“It was not spoken as a threat, sir, and that you know as well as I do.  It was said from a friend to a friend,—­as I thought then.  But it is not the less true.  I wonder what you can think of faith and truth and honesty of purpose when you took advantage of my absence,—­you, whom I had told a thousand times that I loved her better than my own soul!  You stand before the world as a rising man, and I stand before the world as a man—­damned.  You have been chosen by my father to sit for our family borough, while I am an outcast from his house.  You have Cabinet Ministers for your friends, while I have hardly a decent associate left to me in the world.  But I can say of myself that I have never done anything unworthy of a gentleman, while this thing that you are doing is unworthy of the lowest man.”

“I have done nothing unworthy,” said Phineas.  “I wrote to you instantly when I had resolved,—­though it was painful to me to have to tell such a secret to any one.”

“You wrote!  Yes; when I was miles distant; weeks, months away.  But I did not come here to bullyrag like an old woman.  I got your letter only on Monday, and know nothing of what has occurred.  Is Miss Effingham to be—­your wife?” Lord Chiltern had now come quite close to Phineas, and Phineas felt that that clenched fist might be in his face in half a moment.  Miss Effingham of course was not engaged to him, but it seemed to him that if he were now so to declare, such declaration would appear to have been drawn from him by fear.  “I ask you,” said Lord Chiltern, “in what position you now stand towards Miss Effingham.  If you are not a coward you will tell me.”

“Whether I tell you or not, you know that I am not a coward,” said Phineas.

“I shall have to try,” said Lord Chiltern.  “But if you please I will ask you for an answer to my question.”

Phineas paused for a moment, thinking what honesty of purpose and a high spirit would, when combined together, demand of him, and together with these requirements he felt that he was bound to join some feeling of duty towards Miss Effingham.  Lord Chiltern was standing there, fiery red, with his hand still clenched, and his hat still on, waiting for his answer.  “Let me have your question again,” said Phineas, “and I will answer it if I find that I can do so without loss of self-respect.”

“I ask you in what position you stand towards Miss Effingham.  Mind, I do not doubt at all, but I choose to have a reply from yourself.”

“You will remember, of course, that I can only answer to the best of my belief.”

“Answer to the best of your belief.”

“I think she regards me as an intimate friend.”

“Had you said as an indifferent acquaintance, you would, I think, have been nearer the mark.  But we will let that be.  I presume I may understand that you have given up any idea of changing that position?”

“You may understand nothing of the kind, Lord Chiltern.”