thought that her words were spoken only to anger him,
+waved her off with his hands and said:--
+
+"I have reason to believe that I know the wretch for whose sake you have
+disgraced yourself. You may be sure that I shall soon know him with
+certainty. When I do, I will quickly have him in my power. Then I will
+hang him to a tree on Bowling Green, and you shall see the low-born dog
+die."
+
+"He is better born than any of our house," retorted Dorothy, who had lost
+all sense of caution. "Ay, he is better born than any with whom we claim
+kin."
+
+Sir George stood in open-eyed wonder, and Dorothy continued: "You cannot
+keep him from me. I shall see him, and I will have him despite you. I tell
+you again, I have seen him two score times since you tried to spy upon us
+at Bowling Green Gate, and I will see him whenever I choose, and I will
+wed him when I am ready to do so. You cannot prevent it. You can only be
+forsworn, oath upon oath; and if I were you, I would stop swearing."
+
+Sir George, as was usual with him in those sad times, was inflamed with
+drink, and Dorothy's conduct, I must admit, was maddening. In the midst of
+her taunting Thomas stepped into the room bearing an armful of fagots. Sir
+George turned to him and said:--
+
+"Go and tell Welch to bring a set of manacles."
+
+"For Mistress Dorothy?" Thomas asked, surprised into the exclamation.
+
+"Curse you, do you mean to bandy words with me, you scum?" cried Sir
+George.
+
+He snatched a fagot from John and drew back his arm to strike him. John
+took one step back from Sir George and one step nearer to Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, Thomas," said Dorothy, sneeringly, "bring Welch with the manacles
+for me. My dear father would put me in the dungeon out of the reach of
+other men, so that he may keep me safely for my unknown lover. Go, Thomas.
+Go, else father will again be forsworn before Christ and upon his
+knighthood."
+
+"This before a servant! I'll gag you, you hellish vixen," cried Sir
+George. Then I am sure he knew not what he did. "Curse you!" he cried, as
+he held the fagot upraised and rushed upon Dorothy. John, with his arms
+full of fagots, could not avert the blow which certainly would have killed
+the girl, but he could take it. He sprang between Dorothy and her father,
+the fagot fell upon his head, and he sank to the floor. In his fall John's
+wig dropped off, and when the blood began to flow from the wound Dorothy
+kneeled beside his prostrate form. She snatched the great bush of false
+beard from his face and fell to kissing his lips and his hands in a
+paroxysm of passionate love and grief. Her kisses she knew to be a panacea
+for all ills John could be heir to, and she thought they would heal even
+the wound her father had given, and stop the frightful outpouring of
+John's life-blood. The poor girl, oblivious of all save her wounded
+lover, murmured piteously:--
+
+"John, John, speak to me; 'tis Dorothy." She placed her lips near his ear
+and whispered: "'Tis Dorothy, John. Speak to her." But she received no
+response. Then came a wild light to her eyes and she cried aloud: "John,
+'tis Dorothy. Open your eyes. Speak to me, John! oh, for God's sake speak
+to me! Give some little sign that you live," but John was silent. "My God,
+my God! Help, help! Will no one help me save this man? See you not that
+his life is flowing away? This agony will kill me. John, my lover, my
+lord, speak to me. Ah, his heart, his heart! I will know." She tore from
+his breast the leathern doublet and placed her ear over his heart. "Thank
+God, it beats!" she cried in a frenzied whisper, as she kissed his breast
+and turned her ear again to hear his heart's welcome throbbing. Then she
+tried to lift him in her arms and succeeded in placing his head in her
+lap. It was a piteous scene. God save me from witnessing another like it.
+
+After Dorothy lifted John's head to her lap he began to breathe
+perceptibly, and the girl's agitation passed away as she gently stroked
+his hair and kissed him over and over again, softly whispering her love to
+his unresponsive ear in a gentle frenzy of ineffable tenderness such as
+was never before seen in this world, I do believe. I wish with all my
+heart that I were a maker of pictures so that I might draw for you the
+scene which is as clear and vivid in every detail to my eyes now as it was
+upon that awful day in Haddon Hall. There lay John upon the floor and by
+his side knelt Dorothy. His head was resting in her lap. Over them stood
+Sir George with the murderous fagot raised, as if he intended again to
+strike. I had sprung to his side and was standing by him, intending to
+fell him to the floor should he attempt to repeat the blow upon either
+Dorothy or John. Across from Sir George and me, that is, upon the opposite
+side of Dorothy and John, stood Lady Crawford and Madge, who clung to each
+other in terror. The silence was heavy, save when broken by Dorothy's sobs
+and whispered ejaculations to John. Sir George's terrible deed had
+deprived all of us, including himself, of the power to speak. I feared to
+move from his side lest he should strike again. After a long agony of
+silence he angrily threw the fagot away from him and asked:--
+
+"Who is this fellow? Can any one tell me?"
+
+Only Madge, Dorothy, and I could have given him true answer. By some
+strange power of divination Madge had learned all that had happened, and
+she knew as well as I the name of the man who lay upon the floor battling
+with death. Neither Madge nor I answered.
+
+"Who is this fellow?" again demanded Sir George.
+
+Dorothy lifted her face toward her father.
+
+"He is the man whom you seek, father," she answered, in a low, tearful
+voice. "He is my lover; he is my life; he is my soul, and if you have
+murdered him in your attempt to kill your own child, all England shall
+hear of it and you shall hang. He is worth more in the eyes of the queen
+than we and all our kindred. You know not whom you have killed."
+
+Sir George's act had sobered him.
+
+"I did not intend to kill him--in that manner," said Sir George, dropping
+his words absent-mindedly. "I hoped to hang him. Where is Dawson? Some one
+fetch Dawson."
+
+Several of the servants had gathered about the open door in the next room,
+and in obedience to Sir George's command one of them went to seek the
+forester. I feared that John would die from the effects of the blow; but I
+also knew from experience that a man's head may receive very hard knocks
+and life still remain. Should John recover and should Sir George learn
+his name, I was sure that my violent cousin would again attempt the
+personal administration of justice and would hang him, under the old Saxon
+law. In that event Parliament would not be so easily pacified as upon the
+occasion of the former hanging at Haddon; and I knew that if John should
+die by my cousin's hand, Sir George would pay for the act with his life
+and his estates. Fearing that Sir George might learn through Dawson of
+John's identity, I started out in search of Will to have a word with him
+before he could see his master. I felt sure that for many reasons Will
+would be inclined to save John; but to what extent his fidelity to the
+cause of his master might counteract his resentment of Sir George's act, I
+did not know. I suspected that Dawson was privy to John's presence in
+Haddon Hall, but I was not sure of it, so I wished to prepare the forester
+for his interview with Sir George and to give him a hint of my plans for
+securing John's safety, in the event he should not die in Aunt Dorothy's
+room.
+
+When I opened the door in the Northwest Tower I saw Dawson coming toward
+the Hall from the dove-cote, and I hastened forward to meet him. It was
+pitiful that so good a man as Sir George Vernon was, should have been
+surrounded in his own house by real friends who were also traitors. That
+was the condition of affairs in Haddon Hall, and I felt that I was the
+chief offender. The evil, however, was all of Sir George's making. Tyranny
+is the father of treason.
+
+When I met Dawson I said: "Will, do you know who Tom-Tom is?"
+
+The forester hesitated for a moment, and said, "Well, Sir Malcolm, I
+suppose he is Thomas--"
+
+"No, no, Will, tell me the truth. Do you know that he is--or perhaps by
+this time I should say he was--Sir John Manners?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Was?" cried Will. "Great God! Has Sir George discovered--is he dead? If
+he is dead, it will be a sad day for Sir George and for Haddon Hall. Tell
+me quickly."
+
+I at once knew Will Dawson was in the secret. I answered:--
+
+"I hope he is not dead. Sir George attempted to strike Dorothy with a
+fagot, but Thomas stepped in front of her and received the blow. He is
+lying almost, if not quite, dead in Lady Crawford's room. Sir George knows
+nothing about him, save that he is Dorothy's lover. But should Thomas
+revive I feel sure my cousin will hang him in the morning unless steps are
+taken to prevent the deed."
+
+"Sir Malcolm, if you will stand by me," said Dawson, "Sir George will not
+hang him."
+
+"I certainly will stand by you, Dawson. Have no doubt on that score. Sir
+George intends to cast John into the dungeon, and should he do so I want
+you to send Jennie Faxton to Rutland and have her tell the Rutlanders to
+rescue John to-night. To-morrow morning I fear will be too late. Be on
+your guard, Will. Do not allow Sir George to discover that you have any
+feeling in this matter. Above all, lead him from the possibility of
+learning that Thomas is Sir John Manners. I will contrive to admit the
+Rutland men at midnight."
+
+I hastened with Dawson back to the Hall, where we found the situation as I
+had left it. John's head was lying on Dorothy's lap, and she was trying to
+dress his wound with pieces of linen torn from her clothing. Sir George
+was pacing to and fro across the room, breaking forth at times in curses
+against Dorothy because of her relations with a servant.
+
+When Dawson and I entered the room, Sir George spoke angrily to Will:--
+
+"Who is this fellow? You employed him. Who is he?"
+
+"He gave me his name as Thomas Thompson," returned Will, "and he brought
+me a favorable letter of recommendation from Danford."
+
+Danford was forester to the Duke of Devonshire, and lived at Chatsworth.
+
+"There was naught in the letter save that he was a good servant and an
+honest man. That is all we can ask of any man."
+
+"But who is he?" again demanded Sir George.
+
+"Your worship may perhaps learn from Danford more than I can tell you,"
+replied the forester, adroitly avoiding a lie.
+
+"Think of it, Malcolm," said Sir George, speaking to me. "Think of it. My
+daughter, my only child, seeks for her husband this low-born serving man.
+I have always been sure that the fellow would prove to be such." Then he
+turned to Dawson: "Throw the fellow into the dungeon. If he lives till
+morning, I will have him hanged. To the dungeon with him."
+
+Sir George waved his hand toward Dawson and Tom Welch, and then stepped
+aside. Will made an effort to hide his feelings, and without a word or
+gesture that could betray him, he and Welch lifted John to carry him away.
+Then it was piteous to see Dorothy. She clung to John and begged that he
+might be left with her. Sir George violently thrust her away from John's
+side, but she, still upon her knees, grasped her father's hand and cried
+out in agony:--
+
+"Father, let me remain with him. If you have ever felt love for me, and if
+my love for you has ever touched one tender spot in your heart, pity me
+now and leave this man with me, or let me go with him. I beg you, father;
+I plead; I implore. He may be dying. We know not. In this hour of my agony
+be merciful to me."
+
+But Sir George rudely repulsed her and left the room, following Welch and
+Dawson, who bore John's unconscious form between them. Dorothy rose to her
+feet screaming and tried to follow John. I, fearing that in her frenzy of
+grief she might divulge John's name, caught her in my arms and detained
+her by force. She turned upon me savagely and struck me in her effort to
+escape. She called me traitor, villain, dog, but I lifted her in my arms
+and carried her struggling to her bedroom. I wanted to tell her of the
+plans which Dawson and I had made, but I feared to do so, lest she might
+in some way betray them, so I left her in the room with Lady Crawford and
+Madge. I told Lady Crawford to detain Dorothy at all hazards, and I
+whispered to Madge asking her to tell Dorothy that I would look to John's
+comfort and safety. I then hastily followed Sir George, Dawson, and Welch,
+and in a few moments I saw them leave John, bleeding and senseless, upon
+the dungeon floor. When Sir George's back was turned, Dawson by my orders
+brought the surgeon from the stable where he had been working with the
+horses. The surgeon bound up the wound in John's head and told me, to my
+great joy, that it was not fatal. Then he administered a reviving potion
+and soon consciousness returned. I whispered to John that Dawson and I
+would not forsake him, and, fearing discovery by Sir George, hurriedly
+left the dungeon.
+
+I believe there is a certain amount of grief and sorrow which comes with
+every great joy to give it a cost mark whereby we may always know its
+value. The love between Dorothy and John indeed was marked in plain
+figures of high denominations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE LEICESTER POSSIBILITY
+
+
+On leaving the dungeon I sought Madge, and after I had whispered a word to
+her from my heart I asked her to tell Dorothy the encouraging words of the
+surgeon, and also to tell her that she should not be angry with me until
+she was sure she had good cause. I dared not send a more explicit message,
+and I dared not go to Dorothy, for Sir George was in a suspicious mood and
+I feared ruin not only for myself but for John, should my violent cousin
+suspect me of sympathy with his daughter and her lover.
+
+I also sought Aunt Dorothy and whispered a word to her of which you shall
+hear more presently.
+
+"Ah, I cannot do it," cried the trembling old lady in response to my
+whispered request. "I cannot do it."
+
+"But you must, Aunt Dorothy," I responded. "Upon it depend three lives:
+Sir George's, Dorothy's, and her lover's. You must do it."
+
+"I will try," she replied.
+
+"That assurance will not suit me," I responded. "You must promise upon
+your salvation that you will not fail me."
+
+"I promise upon my salvation," replied Aunt Dorothy.
+
+That evening of course we did not see the ladies at supper. Sir George and
+I ate in silence until my cousin became talkative from drink. Then he
+spoke bitterly of Dorothy's conduct, and bore with emphasis upon the fact
+that the lover to whom Dorothy had stooped was a low-born serving man.
+
+"But Dorothy declares he is noble," I responded.
+
+"She has lied to me so often that I do not believe a word she says,"
+returned Sir George.
+
+He swore oath upon oath that the wretch should hang in the morning, and
+for the purpose of carrying into effect his intention he called in Joe the
+butcher and told him to make all things ready for the execution.
+
+I did not attempt to thwart his purpose by word or gesture, knowing it
+would be useless, but hoped that John would be out of his reach long ere
+the cock would crow his first greeting to the morrow's sun.
+
+After Sir George had drunk far into the night the servants helped him to
+bed, and he carried with him the key to the dungeon together with the keys
+to all the outer doors and gates of Haddon Hall, as was his custom. The
+keys were in a bunch, held together by an iron ring, and Sir George always
+kept them under his pillow at night.
+
+I sought my bed in Eagle Tower and lay down in my clothes to rest and
+wait. The window of my room was open.
+
+Within an hour after midnight I heard the hooting of an owl. The doleful
+sound came up to me from the direction of the stone footbridge at the
+southwest corner of the Hall below the chapel. I went to my window and
+looked out over the courts and terrace. Haddon Hall and all things in and
+about it were wrapped in slumbrous silence. I waited, and again I heard
+the hooting of the owl. Noiselessly leaving my room I descended the stone
+steps to an unused apartment in the tower from which a window opened upon
+the roof of the north wing of the Hall. Along that roof I crept with bared
+feet, till I reached another roof, the battlements of which at the lowest
+point were not more than twenty feet from the ground. Thence I clambered
+down to a window cornice five or six feet lower, and jumped, at the risk
+of my limbs, the remaining distance of fifteen or sixteen feet to the soft
+sod beneath. I ran with all haste, took my stand under Aunt Dorothy's
+window, and whistled softly. The window casing opened and I heard the
+great bunch of keys jingling and clinking against the stone wall as Aunt
+Dorothy paid them out to me by means of a cord. After I had secured the
+keys I called in a whisper to Lady Crawford and directed her to leave the
+cord hanging from the window. I also told her to remain in readiness to
+draw up the keys when they should have served their purpose. Then I took
+them and ran to the stone footbridge where I found four Rutland men who
+had come in response to the message Dawson had sent by Jennie Faxton. Two
+of the men went with me, and we entered the lower garden by the southwest
+postern. Thence we crept noiselessly to the terrace and made our entrance
+into the Hall by "Dorothy's Postern." I had in my life engaged in many
+questionable and dangerous enterprises, but this was my first attempt at
+house-breaking. To say that I was nervous would but poorly define the
+state of my feelings. Since that day I have respected the high calling of
+burglary and regard with favor the daring knights of the skeleton key. I
+was frightened. I, who would feel no fear had I to fight a dozen men,
+trembled with fright during this adventure. The deathlike silence and the
+darkness in familiar places seemed uncanny to me. The very chairs and
+tables appeared to be sleeping, and I was fearful lest they should awaken.
+I cannot describe to you how I was affected. Whether it was fear or awe or
+a smiting conscience I cannot say, but my teeth chattered as if they were
+in the mouth of a fool, and my knees quaked as if they supported a coward.
+Still I knew I was doing my duty, though one's conscience sometimes smites
+him when his reason tells him he is acting righteously. It is more
+dangerous to possess a sensitive conscience which cannot be made to hear
+reason than to have none at all. But I will make short my account of that
+night's doings. The two Rutland men and I groped our way to the dungeon
+and carried forth John, who was weak from loss of blood. I told them to
+lock the door of the Hall as they passed out and to attach the keys to the
+cord hanging from Lady Crawford's window. Then I climbed to my room again,
+feeling in conscience like a criminal because I had done the best act of
+my life.
+
+Early next morning I was awakened by a great noise in the upper court.
+When I looked out at my window I beheld Sir George. He was half dressed
+and was angrily questioning the servants and retainers. I knew that he had
+discovered John's escape, but I did not know all, nor did I know the
+worst. I dressed and went to the kitchen, where I bathed my hands and
+face. There I learned that the keys to the hall had been stolen from under
+Sir George's pillow, and that the prisoner had escaped from the dungeon.
+Old Bess, the cook, nodded her head wisely and whispered to me the words,
+"Good for Mistress Doll."
+
+Bess's unsought confidence alarmed me. I did not relish the thought that
+Bess nor any one else should believe me to be in sympathy with Dorothy,
+and I said:--
+
+"If Mistress Vernon had aught to do with last night's affairs, she should
+be full of shame. I will not believe that she knew of it at all. My
+opinion is that one of the servants was bribed by some person interested
+in Tom-Tom's escape."
+
+"Believe nothing of the sort," retorted Bess. "It is the mistress and not
+the servant who stole the keys and liberated Tom-Tom. But the question is,
+who may Tom-Tom be? and the servants' hall is full of it. We are not
+uncertain as to the manner of his escape. Some of the servants do say that
+the Earl of Leicester be now visiting the Duke of Devonshire; and some
+also do say that his Lordship be fond of disguises in his gallantry. They
+do also say that the queen is in love with him, and that he must disguise
+himself when he woos elsewhere, or she be's famously jealous. It would be
+a pretty mess the master has brought us all into should Tom-Tom prove to
+be my lord Earl of Leicester. We'd all hang and to hell."
+
+"Bess, that tongue of yours will cost you your head one of these good
+times," I remarked, while I rubbed my face with the towel.
+
+"I would sooner lose my head," retorted Bess, "than have my mouth shut by
+fear. I know, Sir Malcolm, that I'll not die till my time comes; but
+please the good God when my time does come I will try to die talking."
+
+"That you will," said I.
+
+"True word, Sir Malcolm," she answered, and I left her in possession of
+the field.
+
+I went into the courtyard, and when Sir George saw me he said, "Malcolm,
+come with me to my room; I want a word with you."
+
+We went to his room.
+
+"I suppose you know of the fellow's escape last night?" he said.
+
+"Yes," I replied, "Bess told me about it in the kitchen."
+
+It seemed to me that my words said, "I did it."
+
+"Not only was the fellow liberated," said my cousin, "but the keys to all
+the outer gates and doors of the Hall have been stolen and carried away.
+Can you help me unravel this affair?"
+
+"Do you suspect any one of having stolen the keys?" I asked.
+
+"I know, of course, that Dorothy did it. Who her accomplices were, if any
+she had, I do not know. I have catechized the servants, but the question
+is bottomless to me."
+
+"Have you spoken to Dorothy on the subject?" I asked.
+
+"No," he replied, "but I have sent word to her by the Faxton girl that I
+am going to see her at once. Come with me."
+
+We went into Lady Crawford's room. She was ill and in bed. I did not
+wonder that she was ill after the experiences of the previous night. Sir
+George asked her if she had heard or seen Dorothy pass through her room
+during the night. She said:--
+
+"Dorothy did not pass through this room last night. I did not once close
+my eyes in sleep, and I should have seen her had she been here at all."
+
+Sir George entered Dorothy's bedroom, and Lady Crawford beckoned me to go
+to her side.
+
+"I waited till sunrise," she said, "that I might draw up the keys."
+
+"Hush!" said I, "the cord?"
+
+"I burned it," she replied.
+
+Then I followed Sir George into Dorothy's room. Madge was dressed for the
+day, and Dorothy, who had been helping her, was making her own toilet. Her
+hair hung loose and fell like a cataract of sunshine over her bare
+shoulders. But no words that I can write would give you a conception of
+her wondrous beauty, and I shall not waste them in the attempt. When we
+entered the room she was standing at the mirror. She turned, comb in hand,
+toward Sir George and said:--
+
+"I suppose, father, you will accuse me of liberating Thomas."
+
+"You must know that I will accuse you," replied Sir George.
+
+"Then, father, for once you will accuse me falsely. I am overjoyed that he
+has escaped, and I certainly should have tried to liberate him had I
+thought it possible to do so. But I did not do it, though to tell you the
+truth I am sorry I did not."
+
+"I do not believe you," her father replied.
+
+"I knew you would not believe me," answered Dorothy. "Had I liberated him
+I should probably have lied to you about it; therefore, I wonder not that
+you should disbelieve me. But I tell you again upon my salvation that I
+know nothing of the stealing of the keys nor of Tom-Tom's escape. Believe
+me or not, I shall deny it no more."
+
+Madge gropingly went to Sir George's side, and he tenderly put his arms
+about her, saying:--
+
+"I would that you were my daughter." Madge took his hand caressingly.
+
+"Uncle, I want to tell you that Dorothy speaks the truth," she said. "I
+have been with her every moment since the terrible scene of yesterday
+evening. Neither Dorothy nor I closed our eyes in sleep all night long.
+She lay through the dark hours moaning, and I tried to comfort her. Our
+door was locked, and it was opened only by your messenger who brought the
+good news of Tom-Tom's escape. I say good news, uncle, because his escape
+has saved you from the stain of murder. You are too brave a man to do
+murder, uncle."
+
+"How dare you," said Sir George, taking his arm from Madge's waist, "how
+dare you defend--"
+
+"Now, uncle, I beg you pause and take a moment's thought," said Madge,
+interrupting him. "You have never spoken unkindly to me."
