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 might divulge John’s name, caught her in my arms and detained her by force.  She turned upon me savagely and struck me in her effort to escape.  She called me traitor, villain, dog, but I lifted her in my arms and carried her struggling to her bedroom.  I wanted to tell her of the plans which Dawson and I had made, but I feared to do so, lest she might in some way betray them, so I left her in the room with Lady Crawford and Madge.  I told Lady Crawford to detain Dorothy at all hazards, and I whispered to Madge asking her to tell Dorothy that I would look to John’s comfort and safety.  I then hastily followed Sir George, Dawson, and Welch, and in a few moments I saw them leave John, bleeding and senseless, upon the dungeon floor.  When Sir George’s back was turned, Dawson by my orders brought the surgeon from the stable where he had been working with the horses.  The surgeon bound up the wound in John’s head and told me, to my great joy, that it was not fatal.  Then he administered a reviving potion and soon consciousness returned.  I whispered to John that Dawson and I would not forsake him, and, fearing discovery by Sir George, hurriedly left the dungeon.