She contemplated him with secret terror. This grim silence, the silence of one who seemed to have taken a vow upon him; this abstention from food, served vividly to bring to her mind an anecdote he had once told her of a certain Viking ancestor of his, who, enraged at some insult, went home, sat by his fireside, refused to take food, and so died! Was Wilfrid going to do the like? Though secretly piqued, grieved, angered—there is no one word to describe properly her strange feeling—by Wilfrid’s manner, she could not refrain from addressing additional remarks to him, remarks whose tenor showed an interest, and even a tenderness, in his welfare. She might as well have talked to a statue. Animated by a spirit of despair she at last put the question point blank:— “Lord Courtenay, will you not speak?” No! he would not; and to hide her vexation and tears, she flung herself from the room. “The woman is yielding,” was his thought. “Her next coming will be to set me free.” An opinion that proved correct. From the moment when she had first locked the door upon Wilfrid, Pauline had been miserable. She could not see him mortified without being mortified herself. What her head bade her do, her heart bade her not do. All day long this struggle had been going on in her mind, and when night came the struggle was too great to be borne any longer. The key turned in the lock, the door swung wide, and Pauline entered. With timid steps she drew near to Wilfrid. “Lord Courtenay,” she said humbly, “forgive me for carrying matters with so high a hand. It has been done with good intent, to avert bloodshed; but it—it pains me to keep you a prisoner. See! the door is open. My Finland henchmen are withdrawn. You are free.” Then, overcoming a sort of shame that had hitherto kept her from the act, she knelt before him. “Say that you forgive me, for I—I have been most wretched all the day.” Hard indeed would have been the mortal who could have resisted the wistful light of her dark eyes when added to the pleading tone of her voice. Moved by a sudden and natural impulse, Wilfrid took her hands within his own and carried them to his lips; and by that act Pauline knew that she was forgiven. CHAPTER XXIV THE FIGURE IN THE GREY DOMINO “I have tasted nothing all the day,” said Pauline, “I could not eat while you were fasting; but now, if you will give me your arm, Lord Courtenay, you shall conduct me to a chamber below, where there is a dinner set forth for us.” Wilfrid, who received this news with a good deal of pleasure, for he happened to be terribly hungry, escorted Pauline to the room in question. The two maids who were preparing to station themselves at the table, were dismissed by their impulsive mistress. “Let me be your serving maid,” she whispered to Wilfrid.