+
+"Nor will I, Madge, so long as I live. I know there is not a lie in you,
+and I am sure you believe to be true all you tell me, but Dorothy has
+deceived you by some adroit trick."
+
+"If she deceived me, she is a witch," retorted Madge, laughing softly.
+
+"That I am almost ready to believe is the case," said Sir George.
+Dorothy, who was combing her hair at the mirror, laughed softly and
+said:--
+
+"My broomstick is under the bed, father."
+
+Sir George went into Lady Crawford's room and shut the door, leaving me
+with the girls.
+
+When her father had left, Dorothy turned upon me with fire in her eyes:--
+
+"Malcolm Vernon, if you ever lay hands upon me again as you did last
+night, I will--I will scratch you. You pretended to be his friend and
+mine, but for a cowardly fear of my father you came between us and you
+carried me to this room by force. Then you locked the door and--and"--
+
+"Did not Madge give you my message?" I asked, interrupting her.
+
+"Yes, but did you not force me away from him when, through my fault, he
+was almost at death's door?"
+
+"Have your own way, Dorothy," I said. "There lives not, I hope, another
+woman in the world so unreasoning and perverse as you."
+
+She tossed her head contemptuously and continued to comb her hair.
+
+"How, suppose you," I asked, addressing Dorothy's back, as if I were
+seeking information, "how, suppose you, the Rutland people learned that
+John was confined in the Haddon dungeon, and how did they come by the
+keys?"
+
+The girl turned for a moment, and a light came to her anger-clouded face
+as the rainbow steals across the blackened sky.
+
+"Malcolm, Malcolm," she cried, and she ran to me with her bare arms
+outstretched.
+
+"Did you liberate him?" she asked. "How did you get the keys?"
+
+"I know nothing of it, Dorothy, nothing," I replied.
+
+"Swear it, Malcolm, swear it," she said.
+
+"I will swear to nothing," I said, unclasping her arms from my neck.
+
+"Then I will kiss you," she answered, "for you are my dear good brother,
+and never so long as I live will I again doubt you."
+
+But she did before long doubt me again, and with good cause.
+
+Dorothy being in a gentle humor; I took advantage of the opportunity to
+warn her against betraying John's name to her father. I also told her to
+ask her father's forgiveness, and advised her to feign consent to the
+Stanley marriage. Matters had reached a point where some remedy, however
+desperate, must be applied.
+
+Many persons, I fear, will condemn me for advising Dorothy to deceive her
+father; but what would you have had me do? Should I have told her to marry
+Stanley? Certainly not. Had I done so, my advice would have availed
+nothing. Should I have advised her to antagonize her father, thereby
+keeping alive his wrath, bringing trouble to herself and bitter regret to
+him? Certainly not. The only course left for me to advise was the least of
+three evils--a lie. Three evils must be very great indeed when a lie is
+the least of them. In the vast army of evils with which this world swarms
+the lie usually occupies a proud position in the front rank. But at times
+conditions arise when, coward-like, he slinks to the rear and evils
+greater than he take precedence. In such sad case I found Dorothy, and I
+sought help from my old enemy, the lie. Dorothy agreed with me and
+consented to do all in her power to deceive her father, and what she could
+not do to that end was not worth doing.
+
+Dorothy was anxious about John's condition, and sent Jennie Faxton to
+Bowling Green, hoping a letter would be there for her. Jennie soon
+returned with a letter, and Dorothy once more was full of song, for
+John's letter told her that he was fairly well and that he would by some
+means see her soon again despite all opposition.
+
+"At our next meeting, my fair mistress," John said in the letter, "you
+must be ready to come with me. I will wait no longer for you. In fairness
+to me and to yourself you shall not ask me to wait. I will accept no more
+excuses. You must come with me when next we meet."
+
+"Ah, well," said Dorothy to Madge, "if I must go with him, I must. Why did
+he not talk in that fashion when we rode out together the last time? I
+like to be made to do what I want to do. He was foolish not to make me
+consent, or better still would it have been had he taken the reins of my
+horse and ridden off with me, with or against my will. I might have
+screamed, and I might have fought him, but I could not have hurt him, and
+he would have had his way, and--and," with a sigh, "I should have had my
+way."
+
+After a brief pause devoted to thought, she continued:--
+
+"If I were a man and were wooing a woman, I would first learn what she
+wanted to do and then--and then, by my word, I would make her do it."
+
+I went from Dorothy's room to breakfast, where I found Sir George. I took
+my seat at the table and he said:--
+
+"Who, in God's name, suppose you, could have taken the keys from my
+pillow?"
+
+"Is there any one whom you suspect?" I asked for lack of anything else to
+say.
+
+"I at first thought, of course, that Dorothy had taken them," he answered.
+"But Madge would not lie, neither would my sister. Dorothy would not
+hesitate to lie herself blue in the face, but for some reason I believed
+her when she told me she knew nothing of the affair. Her words sounded
+like truth for once."
+
+"I think, Sir George," said I, "you should have left off 'for once.'
+Dorothy is not a liar. She has spoken falsely to you only because she
+fears you. I am sure that a lie is hateful to her."
+
+"Malcolm, I wish I could have your faith," he responded. "By the way,
+Malcolm, have you ever seen the Earl of Leicester?"
+
+"I saw him only once. He visited Scotland during the ceremonies at Queen
+Mary's return from France. I saw him once, and then but briefly. Why do
+you ask?"
+
+"It is whispered among the servants," said Sir George, "that Leicester is
+at Chatsworth in disguise."
+
+Chatsworth was the home of the Duke of Devonshire, and was but a short
+distance from Haddon. After Sir George spoke, I remembered the words of
+old Bess.
+
+"Still, I do not know why you ask." I said.
+
+"My reason is this," replied Sir George; "Dorothy declared the fellow was
+of noble blood. It is said that Leicester loves gallant adventure
+incognito. He fears her Majesty's jealousy if in such matters he acts
+openly. You remember the sad case of Mistress Robsart. I wonder what
+became of the girl? He made way with her in some murderous fashion, I am
+sure." Sir George remained in revery for a moment, and then the poor old
+man cried in tones of distress: "Malcolm, if that fellow whom I struck
+last night was Leicester, and if he has been trying his hellish tricks on
+my Doll I--I should pity her; I should not abuse her. I may have been
+wrong. If he has wronged Doll--if he has wronged my girl, I will pursue
+him to the ends of the earth for vengeance. That is why I ask if you have
+ever seen the Earl of Leicester. Was the man who lay upon the floor last
+night Robert Dudley? If it were he, and if I had known it, I would have
+beaten him to death then and there. Poor Doll!"
+
+Any one hearing the old man speak would easily have known that Doll was
+all that life held for him to love.
+
+"I do not distinctly remember Leicester's face," I answered, "but since
+you speak of it, I believe there is a resemblance between him and the man
+we called Thomas. But even were it he, Sir George, you need have no fear
+for Dorothy. She of all women is able and willing to protect herself."
+
+"I will go to Dorothy and ask her to tell me the truth. Come with me."
+
+We again went to Dorothy's room. She had, since I last saw her, received
+the letter from John of which I have spoken, and when we entered her
+parlor where she and Madge were eating breakfast we found her very happy.
+As a result she was willing and eager to act upon my advice.
+
+She rose and turned toward her father.
+
+"You told me, Doll, that the fellow was of noble blood. Did you speak the
+truth?"
+
+"Yes, father, I spoke the truth. There is no nobler blood in England than
+his, save that of our royal queen. In that you may believe me, father, for
+I speak the truth."
+
+Sir George remained silent for a moment and then said:--
+
+"If the man is he whom I believe him to be he can have no true purpose
+with you. Tell me, my child--the truth will bring no reproaches from
+me--tell me, has he misused you in any way?"
+
+"No, father, before God, he has been a true gentleman to me."
+
+The poor old man struggled for a moment with his emotions; then tears came
+to his eyes and he covered his face with his hands as he started to leave
+the room.
+
+Dorothy ran to him and clasped her arms about his neck. Those two, father
+and child, were surely of one blood as shown in the storms of violence and
+tenderness by which their natures were alternately swept.
+
+"Father, you may believe me; you do believe me," said Dorothy.
+"Furthermore, I tell you that this man has treated me with all courtesy,
+nay, more: he has treated me with all the reverence he would have shown
+our queen."
+
+"He can have no true purpose with you, Doll," said Sir George, who felt
+sure that Leicester was the man.
+
+"But he has, father, a true purpose with me. He would make me his wife
+to-day would I consent."
+
+"Why then does he not seek you openly?"
+
+"That he cannot do," Dorothy responded hesitatingly.
+
+"Tell me, Doll, who is the man?" asked Sir George.
+
+I was standing behind him and Dorothy's face was turned toward me. She
+hesitated, and I knew by her expression that she was about to tell all.
+Sir George, I believe, would have killed her had she done so. I placed my
+finger on my lips and shook my head.
+
+Dorothy said: "That I cannot tell you, father. You are wasting words in
+asking me."
+
+"Is it because of his wish that you refuse to tell me his name?" asked Sir
+George. I nodded my head.
+
+"Yes, father," softly responded Dorothy in the old dangerous, dulcet
+tones.
+
+"That is enough; I know who the man is."
+
+Dorothy kissed her father. He returned the caress, much to my surprise,
+and left the room.
+
+When I turned to follow Sir George I glanced toward Dorothy. Her eyes were
+like two moons, so full were they of wonderment and inquiry.
+
+I stopped with Sir George in his room. He was meditative and sad.
+
+"I believe my Doll has told me the truth," he said.
+
+"Have no doubt of it, Sir George," I replied.
+
+"But what good intent can Leicester have toward my girl?" he asked.
+
+"Of that I cannot say," I replied; "but my dear cousin, of this fact be
+sure: if he have evil intent toward Dorothy, he will fail."
+
+"But there was the Robsart girl," he replied.
+
+"Ay," said I, "but Dorothy Vernon is not Amy Robsart. Have no fear of your
+daughter. She is proof against both villany and craft. Had she been in
+Mistress Robsart's place, Leicester would not have deserted her. Dorothy
+is the sort of woman men do not desert. What say you to the fact that
+Leicester might wish to make her his wife?"
+
+"He may purpose to do so secretly, as in the case of the Robsart girl,"
+returned Sir George. "Go, Malcolm, and ask her if he is willing to make
+her his wife before the world."
+
+I was glad of an opportunity for a word with Dorothy, so I hastily went to
+her. I told her of the Leicester phase of the situation, and I also told
+her that her father had asked me if the man whom she loved was willing to
+make her his wife before the world.
+
+"Tell my father," said she, "that I will be no man's wife save before all
+the world. A man who will not acknowledge me never shall possess me."
+
+I went back to Sir George and delivered the message word for word.
+
+"She is a strange, strong girl, isn't she, Malcolm?" said her father.
+
+"She is her father's child," I replied.
+
+"By my spurs she is. She should have been a man," said Sir George, with a
+twinkle of admiration in his eyes. He admired a good fight even though he
+were beaten in it.
+
+It is easy to be good when we are happy. Dorothy, the great disturber,
+was both. Therefore, peace reigned once more in Haddon Hall.
+
+Letters frequently passed between John and Dorothy by the hand of Jennie
+Faxton, but John made no attempt to meet his sweetheart. He and Dorothy
+were biding their time.
+
+A fortnight passed during which Cupid confined his operations to Madge and
+myself. For her sweet sake he was gracious and strewed our path with
+roses. I should delight to tell you of our wooing. She a fair young
+creature of eighteen, I a palpitating youth of thirty-five. I should love
+to tell you of Madge's promise to be my wife, and of the announcement in
+the Hall of our betrothal; but there was little of interest in it to any
+one save ourselves, and I fear lest you should find it very sentimental
+and dull indeed. I should love to tell you also of the delightful walks
+which Madge and I took together along the sweet old Wye and upon the crest
+of Bowling Green; but above all would I love to tell you of the delicate
+rose tints that came to her cheek, and how most curiously at times, when
+my sweetheart's health was bounding, the blessed light of day would
+penetrate the darkened windows of her eyes, and how upon such occasions
+she would cry out joyously, "Oh, Malcolm, I can dimly see." I say I should
+love to tell you about all those joyous happenings, but after all I fear I
+should shrink from doing so in detail, for the feelings and sayings of our
+own hearts are sacred to us. It is much easier to tell of the love affairs
+of others.
+
+A fortnight or three weeks passed quietly in Haddon Hall. Sir George had
+the notion firmly fixed in his head that the man whom Dorothy had been
+meeting held honorable intentions toward the girl. He did her the justice
+to believe that by reason of her strength and purity she would tolerate
+none other. At times he felt sure that the man was Leicester, and again
+he flouted the thought as impossible. If it were Leicester, and if he
+wished to marry Dorothy, Sir George thought the match certainly would be
+illustrious. Halting between the questions, "Is he Leicester?" and "Is he
+not Leicester?" Sir George did not press the Stanley nuptials, nor did he
+insist upon the signing of the contract. Dorothy received from her father
+full permission to go where and when she wished. But her father's
+willingness to give her liberty excited her suspicions. She knew he would
+permit her to leave the Hall only that he might watch her, and, if
+possible, entrap her and John. Therefore, she rode out only with Madge and
+me, and sought no opportunity to see her lover. It may be that her
+passiveness was partly due to the fact that she knew her next meeting with
+John would mean farewell to Haddon Hall. She well knew she was void of
+resistance when in John's hands. And his letter had told her frankly what
+he would expect from her when next they should meet. She was eager to go
+to him; but the old habit of love for home and its sweet associations and
+her returning affection for her father, now that he was kind to her, were
+strong cords entwining her tender heart, which she could not break
+suddenly even for the sake of the greater joy.
+
+One day Dorothy received from John a letter telling her he would on the
+following morning start for the Scottish border with the purpose of
+meeting the queen of Scotland. A plan had been formed among Mary's friends
+in Scotland to rescue her from Lochleven Castle, where she was a prisoner,
+and to bring her incognito to Rutland. John had been chosen to escort her
+from the English border to his father's castle. From thence, when the
+opportunity should arise, she was to escape to France, or make her peace
+with Elizabeth. The adventure was full of peril both for her Scottish and
+English friends. The Scottish regent Murray surely would hang all the
+conspirators whom he might capture, and Elizabeth would probably inflict
+summary punishment upon any of her subjects whom she could convict of
+complicity in the plot.
+
+In connection with this scheme to rescue Mary it was said there was also
+another conspiracy. There appeared to be a plot within a plot which had
+for its end the enthronement of Mary in Elizabeth's stead.
+
+The Rutlands knew nothing of this subplot.
+
+Elizabeth had once or twice expressed sympathy with her Scottish cousin.
+She had said in John's presence that while she could not for reasons of
+state _invite_ Mary to seek refuge in England, still if Mary would come
+uninvited she would be welcomed. Therefore, John thought he was acting in
+accord with the English queen's secret wish when he went to Rutland with
+the purpose of being in readiness to meet Mary at the Scottish border.
+
+There were two elements in Elizabeth's character on which John had not
+counted. One was her royal prerogative to speak words she did not mean;
+and the other was the universal feminine privilege to change her mind. Our
+queen did not want Mary to visit England, nor had she any knowledge of the
+plot to induce that event. She did, however, fear that Mary's unwise
+friends among the Catholics cherished the purpose of making Mary queen of
+England. Although John had heard faint rumors of such a plot, he had been
+given to understand that Mary had no share in it, and he believed that the
+adventure in which he was about to embark had for its only purpose her
+liberation from a cruel and unjust imprisonment. Her cause appealed to
+John's chivalrous nature as it appealed to so many other good though
+mistaken men who sought to give help to the Scottish queen, and brought
+only grief to her and ruin to themselves.
+
+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."
+
+My reply certainly was not comforting.
+
+"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.
+
+"He is all yours, Dorothy," I answered, "all yours, as surely as that
+death will some day come to all of us. Promise me, Dorothy, that you will
+never again allow a jealous thought to enter your heart. You have no cause
+for jealousy, nor will you ever have. If you permit that hateful passion
+to take possession of you, it will bring ruin in its wake."
+
+"It was, indeed, foolish in me," cried Dorothy, springing to her feet and
+clasping her hands tightly; "and I promise never again to feel jealousy.
+Malcolm, its faintest touch tears and gnaws at my heart and racks me with
+agony. But I will drive it out of me. Under its influence I am not
+responsible for my acts. It would quickly turn me mad. I promise, oh, I
+swear, that I never will allow it to come to me again."
+
+Poor Dorothy's time of madness was not far distant nor was the evil that
+was to follow in its wake.
+
+John in writing to Dorothy concerning his journey to Scotland had
+unhesitatingly intrusted to her keeping his honor, and, unwittingly, his
+life. It did not once occur to him that she could, under any conditions,
+betray him. I trusted her as John did until I saw her vivid flash of
+burning jealousy. But by the light of that flash I saw that should the
+girl, with or without reason, become convinced that Mary Stuart was her
+rival, she would quickly make Derbyshire the warmest locality in
+Christendom, and John's life might pay the cost of her folly. Dorothy
+would brook no rival--no, not for a single hour. Should she become jealous
+she would at once be swept beyond the influence of reason or the care for
+consequences. It were safer to arouse a sleeping devil than Dorothy
+Vernon's jealousy. Now about the time of John's journey to the Scottish
+border, two matters of importance arose at Haddon Hall. One bore directly
+upon Dorothy, namely, the renewal by the Stanleys of their suit for her
+hand. The other was the announcement by the queen that she would soon do
+Sir George Vernon the honor of spending a fortnight under the roof of
+Haddon Hall. Each event was of great importance to the King of the Peak.
+He had concluded that Thomas, the man-servant, was not the Earl of
+Leicester in disguise, and when the Earl of Derby again came forward with
+his marriage project, Sir George fell back into his old hardness toward
+Dorothy, and she prepared her armament, offensive and defensive, for
+instant use if need should arise. I again began my machinations, since I
+can call my double dealing by no other name. I induced Dorothy to agree to
+meet the earl and his son James. Without promising positively to marry
+Lord Stanley, she, at my suggestion, led her father to believe she was
+ready to yield to his wishes. By this course she gained time and liberty,
+and kept peace with her father. Since you have seen the evils that war
+brought to Haddon, you well know how desirable peace was. In time of war
+all Haddon was a field of carnage and unrest. In time of peace the dear
+old Hall was an ideal home. I persuaded Sir George not to insist on a
+positive promise from Dorothy, and I advised him to allow her yielding
+mood to grow upon her. I assured him evasively that she would eventually
+succumb to his paternal authority and love.
+
+What an inherent love we all have for meddling in the affairs of others,
+and what a delicious zest we find in faithfully applying our surplus
+energies to business that is not strictly our own! I had become a part of
+the Sir George-Dorothy-John affair, and I was like the man who caught the
+bear: I could not loose my hold.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+PROUD DAYS FOR THE OLD HALL
+
+
+Of course the queen's approaching visit threw Haddon Hall into a frenzy of
+scrubbing and furbishing. Aunt Dorothy was the busiest woman in England.
+Floors were newly polished. Draperies were taken down and were carefully
+washed with mysterious concoctions warranted to remove dirt without injury
+to color. Superfine wax was bought in great boxes, and candles were made
+for all the chandeliers and candelabra in the house. Perfumed oil was
+purchased for the lamp in the state bedroom. Elizabeth, by the way, when
+she came, did not like the odor of the oil, and with an oath tossed both
+the oil and the lamp out of the window. The fattest sheep, kine, and hogs
+were chosen from the flocks and were brought in to be stall-fed in such
+numbers that one might have supposed we were expecting an ogress who could
+eat an ox at a meal. Pipers and dancers were engaged, and a merry fool was
+brought down from London. At last the eventful day came and with it came
+our queen. She brought with her a hundred yeomen of her guard and a score
+of ladies and gentlemen. Among the latter was the Earl of Leicester, who
+was the queen's prime favorite.
+
+Prior to the queen's announcement of her intention to visit Haddon Sir
+George had, with Dorothy's tacit consent, fixed a day upon which the Earl
+of Derby and his son, Lord James, should be received at the Hall for the
+purpose of signing the marriage contract. Dorothy, of course, had no
+intention of signing the contract, but she put off the evil hour of
+refusal as far as possible, hoping something might occur in the meantime
+to help her out of the dilemma. Something did occur at the last moment. I
+am eager to tell you about it, but it must wait its turn. Truly would the
+story of this ingenious girl's life make a romance if it were written by a
+poet. In her Guinevere and Elaine were moulded into one person with the
+tenderness, purity, and fierceness of each.
+
+To postpone further the time of the Stanley visit, Dorothy suggested that
+the betrothal should take place in the presence of the queen. Sir George
+acquiesced, and in his heart grew less eager for the Stanley match as
+Dorothy apparently became more tractable. He was, however, engaged with
+the earl to an extent that forbade withdrawal, even had he been sure that
+he wished to withdraw.
+
+At the time of which I speak the Earl of Leicester was the most exalted
+subject of the realm. He was ardently devoted to the cause of the ladies,
+and, although he had fixed his hope on Elizabeth and longed for a seat
+beside her on the throne, his inflammable heart was constantly catching
+fire from other eyes. He, of course, made desperate efforts to conceal
+these manifold conflagrations from the queen, but the inflammable tow of
+his heart was always bringing him into trouble with his fiery mistress.
+
+The earl's first glance toward Dorothy was full of admiration. The second
+glance was full of conflagration. The second day of the queen's residence
+in Haddon I was astonished, grieved, and angered to see that our girl had
+turned her powerful batteries upon the earl with the evident purpose of
+conquest. At times her long lashes would fall before him, and again her
+great luminous eyes would open wide, shedding a soft radiance which no man
+could withstand. Once I saw her walking alone with him upon the terrace.
+Her head was drooped shamelessly, and the earl was ardent though restless,
+being fearful of the queen. I boiled with rage against Dorothy, but by a
+strong effort I did not boil over until I had better cause. The better
+cause came later.
+
+I failed to tell you of a brief conversation which occurred between Sir
+George and me after my cousin first saw the Earl of Leicester. Sir George
+had gallantly led the queen to her apartments, and I had conducted
+Leicester and several of the gentlemen to their various rooms. Sir George
+and I met at the staircase after we had quitted our guests.
