All these seven days nothing was heard of Lady Burville or of Allen. The former still continued to be a guest at Hernwood Hall, the latter still remained in London. Not a line had been received from him by Dora, and, hurt in her maidenly pride, she became offended by his continued silence. Whatever extraneous circumstances had led to his behaviour, _she_ had not caused the breach--for breach she considered it--between them. Twice or thrice she had determined to go over to Canterbury and question Mrs. Tice, but pride withheld her. She remained at the Red House, waiting, waiting, and waiting. What else could she do? Mention has been made of the high wall which surrounded the mansion of Mr. Edermont. This had been built by himself, and contained only two entrances, one from the road--a tall gate with spikes on the top--the other, a little door far down the right side. The house itself, like these gates, was kept always bolted and barred, and Mr. Edermont confessed to a fear of robbers. But, bearing in mind his particular prayer in the Litany, Dora was certain in her own mind that a greater fear than this moved him to take such precautions. When Joad had retired to his cottage at nine o'clock, Mr. Edermont accompanied him personally to the gates, and saw that they were bolted and barred. Afterwards he examined the side postern, and then retreated to the mansion, where he closed the iron-clamped shutters and locked every door throughout the house. The woman who cooked and cleaned, and did all the work, was locked up in the kitchen, with bedroom adjoining, like a prisoner; Dora was barred in her own set of rooms, and Mr. Edermont shut himself up in equal isolation. Ever since Dora could remember, these precautions had been taken, and by night she felt as though she were in gaol. Certainly burglars could not break in; but, on the other hand, none of the three inmates could get out unless permitted to do so by the caprice of Mr. Edermont. And on this point he had no caprice.