"And Sir Edward, what of him?"

"He wooes me with threats. Was ever a maiden won thus, John? He vows I shall be his bride, and O--"

"What, dearest?"

"Margaret is to be wedded soon, and Sir Edward swears there shall be two weddings at the same time. He says I shall like him well enough in time to come. Margaret wishes it, Lady Maude wishes it, Sir Thomas wishes it, and Edward Stanley says it shall be."

"He knows it not," st.u.r.dily replied Manners, as he clasped her to his breast. "Our love is strong enough to conquer all that, Doll."

"I hope it will. I think it will in the end," she replied, "but the way is very dark for us at present. But naught shall stay us now. Our love is too true not to win."

"It shall!" he returned, decisively. "Be of good heart, my precious one, we shall soon have pa.s.sed all this and be happy together."

"Heaven grant it," replied Dorothy, fervently, "but it is a terrible time now. With you exposed to danger every hour outside, and every hand against me in the house, save Lettice, 'tis terrible, terrible!"

and the maiden burst into tears.

"Poor Doll," said Manners, as he tenderly supported her. "Your lot is hard, but there will be a change ere long. The wind does not always blow from one quarter, you know; it will alter soon."

"I fear me not," replied the maiden disconsolately.

"Oh, surely, when they see what an unconquerable will thou hast. Sir George loves thee too well to lightly disregard thy happiness. He loves you dearly; he will surely repent ere the time comes, for he hath a tender heart for thee."

Dorothy laid her hand upon his arm and beckoned him to be still, pointing at the same time to a thick ma.s.s of the thick foliage with which they were surrounded.

"Hist," she whispered. "Methought I heard the sound of footsteps, listen!"

She paused, and together they bent their heads and listened, but nothing was to be heard save the rustling of the leaves.

"'Twas thy fancy," exclaimed Manners, "thou art frightened."

"I thought I saw the form of a man pa.s.s by those trees," she replied.

"It must be fancy, though, and yet, methought I saw him stop and then pa.s.s on again."

"Sir George will stand by thee," pursued Manners, "he loves thee better than himself."

"I know it, I know he loves me much, John; but he has promised me to the Stanleys, and when I told him of our trothplight he laughed, and said he was doing it all for the best. He forbade me to mention your name ever more, or even think of you again--as if you were not ever in my mind."

"Does not Lady Maude relent at all?"

"Lady Maude relent! Nay, rather does she grow more bitter against me day by day, and that I may forget thee she makes me tenter-st.i.tch from morn till eve. Even Margaret gives her voice bitterly against me now."

"Thou hast no one to console thee, then?"

"Save Lettice, no."

"Poor Dorothy. And Father Nicholas, what saith he? He is a friend of mine."

"He is so grave I have not mentioned it to him."

"Then by my troth, Doll, bid him meet me here to-morrow night. He shall help us, he shall befriend thee. Tell him all, he can be well trusted, I wot, unless he has strangely changed since he hath taken the cowl. Bid him come here alone and without fail."

Soon, all too soon, the brief interview came to an end, and Dorothy had to go back to the Hall, while her lover, having reluctantly parted from her when he dare accompany her no further, slowly wound his way back to the sorry hut which served him, in common with the rest of his fellows, as a home.

He had no heart to join in the boisterous fun with which his companions were making themselves merry as he entered, and pa.s.sing them unnoticed by, he took a seat in the furthest corner of the room and watched the f.a.ggots as they blazed and burned away upon the hearth in front of him.

Dorothy returned with a sad heart, too. The moment of bliss which had so transported her with delight had pa.s.sed away again, and she found herself in pretty well the same downcast frame of mind in which she had been before, for she knew not when she would see her lover again, and she dare not let herself ponder on the terrible risks her n.o.ble lover ran.

"Well, Dorothy," said Lady Maude, as she burst into the maiden's room ere Doll had found time to divest herself of hood and wimple, "thou art serving us a pretty trick. Thou would'st meet thy whilom lover all unbeknown to us, eh? Pick up thy things and follow me."

It would have been worse than useless to have refused, and argument, Dorothy knew of old, at such a time would have been equally futile; so, while her blood almost froze with terror in her veins, she meekly obeyed her step-mother and followed her through the long ballroom into the banqueting-room below in a perfect agony of terror lest her lover had been taken and was about to be confronted with her.

The stone-flagged chamber, in which the festive table, which has creaked under many a load of beef and venison, still stands in grandeur all unique, was in full glory then. The musicians' gallery was richly bedecked with gilt, and was adorned with antlers, the trophies of many a chase, in place of the dingy, whitewash-spotted, pictures which, hang upon its walls to-day (and look as if they were sadly in need of a washing). Gay hunting-scenes, and a canvas on which, were delineated the forms of the Virgin and her Babe, met the eye and pleased it. A savoury odour of newly-baked cakes floated along the pa.s.sage from the kitchens right into the room, and a piece of tapestry, one of Dorothy's first attempts, depended over the doorway of the carved wooden screen to keep out draughts, and at the same time give a warm and pleasing effect to the interior.

It was into this room, in which sat the baron and Sir Thomas Stanley, looking terribly grave and severe, that Lady Vernon led poor Dorothy.

"Come hither, Dorothy," said the baron, as she entered.

The "Dorothy" sounded ominous, and she advanced in great trepidation.

"You have been out without our knowledge," he exclaimed.

"Out; of course she has," interrupted Lady Vernon. "See, she cannot deny it, she has the tokens of guilt upon her now," and she derisively pointed at the tell-tale garments she had made her carry in.

"Hush, Maude," said the baron, "you will frighten her. Dorothy, you have been with Manners," he added, turning severely towards her.

Dorothy hung down her head, but vouchsafed no reply. She was in an agony of fear for the safety of her lover, but amid all her terrors she was resolved that no words should fall from her lips which might bring trouble upon him.

"Aye, and with Master Manners again," repeated the dame.

"What have you to say, Dorothy?" asked Sir George quickly.

"Nothing," she replied.

"Then you _have_ been with him?"

"Nay, I said not so."

"Of course she has," exclaimed Lady Vernon, "who can doubt it?"

"We heard Manners speaking; I could swear to it now," said Sir Thomas Stanley.

"I fear it is even so, Dorothy," said the baron, not unkindly. "There is a guilty look upon thy face. Now tell us where he is and we will forgive thee thy share."

Dorothy returned no answer. She was determined that no words of hers should injure him.

"He saved my life," she replied, as the question was repeated.

"Tut, tell us where to find him, else thou wilt have enough to thank that stubborn will of thine for," interrupted the baroness, impatiently.