+
+He said: "Malcolm, that fellow Thomas whom I knocked in the head looked no
+more like Leicester than I do. Why did you tell me there was resemblance?"
+
+"I do not know," I answered. "Perhaps your words suggested the thought of
+a resemblance. Perhaps I had lost all memory of Leicester's features. I
+cannot answer your question."
+
+Then an expression of anger came to Sir George's face, and he said:--
+
+"I believe Dorothy lied to me when she said that the fellow Thomas was of
+noble blood."
+
+The next day a servant reported that Thomas had been seen loitering near
+Bowling Green Gate, and Sir George ordered Dorothy not to leave the Hall
+without his permission.
+
+Dorothy replied to her father's command, "I shall obey you, father."
+
+To me there was a note of danger in her voice. Such docile submissiveness
+was not natural to the girl. Of course all appearance of harshness toward
+Dorothy was suppressed by Sir George during the queen's visit to the Hall.
+In truth, he had no reason to be harsh, for Dorothy was a meek,
+submissive, and obedient daughter. Her meekness, however, as you may well
+surmise, was but the forerunner of dire rebellion.
+
+The fourth day of the queen's presence at Haddon Hall was the one
+appointed for the visit of the Stanleys, and Sir George thought to make a
+great event of the betrothal by having the queen act as a witness to the
+marriage contract. As the day approached Sir George became thoughtful,
+while Dorothy grew gleeful. The girl was frequently seen with Leicester,
+and Sir George could not help noticing that nobleman's pronounced
+admiration for his daughter. These exhibitions of gallantry were never
+made in the presence of the queen. The morning of the day when the
+Stanleys were expected Sir George called me to his room for a private
+consultation. The old gentleman was in a state of excitement, not unmixed
+with perplexity and trouble.
+
+He said, "I have great and good news to impart to you, Malcolm; yet I am
+in a dilemma growing out of it."
+
+"Tell me the good news first, Sir George," I replied. "The dilemma may
+wait."
+
+"Is Doll a very beautiful girl?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"I believe she is the most beautiful woman in the world," I answered.
+
+"Good, good," he replied, rubbing his hands. "Is she so fascinating,
+brilliant, and attractive, think you--of course I speak in jest--but think
+you she might vie with the court ladies for beauty, and think you she
+might attract--for the sake of illustration I will say--might she attract
+a man like Leicester?"
+
+"Unless I am much mistaken," I answered, "Leicester is over his ears in
+love with the girl now."
+
+"Ah, do you believe so, Malcolm?" replied Sir George, laughing and
+slapping his thigh, as he walked to and fro across the room. "You have
+seen so much of that sort of thing that you should know it when it comes
+under your nose. Eh, Malcolm, eh?"
+
+"I should suppose that any one, however inexperienced in such matters,
+could easily see Leicester's infatuation for Dorothy. If you wish me to
+tell you what I really believe--"
+
+"I do, I do," interrupted Sir George.
+
+"I should say," I continued, "that Dorothy has deliberately gone in for
+conquest. Leave the girl to herself, Sir George. She can conduct the
+campaign without help from any one. She understands the art of such
+warfare as well as if she were a veteran."
+
+"Gad, but she does, but she does. I believe she could give Venus herself
+some good points in the matter. But let me tell you, Malcolm,"--the old
+man dropped his voice to a whisper,--"I questioned Doll this morning, and
+she confessed that Leicester had spoken words of love to her. Would it not
+be a great match for our house?"
+
+He said "our house," mind you, not "our Doll." I might call his condition
+of mind patrimonial selfishness. Simple old man! He did not know that
+words of love are not necessarily words of marriage.
+
+"Has Leicester spoken to you?" I asked in alarm for John's sake.
+
+"No, no, he has not spoken," returned my cousin; "for that, of course, he
+must have the queen's consent. But he will speak, I am sure, all in good
+time, Malcolm, all in good time."
+
+"How about the Stanleys?" I asked. "They will be here this afternoon."
+
+"That's the devil's finger in the matter," cried Sir George. "That's where
+my dilemma lies. How shall I put them off, and still retain them in case
+nothing should come from Leicester? Besides, I am in honor bound to the
+earl."
+
+"I have a plan," I replied. "You carry out your part of the agreement
+with the earl, but let Dorothy, at the last moment, refuse to give her
+consent. Let her ask for more time, on the plea that she does not know her
+mind. I will suggest to her, if you wish, the part she is to play; but I
+will conceal from her the fact that you are a party to it."
+
+"No," said the old man, "that would be bad faith toward the earl." After a
+pause he continued doubtingly: "No, do not speak to Doll. I believe she
+needs no suggestions in the matter. I fear that mischief is in her mind
+already. Her easy acquiescence in my wishes have of late had a suspicious
+appearance. No, don't speak to her, Malcolm. If ever there lived a girl
+who could be perverse and wilful on her own account, without help from any
+one, it is my girl Doll. God bless you, man, if she but knew that I wanted
+her to reject Stanley, she would have him in spite of hell itself. I
+wonder what she means by her docility and obedience? No, don't speak a
+word to her on the subject. Let her believe I am serious regarding this
+marriage, and she will have some plan of her own to raise the devil. I
+have been expecting signs of it every day. I had determined not to bear
+with her perversity, but now that the Leicester possibility has come up
+we'll leave Doll to work out her own salvation, Malcolm. Don't interfere.
+No man living can teach that girl a new trick in deviltry. Gods, Malcolm!
+I am curious to know what she will be doing, for she certainly will be
+doing something rather than sign that contract of betrothal."
+
+"But suppose out of obedience to you she should sign the contract?" I
+asked.
+
+"Malcolm, you don't know Doll," he replied. Then, after a pause, "Neither
+do I. I wish she were well married."
+
+When I left Sir George, I found Dorothy in close consultation with the
+queen and two of her ladies. I heard the name of Lord James Stanley spoken
+amid suppressed laughter, and I suspected Dorothy had on foot some prank
+touching that young man, to which her Majesty was a party.
+
+After dinner the Stanleys came a-wooing. The party consisted of father,
+son, and four retainers, who looked as if they had been preserved in
+alcohol for the occasion, so red were their faces.
+
+The Earl of Derby was a fine old gentleman of the rural type. His noble
+son was an uncouth rustic, who had no thought above a stable boy or tavern
+maid, nor any ambition above horse trading. His attire was a wonder to
+behold. He wore a ruff of stupendous proportions. His trunks were so
+puffed out and preposterous in size that they looked like a great painted
+knot on a tree; and the many-colored splendors of his sleeves, his hat,
+his hose, and his shoes were dazzling to the eye. Add to this wondrous
+raiment feet and hands that could not be satisfactorily disposed of, and
+an unrest of manner painful to behold, and you may possibly conceive the
+grandiose absurdity of Dorothy's wooer. The sight of him almost made Sir
+George ill; and his entrance into the long gallery, where the queen was
+seated with her ladies and gentlemen, and Sir George and his friends
+standing about her, was a signal for laughter in which her Majesty openly
+joined.
+
+I shall not lead you through the tedious ceremony of presentation and
+introduction, nor shall I tell you of the pompous manner in which one of
+the earl's retinue, a lawyer, read the marriage contract. The fact that
+the contract was read without the presence of Dorothy, whom it so nearly
+concerned, was significant of the small consideration which at that time
+was given to a girl's consent. When all was ready for the signing, Dorothy
+was summoned.
+
+Sir George stood beside the Stanleys, and his nervousness was painfully
+apparent. Two servants opened the great doors at the end of the long
+gallery, and Dorothy, holding up the skirt of her gown, bounded into the
+room. She kneeled to the queen, and turned toward her uncle Stanley and
+her lover-cousin with a low bow. Then she courtesied and said--
+
+"Good even, uncle, and how do you do, cousin. Have you come to inspect me,
+and, perchance, to buy?"
+
+Sir George's face bore an expression of mingled shame, wonder, and alarm,
+and the queen and her suite laughed behind their fans.
+
+"It is well," continued Dorothy. "Here am I, ready for inspection."
+Thereupon she began to disrobe herself before the entire company.
+Leicester laughed outright, and the queen and her ladies suppressed their
+merriment for a moment, and then sent forth peals of laughter without
+restraint. Sir George stepped toward the girl and raised his hand
+warningly, but the queen interposed:--
+
+"Silence, Sir George, I command you;" and Sir George retreated to his
+former place beside the Earl of Derby. Dorothy first removed her bodice,
+showing her shoulders and a part of her arms, clothed in the fashion of a
+tavern maid.
+
+Leicester, who stood by me, whispered, "God never made anything more
+beautiful than Mistress Vernon's arms."
+
+Sir George again spoke angrily, "Doll, what are you doing?" But the queen
+by a wave of her hand commanded silence. Then the girl put her hands
+behind her, and loosened the belt which held her skirt in place. The skirt
+fell to the floor, and out of it bounded Dorothy in the short gown of a
+maid.
+
+"You will be better able to judge of me in this costume, cousin," said
+Dorothy. "It will be more familiar to you than the gowns which ladies
+wear."
+
+"I will retract," said Leicester, whispering to me, and gazing ardently
+at Dorothy's ankles. "God has made something more beautiful than Mistress
+Vernon's arms. By Venus! I suppose that in His omnipotence He might be
+able to create something more beautiful than her ankles, but up to this
+time He has not vouchsafed to me a vision of it. Ah! did any one ever
+behold such strength, such perfect symmetry, such--St. George! the gypsy
+doesn't live who can dance like that."
+
+Sure enough, Dorothy was dancing. The pipers in the balcony had burst
+forth in a ribald jig of a tune, and the girl was whirling in a wild,
+weird, and wondrous dance before her lover-cousin. Sir George ordered the
+pipers to cease playing; but again Elizabeth, who was filled with mirth,
+interrupted, and the music pealed forth in wanton volumes which flooded
+the gallery. Dorothy danced like an elfin gypsy to the inspiring strains.
+Soon her dance changed to wondrous imitations of the movements of a horse.
+She walked sedately around in an ever increasing circle; she trotted and
+paced; she gave the single foot and racked; she galloped, slowly for a
+while, and then the gallop merged into a furious run which sent the blood
+of her audience thrilling through their veins with delight. The wondrous
+ease and grace, and the marvellous strength and quickness of her
+movements, cannot be described. I had never before thought the human body
+capable of such grace and agility as she displayed.
+
+After her dance was finished she stepped in front of her cousin and
+delivered herself as follows:--
+
+"I am sound from ear tip to fetlock. There is not a blemish in me."
+
+"No, by my faith, I will swear there is not!" cried the Earl of Leicester.
+
+"I have good wind," continued Dorothy, "two good eyes. By night or by day
+I can see everything within the range of my vision, and a great deal that
+is not. I shy, at times, when an uncouth object suddenly comes upon me. I
+am warranted gentle if properly handled, but otherwise it is unsafe to
+curry my heels."
+
+Sir George could no longer restrain himself, and again tried to prevent
+Dorothy from proceeding with her terrible insult to the Stanleys. The
+queen, however, was determined to see the end of the frolic, and she
+said:--
+
+"Proceed, Mistress Vernon, proceed."
+
+Dorothy, nothing loath, continued: "As for my disposition, it might be
+better. It probably will improve with age, if it doesn't grow worse. I
+have all the gaits a horse should have. I am four years old, I have never
+been trained to work double, and I think I never shall be. What think you?
+Now what have you to offer in exchange? Step out and let me see you move."
+
+She took the poor youth by the hand and led him to the middle of the
+floor.
+
+"How old are you? Show me your teeth," she said. The heir to Derby smiled
+uneasily, and drew his hand across his nose.
+
+"Ah, you have a touch of the distemper, I see. Are you subject to it?"
+
+Stanley smiled, and the earl said:--
+
+"Sir George, this insult has gone far enough."
+
+"Stand back, my Lord Derby," said the queen. "Do not interfere with this
+interesting barter."
+
+The earl reluctantly lapsed into silence. He remembered the insult of her
+Majesty's words all his life.
+
+"Now step off," said Dorothy to Lord James.
+
+The young man stood in helpless confusion. Dorothy took a step backward
+from him, and after watching Stanley a moment said:--
+
+"What! You can neither trot, pace, nor gallop? I don't believe you can
+even walk alone." Then she turned toward Sir George. A smile was on her
+lips, but a look from hell was in her eyes as she said:--
+
+"Father, take a lesson from this day. I gave you fair warning. Bring me no
+more scurvy cobs for barter nor trade." Then she turned to the Earl of
+Derby and to her cousin Lord James, made a deep courtesy, and said:--
+
+"You can have no barter with me. Good day."
+
+She ran from the room, and a great peal of laughter from all save Sir
+George and the Stanleys followed her as she passed out through the double
+door. When the laughter had subsided, the Earl of Derby turned to Sir
+George and said:--
+
+"Sir George, this insult is unbearable, and I shall expect satisfaction
+for it." Then he turned to the queen: "I beg that your Majesty will give
+me leave to depart with my son."
+
+"Granted," answered Elizabeth, and father and son started to leave the
+room, moving backward toward the great doors. Sir George asked the earl
+and Lord Stanley to remain, and in the presence of the company who had
+witnessed the insult, he in the humblest manner made abject apology for
+the treatment his distinguished guests had received at the hands of his
+daughter. He very honestly and in all truth disclaimed any sympathy with
+Dorothy's conduct, and offered, as the only reparation he could make, to
+punish her in some way befitting the offence. Then he conducted the guests
+to the mounting block near the entrance tower and saw them depart. Dorothy
+had solved her father's dilemma with a vengeance.
+
+Sir George was not sure that he wanted to be angry at Dorothy, though he
+felt it was a duty he owed to himself and to the Stanleys. He had wished
+that the girl would in some manner defer the signing of the contract, but
+he had not wanted her to refuse young Stanley's hand in a manner so
+insulting that the match would be broken off altogether.
+
+As the day progressed, and as Sir George pondered over Dorothy's conduct,
+he grew more inclined to anger; but during the afternoon she kept well
+under the queen's wing, and he found no opportunity to give vent to his
+ill-temper.
+
+Late that night he called me to his room. He had been drinking during the
+evening and was poised between good-humored hilarity and ill-tempered
+ferocity. The latter condition was usually the result of his libations.
+When I entered the room it was evident he was amused.
+
+"Did you ever hear or see such brazen effrontery?" he asked, referring to
+Dorothy's treatment of the Stanleys. "Is there another girl on earth who
+would have conceived the absurd thought, or, having conceived it, would
+have dared to carry it out?"
+
+I took a chair and replied, "I think there is not another."
+
+"I hope not," continued Sir George. He sat in thought for a moment, and
+then broke forth into a great laugh. When he had finished laughing he
+said: "I admit it was laughable and--and pretty--beautiful. Damme, I
+didn't know the girl could do it, Malcolm! I didn't know she had it in
+her. There is not another girl living could have carried the frolic
+through." Then he spoke seriously, "But I will make her smart for it when
+the queen leaves Haddon."
+
+"Sir George, if you will allow me to suggest what I feel on the subject, I
+would say that you have no reason whatever for desiring to make Dorothy
+smart. She may have deeper designs than we can see."
+
+"What designs do you suppose she can have? Tell me, Malcolm," asked Sir
+George.
+
+I remained silent for a moment, hardly knowing how to express my thought.
+"Certainly she could not have appeared to a better advantage than in her
+tavern maid's costume," I said.
+
+"That is true," answered Sir George. "Though she is my own daughter, I
+must admit that I have never seen any woman so beautiful as she." The old
+gentleman laughed softly for a moment and said: "But wasn't it brazen?
+Wasn't it shameless? I have always given the girl credit for modesty,
+but--damme, damme--"
+
+"Her beauty in the tavern maid's costume fired Leicester's heart as
+nothing else could have done," I said. "He stood by my side, and was in
+raptures over her charms."
+
+Sir George mused a moment and said something about the "Leicester
+possibility," which I knew to be an impossibility, and before I left him
+he had determined to allow the matter to drop for the present. "I am
+making a damned pretty mess of the whole affair, I fear, Malcolm," he
+said.
+
+"You don't seem to be clearing it up, Sir George," I responded.
+
+After talking over some arrangements for the queen's entertainment, I said
+good night, and left my cousin brooding over as complicated a problem as
+man ever tried to solve.
+
+The next morning I told Dorothy how her father felt with respect to the
+"Leicester possibility." She laughed and said:--
+
+"I will encourage father in that matter, and," with a saucy twinkle in her
+eye, "incidentally I will not discourage my proud lord of Leicester. I
+will make the most of the situation, fear not, Malcolm."
+
+"I do not fear," said I, emphatically.
+
+There it was: the full-blown spirit of conquest, strong even in a
+love-full heart. God breathed into Adam the breath of life; but into Eve
+he breathed the love of conquest, and it has been growing stronger in the
+hearts of her daughters with each recurring generation.
+
+"How about John?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, John?" she answered, throwing her head contemplatively to one side.
+"He is amply able to protect his own interests. I could not be really
+untrue to him if I wished to be. It is I who am troubled on the score of
+infidelity. John will be with the most beautiful queen--" She broke off in
+the midst of her sentence, and her face became clouded with an expression
+of anger and hatred. "God curse her! I wish she were dead, dead, dead.
+There! you know how I feel toward your English-French-Scottish beauty.
+Curse the mongrel--" She halted before the ugly word she was about to use;
+but her eyes were like glowing embers, and her cheeks were flushed by the
+heat of anger.
+
+"Did you not promise me, Dorothy, that you would not again allow yourself
+to become jealous of Queen Mary?" I asked.
+
+"Yes, I promised, but I cannot prevent the jealousy, and I do not intend
+to try. I hate her, and I love to hate her."
+
+"Why should you hate her?" I asked. "If John remains true to you, there is
+certainly no cause for you to hate any one. If he should be untrue to you,
+you should hate him."
+
+"Hate him?" she exclaimed. "That, indeed, is pretty reasoning. If he
+should be untrue to me, I should of course hate her. I could not hate him.
+I did not make myself love him. I would never have been so great a fool as
+to bring that pain upon myself intentionally. I suppose no girl would
+deliberately make herself love a man and bring into her heart so great an
+agony. I feel toward John as I do, because I must; and I hate your
+Scottish mongrel because I must. I tell you, Malcolm, when she comes to
+Rutland, if I hear of her trying any of her wanton tricks on John there
+will be trouble--mark my words!"
+
+"I ask you to promise me this, Dorothy: that you will do nothing
+concerning John and Queen Mary without first speaking to me."
+
+She paced across the room angrily. "I promise you nothing, Malcolm, save
+that I shall not allow that woman to come between John and me. That I
+promise you, on my oath."
+
+Dorothy continued to shed her luminous smiles on Leicester, though she was
+careful not to shine in the queen's presence. My lord was dazzled by the
+smiles, and continually sought opportunities to bask in their dangerous
+light. As a result of this smiling and basking the great London
+heart-breaker was soon helplessly caught in the toils of Doll, the country
+maiden. She played him as an angler plays a trout. The most experienced
+court coquette could not have done the part better than did this girl,
+whose knowledge of the subject was wholly intuitive, for her life had all
+been spent amid the green hills and groves of Derbyshire. She so managed
+the affair that her father should see enough of Leicester's preference to
+keep alive in Sir George's mind the hope for the "Leicester possibility."
+Those words had become with her a phrase slyly to play upon.
+
+One afternoon when the sun was graciously warm and bright, I induced Madge
+to walk with me upon the terrace, that I might for a few moments feel the
+touch of her hand and hear her whispered words. We took a seat by a large
+holly bush, which effectually concealed us from view. We had been there
+but a few moments when we heard footsteps approaching. Looking between the
+branches of the holly bush I saw Dorothy and Leicester coming toward us
+from the north end of the terrace. Dorothy's eyes were cast down demurely,
+and her head hung in the attitude of a shy, modest girl, who listens
+timidly to words that are music in her ears. Never have I seen an attitude
+more indicative of the receptive mood than that which Dorothy assumed
+toward Leicester.
+
+"Ah," thought I, "poor John has given his heart and has risked his life
+for the sake of Doll, and Doll is a miserable coquette."
+
+But there was conduct still more objectionable to come from Dorothy.
+
+Unconscious of our presence, Leicester said, "My fair beauty, my Venus,
+here is a settle under this holly bush, well hidden from prying eyes. It
+invites us. Will you sit here with me for one happy moment, and give me a
+taste of Paradise?"
+
+"I fear I should not sit with you, my lord, however much I--may--may wish
+to do so. My father or the queen might observe us." The black lashes fell
+upon the fair cheek, and the red golden head with its crown of glory hung
+forward convincingly.
+
+"You false jade," thought I.
+
+"I ask for but one moment," pleaded Leicester. "The queen sleeps at this
+time after dinner, and perhaps your father would not object if you were to
+grant this little favor to the first nobleman of the realm."
+
+"You do not know my father, my lord. He is very strict regarding my
+conduct," murmured the drooping head.
+
+"I ask for but one little moment," continued the earl, "in which to tell
+you that you have filled my heart with adoration and love."
+
+"I should not listen to you, my lord. Were I mindful of my happiness, I
+should return to the Hall at once," said the drooping lashes and hanging
+head.
+
+"You lying wench," thought I. By that time I was thoroughly angered.
+
+"Only one little moment on the settle," pleaded Leicester, "that I may
+speak to you that which I wish so ardently to say."
+
+"Can you not speak while we walk, my lord?" asked Dorothy.
+
+I felt a bitter desire to curse the girl.
+
+"It is difficult for me to speak while we walk," said Leicester,
+cautiously taking the girl's hand; so she permitted him to lead her to the
+settle under the holly bush, on the opposite side of which Madge and I
+were sitting.
+
+The earl retained the hand for a moment after he and Dorothy were seated,
+but she gently drew it away and moved a little distance from his Lordship.
+Still, her eyes were drooped, her head hung low, and her bosom actually
+heaved as if with emotion.
+
+"I will tell John of your shamelessness," I said to myself. "He shall feel
+no more heartaches for you--you wanton huzzy."
