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?” “Perhaps because he—is a man, Herminia. Perhaps because he is the man to mould and master you. Perhaps because of his wistful, wondering, woman’s eyes. Perhaps because you—wished me to—ha! Why must ye blush, child, pink as a peony, I vow?” CHAPTER XIX TELLS HOW SIR JOHN WENT “BEAR-BAITING” From St. James’s Square Sir John directed his chair to an address in Mount Street, and was so fortunate as to meet Captain Armitage stepping forth to take the air; hereupon they flourished their hats at each other, bowed, and thereafter stood at gaze. “Armitage,” quoth Sir John, “time worketh change and five years is a long time!” “Dering,” answered the Captain, with his pleasant smile, “five years shall be as many hours—minutes, if ye’ll have it so!” “Tommy!” exclaimed Sir John, and held out his hand. “Jack!” exclaimed the Captain, and shook it heartily. “’S life!” cried he. “’S death! Egad!... ’od rat me but this is infinite well, upon my soul it is! Are ye home for good?” “I hope so, Tom.” Then, having paid his chairmen, Sir John slipped a hand within the Captain’s arm and they walked on together. “Tom,” said he, gently interrupting his companion’s joyous reminiscences of their schoolboy escapades and later follies—“Tommy, art minded for a little gentle sport?” “Anything ye will, Jack,” answered the Captain eagerly, “for, demme, the town’s dead at this hour ... a curst dog-hole, rat me! Say the word and I’m yours. What’s to do?” “Bear-baiting, Tom.” “Hey? Bear-baiting? What the——” “D’ye happen to know which particular coffee-house my Lord Sayle affects?” “Eh—Sayle?” repeated the Captain, halting suddenly. “Sayle, is it? Oh, demme! D’ye mean——” “My Lord Sayle!” nodded Sir John. “But ... bear-baiting, Jack? O man, Lord love ye, ’tis pure to ha’ ye back; the town’s alive again, or will be, burn me if ’twon’t! Sayle, eh? So soon, Jack! Egad, ’tis like ye!... Bear-baiting. Oh, demme!” And the Captain halted again to laugh. “And which coffee-house, Tom——”