d him from the possibility of
learning that Thomas is Sir John Manners. I will contrive to admit the
Rutland men at midnight."

I hastened with Dawson back to the Hall, where we found the situation as I
had left it. John's head was lying on Dorothy's lap, and she was trying to
dress his wound with pieces of linen torn from her clothing. Sir George
was pacing to and fro across the room, breaking forth at times in curses
against Dorothy because of her relations with a servant.

When Dawson and I entered the room, Sir George spoke angrily to Will:--

"Who is this fellow? You employed him. Who is he?"

"He gave me his name as Thomas Thompson," returned Will, "and he brought
me a favorable letter of recommendation from Danford."

Danford was forester to the Duke of Devonshire, and lived at Chatsworth.

"There was naught in the letter save that he was a good servant and an
honest man. That is all we can ask of any man."

"But who is he?" again demanded Sir George.

"Your worship may perhaps learn from Danford more than I can tell you,"
replied the forester, adroitly avoiding a lie.

"Think of it, Malcolm," said Sir George, speaking to me. "Think of it. My
daughter, my only child, seeks for her husband this low-born serving man.
I have always been sure that the fellow would prove to be such." Then he
turned to Dawson: "Throw the fellow into the dungeon. If he lives till
morning, I will have him hanged. To the dungeon with him."

Sir George waved his hand toward Dawson and Tom Welch, and then stepped
aside. Will made an effort to hide his feelings, and without a word or
gesture that could betray him, he and Welch lifted John to carry him away.
Then it was piteous to see Dorothy. She clung to John and begged that he
might be left with her. Sir George violently thrust her away from John's
side, but she, still upon her knees, grasped her father's hand and cried
out in agony:--

"Father, let me remain with him. If you have ever felt love for me, and if
my love for you has ever touched one tender spot in your heart, pity me
now and leave this man with me, or let me go with him. I beg you, father;
I plead; I implore. He may be dying. We know not. In this hour of my agony
be merciful to me."

But Sir George rudely repulsed her and left the room, following Welch and
Dawson, who bore John's unconscious form between them. Dorothy rose to her
feet screaming and tried to follow John. I, fearing that in her frenzy of
grief she