Soon Madge's horse was led by a groom to the mounting block, and in a few minutes she emerged gropingly from the great door of Entrance Tower. Dorothy was again a prisoner in her rooms and could not come down to bid me farewell. Madge mounted, and the groom led her horse to me and placed the reins in my hands. "Is it you, Malcolm?" asked Madge. "Yes," I responded, in a voice husky with emotion. "I cannot thank you enough for coming to say farewell. You have forgiven me?" "Yes," responded Madge, almost in tears, "but I have not come to say farewell." I did not understand her meaning. "Are you going to ride part of the way with me--perhaps to Rowsley?" I asked, hardly daring to hope for so much. "To France, Malcolm, if you wish to take me," she responded murmuringly. For a little time I could not feel the happiness that had come upon me in so great a flood. But when I had collected my scattered senses, I said:-- "I thank God that He has turned your heart again to me. May I feel His righteous anger if ever I give you cause to regret the step you are taking." "I shall never regret it, Malcolm," she answered softly, as she held out her hand to me. Then we rode by the dove-cote, out from Haddon Hall, never to see its walls again. We went to Rutland, whence after a fortnight we journeyed to France. There I received my mother's estates, and never for one moment, to my knowledge, has Madge regretted having intrusted her life and happiness to me. I need not speak for myself. Our home is among the warm, sunlit, vine-covered hills of southern France, and we care not for the joys of golden streets so long as God in His goodness vouchsafes to us our earthly paradise. Age, with the heart at peace, is the fairest season of life; and love, leavened of God, robs even approaching death of his sting and makes for us a broad flower-strewn path from the tempestuous sea of time to the calm, sweet ocean of eternity. CHAPTER XVI LEICESTER WAITS AT THE STILE I shall now tell you of the happenings in Haddon Hall during the fortnight we spent at Rutland before our departure for France. We left Dorothy, you will remember, a prisoner in her rooms. After John had gone Sir George's wrath began to gather, and Dorothy was not permitted to depart from the Hall for even a walk upon the terrace, nor could she leave her own apartments save when the queen requested her presence. A few days after my departure from Haddon, Sir George sent Dawson out through the adjoining country to invite the nobility and gentry to a grand ball to be given at the Hall in honor of Queen Elizabeth. Queen Mary had been sent a prisoner to Chatsworth. Tom Shaw, the most famous piper of his times, and a choice company of musicians to play with him were hired for the occasion, and, in short, the event was so glorious that its wonders have been sung in minstrelsy throughout Derbyshire ever since.