+
+Then Leicester poured forth his passion most eloquently. Poesy, verse, and
+rhetoric all came to help him in his wooing. Now and then the girl would
+respond to his ardor with "Please, my lord," or "I pray you, my lord," and
+when he would try to take her hand she would say, "I beg you, my lord, do
+not." But Leicester evidently thought that the "do not" meant "do," for
+soon he began to steal his arm about her waist, and she was so slow in
+stopping him that I thought she was going to submit. She, however, arose
+gently to her feet and said:--
+
+"My lord, I must return to the Hall. I may not longer remain here with
+you."
+
+The earl caught her hand and endeavored to kiss it, but she adroitly
+prevented him, and stepping out into the path, started slowly toward the
+Hall. She turned her head slightly toward Leicester in a mute but eloquent
+invitation, and he quickly followed her.
+
+I watched the pair walk up the terrace. They descended the steps to the
+garden, and from thence they entered the Hall by way of the porch.
+
+"Was it not very wicked in Dorothy to listen to such words from
+Leicester?" asked Madge. "I do not at all understand her."
+
+Madge, of course, knew only a part of what had happened, and a very small
+part at that, for she had not seen Dorothy. Madge and I returned to the
+Hall, and we went at once to Dorothy's room, hoping to see her, and
+intending to tell her our opinion of the shameless manner in which she had
+acted.
+
+Dorothy was in her room alone when we entered. She clapped her hands, ran
+to the door, bolted it, and bounded back toward us.
+
+"I have the greatest news to tell you," she cried laughingly,--"the
+greatest news and the greatest sport of which you ever heard. My lord
+Leicester is in love with me."
+
+"Indeed, that is very fine," I responded; but my irony met its usual fate.
+She did not see it.
+
+"Yes," continued Dorothy, brimming over with mirth, "you should have heard
+him pleading with me a few moments since upon the terrace."
+
+"We did hear him," said Madge.
+
+"You heard him? Where? How?" Her eyes were wide with wonder.
+
+"We were on the opposite side of the holly bush from you," I answered. "We
+heard him and we saw you."
+
+"Did you? Good. I am glad of it," said Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, we saw and we heard all, and we think that your conduct was
+shameless," I responded severely.
+
+"Shameless?" demanded Dorothy. "Now pray tell me what I did or said that
+was shameless.".
+
+I was at a loss to define the wrong in her conduct, for it had been of an
+intangible quality which in itself was nothing, but notwithstanding meant
+a great deal.
+
+"You permitted him to hold your hand," I said, trying to fix on something
+real with which to accuse her.
+
+"I did nothing of the sort," said Dorothy, laughingly. "He caught my hand
+several times, but I withdrew it from him"
+
+I knew she spoke the truth regarding her hand, so I tried again.
+
+"You--you hung your head and kept your eyes cast down, and you looked--"
+
+"Oh, I hung my head, I cast down my eyes, and I looked?" she answered,
+laughing heartily. "Pray let me ask you, Master Fault-finder, for what use
+else are heads and eyes made?"
+
+I was not prepared to say that the uses to which Dorothy had put her head
+and eyes were not some of the purposes for which they were created. They
+are good purposes, too, I admit, although I would not have conceded as
+much to Dorothy. I knew the girl would soon wheedle me into her way of
+thinking, so I took a bold stand and said:--
+
+"It is my intention to tell John about your conduct with Leicester, and I
+shall learn for what purpose he thinks eyes and heads are created."
+
+"Tell John?" cried Dorothy. "Of course you may tell John. He well knows
+the purposes of heads and eyes, and their proper uses. He has told me many
+times his opinion on the subject." She laughed for a moment, and then
+continued: "I, too, shall tell John all that happened or shall happen
+between Lord Leicester and me. I wish I could tell him now. How I wish I
+could tell him now." A soft light came to her eyes, and she repeated
+huskily: "If I might tell him now; if I might tell him now. Why, Malcolm,
+I despise Leicester. He is a poor, weak fool. He has no more force nor
+strength than I have. He is not a man. He is no more attractive than a
+woman. He wanted to kiss me. He begged me to give him but one. It is but a
+poor kiss which a man gets by begging. Think you I would give him one? Had
+he but touched my lips, think you I would ever allow John to soil himself
+again by kissing them? Fear not, Malcolm. Fear not for John nor for me.
+No man will ever receive from me a favor, the granting of which would make
+me unfit to be John's--John's wife. I have paid too dearly for him to
+throw him away for a penny whistle that I do not want." Then she grew
+earnest, with a touch of anger: "Leicester! What reason, suppose you,
+Malcolm, have I for treating him as I do? Think you I act from sheer
+wantonness? If there were one little spot of that fault upon my soul, I
+would tear myself from John, though I should die for it."
+
+Her laughing mood had passed away, and I feared to say that I could see no
+reason other than coquetry for her conduct, I feared the red-haired
+tigress would scratch my eyes out.
+
+"I have wanted to see you," she continued, "that I might tell you of my
+plans and of the way they are working out, but now since you have spoken
+to me in this manner, Sir Malcolm Francois de Lorraine Vernon, I shall
+tell you nothing. You suspect me. Therefore, you shall wait with the rest
+of the world to learn my purposes. You may tell John all you have seen and
+heard. I care not how quickly you do it." Then with a sigh: "I pray God it
+may be very soon. He will wish for no explanation, and he shall one day
+have in me a rich reward for his faith."
+
+"Do you trust him as he trusts you?" I asked, "and would you demand an
+explanation were he to act toward Mary Stuart as you have acted toward
+Leicester?"
+
+"He could not act toward her as I did toward Lord Leicester," she said
+thoughtfully. Then after a moment she laughingly continued: "John
+can't--he can't hang his head and--droop his eyes and look."
+
+"But if--" I began.
+
+"I want no more of your hellish 'ifs,'" cried the girl in sudden fury. "If
+John were to--to look at that Scottish mongrel as I looked at Leicester, I
+would--I would kill the royal wanton. I would kill her if it cost my
+life. Now, for God's sake, leave me. You see the state into which you
+have wrought me." I left Madge with Dorothy and walked out upon Bowling
+Green to ponder on the events that were passing before me.
+
+From the time we learned that John had gone to fetch the Scottish queen I
+had fears lest Dorothy's inflammable jealousy might cause trouble, and now
+those fears were rapidly transforming themselves into a feeling of
+certainty. There is nothing in life so sweet and so dangerous as the love
+of a hot-blooded woman.
+
+I soon saw Dorothy again. "Tell me," said I, in conciliation, "tell me,
+please, what is your reason for acting as you do toward Leicester, and why
+should you look differently upon similar conduct on John's part?"
+
+"I will not tell you my plans," she responded,--"not now, at least.
+Perhaps I shall do so when I have recovered from my ill-temper. It is hard
+for me to give my reasons for feeling differently about like conduct on
+John's part. Perhaps I feel as I do because--because--It is this way:
+While I might do little things--mere nothings--such as I have done--it
+would be impossible for me to do any act of unfaithfulness to John. Oh, it
+could not be. But with him, he--he--well, he is a man and--and--oh, don't
+talk to me! Don't talk to me! You are driving me mad. Out of my sight! Out
+of my room! Holy Virgin! I shall die before I have him; I know I shall."
+
+There it was again. The thought of Mary Stuart drove her wild. Dorothy
+threw herself on her face upon the bed, and Madge went over and sat by her
+side to soothe her. I, with a feeling of guilt, so adroit had been
+Dorothy's defence, left the girls and went to my room in the tower to
+unravel, by the help of my pipe, the tangled web of woman's
+incomprehensibility. I failed, as many another man had failed before me,
+and as men will continue to fail to the end of time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+MARY STUART
+
+
+And now I come to an event in this history which I find difficult to place
+before you in its true light. For Dorothy's sake I wish I might omit it
+altogether. But in true justice to her and for the purpose of making you
+see clearly the enormity of her fault and the palliating excuses therefor,
+if any there were, I shall pause briefly to show the condition of affairs
+at the time of which I am about to write--a time when Dorothy's madness
+brought us to the most terrible straits and plunged us into deepest
+tribulations.
+
+Although I have been unable to show you as much of John as I have wished
+you to see, you nevertheless must know that he, whose nature was not like
+the shallow brook but was rather of the quality of a deep, slow-moving
+river, had caught from Dorothy an infection of love from which he would
+never recover. His soul was steeped in the delicious essence of the girl.
+I would also call your attention to the conditions under which his passion
+for Dorothy had arisen. It is true he received the shaft when first he saw
+her at the Royal Arms in Derby-town, but the shaft had come from Dorothy's
+eyes. Afterward she certainly had done her full part in the wooing. It was
+for her sake, after she had drawn him on to love her, that he became a
+servant in Haddon Hall. For her sake he faced death at the hands of her
+father. And it was through her mad fault that the evil came upon him of
+which I shall now tell you. That she paid for her fault in suffering does
+not excuse her, since pain is but the latter half of evil.
+
+During the term of Elizabeth's residence in Haddon Hall John returned to
+Rutland with Queen Mary Stuart, whose escape from Lochleven had excited
+all England. The country was full of rumors that Mary was coming to
+England not so much for sanctuary as to be on the ground ready to accept
+the English crown when her opportunity to do so should occur. The
+Catholics, a large and powerful party, flushed with their triumphs under
+the "Bloody Queen," were believed to sympathize with Mary's cause.
+Although Elizabeth said little on the subject, she felt deeply, and she
+feared trouble should the Scottish queen enter her dominion. Another cause
+of annoyance to Elizabeth was the memory that Leicester had once been
+deeply impressed with Mary's charms, and had sought her hand in marriage.
+Elizabeth's prohibition alone had prevented the match. That thought
+rankled in Elizabeth's heart, and she hated Mary, although her hatred, as
+in all other cases, was tempered with justice and mercy. This great queen
+had the brain of a man with its motives, and the heart of a woman with its
+emotions.
+
+When news of Mary's escape reached London, Cecil came in great haste to
+Haddon. During a consultation with Elizabeth he advised her to seize Mary,
+should she enter England, and to check the plots made in Mary's behalf by
+executing the principal friends of the Scottish queen. He insistently
+demanded that Elizabeth should keep Mary under lock and key, should she be
+so fortunate as to obtain possession of her person, and that the men who
+were instrumental in bringing her into England should be arraigned for
+high treason.
+
+John certainly had been instrumental in bringing her into England, and if
+Cecil's advice were taken by the queen, John's head would pay the forfeit
+for his chivalric help to Mary.
+
+Elizabeth was loath to act on this advice, but Cecil worked upon her fears
+and jealousies until her mind and her heart were in accord, and she gave
+secret orders that his advice should be carried out. Troops were sent to
+the Scottish border to watch for the coming of the fugitive queen. But
+Mary was already ensconced, safely, as she thought, in Rutland Castle
+under the assumed name of Lady Blanche. Her presence at Rutland was, of
+course, guarded as a great secret.
+
+Dorothy's mind dwelt frequently upon the fact that John and the beautiful
+young Scottish queen lived under the same roof, for John had written to
+Dorothy immediately after his return. Nothing so propagates itself as
+jealousy. There were in Haddon Hall two hearts in which this
+self-propagating process was rapidly progressing--Elizabeth's and
+Dorothy's. Each had for the cause of her jealousy the same woman.
+
+One night, soon after Cecil had obtained from Elizabeth the order for
+Mary's arrest, Dorothy, on retiring to her room at a late hour found
+Jennie Faxton waiting for her with a precious letter from John. Dorothy
+drank in the tenderness of John's letter as the thirsty earth absorbs the
+rain; but her joy was neutralized by frequent references to the woman who
+she feared might become her rival. One-half of what she feared, she was
+sure had been accomplished: that is, Mary's half. She knew in her heart
+that the young queen would certainly grow fond of John. That was a
+foregone conclusion. No woman could be with him and escape that fate,
+thought Dorothy. Her hope as to the other half--John's part--rested solely
+upon her faith in John, which was really great, and her confidence in her
+own charms and in her own power to hold him, which in truth, and with good
+reason, was not small, Dorothy went to bed, and Jennie, following her
+usual custom, when at Haddon, lay upon the floor in the same room. John's
+letter, with all its tenderness, had thrown Dorothy into an inquisitive
+frame of mind. After an hour or two of restless tossing upon the bed she
+fell asleep, but soon after midnight she awakened, and in her drowsy
+condition the devil himself played upon the strings of her dream-charged
+imagination. After a time she sprang from the bed, lighted a candle at the
+rush light, and read John's letter in a tremor of dream-wrought fear. Then
+she aroused Jennie Faxton and asked:--
+
+"When were you at Rutland?"
+
+"I spent yesterday and to-day there, mistress," answered Jennie.
+
+"Did you see a strange lady?" asked Dorothy.
+
+"Oh, yes, mistress, I did see her three or four times," answered Jennie.
+"Lady Blanche is her name, and she be a cousin of Sir John's. She do come,
+they say, from France, and do speak only in the tongue of that country."
+
+"I--I suppose that this--this Lady Blanche and--and Sir John are very good
+friends? Did you--did you--often see them together?" asked Dorothy. She
+felt guilty in questioning Jennie for the purpose of spying upon her
+lover. She knew that John would not pry into her conduct.
+
+"Indeed, yes, mistress," returned Jennie, who admired John greatly from
+her lowly sphere, and who for her own sake as well as Dorothy's was
+jealous of Queen Mary. "They do walk together a great deal on the
+ramparts, and the white snaky lady do look up into Sir John's face like
+this"--here Jennie assumed a lovelorn expression. "And--and once,
+mistress, I thought--I thought--"
+
+"Yes, yes, Jesu!" hissed Dorothy, clutching Jennie by the arm, "you
+thought, you thought. Tell me! Tell me! What in hell's name did you think?
+Speak quickly, wench."
+
+"I be not sure, mistress, but I thought I saw his arm about her waist one
+evening on the ramparts. It was dark, and for sure I could not tell,
+but--"
+
+"God's curse upon the white huzzy!" screamed Dorothy. "God's curse upon
+her! She is stealing him from me, and I am helpless."
+
+She clasped her hands over the top of her head and ran to and fro across
+the room uttering inarticulate cries of agony. Then she sat upon the
+bedside and threw herself into Madge's arms, crying under her breath: "My
+God! My God! Think of it, Madge. I have given him my heart, my soul, O
+merciful God, my love--all that I have worth giving, and now comes this
+white wretch, and because she is a queen and was sired in hell she tries
+to steal him from me and coaxes him to put his arm around her waist."
+
+"Don't feel that way about it, Dorothy," said Madge, soothingly. "I know
+Sir John can explain it all to you when you see him. He is true to you, I
+am sure."
+
+"True to me, Madge! How can he be true to me if she coaxes him to woo her
+and if he puts his arm--I am losing him; I know it. I--I--O God, Madge, I
+am smothering; I am strangling! Holy Virgin! I believe I am about to die."
+She threw herself upon the bed by Madge's side, clutching her throat and
+breast, and her grand woman's form tossed and struggled as if she were in
+convulsions.
+
+"Holy mother!" she cried, "take this frightful agony from my breast.
+Snatch this terrible love from my heart. God! If you have pity, give it
+now. Help me! Help me! Ah, how deeply I love. I never loved him so much as
+I do at this awful moment. Save me from doing that which is in my heart.
+If I could have him for only one little portion of a minute. But that is
+denied me whose right it is, and is given to her who has no right. Ah,
+God is not just. If he were he would strike her dead. I hate her and I
+hate--hate him."
+
+She arose to a sitting posture on the edge of the bed and held out her
+arms toward Madge.
+
+"Madge," she continued, frenzied by the thought, "his arm was around her
+waist. That was early in the evening. Holy Virgin! What may be happening
+now?"
+
+Dorothy sprang from the bed and staggered about the room with her hands
+upon her throbbing temples.
+
+"I cannot bear this agony. God give me strength." Soon she began to gasp
+for breath. "I can--see--them now--together, together. I hate her; I hate
+him. My love has turned bitter. What can I do? What can I do? I will do
+it. I will. I will disturb their sweet rest. If I cannot have him, she
+shall not. I'll tell the queen, I'll tell the queen."
+
+Dorothy acted on her resolution the moment it was taken, and at once began
+to unbolt the door.
+
+"Stay, Dorothy, stay!" cried Madge. "Think on what you are about to do. It
+will cost John his life. Come to me for one moment, Dorothy, I pray you."
+Madge arose from the bed and began groping her way toward Dorothy, who was
+unbolting the door.
+
+Madge could have calmed the tempest-tossed sea as easily as she could have
+induced Dorothy to pause in her mad frenzy. Jennie Faxton, almost
+paralyzed by fear of the storm she had raised, stood in the corner of the
+room trembling and speechless. Dorothy was out of the room before poor
+blind Madge could reach her. The frenzied girl was dressed only in her
+night robes and her glorious hair hung dishevelled down to her waist. She
+ran through the rooms of Lady Crawford and those occupied by her father
+and the retainers. Then she sped down the long gallery and up the steps to
+Elizabeth's apartment.
+
+She knocked violently at the queen's door.
+
+"Who comes?" demanded one of her Majesty's ladies.
+
+"I, Dorothy," was the response. "I wish to speak to her Majesty at once
+upon a matter of great importance to her."
+
+Elizabeth ordered her ladies to admit Dorothy, and the girl ran to the
+queen, who had half arisen in her bed.
+
+"You must have affairs of great moment, indeed," cried Elizabeth, testily,
+"if they induce you to disturb me in this manner."
+
+"Of great moment, indeed, your Majesty," replied Dorothy, endeavoring to
+be calm, "of moment to you and to me. Mary Stuart is in England at this
+instant trying to steal your crown and my lover. She is now sleeping
+within five leagues of this place. God only knows what she is doing. Let
+us waste no time, your Majesty."
+
+The girl was growing wilder every second.
+
+"Let us go--you and I--and seize this wanton creature. You to save your
+crown; I to save my lover and--my life."
+
+"Where is she?" demanded Elizabeth, sharply. "Cease prattling about your
+lover. She would steal both my lover and my crown if she could. Where is
+she?"
+
+"She is at Rutland Castle, your Majesty," answered Dorothy.
+
+"Ah, the Duke of Rutland and his son John," said Elizabeth. "I have been
+warned of them. Send for my Lord Cecil and Sir William St. Loe."
+
+Sir William was in command of the yeoman guards.
+
+"Is Sir John Manners your lover?" asked Elizabeth, turning to Dorothy.
+
+"Yes," answered the girl.
+
+"You may soon seek another," replied the queen, significantly.
+
+Her Majesty's words seemed to awaken Dorothy from her stupor of frenzy,
+and she foresaw the result of her act. Then came upon her a reaction worse
+than death.
+
+"You may depart," said the queen to Dorothy, and the girl went back to
+her room hardly conscious that she was moving.
+
+At times we cannot help feeling that love came to the human breast through
+a drop of venom shot from the serpent's tongue into the heart of Eve.
+Again we believe it to be a spark from God's own soul. Who will solve me
+this riddle?
+
+Soon the hard, cold ringing of arms, and the tramp of mailed feet
+resounded through Haddon Hall, and the doom-like din reached Dorothy's
+room in the tones of a clanging knell. There seemed to be a frightful
+rhythm in the chaos of sounds which repeated over and over again the
+words: "John will die, John will die," though the full import of her act
+and its results did nor for a little time entirely penetrate her
+consciousness. She remembered the queen's words, "You may soon seek
+another." Elizabeth plainly meant that John was a traitor, and that John
+would die for his treason. The clanking words, "John will die, John will
+die," bore upon the girl's ears in ever increasing volume until the agony
+she suffered deadened her power to think. She wandered aimlessly about the
+room, trying to collect her senses, but her mind was a blank. After a few
+minutes she ran back to the queen, having an undefined purpose of doing
+something to avert the consequences of her mad act. She at first thought
+to tell the queen that the information she had given concerning Mary
+Stuart's presence in Rutland was false, but she well knew that a lie
+seldom succeeds; and in this case, even through her clouded mentality, she
+could see that a lie would surely fail. She determined to beg the queen to
+spare John's life. She did not know exactly what she would do, but she
+hoped by the time she should reach the queen's room to hit upon some plan
+that would save him. When she knocked at Elizabeth's door it was locked
+against her. Her Majesty was in consultation with Cecil, Sir William St.
+Loe, and a few other gentlemen, among whom was Sir George Vernon.
+
+Dorothy well knew there was no help for John if her father were of the
+queen's council. She insisted upon seeing the queen, but was rudely
+repulsed. By the time she again reached her room full consciousness had
+returned, and agony such as she had never before dreamed of overwhelmed
+her soul. Many of us have felt the same sort of pain when awakened
+suddenly to the fact that words we have spoken easily may not, by our
+utmost efforts, be recalled, though we would gladly give our life itself
+to have them back. If suffering can atone for sin, Dorothy bought her
+indulgence within one hour after sinning. But suffering cannot atone for
+sin; it is only a part of it--the result.
+
+"Arise, Madge, and dress," said Dorothy, gently. "I have made a terrible
+mistake. I have committed a frightful crime. I have betrayed John to
+death. Ah, help me, Madge, if you can. Pray God to help me. He will listen
+to you. I fear to pray to Him. He would turn my prayers to curses. I am
+lost." She fell for a moment upon the bed and placed her head on Madge's
+breast murmuring, "If I could but die."
+
+"All may turn out better than it now appears," said Madge. "Quiet yourself
+and let us consider what may be done to arrest the evil of your--your
+act."
+
+"Nothing can be done, nothing," wailed Dorothy, as she arose from the bed
+and began to dress. "Please arise, Madge, and dress yourself. Here are
+your garments and your gown."
+
+They hastily dressed without speaking, and Dorothy began again to pace the
+floor.
+
+"He will die hating me," said Dorothy. "If he could live I willingly would
+give him to the--the Scottish woman. Then I could die and my suffering
+would cease. I must have been mad when I went to the queen. He trusted me
+with his honor and his life, and I, traitress that I am, have betrayed
+both. Ah, well, when he dies I also shall die. There is comfort at least
+in that thought. How helpless I am."
+
+She could not weep. It seemed as if there were not a tear in her. All was
+hard, dry, burning agony. She again fell upon the bed and moaned piteously
+for a little time, wringing her hands and uttering frantic ejaculatory
+prayers for help.
