He is my happiness, my future, my eternal bliss.

Therefore have pity on me, Henry! Grant me this happiness, which I implore you for as Heaven's blessing.

Prove to me that you love me, and are willing to make this sacrifice for me.

Henry, on my knees, I conjure you! Give me the man I love; bend your proud head; become Margaret Seymour's husband, that Thomas Seymour may become mine." She had actually sunk upon her knees; and her face deluged with tears, bewitchingly beautiful in her passionate emotion, she looked up imploringly to her brother.
But the earl did not lift her up; on the contrary, with a smile, he fell back a step.

"How long is it now, duchess," asked he, mockingly, "since you swore that your secretary, Mr.Wilford, was the man whom you loved?
Positively, I believed you--I believed it till I one day found you in the arms of your page.