’But, madam, even the guilty do that; wherefore not the innocent then?’

’Because, my child, they are innocent, and innocence so hateth the very shadow of guilt that it cannot brook the wearing it.  My lord is grievously abused, Dorothy—­I say not by whom.’

‘By whom should it be but his enemies, madam?’

’Not certainly by those who are to him friends, but yet, alas! by those to whom he is the truest of friends.’

’Is my lord of Ormond then false?  Is he jealous of my lord Glamorgan?  Hath he falsely accused him?  I would I understood all, madam.’

’I would I understood all myself, child.  Certain papers have been found bearing upon my lord’s business in Ireland, all ears are filled with rumours of forgery and treason, coupled with the name of my lord, and he is a prisoner in Dublin castle.’

She forced the sentence from her, as if repeating a hated lesson, then gave a cry, almost a scream of agony.

‘Weep not, madam,’ said Dorothy, in the very foolishness of sympathetic expostulation.

‘What better cause could I have out of hell!’ returned the countess, angrily.

‘That it were no lie, madam.’

‘It is true, I tell thee.’

‘That my lord is a traitor, madam?’

Lady Glamorgan dashed her from her, and glared at her like a tigress.  An evil word was on her lips, but her better angel spoke, and ere Dorothy could recover herself, she had listened and understood.

‘God forbid!’ she said, struggling to be calm.  ’But it is true that he is in prison.’

’Then give God thanks, madam, who hath forbidden the one and allowed the other, said Dorothy; and finding her own composure on the point of yielding, she courtesied and left the room.  It was a breach of etiquette without leave asked and given, but the face of the countess was again on her pillow, and she did not heed.

For some time things went on as in an evil dream.  The marquis was in angry mood, with no gout to lay it upon.  The gloom spread over the castle, and awoke all manner of conjecture and report.  Soon, after a fashion, the facts were known to everybody, and the gloom deepened.  No further enlightenment reached Dorothy.  At length one evening, her mistress having sent for her, she found her much excited, with a letter in her hand.

‘Come here, Dorothy:  see what I have!’ she cried, holding out the letter with a gesture of triumph, and weeping and laughing alternately.

‘Madam, it must be something precious indeed,’ said Dorothy, ’for I have not heard your ladyship laugh for a weary while.  May I not rejoice with you, madam?’