not for ten thousand thousand souls.  When my father refused my love, he threw away the only opportunity he shall ever have to learn from me John’s name.  That I swear, and I shall never be forsworn.  I asked father’s forgiveness when he should have begged for mine.  Whip me in the courtyard, would he, till I should bleed!  Yet I was willing to forgive him, and he would not accept my forgiveness.  I was willing to forego John, who is more than life to me; but my father would not accept my sacrifice.  Truly will I never be so great a fool the second time.  Malcolm, I will not remain here to be the victim of another insult such as my father put upon me to-day.  There is no law, human or divine, that gives to a parent the right to treat his daughter as my father has used me.  Before this day my conscience smote me when I deceived him, and I suffered pain if I but thought of my father.  But now, thanks to his cruelty, I may be happy without remorse.  Malcolm, if you betray me, I will—­I will kill you if I must follow you over the world to do it.”

“Do you think that I deserve that threat from you, Dorothy?” I asked.

“No, no, my dear friend, forgive me.  I trust you,” and she caught up my hand and kissed it gently.

Dorothy and I remained in the banquet hail, seated upon the stone bench under the blazoned window.

Soon Sir George returned, closely followed by two men, one of whom bore manacles such as were used to secure prisoners in the dungeon.  Sir George did not speak.  He turned to the men and motioned with his hand toward Dorothy.  I sprang to my feet, intending to interfere by force, if need be, to prevent the outrage; but before I could speak Lady Crawford hurriedly entered the hall and ran to Sir George’s side.

“Brother,” she said, “old Bess has just told me that you have given orders for Dorothy’s confinement in the dungeon.  I could not believe Bess; but these men with irons lead me to suspect that you really intend.—­”

“Do not interfere in affairs that do not concern you,” replied Sir George, sullenly.

“But this does concern me greatly,” said Aunt Dorothy, “and if you send Doll to the dungeon, Madge and I will leave your house and will proclaim your act to all England.”

“The girl has disobeyed me and has lied to me, and—­”

“I care not what she has done, I shall leave your house and disown you for my brother if you perpetrate this outrage upon my niece.  She is dear to me as if she were my own child.  Have I not brought her up since babyhood?  If you carry out this order, brother, I will leave Haddon Hall forever.”

“And I’ll go with her,” cried old Bess, who stood at the door of the screens.

“And I, too,” said Dawson, who was one of the men who had entered with Sir George.

“And I,” cried the other man, throwing the manacles to the floor, “I will leave your service.”

Sir George took up the manacles and moved toward Dorothy.