tood
Sir George with the murderous fagot raised, as if he intended again to
strike. I had sprung to his side and was standing by him, intending to
fell him to the floor should he attempt to repeat the blow upon either
Dorothy or John. Across from Sir George and me, that is, upon the opposite
side of Dorothy and John, stood Lady Crawford and Madge, who clung to each
other in terror. The silence was heavy, save when broken by Dorothy's sobs
and whispered ejaculations to John. Sir George's terrible deed had
deprived all of us, including himself, of the power to speak. I feared to
move from his side lest he should strike again. After a long agony of
silence he angrily threw the fagot away from him and asked:--

"Who is this fellow? Can any one tell me?"

Only Madge, Dorothy, and I could have given him true answer. By some
strange power of divination Madge had learned all that had happened, and
she knew as well as I the name of the man who lay upon the floor battling
with death. Neither Madge nor I answered.

"Who is this fellow?" again demanded Sir George.

Dorothy lifted her face toward her father.

"He is the man whom you seek, father," she answered, in a low, tearful
voice. "He is my lover; he is my life; he is my soul, and if you have
murdered him in your attempt to kill your own child, all England shall
hear of it and you shall hang. He is worth more in the eyes of the queen
than we and all our kindred. You know not whom you have killed."

Sir George's act had sobered him.

"I did not intend to kill him--in that manner," said Sir George, dropping
his words absent-mindedly. "I hoped to hang him. Where is Dawson? Some one
fetch Dawson."

Several of the servants had gathered about the open door in the next room,
and in obedience to Sir George's command one of them went to seek the
forester. I feared that John would die from the effects of the blow; but I
also knew from experience that a man's head may receive very hard knocks
and life still remain. Should John recover and should Sir George learn
his name, I was sure that my violent cousin would again attempt the
personal administration of justice and would hang him, under the old Saxon
law. In that event Parliament would not be so easily pacified as upon the
occasion of the former hanging at Haddon; and I knew that if John should
die by my cousin's hand, Sir George would pay for the act with his life
and his estates. Fearing that Sir George might learn through Daw