There had been women of the earl's illustrious House who would have given their hands to the axe rather than conceal a stain and have to dread a scandal. His Rosamund, after all, was of their pattern; even though she blew that conscience she prattled of into trifles, and swelled them, as women of high birth in this country, out of the clutches of the priests, do not do.
She clung to him for his promise to go.
He said: 'Well, well.'
'That means, you will,' said she.
His not denying it passed for the affirmative.
Then indeed she bloomed with love of him.
'Yet do say yes,' she begged.
'I'll go, ma'am,' shouted the earl. 'I'll go, my love,' he said softly.