Then I said to him--'Sir, you have told me you have a
daughter, but you have not told me whether she is marriageable or not?'
He started at the question, and answered somewhat sternly. 'My daughter
has arrived at womanhood. But wherefore the inquiry? Do you seek her
hand in marriage?' 'If I did so, would you refuse her to me?' A pause
ensued, during which I observed he was struggling with deep emotion, but
he replied at last, 'I could not do so after my solemn promise to you;
but I pray you not to make the demand.' I then said to him: 'Sir, you
cannot lay any restrictions upon me. I shall exact fulfilment of your
promise. Your daughter must be mine.' Again he seemed to be torn by
emotion, and to meditate a refusal; but after a while he suppressed his
feelings, and replied. 'My word is plighted. She shall be yours.--Ay,
though it cost me my life, she shall be yours.' He then inquired my name
and station, and I gave him a different name from that by which I am
known; in fact, I adopted one which chanced to be familiar to him, and
which instantly changed his feelings towards me into those of warmest
friendship. As you may well suppose, I did not think fit to reveal my
odious profession, and though I was unmasked, I contrived so to muffle
my hateful visage with my cloak, that it was in a great degree concealed
from him. After this, I told him that I had no intention of pressing my
demand immediately; that I would take my own means of seeing his
daughter without her being conscious of my presence; and that I would
not intrude upon her in any way without his sanction.
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