glances, which, strange to say, did not affect the latter
much--deeper emotions had swallowed up the minor ones, and he could
disdain the imputation of cowardice, although he could not but feel
that his attempted flight would be ascribed by every one to fear of
the combat, which had been offered to, and accepted by him, and
from which he could not otherwise have saved himself.

They dismounted within the courtyard, and Hugo made a certain
communication to the seneschal. The latter came up to Wilfred as he
stood listlessly in the crowd, the object of many a scornful
glance.

"The baron, your father, bids you to follow me."

The old retainer led the way up a staircase. On the third floor
there was a chamber with a small loophole to serve as window,
through which nothing larger than a cat could pass. There was
furniture--a rough table and chair, a rude bed, and mattress of
straw.

"You are to remain here until my lord comes to release you."

The prisoner entered the chamber, and threw himself wearily on the
bed, the door slammed with a heavy sound behind him, the steps of
the gaoler (was he any better?) died away in the distance, and all
was still, save a faint murmur from the courtyard below, or from
the great hall, where the banquet was even now served.

Hours passed away, and a light step was heard approaching--it was
certainly not the baron's. Soon a voice was heard through the