"I take such pleasure in her loveliness and in all that pertains to her, it is a happiness to me to but look on." Whatsoever the thing was in her loving mood which touched him and found echo in his own, he was so far moved that he answered to her with something less of ceremoniousness; remembering also, in truth, that she was a lady he had heard of, and recalling her relationship and name.
"It is then Mistress Anne Wildairs I am honoured by having speech with," he said.

"My Lady Dunstanwolde has spoken of you in my presence.

I am my lord's kinsman the Duke of Osmonde;" again bowing, and Anne curtseyed low once more.
Despite his greatness, she felt a kindness and grace in him which was not condescension, and which almost dispelled the timidity which, being part of her nature, so unduly beset her at all times when she addressed or was addressed by a stranger.

John Oxon, bowing his bright curls, and seeming ever to mock with his smiles, had caused her to be overcome with shy awkwardness and blushes; but this man, who seemed as far above him in person and rank and mind as a god is above a graceful painted puppet, even appeared to give of his own noble strength to her poor weakness.

He bore himself towards her with a courtly respect such as no human being had ever shown to her before.