"
"Hast thou tried cold indifference and haughtiness? It oft haps that a
maid is won by a lofty and arrogant mien." Sir Julian Pomphrey glanced
askance at Mistress Penwick, who lay with her face buried upon Janet's
ample bosom. "Methinks 'twould be a good beginning, if thou wouldst
renew thy suit by sending the maid to her chamber and let her espouse
Morpheus and 'suage her grief upon a bosom thou needst not be jealous
of." Janet arose and led forth Katherine. Lord Cedric stepped after
them and held out his hands and sobbed,--
"Kate, Kate, forgive, forgive!" She deigned not a backward look.
As they passed from sight, he fell upon his knees and shook with his
great emotion and groaned aloud in his misery.
Sir Julian Pomphrey dressed as a gentleman of France in riding
apparel; his overhanging top-boots displaying a leg of strength
and fine proportions; the curls of his periwig sweeping his broad
shoulders; his hands, half-hid by rare lace, gleaming white and
be-jewelled; a mustachio so flattened with pomade it lay like a black
line over his parted lips, through which shone strong white teeth,
was veritably a man of noble character and distinction.
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