+
+"My mind seems to have forsaken me," she said hoarsely to Madge. "I cannot
+think. What noise is that?"
+
+She paused and listened for a moment. Then she went to the north window
+and opened the casement.
+
+"The yeoman guards from Bakewell are coming," she said. "I recognize them
+by the light of their flambeaux. They are entering the gate at the
+dove-cote."
+
+A part of the queen's guard had been quartered in the village of Bakewell.
+
+Dorothy stood at the window for a moment and said: "The other guards are
+here under our window and are ready to march to Rutland. There is Lord
+Cecil, and Sir William St. Loe, and Malcolm, and there is my father. Now
+they are off to meet the other yeomen at the dove-cote. The stable boys
+are lighting their torches and flambeaux. They are going to murder John,
+and I have sent them."
+
+Dorothy covered her face with her hands and slowly walked to and fro
+across the room.
+
+"Call Malcolm," said Madge. "Perhaps he can help us. Lead me to the
+window, Dorothy, and I will call him." Dorothy led Madge to the window,
+and above the din of arms I heard her soft voice calling, "Malcolm,
+Malcolm."
+
+The order to march had been given before Madge called, but I sought Sir
+William and told him I would return to the Hall to get another sword and
+would soon overtake him on the road to Rutland.
+
+I then hastened to Dorothy's room. I was ignorant of the means whereby
+Elizabeth had learned of Mary's presence at Rutland. The queen had told no
+one how the information reached her. The fact that Mary was in England was
+all sufficient for Cecil, and he proceeded to execute the order Elizabeth
+had given for Mary's arrest, without asking or desiring any explanation.
+I, of course, was in great distress for John's sake, since I knew that he
+would be attainted of treason. I had sought in vain some plan whereby I
+might help him, but found none. I, myself, being a Scottish refugee,
+occupied no safe position, and my slightest act toward helping John or
+Mary would be construed against me.
+
+When I entered Dorothy's room, she ran to me and said: "Can you help me,
+Malcolm? Can you help me save him from this terrible evil which I have
+brought upon him?"
+
+"How did you bring the evil upon him?" I asked, in astonishment. "It was
+not your fault that he brought Mary Stuart to--"
+
+"No, no," she answered; "but I told the queen she was at Rutland."
+
+"You told the queen?" I exclaimed, unwilling to believe my ears. "You
+told--How--why--why did you tell her?"
+
+"I do not know why I told her," she replied. "I was mad with--with
+jealousy. You warned me against it, but I did not heed you. Jennie Faxton
+told me that she saw John and--but all that does not matter now. I will
+tell you hereafter if I live. What we must now do is to save him--to save
+him if we can. Try to devise some plan. Think--think, Malcolm."
+
+My first thought was to ride to Rutland Castle and give the alarm. Sir
+George would lead the yeomen thither by the shortest route--the road by
+way of Rowsley. There was another route leading up the Lathkil through the
+dale, and thence by a road turning southward to Rutland. That road was
+longer by a league than the one Sir George would take, but I could put my
+horse to his greatest speed, and I might be able to reach the castle in
+time to enable John and Mary to escape. I considered the question a
+moment. My own life certainly would pay the forfeit in case of failure;
+but my love for John and, I confess it with shame, the memory of my old
+tenderness for Mary impelled me to take the risk. I explained the plan
+upon which I was thinking, and told them of my determination. When I did
+so, Madge grasped me by the arm to detain me, and Dorothy fell upon her
+knees and kissed my hand.
+
+I said, "I must start at once; for, ride as I may, I fear the yeomen will
+reach Rutland gates before I can get there."
+
+"But If the guards should be at the gates when you arrive, or if you
+should be missed by Cecil, you, a Scottish refugee and a friend of Queen
+Mary, would be suspected of treason, and you would lose your life," said
+Madge, who was filled with alarm for my sake.
+
+"That is true," I replied; "but I can think of no other way whereby John
+can possibly be saved."
+
+Dorothy stood for a moment in deep thought, and said:--
+
+"I will ride to Rutland by way of Lathkil Dale--I will ride in place of
+you, Malcolm. It is my duty and my privilege to do this if I can."
+
+I saw the truth of her words, and felt that since Dorothy had wrought the
+evil, it was clearly her duty to remedy it if she could. If she should
+fail, no evil consequences would fall upon her. If I should fail, it would
+cost me my life; and while I desired to save John, still I wished to save
+myself. Though my conduct may not have been chivalric, still I was willing
+that Dorothy should go in my place, and I told her so. I offered to ride
+with her as far as a certain cross-road a league distant from Rutland
+Castle. There I would leave her, and go across the country to meet the
+yeomen on the road they had taken. I could join them before they reached
+Rutland, and my absence during the earlier portion of the march would not
+be remarked, or if noticed it could easily be explained.
+
+This plan was agreed upon, and after the guards had passed out at
+Dove-cote Gate and were well down toward Rowsley, I rode out from the
+Hall, and waited for Dorothy at an appointed spot near Overhaddon.
+
+Immediately after my departure Dolcy was saddled, and soon Dorothy rode
+furiously up to me. Away we sped, Dorothy and I, by Yulegrave church, down
+into the dale, and up the river. Never shall I forget that mad ride. Heavy
+rains had recently fallen, and the road in places was almost impassable.
+The rivers were in flood, but when Dorothy and I reached the ford, the
+girl did not stop to consider the danger ahead of her. I heard her
+whisper, "On, Dolcy, on," and I heard the sharp "whisp" of the whip as she
+struck the trembling, fearful mare, and urged her into the dark flood.
+Dolcy hesitated, but Dorothy struck her again and again with the whip and
+softly cried, "On, Dolcy, on." Then mare and rider plunged into the
+swollen river, and I, of course, followed them. The water was so deep that
+our horses were compelled to swim, and when we reached the opposite side
+of the river we had drifted with the current a distance of at least three
+hundred yards below the road. We climbed the cliff by a sheep path. How
+Dorothy did it I do not know; and how I succeeded in following her I know
+even less. When we reached the top of the cliff, Dorothy started off at
+full gallop, leading the way, and again I followed. The sheep path
+leading up the river to the road followed close the edge of the cliff,
+where a false step by the horse would mean death to both horse and rider.
+But Dorothy feared not, or knew not, the danger, and I caught her ever
+whispered cry,--"On, Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy, on." Ashamed to fall behind,
+yet fearing to ride at such a pace on such a path, I urged my horse
+forward. He was a fine, strong, mettlesome brute, and I succeeded in
+keeping the girl's dim form in sight. The moon, which was rapidly sinking
+westward, still gave us light through rifts in the black bank of floating
+clouds, else that ride over the sheep path by the cliff would have been
+our last journey in the flesh.
+
+Soon we reached the main road turning southward. It was a series of rough
+rocks and mudholes, and Dorothy and Dolcy shot forward upon it with the
+speed of the tempest, to undo, if possible, the evil which a dozen words,
+untimely spoken, had wrought. I urged my horse until his head was close by
+Dolcy's tail, and ever and anon could I hear the whispered cry,--"On,
+Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy, sweet Dolcy, good Dolcy; on, my pet, on."
+
+No word was spoken between Dorothy and me; but I could hear Dolcy panting
+with her mighty effort, and amid the noise of splashing water and the
+thud, thud, thud of our horses' hoofs came always back to me from
+Dorothy's lips the sad, sad cry, full of agony and longing,--"On, Dolcy,
+on; on Dolcy, on."
+
+The road we took led us over steep hills and down through dark,
+shadow-crowded ravines; but up hill, down hill, and on the level the
+terrible girl before me plunged forward with unabated headlong fury until
+I thought surely the flesh of horse, man, and woman could endure the
+strain not one moment longer. But the horses, the woman, and--though I say
+it who should not--the man were of God's best handiwork, and the cords of
+our lives did not snap. One thought, and only one, held possession of the
+girl, and the matter of her own life or death had no place in her mind.
+
+When we reached the cross-road where I was to leave her, we halted while I
+instructed Dorothy concerning the road she should follow from that point
+to Rutland, and directed her how to proceed when she should arrive at the
+castle gate. She eagerly listened for a moment or two, then grew
+impatient, and told me to hasten in my speech, since there was no time to
+lose. Then she fearlessly dashed away alone into the black night; and as I
+watched her fair form fade into the shadows, the haunting cry came faintly
+back to me,--"On, Dolcy, on; on, Dolcy on," and I was sick at heart. I was
+loath to leave her thus in the inky gloom. The moon had sunk for the
+night, and the clouds had banked up without a rift against the hidden
+stars; but I could give her no further help, and my life would pay the
+forfeit should I accompany her. She had brought the evil upon herself. She
+was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the rain. She was fulfilling her
+destiny. She was doing that which she must do: nothing more, nothing less.
+She was filling her little niche in the universal moment. She was a part
+of the infinite kaleidoscope--a fate-charged, fate-moved, fragile piece of
+glass which might be crushed to atoms in the twinkling of an eye, in the
+sounding of a trump.
+
+After leaving Dorothy I rode across the country and soon overtook the
+yeoman guard whom I joined unobserved. Then I marched with them, all too
+rapidly to suit me, to Rutland. The little army had travelled with greater
+speed than I had expected, and I soon began to fear that Dorothy would not
+reach Rutland Castle in time to enable its inmates to escape.
+
+Within half an hour from the time I joined the yeomen we saw the dim
+outlines of the castle, and Sir William St. Loe gave the command to hurry
+forward. Cecil, Sir William, Sir George, and myself rode in advance of the
+column. As we approached the castle by the road leading directly to the
+gate from the north, I saw for a moment upon the top of the hill west of
+the castle gate the forms of Dorothy and Dolcy in dim silhouette against
+the sky. Then I saw them plunge madly down the hill toward the gate. I
+fancied I could hear the girl whispering in frenzied hoarseness,--"On,
+Dolcy, on," and I thought I could catch the panting of the mare. At the
+foot of the hill, less than one hundred yards from the gate, poor Dolcy,
+unable to take another step, dropped to the ground. Dolcy had gone on to
+her death. She had filled her little niche in the universe and had died at
+her post Dorothy plunged forward over the mare's head, and a cry of alarm
+came from my lips despite me. I was sure the girl had been killed. She,
+however, instantly sprang to her feet. Her hair was flying behind her and
+she ran toward the gate crying: "John, John, fly for your life!" And then
+she fell prone upon the ground and did not rise.
+
+We had all seen the mare fall, and had seen the girl run forward toward
+the gates and fall before reaching them. Cecil and Sir William rode to the
+spot where Dorothy lay, and dismounted.
+
+In a moment Sir William called to Sir George:--
+
+"The lady is your daughter, Mistress Dorothy."
+
+"What in hell's name brings her here?" cried Sir George, hurriedly riding
+forward, "and how came she?"
+
+I followed speedily, and the piteous sight filled my eyes with tears. I
+cannot describe it adequately to you, though I shall see it vividly to the
+end of my days. Dorothy had received a slight wound upon the temple, and
+blood was trickling down her face upon her neck and ruff. Her hair had
+fallen from its fastenings. She had lost her hat, and her gown was torn in
+shreds and covered with mud. I lifted the half-conscious girl to her feet
+and supported her; then with my kerchief I bound up the wound upon her
+temple.
+
+"Poor Dolcy," she said, almost incoherently, "I have killed her and I have
+failed--I have failed. Now I am ready to die. Would that I had died with
+Dolcy. Let me lie down here, Malcolm,--let me lie down."
+
+I still held her in my arms and supported her half-fainting form.
+
+"Why are you here?" demanded Sir George.
+
+"To die," responded Dorothy.
+
+"To die? Damned nonsense!" returned her father.
+
+"How came you here, you fool?"
+
+"On Dolcy. She is dead," returned Dorothy.
+
+"Were you not at Haddon when we left there?" asked her father.
+
+"Yes," she replied.
+
+"Did you pass us on the road?" he asked.
+
+"How came you here?" Sir George insisted.
+
+"Oh, I flew hither. I am a witch. Don't question me, father. I am in no
+temper to listen to you. I warn you once and for all, keep away from me;
+beware of me. I have a dagger in my bosom. Go and do the work you came to
+do; but remember this, father, if harm comes to him I will take my own
+life, and my blood shall be upon your soul."
+
+"My God, Malcolm, what does she mean?" asked Sir George, touched with fear
+by the strength of his daughter's threat. "Has she lost her wits?"
+
+"No," the girl quickly responded, "I have only just found them."
+
+Sir George continued to question Dorothy, but he received no further
+response from her. She simply held up the palm of her hand warningly
+toward him, and the gesture was as eloquent as an oration. She leaned
+against me, and covered her face with her hands, while her form shook and
+trembled as if with a palsy.
+
+Cecil and Sir William St. Loe then went toward the gate, and Sir George
+said to me:--
+
+"I must go with them. You remain with Doll, and see that she is taken
+home. Procure a horse for her. If she is unable to ride, make a litter, or
+perhaps there is a coach in the castle; if so, take possession of it. Take
+her home by some means when we return. What, think you, could have brought
+her here?"
+
+I evaded the question by replying, "I will probably be able to get a coach
+in the castle, Sir George. Leave Dorothy with me."
+
+Soon, by the command of Sir William, the yeomen rode to the right and to
+the left for the purpose of surrounding the castle, and then I heard Cecil
+at the gates demanding:--
+
+"Open in the name of the queen."
+
+"Let us go to the gates," said Dorothy, "that we may hear what they say
+and see what they do. Will they kill him here, think you?" she asked,
+looking wildly into my face.
+
+The flambeaux on the castle gate and those which the link-boys had brought
+with them from Haddon were lighted, and the scene in front of the gate was
+all aglow.
+
+"No, no, my sweet one," I answered, "perhaps they will not kill him at
+all. Certainly they will not kill him now. They must try him first."
+
+I tried to dissuade her from going to the gates, but she insisted, and I
+helped her to walk forward.
+
+When Dorothy and I reached the gates, we found that Cecil and Lord Rutland
+were holding a consultation through the parley-window. The portcullis was
+still down, and the gates were closed; but soon the portcullis was
+raised, a postern was opened from within, and Sir William entered the
+castle with two score of the yeomen guards.
+
+Sir George approached and again plied Dorothy with questions, but she
+would not speak. One would have thought from her attitude that she was
+deaf and dumb. She seemed unconscious of her father's presence.
+
+"She has lost her mind," said Sir George, in tones of deep trouble, "and I
+know not what to do."
+
+"Leave her with me for a time, cousin. I am sure she will be better if we
+do not question her now."
+
+Then Dorothy seemed to awaken. "Malcolm is right, father. Leave me for a
+time, I pray you."
+
+Sir George left us, and waited with a party of yeomen a short distance
+from the gate for the return of Sir William with his prisoners.
+
+Dorothy and I sat upon a stone bench, near the postern through which Sir
+William and the guardsmen had entered, but neither of us spoke.
+
+After a long, weary time of waiting Sir William came out of the castle
+through the postern, and with him came Mary Stuart. My heart jumped when I
+saw her in the glare of the flambeaux, and the spirit of my dead love for
+her came begging admission to my heart. I cannot describe my sensations
+when I beheld her, but this I knew, that my love for her was dead past
+resurrection.
+
+Following Mary came Lord Rutland, and immediately following his Lordship
+walked John. When he stepped through the postern, Dorothy sprang to her
+feet and ran to him with a cry, "John, John!"
+
+He looked at her in surprise, and stepped toward her with evident intent
+to embrace her. His act was probably the result of an involuntary impulse,
+for he stopped before he reached the girl.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Sir George had gone at Sir William's request to arrange the guards for
+the return march.
+
+Dorothy and John were standing within two yards of each other.
+
+"Do not touch me," cried Dorothy, "save to strike me If you will. The evil
+which has come upon you is of my doing. I betrayed you to the queen."
+
+I saw Mary turn quickly toward the girl when she uttered those words.
+
+"I was insane when I did it," continued Dorothy. "They will take your
+life, John. But when you die I also shall die. It is a poor reparation, I
+know, but it is the only one I can make."
+
+"I do not understand you, Dorothy," said John. "Why should you betray me?"
+
+"I cannot tell you," she answered. "All I know is that I did betray you
+and I hardly know how I did it. It all seems like a dream--like a fearful
+monster of the night. There is no need for me to explain. I betrayed you
+and now I suffer for it, more a thousand-fold than you can possibly
+suffer. I offer no excuse. I have none. I simply betrayed you, and ask
+only that I may die with you."
+
+Then was manifest in John's heart the noblest quality which God has given
+to man--charity, strengthened by reason. His face glowed with a light that
+seemed saintlike, and a grand look of ineffable love and pity came to his
+eyes. He seemed as if by inspiration to understand all that Dorothy had
+felt and done, and he knew that if she had betrayed him she had done it at
+a time when she was not responsible for her acts. He stepped quickly to
+the girl's side, and caring naught that we all should see him, caught her
+to his breast. He held her in his arms, and the light of the flambeaux
+fell upon her upturned face.
+
+"Dorothy," he said, "it matters not what you have done; you are my only
+love. I ask no explanation. If you have betrayed me to death, though I
+hope it will not come to that evil, you did not do it because you did not
+love me."
+
+"No, no, John, you know that," sobbed the girl.
+
+"I do know it, Dorothy; I know all that I wish to know. You would not
+intentionally bring evil upon me while you love me."
+
+"Ah, that I do, John; only God knows how deeply, how desperately. My love
+was the cause--my love was my curse--it was your curse."
+
+"Do not weep, Dorothy," said John, interrupting her. "I would that I could
+take all your suffering upon myself. Do not weep."
+
+Dorothy buried her face upon his breast and tears came to her relief. She
+was not alone in her weeping, for there stood I like a very woman, and by
+my side stood rough old Sir William. Tears were coursing down the bronzed
+cheek of the grand old warrior like drops of glistening dew upon the
+harrowed face of a mountain rock. When I saw Sir William's tears, I could
+no longer restrain my emotions, and I frankly tell you that I made a
+spectacle of myself in full view of the queen's yeoman guard.
+
+Sir George approached our little group, and when he saw Dorothy in John's
+arms, he broke forth into oaths and stepped toward her intending to force
+her away. But John held up the palm of his free hand warningly toward Sir
+George, and drawing the girl's drooping form close to his breast he spoke
+calmly:--
+
+"Old man, if you but lay a finger on this girl, I will kill you where you
+stand. No power on earth can save you."
+
+There was a tone in John's voice that forced even Sir George to pause.
+Then Sir George turned to me.
+
+"This is the man who was in my house. He is the man who called himself
+Thomas. Do you know him?"
+
+Dorothy saved me from the humiliation of an answer.
+
+She took one step from John's side and held him by the hand while she
+spoke.
+
+"Father," she said, "this man is Sir John Manners. Now you may understand
+why he could not seek my hand openly, and you also know why I could not
+tell you his name." She again turned to John, and he put his arm about
+her. You can imagine much better that I can describe Sir George's fury. He
+snatched a halberd from the hands of a yeoman who was standing near by and
+started toward John and Dorothy. Thereupon the hard old warrior, Sir
+William St. Loe, whose heart one would surely say was the last place where
+sentiment could dwell, performed a little act of virtue which will balance
+many a page on the debtor side of his ledger of life. He lifted his sword
+and scabbard and struck Sir George's outstretched hand, causing the
+halberd to fall to the ground.
+
+"Don't touch the girl," cried Sir William, hoarsely.
+
+"She is my daughter," retorted Sir George, who was stunned mentally as
+well as physically by Sir William's blow.
+
+"I care not whose daughter she is," returned Sir William. "You shall not
+touch her. If you make but one other attempt, I will use my blade upon
+you."
+
+Sir William and John had been warm friends at London court, and the old
+captain of the guards quickly guessed the true situation when he saw
+Dorothy run to John's arms.
+
+"Sir, you shall answer for this," said Sir George, angrily, to Sir
+William.
+
+"With pleasure," returned Sir William. "I will give you satisfaction
+whenever you wish it, save this present time. I am too busy now."
+
+Blessed old Sir William! You have been dead these many winters; and were I
+a priest, I would say a mass for your soul gratis every day in the year.
+
+"Did the girl betray us?" asked Queen Mary.
+
+No one answered her question. Then she turned toward Sir John and touched
+him upon the shoulder. He turned his face toward her, signifying that he
+was listening.
+
+"Who is this girl?" Mary demanded.
+
+"My sweetheart, my affianced wife," John answered.
+
+"She says she betrayed us," the queen responded.
+
+"Yes," said John.
+
+"Did you trust her with knowledge of our presence in Rutland?" Mary
+demanded angrily.
+
+"I did," he answered.
+
+"You were a fool," said Mary.
+
+"I know it," responded John.
+
+"You certainly bear her no resentment for her treason," said Mary.
+
+"I certainly do not," quietly answered John. "Her suffering is greater
+than mine. Can you not see that it is?"
+
+"It is your privilege," said Mary, scornfully, "to intrust your own
+secrets to whomsoever you may choose for your confidant, and it is quite
+saintlike in you to forgive this person for betraying you; but what think
+you of the hard case in which her treason and your folly have placed me?"
+
+"That is my greatest grief, save for Dorothy," answered John, softly.
+Lived there ever a man possessed of broader charity or deeper love than
+John? God surely made him of gold dust, not of common clay.
+
+Queen Mary stepped away from John in disgust, and when she turned she saw
+me for the first time. She started and was about to speak, but I placed my
+fingers warningly upon my lips and she remained silent.
+
+"Where do you take us, Sir William?" asked John.
+
+"To Haddon Hall. There you will await the commands of the queen."
+
+"How came you here?" John asked gently of Dorothy.
+
+"I rode Dolcy," she whispered. "She dropped dead at the foot of the hill.
+Yonder she lies. I came up the Lathkil by the long road, and I hoped that
+I might reach you in time to give warning. When the guard left Haddon I
+realized the evil that would come upon you by reason of my base betrayal."
+Here she broke down and for a moment could not proceed in the narrative.
+She soon recovered and continued: "Then I mounted Dolcy, and tried to
+reach here by way of the long road. Poor Dolcy seemed to understand my
+trouble and my despair, and she brought me with all the speed that a horse
+could make; but the road was too long and too rough; and she failed, and I
+failed. Would that I could have died in her place. She gave her life in
+trying to remedy my fault."
