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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 & 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'> </td> +<td align='left'> </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'> </td> +<td align='left'> </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—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.</p> +<p>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.<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—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.</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—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.</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—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—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 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.</p> +<p>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 <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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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:—</p> +<p>"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.</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:—</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—"</p> +<p>"I do insist," I replied. "Perhaps you will not care for supper +when I have—"</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:—</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—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—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:—</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—</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—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.</p> +<p>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, <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:—</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—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—"</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—" 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—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—"</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—that—" 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!—" 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.</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—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:—</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—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—"</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—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—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 François 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—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—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."</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—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:—</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—not—learn—his—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:—</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—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:—</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—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—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:—</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,—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 <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—" 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—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—by my willingness to forgive those who +have injured my house. I did not know there was so much—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—" 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—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."</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—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—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 <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—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—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.</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—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—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—"</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—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—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,—spectacles, I think they are called,—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,—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—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—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,—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,—father and son,—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:—</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—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—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.</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—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—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—"</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—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—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—"</p> +<p>"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."</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:—</p> +<p>"We have not consulted Dorothy. Perhaps her +inclinations—"</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—I—"</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—"</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—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—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."</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—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—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—meet—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—Overhaddon—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—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—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."</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—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—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.'"</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—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."</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—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—I knew what you +said—but—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:—</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—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:—</p> +<p>"I—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:—</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—"</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:—</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—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—" 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—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:—</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—"</p> +<p>"<a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>Holy Virgin!" exclaimed +Dorothy, pale with fear and consternation. "Did you—"</p> +<p>"No, I did not betray you, but I came perilously near it."</p> +<p>"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—"</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—"</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—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.</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—saw him at Overhaddon, you know, I went to the village +on each of three days—"</p> +<p>"Yes, I know that also," I said.</p> +<p>"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 <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—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."</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—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—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.<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—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.'—'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?"</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—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—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—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."</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—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."</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'—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."</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:—</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—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.</p> +<p>"Dorothy," said I, seriously but kindly, "have you and Sir John +spoken of—"</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—I think—at least I +hope with all my heart that—"</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—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—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:—</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—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,—a fortnight or a month—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"—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."</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—"</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:—</p> +<p>"Does my daughter speak the truth? Did you say—"</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—you traitorous, +ungrateful—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—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—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:—"I do not +wonder that you should wish to marry Dorothy. She—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>"—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—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.</p> +<p>Then spoke Madge, while she tried to check the falling +tears:—"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,—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—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—" 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—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.</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—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.</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,—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 château.</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—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—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:—</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:—</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—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—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—I thank you, gracious lady, for coming. I do not <a name= +"Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>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.</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:—</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—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—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."</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—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—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."</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—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—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—"</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:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"'To SIR JOHN MANNERS:—</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—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,</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:—</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—mine <a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a>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."</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—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 <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—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.</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—" 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 François 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 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."</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:—</p> +<p>"Sir François de Lorraine? That is the name of the Grand +Duc de Guise, but surely—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:—</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—Dorothy and John, Madge and I! Our real reason for +separating was—but you understand.</p> +<p>Madge's hand lay like a span of snow upon my arm, and—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:—</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—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:—</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:—</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:—</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—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—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 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.</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:—</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—"</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—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:—</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—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—"</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:—</p> +<p>"Drive to Conn's shop."</p> +<p>I heard Tod say to his worthy master:—</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—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.</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—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.</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:—</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—"</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—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."</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,—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 <a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a>the +words sound even at this distance of time!—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—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.</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—she +soon—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—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—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."</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—"</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—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—"</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—"</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—"</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—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—"</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—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.</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—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 <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—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—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,—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—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 +<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—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—I +am—that is, my thanks are more than I—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—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."</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—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—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—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."</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—I adore you. Give me your lips, my beauty, +my Aphrodite, my queen!"</p> +<p>"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 <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—wait for me till—"</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—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:—</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—I—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:—</p> +<p>"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 +<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:—</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—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—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."</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.—"</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—"</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—"</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:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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—" 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:—</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—" 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—" 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:—</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—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:—</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—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—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—that +he—"</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:—</p> +<p>"How did you know he had been smoking?"</p> +<p>"I—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—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—after—once," responded Dorothy.</p> +<p>"And your arm," continued remorseless Madge, "how came he to +speak of it? You surely did not—"</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—'"</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:—</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,—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.</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—ah—perhaps I prefer the—the ah—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—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—"</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."—"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—"</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—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—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."</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:—</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—" 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:—</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—Dorothy!" screamed +the old lady in terror. "That girl!!—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,—Dorothy's escape,—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—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!"</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—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."