It is easy to be good when we are happy. Dorothy, the great disturber, was both. Therefore, peace reigned once more in Haddon Hall.
Letters frequently passed between John and Dorothy by the hand of Jennie Faxton, but John made no attempt to meet his sweetheart. He and Dorothy were biding their time.
A fortnight passed during which Cupid confined his operations to Madge and myself. For her sweet sake he was gracious and strewed our path with roses. I should delight to tell you of our wooing. She a fair young creature of eighteen, I a palpitating youth of thirty-five. I should love to tell you of Madge's promise to be my wife, and of the announcement in the Hall of our betrothal; but there was little of interest in it to any one save ourselves, and I fear lest you should find it very sentimental and dull indeed. I should love to tell you also of the delightful walks which Madge and I took together along the sweet old Wye and upon the crest of Bowling Green; but above all would I love to tell you of the delicate rose tints that came to her cheek, and how most curiously at times, when my sweetheart's health was bounding, the blessed light of day would penetrate the darkened windows of her eyes, and how upon such occasions she would cry out joyously, "Oh, Malcolm, I can dimly see." I say I should love to tell you about all those joyous happenings, but after all I fear I should shrink from doing so in detail, for the feelings and sayings of our own hearts are sacred to us. It is much easier to tell of the love affairs of others.
A fortnight or three weeks passed quietly in Haddon Hall. Sir George had the notion firmly fixed in his head that the man whom Dorothy had been meeting held honorable intentions toward the girl. He did her the justice to believe that by reason of her strength and purity she would tolerate none other. At times he felt sure that the man was Leicester, and again he flouted the thought as impossible. If it were Leicester, and if he wished to marry Dorothy, Sir George thought the match certainly would be illustrious. Halting between the questions, "Is he Leicester?" and "Is he not Leicester?" Sir George did not press the Stanley nuptials, nor did he insist upon the signing of the contract. Dorothy received from her father full permission to go where and when she wished. But her father's willingness to give her liberty excited her suspicions. She knew he would permit her to leave the Hall only that he might watch her, and, if possible, entrap her and John. Therefore, she rode out only with Madge and me, and sought no opportunity to see her lover. It may be that her passiveness was partly due to the fact that she knew her next meeting with John would mean farewell to Haddon Hall. She well knew she was void of resistance when in John's hands. And his letter had told her frankly what he would expect from her when next they should meet. She was eager to go to him; but the old habit of love for home and its sweet associations and her returning affection for her father, now that he was kind to her, were strong cords entwining her tender heart, which she could not break suddenly even for the sake of the greater joy.
One day Dorothy received from John a letter telling her he would on the following morning start for the Scottish border with the purpose of meeting the queen of Scotland. A plan had been formed among Mary's friends in Scotland to rescue her from Lochleven Castle, where she was a prisoner, and to bring her incognito to Rutland. John had been chosen to escort her from the English border to his father's castle. From thence, when the opportunity should arise, she was to escape to France, or make her peace with Elizabeth. The adventure was full of peril both for her Scottish and English friends. The Scottish regent Murray surely would hang all the conspirators whom he might capture, and Elizabeth would probably inflict summary punishment upon any of her subjects whom she could convict of complicity in the plot.
In connection with this scheme to rescue Mary it was said there was also another conspiracy. There appeared to be a plot within a plot which had for its end the enthronement of Mary in Elizabeth's stead.
The Rutlands knew nothing of this subplot.
Elizabeth had once or twice expressed sympathy with her Scottish cousin. She had said in John's presence that while she could not for reasons of state invite Mary to seek refuge in England, still if Mary would come uninvited she would be welcomed. Therefore, John thought he was acting in accord with the English queen's secret wish when he went to Rutland with the purpose of being in readiness to meet Mary at the Scottish border.
There were two elements in Elizabeth's character on which John had not counted. One was her royal prerogative to speak words she did not mean; and the other was the universal feminine privilege to change her mind. Our queen did not want Mary to visit England, nor had she any knowledge of the plot to induce that event. She did, however, fear that Mary's unwise friends among the Catholics cherished the purpose of making Mary queen of England. Although John had heard faint rumors of such a plot, he had been given to understand that Mary had no share in it, and he believed that the adventure in which he was about to embark had for its only purpose her liberation from a cruel and unjust imprisonment. Her cause appealed to John's chivalrous nature as it appealed to so many other good though mistaken men who sought to give help to the Scottish queen, and brought only grief to her and ruin to themselves.
Dorothy had heard at various times just enough of these plots to fill her heart with alarm when she learned that John was about to be engaged in them. Her trouble was twofold. She feared lest personal injury or death might befall John; and jealousy, that shame of love, gnawed at her heart despite her efforts to drive it away.