+
+Dorothy again began to weep, and John tenderly whispered:--
+
+"All will yet come right" Then he kissed her before us all, and handed her
+to me saying, "Care for her, I pray you, sir."
+
+John spoke a few words to Sir William, and in a moment they both went back
+to the castle.
+
+In a short time the gates were opened, and the Rutland coach drawn by four
+horses emerged from the castle grounds. Sir William then directed Mary and
+Dorothy to enter the coach and requested me to ride with them to Haddon
+Hall.
+
+The yeoman guards were in marching order, and I took my seat in the coach.
+The fates surely were in a humorous mood when they threw Dorothy, Queen
+Mary, and myself together. Pause for a moment and consider the situation.
+You know all the facts and you can analyze it as well as I. I could not
+help laughing at the fantastic trick of destiny.
+
+Soon after I entered the coach Sir William gave the word, and the yeomen
+with Lord Rutland and John moved forward on the road to Haddon.
+
+The coach at once followed the guard and a score of yeomen followed us.
+
+Queen Mary occupied the back seat of the coach, and Dorothy and I sat upon
+the front seat facing her.
+
+Dorothy was exhausted, and her head lay upon my shoulder. Now and again
+she would softly moan and sob, but she said nothing.
+
+After a few minutes of silence Queen Mary spoke:--
+
+"Why did you betray me, you miserable wretch? Why did you betray me?"
+
+Dorothy did not answer. Mary continued:--
+
+"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.
+
+"I can easily believe you," said Mary, sharply. "Did you expect to injure
+me?"
+
+No answer came from Dorothy.
+
+"If you expect to injure me," Mary continued, "you will be disappointed. I
+am a queen, and my Cousin Elizabeth would not dare to harm me, even though
+she might wish to do so. We are of the same blood, and she will not wish
+to do me injury. Your doting lover will probably lose his head for
+bringing me to England without his queen's consent. He is her subject. I
+am not. I wish you joy of the trouble you have brought upon him and upon
+yourself."
+
+"Upon him!" cried Dorothy.
+
+"Yes, upon him," continued Mary, relishing the torture she was inflicting.
+"You will enjoy seeing him beheaded, will you not, you fool, you huzzy,
+you wretch? I hope his death will haunt you till the end of your days."
+
+Poor Dorothy, leaning against me, said faintly:--
+
+"It will--it will. You--you devil."
+
+The girl was almost dead from exhaustion and anguish, but she would have
+been dead indeed had she lacked the power to strike back. I believe had it
+not been for Dorothy's physical weakness she would have silenced Mary with
+her hands.
+
+After a little time Dorothy's heavy breathing indicated that she had
+fallen asleep. Her head rested upon my shoulder, and the delicious perfume
+of her hair and the sweet warm breath from her lips were almost
+intoxicating even to me, though I was not in love with her. How great must
+their effect have been coming upon John hot from her intense young soul!
+
+As the link-boys passed the coach some and some with their flambeaux I
+could see Dorothy's sweet pale face, almost hidden in the tangled golden
+red hair which fell in floods about her. The perfect oval of her cheek,
+the long wet lashes, the arched eyebrows, the low broad forehead, the
+straight nose, the saucy chin--all presented a picture of beauty and
+pathos sufficient to soften a heart of stone. Mary had no heart of any
+sort, therefore she was not moved to pity. That emotion, I am sure, she
+never felt from the first to the last day of her life. She continued to
+probe Dorothy's wound until I told her the girl was asleep. I changed
+Dorothy's position and placed her head against the corner cushion of the
+coach that she might rest more comfortably. She did not awaken when I
+moved her. She slept and looked like a child. For a little time after I
+had changed Dorothy's position Mary and I sat in silence. She was the
+first to speak. She leaned forward and placing her hands upon mine,
+whispered my name:--
+
+"Malcolm!"
+
+After a brief silence I said:--
+
+"What would you, your Majesty?"
+
+"Not 'your Majesty'" said Mary, softly, "but Mary, as of old."
+
+She remained for a moment with her hand upon my knee, and then
+whispered:--
+
+"Will you not sit by me, Malcolm?"
+
+I believe that Mary Stuart's voice was the charm wherewith she fascinated
+men. I resisted to my utmost strength, but that seemed to be little more
+than utter weakness; so I took a seat by her side, and she gently placed
+her hand in mine. The warm touch of her strong, delicate fingers gave me a
+familiar thrill. She asked me to tell her of my wanderings since I had
+left Scotland, and I briefly related all my adventures. I told her of my
+home at Haddon Hall and of the welcome given me by my cousin, Sir George.
+
+"Malcolm, have you forgotten?" she whispered, leaning gently against me.
+"Have you forgotten our old-time vows and love? Have you forgotten all
+that passed between us in the dear old chateau, when I gave to you my
+virgin love, fresh from my virgin heart?" I sighed and tried to harden my
+heart to her blandishments, for I knew she wished to use me and was
+tempting me to that end. She continued, "I was then only fourteen years
+old--ten years ago. You said that you loved me and I believed you. You
+could not doubt, after the proof I gave to you, that my heart was all
+yours. We were happy, oh, so happy. Do you remember, Malcolm?"
+
+She brought her face close to mine while she spoke, and pressed my hand
+upon her breast.
+
+My reason told me that it was but the song of the siren she was singing to
+my ears. My memory told me that she had been false to me twice two score
+times, and I knew full well she would again be false to me, or to any
+other man whom she could use for her purposes, and that she cared not the
+price at which she purchased him. Bear in mind, you who would blame me for
+my fall, that this woman not only was transcendently beautiful and fatally
+fascinating, but she was a queen and had held undisputed sway over my
+heart for more years than I could accurately number. As I said, added to
+all her beauty, she was a queen. If you have never known royalty, you
+cannot understand its enthralling power.
+
+"I remember it all, madam," I replied, trying to hold myself away from
+her. "It is fresh to me as if it all had happened yesterday." The queen
+drew my arm closely to her side and nestled her cheek for an instant upon
+my shoulder.
+
+"I remember also," I continued, "your marriage with Darnley when I had
+your promise that you would marry me; and, shame upon shame, I remember
+your marriage with Darnley's murderer, Bothwell."
+
+"Cruel, cruel, Malcolm," she said. "You well know the overpowering
+reasons of state which impelled me to sacrifice my own happiness by
+marrying Darnley. I told you at the time that I hated the marriage more
+than I dreaded death. But I longed to quiet the factions in Scotland, and
+I hoped to save my poor bleeding people from the evils of war. You know I
+hated Darnley. You know I loved you. You knew then and you know now that
+you are the only man who has ever possessed my heart. You know that my
+words are true. You know that you, alone, have had my love since the time
+when I was a child."
+
+"And Rizzio?" I asked.
+
+"Ah, Malcolm," she answered tearfully, "I hope you, of all men, do not
+believe that I ever gave a thought of love to Rizzio. He was to me like my
+pet monkey or my favorite falcon. He was a beautiful, gentle, harmless
+soul. I loved him for his music. He worshipped me as did my spaniel."
+
+Still I was determined that her blandishments should not move me.
+
+"And Bothwell?" I asked.
+
+"That is past endurance from you, Malcolm," she said, beginning to weep.
+"You know I was brutally abducted and was forced into marriage with him.
+He was an outlaw, an outcast. He was an uncouth brute whom any woman would
+loathe. I was in his power, and I feigned acquiescence only that I might
+escape and achieve vengeance upon him. Tell me, Malcolm, tell me,"
+continued Mary, placing her arms about my neck and clinging to me, "tell
+me, you, to whom I gave my maiden's love, you who have my woman's heart,
+tell me, do you believe that I could willingly have married Bothwell, even
+though my heart had not been filled with the image of you, who are strong,
+gentle, and beautiful?"
+
+You, if you are a man, may think that in my place you would have resisted
+the attack of this beautiful queen, but if so you think--pardon me, my
+friend--you are a fool. Under the spell of her magic influence I wavered
+in the conviction which had long since come upon me, that I had for years
+been her fool and her dupe. I forgot the former lessons I had learned from
+her perfidy. I forgot my manhood. I forgot all of good that had of late
+grown up in me. God help me, I forgot even Madge.
+
+"If I could only believe you, Mary," I answered, growing insane under the
+influence of her fascinations, "If I could only believe you."
+
+"Give me your lips, Malcolm," she whispered, "give me your lips.--Again,
+my Malcolm.--Ah, now you believe me."
+
+The lying logic of a wanton kiss is irresistible. I was drunk and, alas! I
+was convinced. When I think of that time, Samson is my only
+comfort--Samson and a few hundred million other fools, who like Samson and
+me have been wheedled, kissed, and duped into misery and ruin.
+
+I said: "I do believe you, Mary. I beg you to forgive me for having
+doubted you. You have been traduced and brutally misused."
+
+"It is sweet to hear you speak those words. But it is better to think that
+at last we have come together with nothing to part us save that I am a
+prisoner in the hands of my vindictive, jealous cousin. I thank God that
+my kingdom of Scotland has been taken from me. I ever hated the Scots.
+They are an ignorant, unkempt, wry-necked, stubborn, filthy race. But,
+above all, my crown stood between you and me. I may now be a woman, and
+were it not for Elizabeth, you and I could yet find solace in each other
+for all our past sufferings. Malcolm, I have a sweet thought. If I could
+escape to fair, beautiful France, all would be happiness for us. You could
+claim your mother's estates in the balmy south, and we might live upon
+them. Help me, my Malcolm, to escape, and your reward shall be greater and
+sweeter than man ever before received from woman."
+
+I struggled against her blandishments for a moment, but I was lost.
+
+"You shall escape and I will go with you," said I. Man needs to make but
+one little prayer to God, "Lead me not into temptation." That prayer
+answered, all else of good will follow.
+
+The morning sun had just begun to rise over Bowling Green Hill and the
+shadows of the night were fleeing before his lances, when our cavalcade
+entered the grounds of Haddon at the dove-cote. If there were two suns
+revolving about the earth, one to shine upon us by night and one by day,
+much evil would be averted. Men do evil in the dark because others cannot
+see them; they think evil in the dark because they cannot see themselves.
+
+With the first faint gray of dawn there came to me thoughts of Madge. I
+had forgotten her, but her familiar spirit, the light, brought me back to
+its fair mistress.
+
+When our coach reached the stone bridge I looked up to the Hall and saw
+Madge standing at the open casement of the tower window. She had been
+watching there all night, I learned, hoping for our speedy and safe
+return, and had been warned of our approach by the noise of the tramping
+guard. I drew back from the coach window, feeling that I was an evil shade
+slinking away before the spirit of light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+LIGHT
+
+
+Dorothy had awakened while we were entering Rowsley, and I was glad that
+Mary could not touch me again.
+
+When our coach reached the stone steps of the entrance tower we found Sir
+George, Lady Crawford, and Madge waiting to receive us. The steps and the
+path leading to them had been carpeted with soft rugs, and Mary, although
+a prisoner, was received with ceremonies befitting her rank. It was a
+proud day for Sir George when the roof of his beautiful Hall sheltered the
+two most famous queens of christendom.
+
+Sir George assisted Mary from the coach most graciously, and in knightly
+fashion led her to Lady Crawford and Madge, who were standing at the foot
+of the tower steps. Due presentations were made, and the ladies of Haddon
+having kissed the queen's hand, Mary went into the Hall upon the arm of
+his Majesty, the King of the Peak, who stepped forward most proudly.
+
+His resentment against Dorothy was for the moment neutralized by the great
+honor of which his house and himself were the recipients.
+
+John and Lord Rutland were taken to the dungeon.
+
+I assisted Dorothy from the coach and led her to Madge, who was waiting
+for us upon the lowest of the steps leading to the entrance tower doorway.
+Dorothy took Madge's outstretched hand; but Madge, by some strange
+instinct, knowing of my presence, turned her face toward me. I could not
+lift my eyes to her face, nor could I endure to remain in her presence.
+While we were ascending the steps she held out her hand to me and said:--
+
+"Is all well with you, Malcolm?" Her voice was full of tender concern, and
+it pained me to the heart to hear her speak kindly to me, who was so
+unworthy of her smallest thought.
+
+"Yes, Lady--yes, Madge," I responded; but she knew from the tones of my
+voice that all was not right with me.
+
+"I fear, Malcolm, that you do not tell me the truth. You will come to me
+soon?" she asked.
+
+"I may not be able to go to you soon," I answered, "but I will do so at
+the first opportunity."
+
+The torture of her kindness was almost unbearable to me. One touch of her
+hand, one tone of her rare voice, had made me loathe myself. The powers of
+evil cannot stand for one moment in a fair conflict with the powers of
+good. I felt that I, alone, was to blame for my treason to Madge; but
+despite my effort at self-condemnation there was an under-consciousness
+that Mary Stuart was to blame, and I hated her accordingly. Although
+Madge's presence hurt me, it was not because I wished to conceal my
+conduct from her. I knew that I could be happy again only after I had
+confessed to her and had received forgiveness.
+
+Madge, who was blind of sight, led Dorothy, who was piteously blind of
+soul, and the two girls went to their apartments.
+
+Curiosity is not foreign even to the royal female breast, and while Mary
+Stuart was entering Haddon Hall, I saw the luminous head of the Virgin
+Queen peeked out at a casement on the second floor watching her rival with
+all the curiosity of a Dutch woman sitting by her window mirror.
+
+I went to my room in Eagle Tower, fell upon my bed, and abandoned myself
+to an anguish of soul which was almost luxurious. I shall not tease you
+with the details of my mental and moral processes. I hung in the balance a
+long time undetermined what course I should pursue. The difference between
+the influence of Mary and the effect wrought by Madge was the difference
+between the intoxication and the exhilaration of wine. Following the
+intoxication of Mary's presence ever came a torturing reaction, while the
+exhilarating influence of Madge gave health and strength. I chose the
+latter. I have always been glad I reached that determination without the
+aid of any impulse outside of myself; for events soon happened which again
+drove all faith in Mary from my heart forever. Those events would have
+forced me to abandon my trust in her; but mind you, I took my good resolve
+from inclination rather than necessity before I learned of Mary's perfidy.
+
+The events of the night had exhausted Dorothy, and she was confined to her
+bed by illness for the first time in her life. She believed that she was
+dying, and she did not want to live. I did not go to her apartments. Madge
+remained with her, and I, coward-like, feared to face the girl to whom I
+had been untrue.
+
+Dorothy's one and only desire, of course, was to see John, but that desire
+for a time seemed impossible of accomplishment.
+
+Elizabeth, Cecil, Leicester, and Sir William St. Loe were in secret
+consultation many times during three or four days and nights. Occasionally
+Sir George was called into their councils, and that flattering attention
+so wrought upon the old man's pride that he was a slave to the queen's
+slightest wish, and was more tyrannical and dictatorial than ever before
+to all the rest of mankind. There were, however, two persons besides the
+queen before whom Sir George was gracious: one of these was Mary Stuart,
+whose powers of fascination had been brought to bear upon the King of the
+Peak most effectively. The other was Leicester, to whom, as my cousin
+expressed it, he hoped to dispose of that troublesome and disturbing
+body--Dorothy. These influences, together with the fact that his enemies
+of Rutland were in the Haddon dungeon, had given Sir George a spleen-vent,
+and Dorothy, even in the face of her father's discovery that Manners was
+her mysterious lover, had for once a respite from Sir George's just and
+mighty wrath.
+
+The purpose of Elizabeth's many councils of war was to devise some means
+of obtaining from John and his father, information concerning the plot,
+which had resulted in bringing Mary Stuart into England. The ultimate
+purpose of Mary's visit, Elizabeth's counsellors firmly believed to be the
+dethronement of the English queen and the enthronement of her Scottish
+cousin. Elizabeth, in her heart, felt confident that John and his father
+were not parties to the treasonable plot, although she had been warned
+against each of them. Cecil and Sir William St. Loe also secretly held to
+that opinion, though neither of them expressed it, Elizabeth was conscious
+of having given to John while at London court an intimation that she would
+be willing that Mary should visit England. Of such intimation Cecil and
+Sir William had no knowledge, though they, together with many persons of
+the Court, believed that Elizabeth was not entirely averse to Mary's
+presence.
+
+Lord Rutland and John were questioned by Cecil in the hope of obtaining
+some hints which might lead to the detection of those concerned in the
+chief plot, provided such plot existed. But Lord Rutland knew nothing of
+the affair except that John had brought the Scottish queen from Scotland,
+and John persisted in the statement that he had no confederate and that he
+knew nothing of any plot to place Mary upon the English throne.
+
+John said: "I received from Queen Mary's friends in Scotland letters
+asking me to meet her on the border, and requesting me to conduct her to
+my father's castle. Those letters mentioned no Englishman but myself, and
+they stated that Queen Mary's flight to England was to be undertaken with
+the tacit consent of our gracious queen. That fact, the letters told me,
+our queen wished should not be known. There were reasons of state, the
+letters said, which made it impolitic for our queen openly to invite Queen
+Mary to seek sanctuary in England. I received those letters before I left
+Westminster. Upon the day when I received them, I heard our gracious queen
+say that she would gladly invite Queen Mary to England, were it not for
+the fact that such an invitation would cause trouble between her and the
+regent, Murray. Her Majesty at the same time intimated that she would be
+glad if Mary Stuart should come to England uninvited." John turned to
+Elizabeth, "I beg your Majesty, in justice, to ratify my words." Elizabeth
+hesitated for a moment after John's appeal; but her love of justice came
+to her rescue and she hung her head as she said, "You are right, Sir
+John." Then she looked her counsellors in the face and said, "I well
+remember that I so expressed myself."
+
+"In truth," said John, "I having only an hour before received the letter
+from Scotland, believed that your Majesty's words were meant for my ear. I
+felt that your Majesty knew of the letters, and I thought that I should be
+carrying out your royal wishes should I bring Queen Mary into England
+without your knowledge."
+
+The queen responded: "I then felt that I wished Queen Mary to seek refuge
+in my kingdom, but so many untoward events have transpired since I spoke
+on the subject at Westminster that I have good cause to change my mind,
+though I easily understand how you might have been misled by my words."
+
+"I am sure," replied John, "that your Majesty has had good cause to change
+your mind; but I protest in all sincerity that I considered the Scottish
+letters to be a command from my queen."
+
+Elizabeth was a strange combination of paradoxes. No one could be truer
+than she to a fixed determination once taken. No one could be swayed by
+doubt so easily as she to change her mind sixty times in the space of a
+minute. During one moment she was minded to liberate John and Lord
+Rutland; in the next she determined to hold them in prison, hoping to
+learn from them some substantial fact concerning the plot which, since
+Mary's arrival in England, had become a nightmare to her. But, with all
+her vagaries the Virgin Queen surely loved justice. That quality, alone,
+makes a sovereign great. Elizabeth, like her mother, Anne Boleyn, had
+great faith in her personal beauty; like her father, she had unbounded
+confidence in her powers of mind. She took great pride in the ease with
+which she controlled persons. She believed that no one was so adroit as
+Elizabeth Tudor in extracting secrets from others, and in unravelling
+mysterious situations, nor so cunning in hunting out plots and in running
+down plotters. In all such matters she delighted to act secretly and
+alone.
+
+During the numerous councils held at Haddon, Elizabeth allowed Cecil to
+question John to his heart's content; but while she listened she
+formulated a plan of her own which she was sure would be effective in
+extracting all the truth from John, if all the truth had not already been
+extracted. Elizabeth kept her cherished plan to herself. It was this:--
+
+She would visit Dorothy, whom she knew to be ill, and would by her subtle
+art steal from John's sweetheart all that the girl knew of the case. If
+John had told Dorothy part of the affair concerning Mary Stuart, he had
+probably told her all, and Elizabeth felt confident that she could easily
+pump the girl dry. She did not know Dorothy. Accordingly our queen,
+Elizabeth, the adroit, went to Dorothy's room under the pretence of paying
+the girl a gracious visit. Dorothy wished to arise and receive her royal
+guest, but Elizabeth said gently:--
+
+"Do not arise, Dorothy; rest quietly, and I will sit here beside you on
+the bed. I have come to tell you that you must recover your health at
+once. We miss you greatly in the Hall."
+
+No one could be more gracious than Elizabeth when the humor was upon her;
+though, in truth, the humor was often lacking.
+
+"Let us send all save you and me from the room," said the queen, "that we
+may have a quiet little chat together."
+
+All who were in the room save Dorothy and Elizabeth of course departed at
+once.
+
+When the door was closed, the queen said: "I wish to thank you for telling
+me of the presence of her Scottish Majesty at Rutland. You know there is a
+plot on foot to steal my throne from me."
+
+"God forbid that there should be such a plot," replied Dorothy, resting
+upon her elbow in the bed.
+
+"I fear it is only too true that there is such a plot," returned
+Elizabeth, "and I owe you a great debt of gratitude for warning me of the
+Scottish queen's presence in my kingdom."
+
+"I hope the danger will be averted from your Majesty," said Dorothy; "but
+that which I did will cause my death--it will kill me. No human being ever
+before has lived through the agony I have suffered since that terrible
+night. I was a traitress. I betrayed the man who is dearer to me than my
+immortal soul. He says that he forgives me, but your Majesty knows that my
+fault is beyond forgiveness."
+
+"Sir John is a noble gentleman, child," said the queen. "I hope that he is
+loyal to me, but I fear--I fear."
+
+"Do not doubt, do not fear, my queen," returned Dorothy, eagerly; "there
+is nothing false in him."
+
+"Do you love him deeply, little one?" asked the queen.
+
+"No words can tell you my love for him," answered the girl. "I feel shame
+to say that he has taken even the holy God's place in my heart. Perhaps it
+is for that sin that God now punishes me."
+
+"Fear not on that score, Dorothy," replied the queen. "God will not punish
+you for feeling the love which He Himself has put into your heart. I would
+willingly give my crown could I feel such love for a worthy man who would
+in return love me for myself. But I cannot feel, nor can I have faith.
+Self-interest, which is so dominant in all men, frightens me, and I doubt
+their vows."
+
+"Surely, any man would love you for your own sake," said Dorothy,
+tenderly.
+
+"It may be that you speak truly, child; but I cannot know when men's vows
+are true nor when they are false. The real trouble is within myself. If I
+could but feel truly, I could interpret truthfully."
