He covered his face with his hands, his great form shook for a moment as the tree trembles before the fall, and he fell p.r.o.ne to the floor sobbing forth the anguish of which his soul was full.

In an instant Dorothy was by her father's side holding his head upon her lap. She covered his face with her kisses, and while the tears streamed from her eyes she spoke incoherent words of love and repentance.

"I will tell you all, father; I will tell you all. I will give him up; I will see him never again. I will try not to love him. Oh, father, forgive me, forgive me. I will never again deceive you so long as I live."

Truly the fate of an overoath is that it shall be broken. When one swears to do too much, one performs too little.

I helped Sir George rise to his feet.

Dorothy, full of tenderness and in tears, tried to take his hand, but he repulsed her rudely, and uttering terrible oaths coupled with her name quitted the room with tottering steps.

When her father had gone Dorothy stood in revery for a little time, and then looking toward the door through which her father had just pa.s.sed, she spoke as if to herself: "He does not know. How fortunate!"

"But you said you would tell him," I suggested. "You said you would give him up."

Dorothy was in a deep revery. She took her bodice from the floor and mechanically put it on.

"I know I said I would tell my father, and I offered to give--give him up," she replied; "but I will do neither. Father would not meet my love with love. He would not forgive me, nor would he accept my repentance when it was he who should have repented. I was alarmed and grieved for father's sake when I said that I would tell him about--about John, and would give him up." She was silent and thoughtful for a little time. "Give him up?"

she cried defiantly. "No, not for my soul; not for ten thousand thousand souls. When my father refused my love, he threw away the only opportunity he shall ever have to learn from me John's name. That I swear, and I shall never be forsworn. I asked father's forgiveness when he should have begged for mine. Whip me in the courtyard, would he, till I should bleed! Yet I was willing to forgive him, and he would not accept my forgiveness. I was willing to forego John, who is more than life to me; but my father would not accept my sacrifice. Truly will I never be so great a fool the second time. Malcolm, I will not remain here to be the victim of another insult such as my father put upon me to-day. There is no law, human or divine, that gives to a parent the right to treat his daughter as my father has used me. Before this day my conscience smote me when I deceived him, and I suffered pain if I but thought of my father. But now, thanks to his cruelty, I may be happy without remorse. Malcolm, if you betray me, I will--I will kill you if I must follow you over the world to do it."

"Do you think that I deserve that threat from you, Dorothy?" I asked.

"No, no, my dear friend, forgive me. I trust you," and she caught up my hand and kissed it gently.

Dorothy and I remained in the banquet hail, seated upon the stone bench under the blazoned window.

Soon Sir George returned, closely followed by two men, one of whom bore manacles such as were used to secure prisoners in the dungeon. Sir George did not speak. He turned to the men and motioned with his hand toward Dorothy. I sprang to my feet, intending to interfere by force, if need be, to prevent the outrage; but before I could speak Lady Crawford hurriedly entered the hall and ran to Sir George's side.

"Brother," she said, "old Bess has just told me that you have given orders for Dorothy's confinement in the dungeon. I could not believe Bess; but these men with irons lead me to suspect that you really intend.--"

"Do not interfere in affairs that do not concern you," replied Sir George, sullenly.

"But this does concern me greatly," said Aunt Dorothy, "and if you send Doll to the dungeon, Madge and I will leave your house and will proclaim your act to all England."

"The girl has disobeyed me and has lied to me, and--"

"I care not what she has done, I shall leave your house and disown you for my brother if you perpetrate this outrage upon my niece. She is dear to me as if she were my own child. Have I not brought her up since babyhood? If you carry out this order, brother, I will leave Haddon Hall forever."

"And I'll go with her," cried old Bess, who stood at the door of the screens.

"And I, too," said Dawson, who was one of the men who had entered with Sir George.

"And I," cried the other man, throwing the manacles to the floor, "I will leave your service."

Sir George took up the manacles and moved toward Dorothy.

"You may all go, every cursed one of you. I rule my own house, and I will have no rebels in it. When I have finished with this perverse wench, I'll not wait for you to go. I'll drive you all out and you may go to--"

He was approaching Dorothy, but I stepped in front of him.

"This must not be, Sir George," said I, sternly. "I shall not leave Haddon Hall, and I fear you not. I shall remain here to protect your daughter and you from your own violence. You cannot put me out of Haddon Hall; I will not go."

"Why cannot I put you out of Haddon Hail?" retorted Sir George, whose rage by that time was frightful to behold.

"Because, sir, I am a better man and a better swordsman than you are, and because you have not on all your estates a servant nor a retainer who will not join me against you when I tell them the cause I champion."

Dawson and his fellow stepped to my side significantly, and Sir George raised the iron manacles as if intending to strike me. I did not move. At the same moment Madge entered the room.

"Where is my uncle?" she asked.

Old Bess led her to Sir George. She spoke not a word, but placed her arms gently about his neck and drew his face down to hers. Then she kissed him softly upon the lips and said:--

"My uncle has never in all his life spoken in aught but kindness to me, and now I beg him to be kind to Dorothy."

The heavy manacles fell clanking to the floor. Sir George placed his hand caressingly upon Madge's head and turned from Dorothy.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Lady Crawford then approached her brother and put her hand upon his arm, saying:--

"Come with me, George, that I may speak to you in private."

She moved toward the door by which she had entered, and Madge quietly took her uncle's hand and led him after Lady Crawford. Within five minutes Sir George, Aunt Dorothy, and Madge returned to the room.

"Dorothy?" said Madge in a low voice.

"Here I am, Madge," murmured Dorothy, who was sitting on the bench by the blazoned window. Madge walked gropingly over to her cousin and sat by her side, taking her hand. Then Lady Crawford spoke to Dorothy:--

"Your father wishes me to say that you must go to your apartments in Entrance Tower, and that you shall not leave them without his consent. He also insists that I say to you if you make resistance or objection to this decree, or if you attempt to escape, he will cause you to be manacled and confined in the dungeon, and that no persuasion upon our part will lead him from his purpose."

"Which shall it be?" asked Sir George, directing his question to Lady Crawford.

Dorothy lifted her eyebrows, bit the corner of her lip, shrugged her shoulders, and said:--

"Indeed, it makes no difference to me where you send me, father; I am willing to do whatever will give you the greatest happiness. If you consult my wishes, you will have me whipped in the courtyard till I bleed.

I should enjoy that more than anything else you can do. Ah, how tender is the love of a father! It pa.s.seth understanding."

"Come to your apartments, Dorothy," said Lady Crawford, anxious to separate the belligerents. "I have given your father my word of honor that I will guard you and will keep you prisoner in your rooms. Do you not pity me? I gave my promise only to save you from the dungeon, and painful as the task will be, I will keep my word to your father."

"Which shall it be, father?" asked Dorothy. "You shall finish the task you began. I shall not help you in your good work by making choice. You shall choose my place of imprisonment. Where shall it be? Shall I go to my rooms or to the dungeon?"

"Go to your rooms," answered Sir George, "and let me never see--" but Sir George did not finish the sentence. He hurriedly left the hall, and Dorothy cheerfully went to imprisonment in Entrance Tower.

CHAPTER VIII