</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:—</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—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—or she—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—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—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.</p> +<p>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 <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:—</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—"</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:—</p> +<p>"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."</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—a lady and—"</p> +<p>"I hope also to meet a—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—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."</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—I have been here before this night to +meet—"</p> +<p>"And I have been here to meet—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—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—"</p> +<p>"What do you know about Mistress Vernon?" cried John. "By God, I +will—"</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—oh, I mean Mistress<a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a> +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."</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—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.</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—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—as there are hairs in my +beard."</p> +<p>"That is not many," interrupted John.</p> +<p>"And," continued the girl, "I believe, John,—Sir +John,—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—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—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.—"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—much easier than it would be for me—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—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—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"—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.</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—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—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:—</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:—</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:—</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—I—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—"</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—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:—</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:—</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—to—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, naïvely, "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—when it happens so suddenly that—"</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—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."</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—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—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—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—do not +altogether <a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a>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."</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,—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."</p> +<p>"How thankful should I be, Dorothy. I have never known you till +this night. I am unworthy—"</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—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,—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."</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—"</p> +<p>"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,<a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a> 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."</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—that sort of a man?" asked Dorothy, +half in revery. "I have always heard—" and she hesitated.</p> +<p>"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?"</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—be your—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—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.</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—ah, then—" 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:—</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—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—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—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—"</p> +<p>She ceased speaking and sought refuge in silent feminine +eloquence—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—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—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—in silence at +least—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:—</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—God help me—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:—</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—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—"</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—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.</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—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:—</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—"</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—"</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—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—"</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:—</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:—</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—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:—</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:—</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:—</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,—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—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.</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—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.</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—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—only a few, I +pray you—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—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 Phœbus 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:—</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—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:—</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:—</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—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.</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—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—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.</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:—</p> +<p>"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.</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:—</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:—</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—"</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—again I grieve to tell +you this—said:—</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—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:—</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—"</p> +<p>"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:—</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—"</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—" 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:—</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—how frequently you have met him God only +knows—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—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."</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:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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—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—"</p> +<p>"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?"</p> +<p>"<a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a>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."</p> +<p>I at once knew Will Dawson was in the secret. I +answered:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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—"</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:—</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:—</p> +<p>"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"—</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—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—and," with a sigh, "I should have had my way."</p> +<p>After a brief pause devoted to thought, she +continued:—</p> +<p>"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."</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:—</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—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!"</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:—</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—the truth will bring no +reproaches from me—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—is she prone to smile on men and—and—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—to—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—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.</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—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:—</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—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?"</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—"</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,"—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?"</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—</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:—</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—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:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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:—</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—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."</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—damme, damme—"</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:—</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—" 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.</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—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—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.</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—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:—</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,—"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—you hung your head and kept your eyes cast down, and +you looked—"</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:—</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—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 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."</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—he can't hang his head and—droop +his eyes and look."</p> +<p>"But if—" I began.</p> +<p>"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.<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,—"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."</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—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—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—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,<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:—</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—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.</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"—here Jennie assumed a lovelorn +expression. "And—and once, mistress, I thought—I +thought—"</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—"</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—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—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.</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—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—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."</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—you and I—and seize this wanton creature. +You to save your crown; I to save my lover and—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—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—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—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—"</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—How—why—why did you tell her?"</p> +<p>"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."</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—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:—</p> +<p>"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."</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,—"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,—"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,—"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—though I say it who should not—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,—"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.</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,—"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:—</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—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."</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:—</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:—</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—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—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—my love was my +curse—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:—</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:—</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:—</p> +<p>"Why did you betray me, you miserable wretch? Why did you betray +me?"</p> +<p>Dorothy did not answer. Mary continued:—</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:—</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:—</p> +<p>"It will—it will. You—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—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:—</p> +<p>"Malcolm!"</p> +<p>After a brief silence I said:—</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:—</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 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?"</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—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.</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.—Again, my Malcolm.—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—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:—</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—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—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:—</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:—</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—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—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:—</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—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."</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—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—I believe—he is not in the plot," said +Elizabeth, "but I fear—"</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—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:—</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,—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:—</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:—</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—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:—</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—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."</p> +<p>You may well know that John was nonplussed.</p> +<p>"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.</p> +<p>"That white—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—but +you remember the strange woman at Bowling Green Gate whom you would +have—"</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—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—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-"</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—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—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—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—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—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:—</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:—</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:—</p> +<p>"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.</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:—</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:—</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:—</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—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."</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:—</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:—</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—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:—</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,—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.</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:—</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—"</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—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."</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:—</p> +<p>"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."</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:—</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:—</p> +<p>"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.</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—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—well, during the first minute or two he +wasted no time in speech.</p> +<p>When he spoke he said:—</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:—</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—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.</p> +<p>"For what, my love? For what do you thank me?" asked John after +a little pause.</p> +<p>"For making—me—do—what I—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—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—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!</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—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.</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 Binary files differnew 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 Binary files differnew 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 Binary files differnew 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 Binary files differnew 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 Binary files differnew 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 Binary files differnew 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 Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6a2eaf0 --- /dev/null +++ b/14671-h/images/v337.jpg |
