“But Madge no longer cares for me,” I continued, wishing to talk upon the theme, “and your words do not apply to her.”

The girl turned her back disdainfully on me and said, “You seem to be quite as easily duped by the woman who loves you and says she doesn’t as by the one who does not care for you but says she does.”

“Damn that girl’s tongue!” thought I; but her words, though biting, carried joy to my heart and light to my soul.

After exchanging a few words with Lord Rutland, Dorothy turned to John and said:—­

“Tell me upon your knightly honor, John, do you know aught of a wicked, treasonable plot to put the Scottish woman on the English throne?”

I quickly placed my finger on my lips and touched my ear to indicate that their words would be overheard; for a listening-tube connected the dungeon with Sir George’s closet.

“Before the holy God, upon my knighthood, by the sacred love we bear each other, I swear I know of no such plot,” answered John.  “I would be the first to tell our good queen did I suspect its existence.”

Dorothy and John continued talking upon the subject of the plot, but were soon interrupted by a warning knock upon the dungeon door.

Lord Rutland, whose heart was like twenty-two carat gold, soft, pure, and precious, kissed Dorothy’s hand when she was about to leave, and said:  “Dear lady, grieve not for our sake.  I can easily see that more pain has come to you than to us.  I thank you for the great fearless love you bear my son.  It has brought him trouble, but it is worth its cost.  You have my forgiveness freely, and I pray God’s choicest benediction may be with you.”  She kissed the old lord and said, “I hope some day to make you love me.”

“That will be an easy task,” said his Lordship, gallantly.  Dorothy was about to leave.  Just at the doorway she remembered the chief purpose of her visit; so she ran back to John, put her hand over his mouth to insure silence, and whispered in his ear.

On hearing Dorothy’s whispered words, signs of joy were so apparent in John’s face that they could not be mistaken.  He said nothing, but kissed her hand and she hurriedly left the dungeon.

After the dungeon door closed upon Dorothy, John went to his father and whispered a few words to him.  Then he came to me, and in the same secretive manner said:—­

“The queen has promised Dorothy our liberty.”  I was not at all sure that “our liberty” included me,—­I greatly doubted it,—­but I was glad for the sake of my friends, and, in truth, cared little for myself.

Dorothy went from our dungeon to the queen, and that afternoon, according to promise, Elizabeth gave orders for the release of John and his father.  Sir George, of course, was greatly chagrined when his enemies slipped from his grasp; but he dared not show his ill humor in the presence of the queen nor to any one who would be apt to enlighten her Majesty on the subject.