“Gladly.  The road to the southwest—­the one I shall take—­is the most direct route to Chester.  But tell me, how comes it that you are leaving Haddon Hall?  I thought you had gone there to marry-” He stopped speaking, and a smile stole into his eyes.

“Let us ride forward together, and I will tell you about it,” said I.

While we travelled I told Sir John the circumstances of my departure from Haddon Hall, concealing nothing save that which touched Madge Stanley.  I then spoke of my dangerous position in England, and told him of my great desire to reach my mother’s people in France.

“You will find difficulty and danger in escaping to France at this time,” said Sir John, “the guard at the ports is very strong and strict, and your greatest risk will be at the moment when you try to embark without a passport.”

“That is true,” I responded; “but I know of nothing else that I can do.”

“Come with me to Rutland Castle,” said Sir John.  “You may there find refuge until such time as you can go to France.  I will gladly furnish you money which you may repay at your pleasure, and I may soon be able to procure a passport for you.”

I thanked him, but said I did not see my way clear to accept his kind offer.

“You are unknown in the neighborhood of Rutland,” he continued, “and you may easily remain incognito.”  Although his offer was greatly to my liking, I suggested several objections, chief among which was the distaste Lord Rutland might feel toward one of my name.  I would not, of course, consent that my identity should be concealed from him.  But to be brief—­an almost impossible achievement for me, it seems—­Sir John assured me of his father’s welcome, and it was arranged between us that I should take my baptismal name, Francois de Lorraine, and passing for a French gentleman on a visit to England, should go to Rutland with my friend.  So it happened through the strange workings of fate that I found help and refuge under my enemy’s roof-tree.

Kind old Lord Rutland welcomed me, as his son had foretold, and I was convinced ere I had passed an hour under his roof that the feud between him and Sir George was of the latter’s brewing.

The happenings in Haddon Hall while I lived at Rutland I knew, of course, only by the mouth of others; but for convenience in telling I shall speak of them as if I had seen and heard all that took place.  I may now say once for all that I shall take that liberty throughout this entire history.

On the morning of the day after my departure from Haddon, Jennie Faxton went to visit Dorothy and gave her a piece of information, small in itself, but large in its effect upon that ardent young lady.  Will Fletcher, the arrow-maker at Overhaddon, had observed Dorothy’s movements in connection with Manners; and although Fletcher did not know who Sir John was, that fact added to his curiosity and righteous indignation.