“I think I had. I exercised parental authority for once, and for your good, and for the good of a true and faithful lover of yours, whom you jilted once, and now you trifle with his affection and his interests. He loves you too well to leave you; yet you know his vast estates and interests require supervision.”
“That for his vast estates!” said Rosa contemptuously. “I am not to be driven to the altar like this, when my heart is in the grave. Don't you do it again, papa, or I'll get up and forbid the banns; affront for affront.”
“I should like to see that,” said the old gentleman dryly.
Rosa vouchsafed no reply, but swept out of the room, with burning cheeks and glittering eyes, and was not seen all day, would not dine with them, in spite of three humble, deprecating notes Falcon sent her.
“Let the spiteful cat alone,” said old Lusignan. “You and I will dine together in peace and quiet.”
It was a dull dinner; but Falcon took advantage of the opportunity, impregnated the father with his views, and got him to promise to have the banns cried next Sunday. He consented.
Rosa learned next Sunday morning that this was to be done, and her courage failed her. She did not go to church at all.
She cried a great deal, and submitted to violence, as your true women are too apt to do. They had compromised her, and so conquered her. The permanent feelings of gratitude and esteem caused a reaction after her passion, and she gave up open resistance as hopeless.
Falcon renewed his visits, and was received with the mere sullen languor of a woman who has given in.
The banns were cried a third time.