Caroline got up; her hat, her gloves rolled to the ground. She was breathing hardly. Scarcely realizing what she was doing, she moved awkwardly, almost stiffly, to the door and stood against it. Her movement, her attitude drew his attention; he turned and looked at her. His face was swollen now with the force of his increasing rage. He was almost shouting out his words. As he paused, his chest heaved as though he had just been through some violent exertion. Caroline looked at him steadily. "Please do not make so much noise; the servants will think you are killing me, and--and I have done nothing to deserve that." Broxbourne frowned, stood for a moment looking at her in an uncertain way, and then sat down heavily. "I beg your pardon," he said. He wiped his brow. "I'll do it," he said, hardly conscious that he was speaking. "A little prison life will teach her a lot of things she ought to know." The girl standing at the door, shaking in every limb, could have cried aloud her passionate abhorrence for him; but something stronger than anger and hate dominated her; it was fear. Strung up as he was, he was ripe for some quick and terrible revenge. Even now she could see his purpose was strengthening; in a few hours' time the world would be blazoned with this sorry, this miserable story. Camilla's pathetic face--Rupert--Agnes Brenton--the children limned themselves in turn before Caroline's eyes. Though she would have given her life to have denied his accusation, she knew it was true. So much was explained now--so much--so much! As Broxbourne made a move as if to get up, she commenced speaking indistinctly, half wildly. "You have said a most terrible thing. You have accused this--my friend of a great crime, and you mean to have her punished. Why? Not for any honourable or upright reason, but because you are so angry with her that you are like a madman, and want to strike at her somehow, you don't care how. That seems to me to be very paltry." Broxbourne wiped his brow again. "Oh, indeed; I never asked for your opinion!" he said. "I never asked you to go into a frenzy of rage," Caroline answered; "one good turn deserves another. If you try to frighten me out of my life, I am at liberty to tell you what I think of you; and what I think is not pleasant." Sir Samuel sat down again, and looked at her steadily. She had a defiant--a picturesque air, standing against the door. "I don't care what any one thinks," he said. "I'm the best judge of my own actions." "Are you?" Caroline laughed. "Well, then, there must be something very wrong with you, even a schoolboy knows it is only a coward who hits a woman." She caught her breath. "I should not have taken you to be a coward, Sir Samuel." He put his eyeglass into his eye, and looked at her again. His anger began to subside. As he fixed Caroline with a steady gaze, he unconsciously settled his collar, and fingered his tie.