“And now sir as to the manifest doubt you expressed as to my _bona fides_ in placing my life in your hands--your apprehension lest I should try to evade my responsibility to the laws of honour by an appeal in some way to a court of law. Let me set your mind at ease by placing before you my views; and my views, let me tell you, are ultimately my intentions. I have tried to assure you that with the exception of waiting to ask your consent to taking … a certain passenger for a drive, my conduct has from that moment been such as you could not find fault with. I take it for granted that you--nor no man--could honestly resent such familiarities as are customary to, and consequent on, a man offering marriage to a lady, and pressing his suit with such zeal as is, or should be, attendant on the expression of a passion which he feels very deeply!” Even whilst he was speaking, his subconsciousness was struck by his own coolness. He marvelled that he could, synchronously with the fearful effort necessary to his self-control and with despair gnawing at his heart, speak with such cold blooded preciseness. As is usual in such psychical stresses his memory took note for future reference of every detail. His opponent on the contrary burst all at once into another fit of flaming passion. Athlyne’s very preciseness seemed to have inflamed him afresh. He thundered out: “Familiarities sir, on offering marriage! Do you dare to trifle with me at a time like this. When but a few minutes ago I saw you here in this lonely place, at this hour of the morning after a night of absence, undressed as you were, holding in your arms my daughter undressed also… God’s death! sir, be careful or you shall rue it!” He stopped almost choking with passion. Athlyne felt himself once more overwhelmed with the cold wave of responsibility. “Joy! Joy! Joy!” he kept repeating to himself as a sort of charm to keep off evil. To let go his anger now might--would be fatal to her happiness. He marvelled to himself as he went on in equal voice, seemingly calm: