“I demand that you release me,” cried the other. “You are committing a crime against all justice. Release me, and I promise to forget the part you are taking in this outrage. Trust me to shield you and yours absolutely.”
“You ask me to trust you. Now, I ask you to trust me. Trust me to shield you and to—”
“You are cruel!”
“Forgive me,” said Lady Saxondale, simply. She pressed the hands warmly, and passed from the room. Dorothy felt her head reel, and there was in her heart the dread of losing something precious, she knew not what.
“Come up into the tower with me, Dorothy,” said Lady Jane, coming to her side, her voice soft and entreating. “The view is grand. Mr. Savage and I were there early this morning to see the sun rise.”
“Are you all against me? Even you, Lady Jane? Oh, how have I wronged you that I should be made to suffer so at your hands? Yes, yes! Take me to the tower! I can't stay here.”
“I shall ask Mr. Savage to go with us. He will hold you. It would be too bad to have you try to fly from up there, because it's a long way to the crags, and you'd never fly again—in this world, at least. I believe I'll call Dickey, to be on the safe side.”
There was something so merry, so free and unrestrained about her that Dorothy smiled in spite of herself. With a new sensation in her heart, she followed her guide to the top of the broad stairway. Here her ladyship paused, placed two pink fingers between her teeth, and sent a shrill whistle sounding down between the high walls.
“All right!” came a happy voice from below. There was a scramble of feet, two or three varied exclamations in masculine tones, and then Mr. Savage came bounding up the stairs. “Playing chess with your brother and had to break up the game. When duty calls, you know. Morning, Miss Garrison. What's up?”
“We're just on the point of going up,” said Jane, sweetly. “Up in the tower. Miss Garrison wants to see how far she can fly.”