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Updated: May 22, 2025
She remembered, oh, so well one of her father's sermons that had vividly impressed her in the dear old days at Dunwich Cathedral. It was preached upon the text, "Come ye out and be ye separate." From Milan they went on direct to Florence. Alan had decided to take rooms for the summer at Perugia, and there to see Herminia safely through her maternal troubles.
But till I've gone home to London and asked about it from mother, oh, Walter, we two are no longer engaged. You are free from your promise." She said it proudly; she said it bravely. She said it with womanly grace and dignity. Something of Herminia shone out in her that moment. No man should ever take her to the grandest home unless he took her at her full worth, pleased and proud to win her.
An overpowering desire to look on her father's face once more she had never seen her mother's impelled Herminia to enter those unwonted portals. The Dean was in the pulpit.
Poor purblind Bower Lane! A life-time would have failed it to discern for itself how infinitely higher than its slavish "respectability" was Herminia's freedom. In which respect, indeed, Bower Lane was no doubt on a dead level with Belgravia, or, for the matter of that, with Lambeth Palace. But Herminia, for her part, never discovered she was talked about.
Nature put that thrill in our souls to cry out to us with a clear voice when we had met the soul she then and there intended for us." Alan's face flushed like her own. "Then you love me," he cried, all on fire. "And you deign to tell me so; Oh, Herminia, how sweet you are. What have I done to deserve it?" He folded her in his arms. Her bosom throbbed on his. Their lips met for a second.
"Herminia," he said at last, leaning forward till his face was very close to hers, and he could feel the warm breath that came and went so quickly; "that's very, very kind of you. I needn't tell you I've been thinking a great deal about you these last three weeks or so. You have filled my mind; filled it to the brim, and I think you know it."
It was a message of love, of forgiveness, of generosity, such as Herminia would hardly have expected from so stern a man as Alan had always represented his father to be to her. But at moments of unexpected danger angry feelings between father and son are often forgotten, and blood unexpectedly proves itself thicker than water. Yet even so Herminia couldn't bear to show the telegram to Alan.
To Herminia, indeed, this expatriation at such a moment was in many ways to the last degree distasteful; for her own part, she hated the merest appearance of concealment, and would rather have flaunted the open expression of her supreme moral faith before the eyes of all London.
"Oh, yes! this power is great, most great," observed the princess; "and the more formidable because it moves in a mysterious way over minds and consciences." "Aye, Herminia," said the marquis: "I have had under my command a magnificent regiment. Very often have I experienced the energetic and exquisite enjoyment of command! Aye! that was greatness.
"Well, it is many years," said the girl, philosophically. "Here she come." La Tulita, or Doña Herminia, as she now was called, walked briskly across the meadow and sat down on the stone which had come to be called for her. She spoke to each in turn, but did not ask for news. She had ceased long since to do that. She still came because the habit held her, and because she liked the women.
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