Poor Miles, and Arthur, and my dear guardian, Sir Richard, are free of him, and at rest: better that you were with them than that you bide here in the clutches of this miscreant.

Your pretensions are a menace to his title and possessions; you have assaulted him in his own house: you are ruined if you stay.

Go--do not hesitate.
If you lack money, take this purse, I beg of you, and bribe the servants to let you pass.

Oh, be warned, poor soul, and escape while you may." Miles declined the purse with a gesture, and rose up and stood before her.
"Grant me one thing," he said.

"Let your eyes rest upon mine, so that I may see if they be steady.