The moment her father’s back was turned Dorothy called:—­

“Tom—­Tom, father wants you,” and instantly Thomas was standing deferentially by her side, and she was seated in the great chair.  It was a rapid change, I assure you.  But a man’s life and his fortune for good or ill often hang upon a tiny peg—­a second of time protruding from the wall of eternity.  It serves him briefly; but if he be ready for the vital instant, it may serve him well.

“Yes, mistress,” said Thomas, “I go to him at once.”

John left the room and closed the door as he passed out.  Then it was that Dorothy’s laugh sounded like the chilling tones of a knell.  It was the laugh of one almost distraught.  She came to Madge and me laughing, but the laugh quickly changed to convulsive sobs.  The strain of the brief moment during which her father had been in Lady Crawford’s room had been too great for even her strong nerves to bear.  She tottered and would have fallen had I not caught her.  I carried her to the bed, and Madge called Lady Crawford.  Dorothy had swooned.

When she wakened she said dreamily:—­

“I shall always keep this cloak and gown.”

Aunt Dorothy thought the words were but the incoherent utterances of a dimly conscious mind, but I knew they were the deliberate expression of a justly grateful heart.

The following evening trouble came about over the matter of the marriage contract.

You remember I told you that Sir George had sent Lady Crawford as an advance guard to place the parchment in the enemy’s hands.  But the advance guard feared the enemy and therefore did not deliver the contract directly to Dorothy.  She placed it conspicuously upon the table, knowing well that her niece’s curiosity would soon prompt an examination.

I was sitting before the fire in Aunt Dorothy’s room, talking to Madge when Lady Crawford entered, placed the parchment on the table, and took a chair by my side.  Soon Dorothy entered the room.  The roll of parchment, brave with ribbons, was lying on the table.  It attracted her attention at once, and she took it in her hands.

“What is this?” she asked carelessly.  Her action was prompted entirely by idle curiosity.  That, by the way, was no small motive with Dorothy.  She had the curiosity of a young doe.  Receiving no answer, she untied the ribbons and unrolled the parchment to investigate its contents for herself.  When the parchment was unrolled, she began to read:—­

“In the name of God, amen.  This indenture of agreement, looking to union in the holy bonds of marriage between the Right Honorable Lord James Stanley of the first part, and Mistress Dorothy Vernon of Haddon of the second part—­”

She read no farther.  She crumpled the beautiful parchment in her hands, walked over to the fire, and quietly placed the sacred instrument in the midst of the flames.  Then she turned away with a sneer of contempt upon her face and—­again I grieve to tell you this—­said:—­