For a moment Polaris gazed into that rubicund countenance in bewilderment, but for a moment only. With the floods of life came memory. He tried to spring to his feet, but the struggle in the water and the nausea of his returning vitality had sapped the strength from him. He fell weakly back. The look he bent upon the stranger was poignant with its question. "Rose--the Rose-maid? Where is she?" he gasped, wresting the words out painfully. With a graceful gesture, the stranger drew to one side and pointed across the room. "Your lady? She is there," he said. On the other side of the room, only a few feet away, was another couch, similar to the one on which Polaris had found himself. Rose Emer lay upon it. The oilskins she had worn were in a crumpled heap upon the floor. Her gown, sodden with sea water, clung to her limbs. A careful hand had partly covered her with the folds of a robe of soft, dark furs. The coils of her long, chestnut hair, disheveled and damp, had fallen about her face and neck. Her long lashes lay upon her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted. One arm hung down from the edge of the couch, its hand relaxed and open, the fingers limp. Long and earnestly Polaris looked at her. He could see only her profile. Her face was very white and still, outlined there against the furs. The light went out of his tawny eyes, and he set his teeth and turned his face to the wall. The sob that arose in his throat was wrung from the depths of a spirit sorely stricken. Now death were welcome indeed. "Grieve not so," the stranger said hastily. "She is not dead, and I am a fool to bring such fright upon you. She did but swoon when you yourself were overlong in returning to the realm of the living. Here." He passed an arm under the shoulders of Polaris, and assisted him to rise and cross to the other couch. Swaying like a drunken man, the son of the snows bent and touched the wrist of the girl with his fingers. When he felt the tides of the life-blood leaping through the warm flesh, a joy welled up within him that was akin to pain in its throbbing. Come what might, his lady lived, and once again there was light in his world. He laid his cheek against hers and he was near to tears in his weakness. Presently he raised his head, and for the first time gave a thought to his surroundings. The room he was in was shaped like the quarter of a circle. The couch on which he had lain was along the curved side of the room, and there the wall was of steel or iron, against which he could hear the lapping of waters. At each end, where the cabin narrowed to the points of its arc, were cabinets carved of polished woods. At the side where the girl lay the wall was of wood, also, and was pierced by a small door. A number of garments hung from pegs in the paneling. Near to the door, in a golden sheath, swung a heavy, short-bladed sword.