“That depends upon many things,” replied the stately dame, as she seated herself.  “Dorothy would be a splendid match for anybody.  What has Sir Henry to say?”

“I hope to be an earl soon,” he replied, “and she would be a countess as you will.  My father is infirm, he cannot live much longer, and I expect news of his death from Florence every day.  And as for the estates, though they may not be equal to those of Haddon, yet they are by no means insignificant.”

Dame Vernon knew all this, and the knowledge of it had influenced her before; but lately she had heard ill tidings of Sir Henry, and she was by no means so enthusiastic on his behalf.  And, besides, a fresh competitor had entered the lists.

“Humph,” growled the old knight, “we don’t want to sell the girl.”

“Be quiet, Sir George,” interrupted his worthy spouse.  “The thing must be done properly.  Does Ashby Castle fall to your share, sir knight?” she asked.

“Certainly.  To whom else should it go?”

“Have you spoken to Doll about it?” continued the dame.

“She is too dutiful a daughter to commit herself without the consent of her parents,” answered De la Zouch.  “But I doubt not, that when once again you have spoken to her, I shall speedily be rewarded with success.”

“Ay,” exclaimed Sir George, “Doll was ever a dutiful child.”

“She would bow to our will, anyway,” replied Lady Vernon, “but I think she has another suitor.  We must think the matter well over ere we settle anything.”

“Another suitor,” laughed the baron; “why there are scores of them.”

“Ah, you see, Sir Henry, the baron has not the quick, discerning eye of a mother—­or a love either,” she added shyly.  “Bless his innocence, he knows naught of it yet.  Sir George, I trust Master Manners is a trusty young man?”

“John Manners is goodly enough, forsooth, for aught I trow,” returned the King of the Peak, reflectively.  “Aye, and a likely enough young man, too!”

“But Manners cannot seek the hand of so guileless a maiden as sweet Dorothy,” interrupted the dismayed lover.  “His hands are stained with blood.”

“A soldier should do his duty,” quickly returned Sir George.”

“But he is a murderer!”

“That is a bold statement, De la Zouch, to make against a guest of mine,” exclaimed the baron quickly, “and I fear an thou persist in it that it will prove awkward for thee if thou canst not prove it, and worse still for him if it be true.”

“Are you certain of it?” asked Lady Maude.

“I have a witness,” was the calm reply.

“Then by my halidame,” quoth the irate knight, “as I’m a justice o’ the peace, he shall be faced with the offence.  When was it perpetrated?”

“At the hawking party.”

“What, here at Haddon?”

“You don’t mean the pedlar, surely?” inquired Lady Vernon.

“Aye, but I do; he was murdered in the wood.”