+
+"Ah, your Majesty," interrupted Dorothy, "you do not know the thing for
+which you are wishing; it is a torture worse than death; it is an ecstasy
+sweeter than heaven. It is killing me. I pity you, though you are a queen,
+if you have never felt it."
+
+"Would you do anything I might ask of you, if you could thereby save Sir
+John's life?" asked the queen.
+
+"Ah, I would gladly give my soul to save him," responded Dorothy, with
+tears in her eyes and eagerness in her voice. "Oh, my queen, do not lead
+me to hope, and then plunge me again into despair. Give me no
+encouragement unless you mean to free him. As for my part, take my life
+and spare John's. Kill me by torture, burn me at the stake, stretch me
+upon the rack till my joints are severed and my flesh is torn asunder. Let
+me die by inches, my queen; but spare him, oh, spare him, and do with me
+as you will. Ask from me what you wish. Gladly will I do all that you may
+demand; gladly will I welcome death and call it sweet, if I can thereby
+save him. The faint hope your Majesty's words hold out makes me strong
+again. Come, come, take my life; take all that I can give. Give me him."
+
+"Do you believe that I am an ogress thirsting for blood, Dorothy, that you
+offer me your life for his? You can purchase Sir John's life at a much
+smaller cost." Dorothy rose to the queen with a cry, and put her arms
+about her neck. "You may purchase his freedom," continued the queen, "and
+you may serve your loving queen at one and the same time, if you wish to
+do so."
+
+Dorothy had sunk back into the bed, and Elizabeth was sitting close by her
+side; but when the queen spoke she turned her head on the pillow and
+kissed the royal hand which was resting upon the coverlid.
+
+"Ah, you are so good, so true, and so beautiful," said Dorothy.
+
+Her familiarity toward the queen was sweet to the woman, to whom it was
+new.
+
+Dorothy did not thank the queen for her graciousness. She did not reply
+directly to her offer. She simply said:--
+
+"John has told me many times that he was first attracted to me because I
+resembled you."
+
+The girl had ample faith in her own beauty, and knew full well the subtle
+flattery which lay in her words. "He said," she continued, "that my hair
+in some faint degree resembled yours, but he said it was not of so
+beautiful a hue. I have loved my hair ever since the day he told me that
+it resembled your Majesty's." The girl leaned forward toward the queen and
+gently kissed the royal locks. They no more resembled Dorothy's hair than
+brick dust resembles the sheen of gold.
+
+The queen glanced at the reflection of her hair in the mirror and it
+flatly contradicted Dorothy. But the girl's words were backed by
+Elizabeth's vanity, and the adroit flattery went home.
+
+"Ah, my child," exclaimed her Majesty softly, as she leaned forward and
+kissed Dorothy's fair cheek.
+
+Dorothy wept gently for a moment and familiarly rested her face upon the
+queen's breast. Then she entwined her white arms about Elizabeth's neck
+and turned her glorious eyes up to the queen's face that her Majesty might
+behold their wondrous beauty and feel the flattery of the words she was
+about to utter.
+
+"He said also," continued Dorothy, "that my eyes in some slight degree
+resembled your Majesty's, but he qualified his compliment by telling
+me--he did not exactly tell me that my eyes were not so large and
+brilliant as your Majesty's, for he was making love to me, and of course
+he would not have dared to say that my eyes were not the most perfect on
+earth; but he did say that--at least I know that he meant--that my eyes,
+while they resembled yours, were hardly so glorious, and--and I am very
+jealous of your Majesty. John will be leaving me to worship at your feet."
+
+Elizabeth's eyes were good enough. The French called them "marcassin,"
+that is, wild boar's eyes. They were little and sparkling; they were not
+luminous and large like Dorothy's, and the girl's flattery was rank.
+Elizabeth, however, saw Dorothy's eyes and believed her words rather than
+the reply of the lying mirror, and her Majesty's heart was soft from the
+girl's kneading. Consider, I pray you, the serpent-like wisdom displayed
+by Dorothy's method of attack upon the queen. She did not ask for John's
+liberty. She did not seek it. She sought only to place John softly on
+Elizabeth's heart. Some natures absorb flattery as the desert sands absorb
+the unfrequent rain, and Elizabeth--but I will speak no ill of her. She is
+the greatest and the best sovereign England has ever had. May God send to
+my beloved country others like her. She had many small shortcomings; but I
+have noticed that those persons who spend their evil energies in little
+faults have less force left for greater ones. I will show you a mystery:
+Little faults are personally more disagreeable and rasping to us than
+great ones. Like flying grains of sand upon a windy day, they vex us
+constantly. Great faults come like an avalanche, but they come less
+frequently, and we often admire their possessor, who sooner or later is
+apt to become our destroyer.
+
+"I can hardly tell you," said Dorothy in response to a question by
+Elizabeth, "I can hardly tell you why I informed your Majesty of Queen
+Mary's presence at Rutland. I did it partly for love of your Majesty and
+partly because I was jealous of that white, plain woman from Scotland."
+
+"She is not a plain woman, is she?" said Elizabeth, delighted to hear Mary
+of Scotland so spoken of for once. One way to flatter some women is to
+berate those whom they despise or fear. Elizabeth loved Dorothy better for
+the hatred which the girl bore to Mary. Both stood upon a broad plane of
+mutual sympathy-jealousy of the same woman. It united the queen and the
+maiden in a common heart-touching cause.
+
+Dorothy's confidence grew apace. "She is plain," replied Dorothy,
+poutingly. "She appears plain, colorless, and repulsive by the side of
+your Majesty."
+
+"No, no, Dorothy, that cannot be," returned Queen Elizabeth, gently
+patting. Dorothy's cheek and glancing stealthily at the reflection of her
+own face in the mirror. At this point Dorothy considered that the time had
+come for a direct attack.
+
+"Your Majesty need have no fear of a plot to place Queen Mary upon your
+throne. The English people would not endure her wicked pale face for a
+moment."
+
+"But there is such a plot in existence," said Elizabeth.
+
+"What you say may be true," returned Dorothy; "but, your Majesty, John is
+not in the plot, and he knows nothing of it."
+
+"I hope--I believe--he is not in the plot," said Elizabeth, "but I fear--"
+
+The girl kissed the sleeve of Elizabeth's gown, and then she drew the
+queen closer to her and kissed her hair and her face.
+
+"Ah, my beauteous queen," said Dorothy, "I thank you for those words. You
+must know that John loves you, and is your loyal subject. Take pity upon
+me. Help me. Hold out your gracious hand and lift me from my despair."
+
+Dorothy slipped from the bed and fell on her knees, burying her face in
+the queen's lap.
+
+Elizabeth was touched by the girl's appeal, and caressingly stroked her
+hair, as she said: "I believe he is innocent, but I fear he knows or
+suspects others who harbor treasonable designs. Tell me, Dorothy, do you
+know of any such persons? If you can tell me their names, you will serve
+your queen, and will save your lover. No harm shall come to Sir John, and
+no one save myself shall have knowledge of any word that you may speak. If
+I do not learn the names of the traitors through you or through Sir John,
+I may be compelled to hold him a prisoner until I discover them. If
+through you I learn them, Sir John shall go free at once."
+
+"Gladly, for your Majesty's sake alone would I tell you the names of such
+traitorous men, did I know them;" replied Dorothy, "and thrice gladly
+would I do so if I might thereby liberate John. Your Majesty must see that
+these motives are strong enough to induce me to speak if I knew aught to
+tell you. I would betray the whole world to save him, of that you may be
+sure. But alas! I know no man whom I can betray. John told me nothing of
+his expedition to the Scottish border save what was in two letters which
+he sent to me. One of these I received before he left Rutland, and the
+other after his return."
+
+She fetched the letters to the queen, who read them carefully.
+
+"Perhaps if I were to see him, he might, upon my importunity, tell me all
+he knows concerning the affair and those connected with it if he knows
+anything more than he has already told," said Dorothy, by a great effort
+suppressing her eagerness. "I am sure, your Majesty, he would tell me all
+Should he tell me the names of any persons connected with any treasonable
+plot, I will certainly tell you. It would be base in me again to betray
+John's confidence; but your Majesty has promised me his life and liberty,
+and to obtain those I would do anything, however evil it might be. If I
+may see John, I promise to learn all that he knows, if he knows anything;
+and I also promise to tell you word for word all that he says."
+
+The girl felt safe in making these promises, since she was sure that John
+knew nothing of a treasonable character.
+
+The queen, thinking that she had adroitly led Dorothy up to making the
+offer, said, "I accept the conditions. Be in readiness to visit Sir John,
+upon my command."
+
+Thus the compact was sealed, and the queen, who thought herself wise, was
+used by the girl, who thought herself simple.
+
+For the purpose of hiding her exultation, Dorothy appeared to be ill, but
+when the queen passed out at the door and closed it behind her, the girl
+sprang from the bed and danced around the room as if she were a
+bear-baiter. From the depths of despair she flew to the pinnacle of hope.
+She knew, however, that she must conceal her happiness; therefore she went
+back to bed and waited impatiently the summons of Elizabeth requiring her
+to go to John.
+
+But now I must pause to tell you of my troubles which followed so swiftly
+upon the heels of my fault that I was fairly stunned by them. My narrative
+will be brief, and I shall soon bring you back again to Dorothy.
+
+Queen Mary had no sooner arrived at Haddon Hall than she opened an attack
+upon Leicester, somewhat after the same plan, I suppose, which she had
+followed with me in the coach. She could no more easily resist inviting
+homage from men than a swallow can refrain from flying. Thus, from
+inclination and policy, she sought Leicester and endeavored by the
+pleasant paths of her blandishments to lead him to her cause. There can be
+no doubt concerning Leicester's wishes in the premises. Had Mary's cause
+held elements of success, he would have joined her; but he feared
+Elizabeth, and he hoped some day to share her throne. He would, however,
+prefer to share the throne with Mary.
+
+Mary told him of her plans and hopes. She told him that I had ridden with
+Dorothy for the purpose of rescuing John and herself, and that I had
+promised to help her to escape to France. She told him she would use me
+for her tool in making her escape, and would discard me when once she
+should be safe out of England. Then would come Leicester's turn. Then
+should my lord have his recompense, and together they would regain the
+Scottish crown.
+
+How deeply Leicester became engaged in the plot I cannot say, but this I
+know: through fear of Elizabeth, or for the purpose of winning her favor,
+he unfolded to our queen all the details of Mary's scheme, together with
+the full story of my ride with Dorothy to Rutland, and my return with
+Dorothy and Mary in the coach. Thereupon Mary was placed under strict
+guard. The story spread quickly through the Hall, and Dawson brought it to
+me. On hearing it, my first thought was of Madge. I knew it would soon
+reach her. Therefore I determined to go to her at once and make a clean
+breast of all my perfidy. Had I done so sooner, I should at least have had
+the benefit of an honest, voluntary confession; but my conscience had made
+a coward of me, and the woman who had been my curse for years had so
+completely disturbed my mind that I should have been quite as well off
+without any at all. It led me from one mistake into another.
+
+After Dawson told me that my miserable story was known throughout the
+Hall, I sought Madge, and found her with Aunt Dorothy. She was weeping,
+and I at once knew that I was too late with my confession. I spoke her
+name, "Madge," and stood by her side awaiting her reply.
+
+"Is it true, Malcolm?" she asked. "I cannot believe it till I hear it from
+your lips."
+
+"It was true," I responded. "I promised to help Queen Mary escape, and I
+promised to go with her; but within one hour of the time when I gave my
+word I regretted it as I have never regretted anything else in all my
+life. I resolved that, while I should, according to my promise, help the
+Scottish queen escape, I would not go with her. I resolved to wait here at
+Haddon to tell all to you and to our queen, and then I would patiently
+take my just punishment from each. My doom from the queen, I believed,
+would probably be death; but I feared more your--God help me! It is
+useless for me to speak." Here I broke down and fell upon my knees,
+crying, "Madge, Madge, pity me, pity me! Forgive me if you can, and, if
+our queen decrees it, I shall die happy."
+
+In my desperation I caught the girl's hand, but she drew it quickly from
+me, and said:--
+
+"Do not touch me!"
+
+She arose to her feet, and groped her way to her bedroom. We were in Aunt
+Dorothy's room. I watched Madge as she sought with her outstretched hand
+the doorway; and when she passed slowly through it, the sun of my life
+seemed to turn black. Just as Madge passed from the room, Sir William St.
+Loe, with two yeomen, entered by Sir George's door and placed irons upon
+my wrist and ankles. I was led by Sir William to the dungeon, and no word
+was spoken by either of us.
+
+I had never in my life feared death, and now I felt that I would welcome
+it. When a man is convinced that his life is useless, through the dire
+disaster that he is a fool, he values it little, and is even more than
+willing to lose it.
+
+Then there were three of us in the dungeon,--John, Lord Rutland, and
+myself; and we were all there because we had meddled in the affairs of
+others, and because Dorothy had inherited from Eve a capacity for insane,
+unreasoning jealousy.
+
+Lord Rutland was sitting on the ground in a corner of the dungeon. John,
+by the help of a projecting stone in the masonry, had climbed to the small
+grated opening which served to admit a few straggling rays of light into
+the dungeon's gloom. He was gazing out upon the fair day, whose beauty he
+feared would soon fade away from him forever.
+
+Elizabeth's coldness had given him no hope. It had taken all hope from his
+father.
+
+The opening of the door attracted John's attention, and he turned his face
+toward me when I entered. He had been looking toward the light, and his
+eyes, unaccustomed for the moment to the darkness, failed at first to
+recognize of me. When the dungeon door had closed behind me, he sprang
+down from his perch by the window, and came toward me with outstretched
+hands. He said sorrowfully:--
+
+"Malcolm, have I brought you here, too? Why are you in irons? It seems
+that I am destined to bring calamity upon all whom I love."
+
+"It is a long story," I replied laughingly. "I will tell it to you when
+the time begins to drag; but I tell you now it is through no fault of
+yours that I am here. No one is to blame for my misfortune but myself."
+Then I continued bitterly, "Unless it be the good God who created me a
+fool."
+
+John went to his father's side and said:--
+
+"Sir Malcolm is here, father. Will you not rise and greet him?"
+
+John's voice aroused his father, and the old lord came to the little patch
+of light in which I was standing and said: "A terrible evil has fallen
+upon us, Sir Malcolm, and without our fault. I grieve to learn that you
+also are entangled in the web. The future looks very dark."
+
+"Cheer up, father," said John, taking the old man's hand. "Light will soon
+come; I am sure it will."
+
+"I have tried all my life to be a just man," said Lord Rutland. "I have
+failed at times, I fear, but I have tried. That is all any man can do. I
+pray that God in His mercy will soon send light to you, John, whatever of
+darkness there may be in store for me."
+
+I thought, "He will surely answer this just man's prayer," and almost
+before the thought was completed the dungeon door turned upon its hinges
+and a great light came with glorious refulgence through the open
+portal--Dorothy.
+
+"John!"
+
+Never before did one word express so much of mingled joy and grief. Fear
+and confidence, and, greater than all, love unutterable were blended in
+its eloquent tones. She sprang to John as the lightning leaps from cloud
+to cloud, and he caught her to his heart. He gently kissed her hair, her
+face being hidden in the folds of his doublet.
+
+"Let me kneel, John, let me kneel," she murmured.
+
+"No, Dorothy, no," he responded, holding her closely in his arms.
+
+"But one moment, John," she pleased.
+
+"No, no; let me see your eyes, sweet one," said John, trying to turn her
+face upward toward his own.
+
+"I cannot yet, John, I cannot. Please let me kneel for one little moment
+at your feet."
+
+John saw that the girl would find relief in self-abasement, so he relaxed
+his arms, and she sank to her knees upon the dungeon floor. She wept
+softly for a moment, and then throwing back her head with her old
+impulsive manner looked up into his face.
+
+"Oh, forgive me, John! Forgive me! Not that I deserve your forgiveness,
+but because you pity me."
+
+"I forgave you long ago, Dorothy. You had my full forgiveness before you
+asked it."
+
+He lifted the weeping girl to her feet and the two clung together in
+silence. After a pause Dorothy spoke:--
+
+"You have not asked me, John, why I betrayed you."
+
+"I want to know nothing, Dorothy, save that you love me."
+
+"That you already know. But you cannot know how much I love you. I myself
+don't know. John, I seem to have turned all to love. 'However much there
+is of me, that much there is of love for you. As the salt is in every drop
+of the sea, so love is in every part of my being; but John," she
+continued, drooping her head and speaking regretfully, "the salt in the
+sea is not unmixed with many things hurtful." Her face blushed with shame
+and she continued limpingly: "And my love is not--is not without evil. Oh,
+John, I feel deep shame in telling you, but my love is terribly jealous.
+At times a jealousy comes over me so fierce and so distracting that under
+its influence I am mad, John, mad. I then see nothing in its true light;
+my eyes seem filled with--with blood, and all things appear red or black
+and--and--oh! John, I pray you never again cause me jealousy. It makes a
+demon of me."
+
+You may well know that John was nonplussed.
+
+"I cause you jealousy?" he asked in surprise. "When did I--" But Dorothy
+interrupted him, her eyes flashing darkly and a note of fierceness in her
+voice. He saw for himself the effects of jealousy upon her.
+
+"That white--white Scottish wanton! God's curse be upon her! She tried to
+steal you from me."
+
+"Perhaps she did," replied John, smilingly, "of that I do not know. But
+this I do know, and you, Dorothy, must know it too henceforth and for all
+time to come. No woman can steal my love from you. Since I gave you my
+troth I have been true to you; I have not been false even in one little
+thought."
+
+"I feel sure, John, that you have not been untrue to me," said the girl
+with a faint smile playing about her lips; "but--but you remember the
+strange woman at Bowling Green Gate whom you would have--"
+
+"Dorothy, I hope you have not come to my dungeon for the purpose of making
+me more wretched than I already am?"
+
+"No, no, John, forgive me," she cried softly; "but John, I hate her, I
+hate her! and I want you to promise that you too will hate her."
+
+"I promise," said John, "though, you have had no cause for jealousy of
+Queen Mary."
+
+"Perhaps--not," she replied hesitatingly. "I have never thought," the
+girl continued poutingly, "that you did anything of which I should be
+jealous; but she--she--oh, I hate her! Let us not talk about her. Jennie
+Faxton told me--I will talk about her, and you shall not stop me--Jennie
+Faxton told me that the white woman made love to you and caused you to put
+your arm about her waist one evening on the battlements and-"
+
+"Jennie told you a lie," said John.
+
+"Now don't interrupt me," the girl cried nervously, almost ready for
+tears, "and I will try to tell you all. Jennie told me the--the white
+woman looked up to you this fashion," and the languishing look she gave
+John in imitation of Queen Mary was so beautiful and comical that he could
+do nothing but laugh and cover her face with kisses, then laugh again and
+love the girl more deeply and yet more deeply with each new breath he
+drew. Dorothy was not sure whether she wanted to laugh or to cry, so she
+did both.
+
+"Jennie told me in the middle of the night," continued Dorothy, "when all
+things seem so vivid and appear so distorted and--and that terrible
+blinding jealousy of which I told you came upon me and drove me mad. I
+really thought, John, that I should die of the agony. Oh, John, if you
+could know the anguish I suffered that night you would pity me; you would
+not blame me."
+
+"I do not blame you, Dorothy."
+
+"No, no, there-" she kissed him softly, and quickly continued: "I felt
+that I must separate her from you at all cost. I would have done murder to
+accomplish my purpose. Some demon whispered to me, 'Tell Queen Elizabeth,'
+and--and oh, John, let me kneel again."
+
+"No, no, Dorothy, let us talk of something else," said John, soothingly.
+
+"In one moment, John. I thought only of the evil that would come to
+her--her of Scotland. I did not think of the trouble I would bring to
+you, John, until the queen, after asking me if you were my lover, said
+angrily: 'You may soon seek another.' Then, John, I knew that I had also
+brought evil upon you. Then I _did_ suffer. I tried to reach Rutland, and
+you know all else that happened on that terrible night. Now John, you know
+all--all. I have withheld nothing. I have, confessed all, and I feel that
+a great weight is taken from my heart. You will not hate me, will you,
+John?"
+
+He caught the girl to his breast and tried to turn her face toward his.
+
+"I could not hate you if I would," he replied, with quick-coming breath,
+"and God knows I would not. To love you is the sweetest joy in life," and
+he softly kissed the great lustrous eyes till they closed as if in sleep.
+Then he fiercely sought the rich red lips, waiting soft and passive for
+his caresses, while the fair head fell back upon the bend of his elbow in
+a languorous, half-conscious sweet surrender to his will. Lord Rutland and
+I had turned our backs on the shameless pair, and were busily discussing
+the prospect for the coming season's crops.
+
+Remember, please, that Dorothy spoke to John of Jennie Faxton. Her doing
+so soon bore bitter fruit for me.
+
+Dorothy had been too busy with John to notice any one else, but he soon
+presented her to his father. After the old lord had gallantly kissed her
+hand, she turned scornfully to me and said:--
+
+"So you fell a victim to her wanton wiles? If it were not for Madge's
+sake, I could wish you might hang."
+
+"You need not balk your kindly desire for Madge's sake," I answered. "She
+cares little about my fate. I fear she will never forgive me."
+
+"One cannot tell what a woman will do," Dorothy replied. "She is apt to
+make a great fool of herself when it comes to forgiving the man she
+loves."
+
+"Men at times have something to forgive," I retorted, looking with a
+smile toward John. The girl made no reply, but took John's hand and looked
+at him as if to say, "John, please don't let this horrid man abuse me."
+
+"But Madge no longer cares for me," I continued, wishing to talk upon the
+theme, "and your words do not apply to her."
+
+The girl turned her back disdainfully on me and said, "You seem to be
+quite as easily duped by the woman who loves you and says she doesn't as
+by the one who does not care for you but says she does."
+
+"Damn that girl's tongue!" thought I; but her words, though biting,
+carried joy to my heart and light to my soul.
+
+After exchanging a few words with Lord Rutland, Dorothy turned to John and
+said:--
+
+"Tell me upon your knightly honor, John, do you know aught of a wicked,
+treasonable plot to put the Scottish woman on the English throne?"
