Then there were three of us in the dungeon,--John, Lord Rutland, and myself; and we were all there because we had meddled in the affairs of others, and because Dorothy had inherited from Eve a capacity for insane, unreasoning jealousy. Lord Rutland was sitting on the ground in a corner of the dungeon. John, by the help of a projecting stone in the masonry, had climbed to the small grated opening which served to admit a few straggling rays of light into the dungeon's gloom. He was gazing out upon the fair day, whose beauty he feared would soon fade away from him forever. Elizabeth's coldness had given him no hope. It had taken all hope from his father. The opening of the door attracted John's attention, and he turned his face toward me when I entered. He had been looking toward the light, and his eyes, unaccustomed for the moment to the darkness, failed at first to recognize of me. When the dungeon door had closed behind me, he sprang down from his perch by the window, and came toward me with outstretched hands. He said sorrowfully:-- "Malcolm, have I brought you here, too? Why are you in irons? It seems that I am destined to bring calamity upon all whom I love." "It is a long story," I replied laughingly. "I will tell it to you when the time begins to drag; but I tell you now it is through no fault of yours that I am here. No one is to blame for my misfortune but myself." Then I continued bitterly, "Unless it be the good God who created me a fool." John went to his father's side and said:-- "Sir Malcolm is here, father. Will you not rise and greet him?" John's voice aroused his father, and the old lord came to the little patch of light in which I was standing and said: "A terrible evil has fallen upon us, Sir Malcolm, and without our fault. I grieve to learn that you also are entangled in the web. The future looks very dark." "Cheer up, father," said John, taking the old man's hand. "Light will soon come; I am sure it will." "I have tried all my life to be a just man," said Lord Rutland. "I have failed at times, I fear, but I have tried. That is all any man can do. I pray that God in His mercy will soon send light to you, John, whatever of darkness there may be in store for me." I thought, "He will surely answer this just man's prayer," and almost before the thought was completed the dungeon door turned upon its hinges and a great light came with glorious refulgence through the open portal--Dorothy. "John!" Never before did one word express so much of mingled joy and grief. Fear and confidence, and, greater than all, love unutterable were blended in its eloquent tones. She sprang to John as the lightning leaps from cloud to cloud, and he caught her to his heart. He gently kissed her hair, her face being hidden in the folds of his doublet. "Let me kneel, John, let me kneel," she murmured. "No, Dorothy, no," he responded, holding her closely in his arms. "But one moment, John," she pleased.