I shall tell you nothing that followed. It is no affair of yours nor of mine.
They were overjoyed in being together once more. Neither of them seemed to realize that John, while living under Sir George's roof, was facing death every moment. To Dorothy, the fact that John, who was heir to one of England's noblest houses, was willing for her sake to become a servant, to do a servant's work, and to receive the indignities constantly put upon a servant, appealed most powerfully. It added to her feeling for him a tenderness which is not necessarily a part of passionate love.
It is needless for me to tell you that while John performed faithfully the duty of keeping bright the fires in Haddon Hall, he did not neglect the other flame—the one in Dorothy's heart—for the sake of whose warmth he had assumed the leathern garb of servitude and had placed his head in the lion's mouth.
At first he and Dorothy used great caution in exchanging words and glances, but familiarity with danger breeds contempt for it. So they utilized every opportunity that niggard chance offered, and blinded by their great longing soon began to make opportunities for speech with each other, thereby bringing trouble to Dorothy and deadly peril to John. Of that I shall soon tell you.
During the period of John's service in Haddon Hall negotiations for Dorothy's marriage with Lord Stanley were progressing slowly but surely. Arrangements for the marriage settlement by the Stanleys, and for Dorothy's dower to be given by Sir George, were matters that the King of the Peak approached boldly as he would have met any other affair of business. But the Earl of Derby, whose mind moved slowly, desiring that a generous portion of the Vernon wealth should be transferred with Dorothy to the Stanley holdings without the delay incident to Sir George's death, put off signing the articles of marriage in his effort to augment the cash payment. In truth, the great wealth which Dorothy would bring to the house of Stanley was the earl's real reason for desiring her marriage with his son. The earl was heavily in debt, and his estate stood in dire need of help.
Sir George, though attracted by the high nobility of the house of Stanley, did not relish the thought that the wealth he had accumulated by his own efforts, and the Vernon estates which had come down to him through centuries, should go to pay Lord Derby's debts. He therefore insisted that Dorothy's dower should be her separate estate, and demanded that it should remain untouched and untouchable by either of the Stanleys. That arrangement did not suit my lord earl, and although the son since he had seen Dorothy at Derby-town was eager to possess the beautiful girl, his father did not share his ardor. Lawyers were called in who looked expensively wise, but they accomplished the purpose for which they were employed. An agreement of marriage was made and was drawn up on an imposing piece of parchment, brave with ribbons, pompous with seals, and fair in clerkly penmanship.
One day Sir George showed me the copy of the contract which had been prepared for him. That evening at the cost of much labor he and I went over the indenture word for word, and when we had finished Sir George thought it was very good indeed. He seemed to think that all difficulties in the way of the marriage were overcome when the agreement that lay before us on the table had been achieved between him and the earl. I knew Sir George's troubles had only begun; for I was aware of a fact which it seemed impossible for him to learn, though of late Dorothy had given him much teaching thereto. I knew that he had transmitted to his daughter a large portion of his own fierce, stubborn, unbreakable will, and that in her it existed in its most deadly form—the feminine. To me after supper that night was assigned the task of reading and rereading many times to Sir George the contents of the beautiful parchment. When I would read a clause that particularly pleased my cousin, he insisted on celebrating the event by drinking a mug of liquor drawn from a huge leather stoup which sat upon the table between us. By the time I had made several readings of the interesting document the characters began to mingle in a way that did not impart ease and clearness to my style. Some of the strange combinations which I and the liquor extracted from amid the seals and ribbons puzzled Sir George not a little. But with each new libation he found new clauses and fresh causes for self-congratulation, though to speak exact truth I more than once married Sir George to the Earl of Derby, and in my profanity gave Lord James Stanley to the devil to have and to hold.
Sir George was rapidly falling before his mighty enemy, drink, and I was not far behind him, though I admit the fault with shame. My cousin for a while was mightily pleased with the contract; but when the liquor had brought him to a point where he was entirely candid with himself, he let slip the fact that after all there was regret at the bottom of the goblet, metaphorically and actually. Before his final surrender to drink he dropped the immediate consideration of the contract and said:—
"Malcolm, I have in my time known many fools, but if you will permit an old man, who loves you dearly, to make a plain statement of his conviction—"
"Certainly," I interrupted.