+
+I quickly placed my finger on my lips and touched my ear to indicate that
+their words would be overheard; for a listening-tube connected the dungeon
+with Sir George's closet.
+
+"Before the holy God, upon my knighthood, by the sacred love we bear each
+other, I swear I know of no such plot," answered John. "I would be the
+first to tell our good queen did I suspect its existence."
+
+Dorothy and John continued talking upon the subject of the plot, but were
+soon interrupted by a warning knock upon the dungeon door.
+
+Lord Rutland, whose heart was like twenty-two carat gold, soft, pure, and
+precious, kissed Dorothy's hand when she was about to leave, and said:
+"Dear lady, grieve not for our sake. I can easily see that more pain has
+come to you than to us. I thank you for the great fearless love you bear
+my son. It has brought him trouble, but it is worth its cost. You have my
+forgiveness freely, and I pray God's choicest benediction may be with
+you." She kissed the old lord and said, "I hope some day to make you love
+me."
+
+"That will be an easy task," said his Lordship, gallantly. Dorothy was
+about to leave. Just at the doorway she remembered the chief purpose of
+her visit; so she ran back to John, put her hand over his mouth to insure
+silence, and whispered in his ear.
+
+On hearing Dorothy's whispered words, signs of joy were so apparent in
+John's face that they could not be mistaken. He said nothing, but kissed
+her hand and she hurriedly left the dungeon.
+
+After the dungeon door closed upon Dorothy, John went to his father and
+whispered a few words to him. Then he came to me, and in the same
+secretive manner said:--
+
+"The queen has promised Dorothy our liberty." I was not at all sure that
+"our liberty" included me,--I greatly doubted it,--but I was glad for the
+sake of my friends, and, in truth, cared little for myself.
+
+Dorothy went from our dungeon to the queen, and that afternoon, according
+to promise, Elizabeth gave orders for the release of John and his father.
+Sir George, of course, was greatly chagrined when his enemies slipped from
+his grasp; but he dared not show his ill humor in the presence of the
+queen nor to any one who would be apt to enlighten her Majesty on the
+subject.
+
+Dorothy did not know the hour when her lover would leave Haddon; but she
+sat patiently at her window till at last John and Lord Rutland appeared.
+She called to Madge, telling her of the joyous event, and Madge, asked:--
+
+"Is Malcolm with them?"
+
+"No," replied Dorothy, "he has been left in the dungeon, where he
+deserves to remain."
+
+After a short pause, Madge said:--
+
+"If John had acted toward the Scottish queen as Malcolm did, would you
+forgive him?"
+
+"Yes, of course. I would forgive him anything."
+
+"Then why shall we not forgive Malcolm?" asked Madge.
+
+"Because he is not John," was the absurd reply.
+
+"No," said Madge, promptly; "but he is 'John' to me."
+
+"That is true," responded Dorothy, "and I will forgive him if you will."
+
+"I don't believe it makes much difference to Malcolm whether or not you
+forgive him," said Madge, who was provoked at Dorothy's condescending
+offer. "My forgiveness, I hope, is what he desires."
+
+"That is true, Madge," replied Dorothy, laughingly; "but may not I, also,
+forgive him?"
+
+"If you choose," responded Madge, quietly; "as for me, I know not what I
+wish to do."
+
+You remember that Dorothy during her visit to the dungeon spoke of Jennie
+Faxton. The girl's name reached Sir George's ear through the
+listening-tube and she was at once brought in and put to the question.
+
+Jennie, contrary to her wont, became frightened and told all she knew
+concerning John and Dorothy, including my part in their affairs. In Sir
+George's mind, my bad faith to him was a greater crime than my treason to
+Elizabeth, and he at once went to the queen with his tale of woe.
+
+Elizabeth, the most sentimental of women, had heard from Dorothy the story
+of her tempestuous love, and also of mine, and the queen was greatly
+interested in the situation.
+
+I will try to be brief.
+
+Through the influence of Dorothy and Madge, as I afterward learned, and
+by the help of a good word from Cecil, the queen was induced to order my
+liberation on condition that I should thenceforth reside in France. So one
+morning, three days after John's departure from Haddon, I was overjoyed to
+hear the words, "You are free."
+
+I did not know that Jennie Faxton had given Sir George her large stock of
+disturbing information concerning my connection with the affairs of
+Dorothy and John. So when I left the dungeon, I, supposing that my stormy
+cousin would be glad to forgive me if Queen Elizabeth would, sought and
+found him in Aunt Dorothy's room. Lady Crawford and Sir George were
+sitting near the fire and Madge was standing near the door in the next
+room beyond. When I entered, Sir George sprang to his feet and cried out
+angrily:--
+
+"You traitorous dog, the queen has seen fit to liberate you, and I cannot
+interfere with her orders; but if you do not leave my Hall at once I shall
+set the hounds on you. Your effects will be sent to The Peacock, and the
+sooner you quit England the safer you will be." There was of course
+nothing for me to do but to go.
+
+"You once told me, Sir George--you remember our interview at The
+Peacock--that if you should ever again order me to leave Haddon, I should
+tell you to go to the devil. I now take advantage of your kind permission,
+and will also say farewell."
+
+I kissed Aunt Dorothy's cheek, took my leave, and sought Cecil, from whom
+I obtained a passport to France. Then I asked Dawson to fetch my horse.
+
+I longed to see Madge before I left Haddon, but I knew that my desire
+could not be gratified; so I determined to stop at Rowsley and send back a
+letter to her which Dawson undertook to deliver. In my letter I would ask
+Madge's permission to return for her from France and to take her home
+with me as my wife. After I had despatched my letter I would wait at The
+Peacock for an answer.
+
+Sore at heart, I bade good-by to Dawson, mounted my horse, and turned his
+head toward the Dove-cote Gate. As I rode under Dorothy's window she was
+sitting there. The casement was open, for the day was mild, although the
+season was little past midwinter. I heard her call to Madge, and then she
+called to me:--
+
+"Farewell, Malcolm! Forgive me for what I said to you in the dungeon. I
+was wrong, as usual. Forgive me, and God bless you. Farewell!"
+
+While Dorothy was speaking, and before I replied, Madge came to the open
+casement and called:--
+
+"Wait for me, Malcolm, I am going down to you."
+
+Great joy is a wonderful purifier, and Madge's cry finished the work of
+the past few months and made a good man of me, who all my life before had
+known little else than evil.
+
+Soon Madge's horse was led by a groom to the mounting block, and in a few
+minutes she emerged gropingly from the great door of Entrance Tower.
+Dorothy was again a prisoner in her rooms and could not come down to bid
+me farewell. Madge mounted, and the groom led her horse to me and placed
+the reins in my hands.
+
+"Is it you, Malcolm?" asked Madge.
+
+"Yes," I responded, in a voice husky with emotion. "I cannot thank you
+enough for coming to say farewell. You have forgiven me?"
+
+"Yes," responded Madge, almost in tears, "but I have not come to say
+farewell."
+
+I did not understand her meaning.
+
+"Are you going to ride part of the way with me--perhaps to Rowsley?" I
+asked, hardly daring to hope for so much.
+
+"To France, Malcolm, if you wish to take me," she responded murmuringly.
+
+For a little time I could not feel the happiness that had come upon me in
+so great a flood. But when I had collected my scattered senses, I said:--
+
+"I thank God that He has turned your heart again to me. May I feel His
+righteous anger if ever I give you cause to regret the step you are
+taking."
+
+"I shall never regret it, Malcolm," she answered softly, as she held out
+her hand to me.
+
+Then we rode by the dove-cote, out from Haddon Hall, never to see its
+walls again.
+
+We went to Rutland, whence after a fortnight we journeyed to France. There
+I received my mother's estates, and never for one moment, to my knowledge,
+has Madge regretted having intrusted her life and happiness to me. I need
+not speak for myself.
+
+Our home is among the warm, sunlit, vine-covered hills of southern France,
+and we care not for the joys of golden streets so long as God in His
+goodness vouchsafes to us our earthly paradise. Age, with the heart at
+peace, is the fairest season of life; and love, leavened of God, robs even
+approaching death of his sting and makes for us a broad flower-strewn path
+from the tempestuous sea of time to the calm, sweet ocean of eternity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE
+
+
+I shall now tell you of the happenings in Haddon Hall during the fortnight
+we spent at Rutland before our departure for France.
+
+We left Dorothy, you will remember, a prisoner in her rooms.
+
+After John had gone Sir George's wrath began to gather, and Dorothy was
+not permitted to depart from the Hall for even a walk upon the terrace,
+nor could she leave her own apartments save when the queen requested her
+presence.
+
+A few days after my departure from Haddon, Sir George sent Dawson out
+through the adjoining country to invite the nobility and gentry to a grand
+ball to be given at the Hall in honor of Queen Elizabeth. Queen Mary had
+been sent a prisoner to Chatsworth.
+
+Tom Shaw, the most famous piper of his times, and a choice company of
+musicians to play with him were hired for the occasion, and, in short, the
+event was so glorious that its wonders have been sung in minstrelsy
+throughout Derbyshire ever since.
+
+Dorothy's imprisonment saddened Leicester's heart, and he longed to see
+her, for her beauty had touched him nearly. Accordingly, the earl one day
+intimated to Sir George his wish in terms that almost bespoke an intention
+to ask for the girl's hand when upon proper opportunity the queen's
+consent might be sought and perchance obtained. His equivocal words did
+not induce Sir George to grant a meeting by which Dorothy might be
+compromised; but a robust hope for the ultimate accomplishment of the
+"Leicester possibility" was aroused in the breast of the King of the Peak,
+and from hope he could, and soon did, easily step to faith. He saw that
+the earl was a handsome man, and he believed, at least he hoped, that the
+fascinating lord might, if he were given an opportunity, woo Dorothy's
+heart away from the hated scion of a hated race. Sir George, therefore,
+after several interviews with the earl, grew anxious to give his Lordship
+an opportunity to win her. But both Sir George and my lord feared
+Elizabeth's displeasure, and the meeting between Leicester and the girl
+seemed difficult to contrive. Sir George felt confident that Dorothy
+could, if she would, easily capture the great lord in a few private
+interviews; but would she? Dorothy gave her father no encouragement in the
+matter, and took pains to shun Leicester rather than to seek him.
+
+As Dorothy grew unwilling, Leicester and Sir George grew eager, until at
+length the latter felt that it was almost time to exert his parental
+authority. He told Aunt Dorothy his feeling on the subject, and she told
+her niece. It was impossible to know from what source Dorothy might draw
+inspiration for mischief. It came to her with her father's half-command
+regarding Leicester.
+
+Winter had again asserted itself. The weather was bitter cold and snow
+covered the ground to the depth of a horse's fetlock.
+
+The eventful night of the grand ball arrived, and Dorothy's heart throbbed
+till she thought surely it would burst.
+
+At nightfall guests began to arrive, and Sir George, hospitable soul that
+he was, grew boisterous with good humor and delight.
+
+The rare old battlements of Haddon were ablaze with flambeaux, and inside
+the rooms were alight with waxen tapers. The long gallery was brilliant
+with the smiles of bejewelled beauty, and laughter, song, and merriment
+filled the grand old Hall from terrace to Entrance Tower. Dorothy, of
+course, was brought down from her prison to grace the occasion with a
+beauty which none could rival. Her garments were of soft, clinging,
+bright-colored silks and snowy laces, and all who saw her agreed that a
+creature more radiant never greeted the eye of man.
+
+When the guests had all arrived, the pipers in the balcony burst forth in
+heart-swelling strains of music, and every foot in the room longed for the
+dance to begin.
+
+I should like to tell you how Elizabeth most graciously opened the ball
+with his Majesty, the King of the Peak, amid the plaudits of worshipping
+subjects, and I should enjoy describing the riotous glory which
+followed,--for although I was not there, I know intimately all that
+happened,--but I will balk my desire and tell you only of those things
+which touched Dorothy.
+
+Leicester, of course, danced with her, and during a pause in the figure,
+the girl in response to pleadings which she had adroitly incited,
+reluctantly promised to grant the earl the private interview he so much
+desired if he could suggest some means for bringing it about. Leicester
+was in raptures over her complaisance and glowed with triumph and
+delightful anticipation. But he could think of no satisfactory plan
+whereby his hopes might be brought to a happy fruition. He proposed
+several, but all seemed impracticable to the coy girl, and she rejected
+them. After many futile attempts he said:--
+
+"I can suggest no good plan, mistress. I pray you, gracious lady,
+therefore, make full to overflowing the measure of your generosity, and
+tell me how it may be accomplished."
+
+Dorothy hung her head as if in great shame and said: "I fear, my lord, we
+had better abandon the project for a time. Upon another occasion
+perhaps--"
+
+"No, no," interrupted the earl, pleadingly, "do not so grievously
+disappoint me. My heart yearns to have you to myself for one little moment
+where spying eyes cannot see nor prying ears hear. It is cruel in you to
+raise my hopes only to cast them down. I beg you, tell me if you know in
+what manner I may meet you privately."
+
+After a long pause, Dorothy with downcast eyes said, "I am full of shame,
+my lord, to consent to this meeting, and then find the way to it,
+but--but--" ("Yes, yes, my Venus, my gracious one," interrupted the
+earl)--"but if my father would permit me to--to leave the Hall for a few
+minutes, I might--oh, it is impossible, my lord. I must not think of it."
+
+"I pray you, I beg you," pleaded Leicester. "Tell me, at least, what you
+might do if your father would permit you to leave the Hall. I would gladly
+fall to my knees, were it not for the assembled company."
+
+With reluctance in her manner and gladness in her heart, the girl said:--
+
+"If my father would permit me to leave the Hall, I might--only for a
+moment, meet you at the stile, in the northeast corner of the garden back
+of the terrace half an hour hence. But he would not permit me, and--and,
+my lord, I ought not to go even should father consent."
+
+"I will ask your father's permission for you. I will seek him at once,"
+said the eager earl.
+
+"No, no, my lord, I pray you, do not," murmured Dorothy, with distracting
+little troubled wrinkles in her forehead. Her trouble was more for fear
+lest he would not than for dread that he would.
+
+"I will, I will," cried his Lordship, softly; "I insist, and you shall not
+gainsay me."
+
+The girl's only assent was silence, but that was sufficient for so
+enterprising a gallant as the noble Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. So
+he at once went to seek Sir George.
+
+The old gentleman, although anxious to give Leicester a chance to press
+his suit with Dorothy, at first refused, but Leicester said:--
+
+"My intentions are honorable, Sir George. If I can win your daughter's
+heart, it is my wish, if the queen's consent can be obtained, to ask
+Mistress Vernon's hand in marriage."
+
+Sir George's breast swelled with pride and satisfaction, for Leicester's
+words were as near an offer of marriage as it was in his power to make. So
+the earl received, for Dorothy, permission to leave the Hall, and eagerly
+carried it to her.
+
+"Your father consents gladly," said the earl. "Will you meet me half an
+hour hence at the stile?"
+
+"Yes," murmured the girl, with shamelessly cast down eyes and drooping
+head. Leicester bowed himself away, and fully fifteen minutes before the
+appointed time left the Hall to wait in the cold at the stile for Dorothy.
+
+Before the expiration of the tedious half hour our meek maiden went to her
+father and with deep modesty and affected shame said:--
+
+"Father, is it your wish that I go out of the Hall for a few minutes to
+meet--to meet--" She apparently could not finish the sentence, so modest
+and shame-faced was she.
+
+"Yes, Doll, I wish you to go on this condition: if Leicester asks you to
+marry him, you shall consent to be his wife."
+
+"I promise, father," replied the dutiful girl, "if Lord Leicester asks me
+this night, I will be his wife."
+
+"That is well, child, that is well. Once more you are my good, obedient
+daughter, and I love you. Wear your sable cloak, Doll; the weather is very
+cold out of doors."
+
+Her father's solicitude touched her nearly, and she gently led him to a
+secluded alcove near by, threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him
+passionately. The girl's affection was sweet to the old man who had been
+without it so long, and his eyes grew moist as he returned her caresses.
+Dorothy's eyes also were filled with tears. Her throat was choked with
+sobs, and her heart was sore with pain. Poor young heart! Poor old man!
+
+Soon after Dorothy had spoken with her father she left the Hall by
+Dorothy's Postern. She was wrapped in her sable cloak--the one that had
+saved John's life in Aunt Dorothy's room; but instead of going across the
+garden to the stile where Lord Leicester was waiting, which was north and
+east of the terrace, she sped southward down the terrace and did not stop
+till she reached the steps which led westward to the lower garden. She
+stood on the terrace till she saw a man running toward her from the
+postern in the southwest corner of the lower garden. Then down the steps
+she sped with winged feet, and outstretching her arms, fell upon the man's
+breast, whispering: "John, my love! John, my love!"
+
+As for the man--well, during the first minute or two he wasted no time in
+speech.
+
+When he spoke he said:--
+
+"We must not tarry here. Horses are waiting at the south end of the
+footbridge. Let us hasten away at once."
+
+Then happened the strangest of all the strange things I have had to record
+of this strange, fierce, tender, and at time almost half-savage girl.
+
+Dorothy for months had longed for that moment. Her heart had almost burst
+with joy when a new-born hope for it was suggested by the opportunities of
+the ball and her father's desire touching my lord of Leicester. But now
+that the longed-for moment was at hand, the tender heart, which had so
+anxiously awaited it, failed, and the girl broke down weeping
+hysterically.
+
+"Oh, John, you have forgiven so many faults in me," she said between
+sobs, "that I know you will forgive me when I tell you I cannot go with
+you to-night. I thought I could and I so intended when I came out here to
+meet you. But oh, John, my dearest love, I cannot go; I cannot go. Another
+time I will go with you, John. I promise that I will go with you soon,
+very soon, John; but I cannot go now, oh, I cannot. You will forgive me,
+won't you, John? You will forgive me?"
+
+"No," cried John in no uncertain tones, "I will not forgive you. I will
+take you. If you cry out, I will silence you." Thereupon he rudely took
+the girl in his arms and ran with her toward the garden gate near the
+north end of the stone footbridge.
+
+"John, John!" she cried in terror. But he placed his hand over her mouth
+and forced her to remain silent till they were past the south wall. Then
+he removed his hand and she screamed and struggled against him with all
+her might. Strong as she was, her strength was no match for John's, and
+her struggles were in vain.
+
+John, with his stolen bride, hurriedly crossed the footbridge and ran to
+the men who were holding the horses. There he placed Dorothy on her feet
+and said with a touch of anger:--
+
+"Will you mount of your own will or shall I put you in the saddle?"
+
+"I'll mount of my own will, John," she replied submissively, "and John,
+I--I thank you, I thank you for--for--" she stopped speaking and toyed
+with the tufts of fur that hung from the edges of her cloak.
+
+"For what, my love? For what do you thank me?" asked John after a little
+pause.
+
+"For making--me--do--what I--I longed to do. My conscience would not let
+me do it of my own free will."
+
+Then tears came from her eyes in a great flood, and throwing her arms
+about John's neck she gave him herself and her heart to keep forever and
+forever.
+
+And Leicester was shivering at the stile! The girl had forgotten even the
+existence of the greatest lord in the realm.
+
+My wife, Lord Rutland, and I waited in the watch-room above the castle
+gates for the coming of Dorothy and John; and when they came--but I will
+not try to describe the scene. It were a vain effort. Tears and laughter
+well compounded make the sweetest joy; grief and joy the truest happiness;
+happiness and pain the grandest soul, and none of these may be described.
+We may analyze them, and may take them part from part; but, like love,
+they cannot be compounded. We may know all the component parts, but when
+we try to create these great emotions in description, we lack the subtle
+compounding flux to unite the ingredients, and after all is done, we have
+simply said that black is black and that white is white.
+
+Next day, in the morning, Madge and I started for our new home in France.
+We rode up the hill down which poor Dolcy took her last fatal plunge, and
+when we reached the crest, we paused to look back. Standing on the
+battlements, waving a kerchief in farewell to us, was the golden-crowned
+form of a girl. Soon she covered her face with her kerchief, and we knew
+she was weeping Then we, also, wept as we turned away from the fair
+picture; and since that far-off morning--forty long, long years ago--we
+have not seen the face nor heard the voice of our sweet, tender friend.
+Forty years! What an eternity it is if we tear it into minutes!
+
+
+
+
+L'ENVOI
+
+
+The fire ceases to burn; the flames are sucked back into the earth; the
+doe's blood has boiled away; the caldron cools, and my shadowy friends--so
+real to me--whom I love with a passionate tenderness beyond my power to
+express, have sunk into the dread black bank of the past, and my poor,
+weak wand is powerless to recall them for the space of even one fleeting
+moment. So I must say farewell to them; but all my life I shall carry a
+heart full of tender love and pain for the fairest, fiercest, gentlest,
+weakest, strongest of them all--Dorothy Vernon.
+
+
+
+
+MALCOLM POSSIBLY IN ERROR
+
+
+Malcolm Vernon is the only writer on the life of Dorothy Vernon who speaks
+of Rutland Castle. All others writing on the subject say that Belvoir
+Castle was the home of the Earl of Rutland.
+
+No other writer mentions the proposed marriage, spoken of by Malcolm,
+between Dorothy and Lord Derby's son. They do, however, say that Dorothy
+had an elder sister who married a Stanley, but died childless, leaving
+Dorothy sole heiress to Sir George Vernon's vast estate.
+
+All writers agree with Malcolm upon the main fact that brave Dorothy
+eloped with John Manners and brought to him the fair estate of Haddon,
+which their descendant, the present Duke of Rutland, now possesses.
+
+No other writer speaks of Mary Stuart having been at Haddon, and many
+chroniclers disagree with Malcolm as to the exact date of her imprisonment
+in Lochleven and her escape.
+
+In all other essential respects the history of Dorothy Vernon as told by
+Malcolm agrees with other accounts of her life.
+
+I do not pretend to reconcile the differences between these great
+historical authorities, but I confess to considerable faith in Malcolm.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall, by Charles Major
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOROTHY VERNON OF HADDON HALL ***
+
+***** This file should be named 14671.txt or 14671.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/6/7/14671/
+
+Produced by Rick Niles, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/old/14671.zip b/old/14671.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2b37229
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/14671.zip