Sir John’s bow was Humility manifest.
“Madam,” sighed he, “I am now as ever your ladyship’s most obedient, humble servant. I go—yet first o’ your mercy and in justice to myself, pray tell us when ’twill be?”
“What, sir, in heaven’s name?”
“Our wedding. When will you marry me, Herminia?”
“Never—oh, never!” she cried passionately. “I had rather die first!”
“Alas, Herminia, for your so passionate refusal!” he mourned. “Tush, my lady, for your choice o’ death! And for thy so arrogant, unruly self—fare thee well. So must I to the country there to seek my Rose.... O Rose o’ love, my fragrant Rose.... God keep thee, my Lady Herminia, and teach thee more of gentleness. Duchess, most generous of women—adieu!”
So saying, Sir John bowed, and, wistful and despondent, took his departure.
“Aunt,” cried her ladyship, when they were alone, “in heaven’s name, why did you?”
“Why did I what, miss?”
“Receive that—that—man?”