The man stood irresolute a moment, then stooped, lifted Debora's hand to his lips and kissed it.
"Thou hast preached me a homily," he said, in low voice; "yet, 'fore Heaven, from such a priest I mind it not." And, opening the door, he went swiftly away.
Then Don Sherwood drew Debora to him. "Nothing shall ever take thee from me," he said, passionately. "I would not live, sweetheart, to suffer what I suffered yesternight."
"Nor I," she answered.
"When may I to Shottery to wed thee?" he asked.
"Oh! I will not leave my father for many a day," she said, smiling tremulously. "Yet I would have thee come to Shottery by-and-bye—peradventure, when the summer comes, and the great rosebush beneath the south window is ablow."
"Beshrew me! 'tis ages away, the summer," he returned, with impatience.
"The days till then will be as long for me as for thee," she said, tenderly; and with this assurance, and because he would fain be pleasing her in all things, he tried to make himself content.