Lassigny looked merely surprised. "But what do you think I meant?" he asked. "I love Beatrix. I love her with the utmost respect. I pay her all the honour I can in asking her to be my wife." "And how many women have you loved before?" asked Grafton. "And how many are you going to love afterwards?" Lassigny recoiled, with a dark flush on his face. "But do you want to insult me?" he asked. "Look here, Lassigny," said Grafton again. "We belong to two different nations. I'm not going to pick my words, or disguise my meaning, out of compliment to you. It's far too serious. You must take me as an Englishman. You know enough about us to be able to do it." "Well!" said Lassigny, grudgingly, after a pause. "You asked me a question. You asked me two questions. I think they are not the questions that one gentleman ought to ask of another. It should be enough that I pay honour to the one I love. My name is old, and has dignity. I have----" "Oh, we needn't go into that," Grafton interrupted him. "We treat as equals there, with the advantage on your side, if it's anywhere." "But, pardon me; we must go into it. It is essential. What more can I do than to offer my honourable name to your daughter? It means much to me. If I honour it, as I do, I honour her." "I know you honour her, in your way. It isn't our way. I ask you another question of the sort you say one gentleman ought not to ask of another. Should you consider it dishonouring your name, or dishonouring the woman you've given it to, to make love to somebody else, after you've been married a year or two, if the fancy takes you?" Lassigny rose to his feet. "Mr. Grafton," he said, "I don't understand you. I think it is you who are dishonouring your own daughter, whom I love, and shall always love." Grafton, without rising, held up a finger at him. "How am I dishonouring her?" he asked with insistence. "Tell me why you say I'm dishonouring her." Lassigny looked down at him. "To me," he said slowly, "she is the most beautiful and the sweetest girl on the earth. Don't you think so too? I thought you did." Grafton rose. "You've said it; it's her beauty," he said more quickly. "If she loses that,--as she will lose it with her youth,--she loses you. I'm not going to let her in for that kind of disillusionment." Lassigny was very stiff now, and entirely un-English in manner, and even in appearance. "Pardon me, Mr. Grafton, for having misunderstood your point of view. If it is a Puritan you want for your daughter I fear I am out of the running. I withdraw my application to you for her hand." "That's another thing," said Grafton, as Lassigny turned to leave him. "I wouldn't let a daughter of mine marry a Catholic." Lassigny went out, without another word. CHAPTER XV BEATRIX COMES HOME