“Pray, will you answer me another question--Do you happen to know a firm in London named Grinwell and Co.? they are toothbrush manufacturers? Now, mark my words well--I say Grinwell and Co., tooth-brush manufacturers.” “I have until this moment never heard of Grinwell and Co., tooth-brush manufacturers.” “Now, sir,” replied Sir Thomas, “all this may be very well and very true; but there is one fact that you can neither deny nor dispute. You have been paying your addresses clandestinely to my daughter, and there is a mutual attachment between you.” “I love your daughter--I will not deny it.” “She returns your affections?” “I cannot reply to anything involving Miss Gourlay's opinions, who is not here to explain them; nor is it generous in you to force me into the presumptuous task of interpreting her sentiments on such a subject.” “The fact, however, is this. I have for some years entertained other and different views with respect to her settlement in life. You may be a gentleman, or you may be an impostor; but one thing is certain, you have taught her to contravene my wishes--to despise the honors to which a dutiful obedience to them would exalt her--to spurn my affection, and to trample on my authority. Now, sir, listen to me. Renounce her--give up all claims to her--withdraw every pretension, now and forever; or, by the living God! you shall never carry your life out of this room. Sooner than have the noble design which I proposed for her frustrated; sooner than have the projects of my whole life for her honorable exaltation ruined, I could bear to die the death of a common felon. Here, sir, is a proposition that admits of only the one fatal and deadly alternative. You see these pistols; they are heavily loaded; and you know my purpose; --it is the purpose, let me tell you, of a resolved and desperate man.” “I know not how to account for this violence, Sir Thomas Gourlay,” replied the stranger with singular coolness; “all I can say is, that on me it is thrown away.” “Refuse the compliance with the proposition I have made, and by heavens you have looked upon your last sun. The pistols, sir, are cocked; if one fails, the other won't.” “This outrage, Sir Thomas, upon a stranger, in your own house, under the protection of your own roof, is as monstrous as it is cowardly.” “My roof, sir, shall never afford protection to a villain,” said the baronet, in a loud and furious voice. “Renounce my daughter, and that quickly. No, sir, this roof will afford you no protection.” [Illustration: PAGE 446-- Pistols, which he instantly cocked, and held ready]