think, with her, was to act. She did
not of course know that I was still in her apartments. She took the
chance, however, and boldly followed Sir John Guild into her father's
room. There she paused for a moment that she might not appear to be in too
great haste, and then entered Aunt Dorothy's room where I was seated,
waiting for her.

"Dorothy, my dear child," exclaimed Lady Crawford, clasping her arms about
Dorothy's neck.

"There is no time to waste in sentiment, Aunt Dorothy," responded the
girl. "Here are your sword and cloak, Malcolm. I thank you for their use.
Don them quickly." I did so, and walked into Sir George's room, where that
worthy old gentleman was dressing a slight wound in the hand. I stopped to
speak with him; but he seemed disinclined to talk, and I left the room. He
soon went to the upper court, and I presently followed him.

Dorothy changed her garments, and she, Lady Crawford, and Madge also came
to the upper court. The braziers in the courtyard had been lighted and
cast a glare over two score half-clothed men and women who had been
aroused from their beds by the commotion of the conflict on the hillside.
Upon the upper steps of the courtyard stood Sir George and Jennie Faxton.

"Who was the man you were with?" roughly demanded Sir George of the
trembling Jennie. Jennie's trembling was assumed for the occasion.

"I will not tell you his name," she replied with tears. "He is my
sweetheart, and I will never come to the Hall again. Matters have come to
a pretty pass when a maiden cannot speak with her sweetheart at the stile
without he is set upon and beaten as if he were a hedgehog. My father is
your leal henchman, and his daughter deserves better treatment at your
hands than you have given me."

"There, there!" said Sir George, placing his hand upon her head. "I was in
the wrong. I did not know you had a sweetheart who wore a sword. When I
saw you at the stile, I was sure you were another. I am glad I was wrong."
So was Dorothy glad.

"Everybody be off to bed," said Sir George. "Ben Shaw, see that the
braziers are all blackened."

Dorothy, Madge, and Lady Crawford returned to the latter's room, and Sir
George and I entered after them. He was evidently softened in heart by the
night's adventures and by the mistake he supposed he had made.

A selfish man grows hard toward those whom he injures. A generous heart
grows tender. Sir George was generous, and the injustice he thought he had
don