Sir George, in casting about for a son-in-law, had hit upon the heir to the house of Derby as a suitable match for his child, and had entered into an alliance offensive and defensive with the earl against the common enemy, Dorothy.  The two fathers had partly agreed that the heir to Derby should wed the heiress of Haddon.  The heir, although he had never seen his cousin except when she was a plain, unattractive girl, was entirely willing for the match, but the heiress—­well, she had not been consulted, and everybody connected with the affair instinctively knew there would be trouble in that quarter.  Sir George, however, had determined that Dorothy should do her part in case the contract of marriage should be agreed upon between the heads of the houses.  He had fully resolved to assert the majesty of the law vested in him as a father and to compel Dorothy to do his bidding, if there were efficacy in force and chastisement.  At the time when Sir George spoke to Dorothy about the Derby marriage, she had been a prisoner for a fortnight or more, and had learned that her only hope against her father lay in cunning.  So she wept, and begged for time in which to consider the answer she would give to Lord Derby’s request.  She begged for two months, or even one month, in which to bring herself to accede to her father’s commands.

“You have always been so kind and good to me, father, that I shall try to obey if you and the earl eventually agree upon terms,” she said tearfully, having no intention whatever of trying to do anything but disobey.

“Try!” stormed Sir George.  “Try to obey me!  By God, girl, I say you shall obey!”

“Oh, father, I am so young.  I have not seen my cousin for years.  I do not want to leave you, and I have never thought twice of any man.  Do not drive me from you.”

Sir George, eager to crush in the outset any disposition to oppose his will, grew violent and threatened his daughter with dire punishment if she were not docile and obedient.

Then said rare Dorothy:—­

“It would indeed be a great match.”  Greater than ever will happen, she thought.  “I should be a countess.”  She strutted across the room with head up and with dilating nostrils.  The truth was, she desired to gain her liberty once more that she might go to John, and was ready to promise anything to achieve that end.  “What sort of a countess would I make, father?”

“A glorious countess, Doll, a glorious countess,” said her father, laughing.  “You are a good girl to obey me so readily.”

“Oh, but I have not obeyed you yet,” returned Dorothy, fearing that her father might be suspicious of a too ready acquiescence.

“But you will obey me,” answered Sir George, half in command and half in entreaty.

“There are not many girls who would refuse the coronet of a countess.”  She then seated herself upon her father’s knee and kissed him, while Sir George laughed softly over his easy victory.