r was dead past
resurrection.

Following Mary came Lord Rutland, and immediately following his Lordship
walked John. When he stepped through the postern, Dorothy sprang to her
feet and ran to him with a cry, "John, John!"

He looked at her in surprise, and stepped toward her with evident intent
to embrace her. His act was probably the result of an involuntary impulse,
for he stopped before he reached the girl.

[Illustration]

Sir George had gone at Sir William's request to arrange the guards for
the return march.

Dorothy and John were standing within two yards of each other.

"Do not touch me," cried Dorothy, "save to strike me If you will. The evil
which has come upon you is of my doing. I betrayed you to the queen."

I saw Mary turn quickly toward the girl when she uttered those words.

"I was insane when I did it," continued Dorothy. "They will take your
life, John. But when you die I also shall die. It is a poor reparation, I
know, but it is the only one I can make."

"I do not understand you, Dorothy," said John. "Why should you betray me?"

"I cannot tell you," she answered. "All I know is that I did betray you
and I hardly know how I did it. It all seems like a dream--like a fearful
monster of the night. There is no need for me to explain. I betrayed you
and now I suffer for it, more a thousand-fold than you can possibly
suffer. I offer no excuse. I have none. I simply betrayed you, and ask
only that I may die with you."

Then was manifest in John's heart the noblest quality which God has given
to man-charity, strengthened by reason. His face glowed with a light that
seemed saintlike, and a grand look of ineffable love and pity came to his
eyes. He seemed as if by inspiration to understand all that Dorothy had
felt and done, and he knew that if she had betrayed him she had done it at
a time when she was not responsible for her acts. He stepped quickly to
the girl's side, and caring naught that we all should see him, caught her
to his breast. He held her in his arms, and the light of the flambeaux
fell upon her upturned face.

"Dorothy," he said, "it matters not what you have done; you are my only
love. I ask no explanation. If you have betrayed me to death, though I
hope it will not come to that evil, you did not do it because you did not
love me."

"No, no, John, you know that," sobbed the girl.

"I do know it, Dorothy; I know all that I wish to know. You would not
intentionally bring evil upo