r, as you are asking questions, I suppose I may as well
answer them. Go on! Next!' Harold went on in the same calm, cold
voice:

'Who made the proposal of marriage?'

'She did.'

'Did . . . Was it made at once and directly, or after some preliminary
suggestion?'

'After a bit. I didn't quite understand at first what she was driving
at.' There was a long pause. With an effort Harold went on:

'Did you accept?' Leonard hesitated. With a really wicked scowl he eyed
his big, powerfully-built companion, who still had his hand as in a vice.
Then seeing no resource, he answered:

'I did not! That does not mean that I won't, though!' he added
defiantly. To his surprise Harold suddenly released his hand. There was
a grimness in his tone as he said:

'That will do! I know now that you have spoken the truth, sober as well
as drunk. You need say no more. I know the rest. Most men--even brutes
like you, if there are any--would have been ashamed even to think the
things you said, said openly to me, you hound. You vile, traitorous,
mean-souled hound!'

'What did I say?'

'I know what you said; and I shall not forget it.' He went on, his voice
deepening into a stern judicial utterance, as though he were pronouncing
a sentence of death:

'Leonard Everard, you have treated vilely a lady whom I love and honour
more than I love my own soul. You have insulted her to her face and
behind her back. You have made such disloyal reference to her and to her
mad act in so trusting you, and have so shown your intention of causing,
intentionally or unintentionally, woe to her, that I tell you here and
now that you hold henceforth your life in your hand. If you ever mention
to a living soul what you have told me twice to-night, even though you
should be then her husband; if you should cause her harm though she
should then be your wife; if you should cause her dishonour in public or
in private, I shall kill you. So help me God!'

Not a word more did he say; but, taking up the reins, drove on in silence
till they arrived at the gate of Brindehow, where he signed to him to
alight.

He drove off in silence.

When he arrived at his own house he sent the servant to bed, and then
went to his study, where he locked himself in. Then, and then only, did
he permit his thoughts to have full range. For the first time since the
blow had fallen he looked straight in the face the change in his own
life. He had loved Stephen s