“Are you alone with this—­this gentleman?” asked his Lordship, grasping Madge by the arm.

“No,” returned Madge, “Dorothy is with us.”

“She is among the shops,” I volunteered reluctantly.

“Dorothy?  Dorothy Vernon?  By gad, Tod, we are in luck.  I must see the wench I am to marry,” said his Lordship, speaking to his companion, the stable boy.  “So Dorothy is with you, is she, cousin?  I haven’t seen her for years.  They say she is a handsome filly now.  By gad, she had room to improve, for she was plain enough, to frighten rats away from a barn when I last saw her.  We will go to the inn and see for ourselves, won’t we, Tod?  Dad’s word won’t satisfy us when it comes to the matter of marrying, will it, Tod?”

Tod was the drunken stable boy who had assisted his Lordship and me in our battle with the Brownists.

I was at a loss what course to pursue.  I was forced to submit to this fellow’s company, and to endure patiently his insolence.  But John and Dorothy would soon return, and there is no need that I should explain the dangers of the predicament which would then ensue.

When we were within a few yards of the inn door I looked backward and saw Dorothy and John approaching us.  I held up my hand warningly.  John caught my meaning, and instantly leaving Dorothy’s side, entered an adjacent shop.  My movement had attracted Stanley’s attention, and he turned in the direction I had been looking.  When he saw Dorothy, he turned again to me and asked:—­

“Is that Dorothy Vernon?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Look at her, Tod!” exclaimed my lord, “look at her, Tod!  The dad was right about her, after all.  I thought the old man was hoaxing me when he told me that she was beautiful.  Holy Virgin, Tod, did you ever see anything so handsome?  I will take her quick enough; I will take her.  Dad won’t need to tease me.  I’m willing.”

Dorothy approached to within a few yards of us, and my Lord Stanley stepped forward to meet her.

“Ye don’t know me, do ye?” said Stanley.

Dorothy was frightened and quickly stepped to my side.

“I—­I believe not,” responded Dorothy.

“Lord James Stanley,” murmured Madge, who knew of the approaching Stanley marriage.

“Madge is right,” returned.  Stanley, grinning foolishly.  “I am your cousin James, but not so much of a cousin that I cannot be more than cousin, heh?” He laughed boisterously, and winking at Tod, thrust his thumb into that worthy’s ribs.  “Say, Tod, something more than cousin; that’s the thing, isn’t it, Tod?”

John was standing half-concealed at the door of the shop in which he had sought refuge.  Dorothy well knew the peril of the situation, and when I frowned at her warningly, she caught the hint that she should not resent Stanley’s words, however insulting and irritating they might become.

“Let us go to the inn,” said Dorothy.