“Well, sir. I suppose we must take it that the marriage is complete in Scotch law. So far for the past. What of the future?” In a low voice Athlyne replied: “Whose future?” “Yours--yours and my daughter’s.” He was amazed at Athlyne’s reply, spoken in a voice both low and sad: so too was Joy: “Of that I cannot say. It does not rest with me.” “Not rest with you, sir? Then with whom does it rest.” Athlyne raised his eyes and looked him straight in the face: “With you!” “With me?” the Colonel’s voice was faint with amazement. “Yes, with you! What future have I, already condemned to death! What future has my wife, whose sentence of widowhood came even before the knowledge of her marriage! Do you forget Colonel Ogilvie that my life is pledged to you? On your own doing, I took that obligation; but having taken it I must abide by it. Such future as may be for either of us rests with you!” Colonel Ogilvie did not pause before answering. He spoke quickly as one whose mind is made up: “But that is all over.” Athlyne said quietly: “You had not said so! In an affair of this kind the challenged man is not free to act. Pacific overture must be with the one who considering himself injured has sought this means of redress.” Joy listening, with her heart sinking and her hand so trembling that she took it from his arm lest it should upset him, was amazed. He was at least as determined as her father. But she was rejoiced to see that his stiffness was having its effect; her father was evidently respecting this very quality so much that he was giving way to his opponent. Seeing this, and recognising in her woman’s way for the first time in her life this fundamental force, she made up her mind that she too would on her side keep steadfastly to her convictions just as … as … He had done. In silence she waited for what would follow this new development going on before her eyes. Presently Colonel Ogilvie spoke: “I suppose Lord Athlyne you are satisfied with the validity of the marriage?” He answered heartily: “Of course I am! The Sheriff was quite clear about it; and what he says is sufficient for me.” “And your intention?” “Sir, from the first moment when my eyes lit on your daughter I had only one intention, and that was to make her my wife. Be quite satisfied as to me! I am fixed as Fate! If there is any hindrance to my wishes it can only come from my wife. But understand this: that if for any cause whatever she may wish this marriage annulled, or consider that it has not been valid, she has only to indicate her wish and I shall take any step in my power to set her free.” “Father!” Colonel Ogilvie turned in astonishment at the sound of his daughter’s voice, which was in such tone as he had never heard from her. It rang; her mind was made up: