Rage almost choked him as he laid his hand on the door of the coffee-room, and the sight which met his eyes as he opened it was hardly calculated to assuage his anger. A superbly handsome young giant, with one arm in a sling, was seated close to Stella in a window-seat at the farther end of the room. It was easy enough to see that they were lovers. He was speaking eagerly, and she was hanging on his words, with her two hands clasped in one of his. On Sir Philip’s entrance they started, and both of them rose to their feet; but Hilary still retained Stella’s hand. Sir Philip carefully closed the door behind him, and came close up to the other two occupants of the room. In spite of the storm which raged within him, he was beyond everything anxious to avoid any scene by which his private affairs would become known to the people of the inn. It was therefore in a voice so low as to be inaudible to any possible listeners outside the room that he addressed himself to Hilary, fixing him with his cold, glittering, light eyes as he spoke. “What is your name?” “Hilary Pritchard.” “And what are you doing here with my daughter?” “I have been asking her to marry me, Sir Philip!” “You are not aware, then, that she is already engaged to be married to Lord Carthew, by whose want of judgment a fellow like you got introduced into a respectable house.” “You have made some mistake, I think,” returned the young man, resolutely keeping his temper in the face of provocation. “Your daughter loves me, and she will never marry Lord Carthew.” “My daughter is under age, sir, and her folly and inexperience would make her an easy prey to the wiles of a cad and an adventurer such as you. Luckily, I have interfered to save her good name. You entered my house on sufferance, and taking advantage of my absence, and of your friend’s foolish confidence in you, you presumed to make love to this young lady in much the same rough-and-ready style as you would adopt toward the haymakers and farmhands in your own rank of life. You, a nobody, a penniless, intending emigrant, dared to try to steal my daughter’s affections from your friend, to whom she had pledged them. I have no hesitation in saying that your conduct has been mean, cowardly, treacherous, and unmanly in the extreme. I would rather see my daughter dead than lowered by any association with a low-born and ungrateful pauper such as you.” As he spoke, by a sudden movement he wrenched their hands asunder, and seizing that of his daughter’s within his own, began to move toward the door. Hilary Pritchard had grown very pale under Sir Philip’s fierce invective, but he did not condescend to defend himself against the latter’s accusations. “I hold you to your promise, Stella,” he said, quietly. “I swear to you I will marry no one but you,” she returned.