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“Locked her up, has he? That seems hard.”

“Cruel, is it not?”

“You favor the suit of the Knight, do you?” inquired the Professor.

“I would let Ysolt choose for herself. He is a worthy man; but he has poverty.”

“We must try to help him,” said the Professor.

“You would act differently in such a case; would you not?” asked Sir Dinadan, rather eagerly.

“Why, yes, of course; that is, I mean,” said the Professor, suddenly recollecting himself, and what Miss Baffin had told him, “I mean, I would think about it. I would give the matter thoughtful consideration.”

Sir Dinadan sighed, and asked the Professor if he would come with him to the dining-hall.

It was a noble room. As the Professor entered it with Sir Dinadan, as he looked at the vast fireplace filled with burning logs, because the air of the castle was chilly even in summer time, at the rudely carved beams that traversed the ceiling, at the quaint curtains and curious ornaments upon the walls, at the long table which stretched across the floor and bore upon its polished surface a multitude of vessels of strange and often fantastic shapes, he could hardly believe his senses. These things, this method of existence, he had read about myriads of times, but they had never seemed very real to him until he encountered them here face to face.