after thus enjoining silence, made a gesture for the youth to follow, and shuffled noiselessly before him.  Gilbert’s heart was well-nigh bursting with anxiety as they strode along.  When they reached the point where the corridor branched off into many smaller passages, Linda entered one that opened through a sharp-arched door upon the top of a battlemented tower.  The youth felt relieved by the cold, damp wind that drove through the aperture against his burning cheeks.  As they reached a recess near the tower, Linda stopped and leaned against a buttress with her arms crossed on her breast.  At this moment, Gilbert became aware of the presence of a third figure, muffled from head to foot in a mantle of fur; he felt that the Lady Margaret stood before him, but all his gallant resolutions melted away, and he remained mute and motionless, powerless to speak or act.  Apparently unconscious of Gilbert’s presence, the lady stepped within the recess and knelt before a statue of the Mater Dolorosa; the youth was awed and abashed:  he began to consider his daring adventure an unwarrantable intrusion; he meditating kissing the hem of her garment and retiring with all his love unspoken.  In the midst of his suspense Margaret arose and confronted him; her manner was formal and dignified without being cold or stern.

“Are you Gilbert de Hers?” she said, in an undertone, but her voice was firm and clear.

Gilbert bowed, but made no other reply.

“What is your motive in coming here?” pursued the maiden, still calmly.

The youth was silent, his eyes fixed on the pavement.

“Why have you come so mysteriously—­in such a strange disguise?”

But still no answer came.

“Are you here,” continued his fair questioner, with more emphasis, “on a hostile mission?  Are you seeking vengeance on our house by stealth?  Are you engaged in the prosecution of some criminal vow to injure us?  Speak!  Have you come to draw blood?”

“No, no!” muttered Gilbert, finding voice at last; “I bear your house no enmity.”

“Beware!” said the lady.  “Remember that for years you have been our professed and bitter enemy.”

“I was your enemy.  I solemnly declare myself one no longer.”

“Then what has impelled you to this step?  Is it an idle curiosity—­a mere piece of bravado?” Gilbert made no reply.

“Is the object of your visit fulfilled?  If so, fly at once!  Your life is in danger—­you cannot long escape detection—­it is dangerous to tempt my father.  Go! you will find none else here to listen to your denial of an inimical intent in this reckless deception.”

“My object is but half fulfilled!” exclaimed the youth, throwing himself at the Lady Margaret’s feet.