“Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. " "I should think not," observed Jonathan, who had some practice in the knight's moods, and knew how to humour him. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. "Take him home, Saunders," said Sir Rowland, resigning his faulty steed to the attendant's care, "I shall not require you further. The strong potation he had taken, combined with fatigue and anxiety he had previously undergone, made him oversleep himself, and when he awoke it was just beginning to grow light. He lives near the Black Lion. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. It was not possible. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. ‘A word, if you please, my friend.
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