But e'en should it never repay me fully, I care not, for it was verily for the benefit of my country I built it, and I take pride in the thought that I was not mistaken. But that any old gipsy-woman should take upon herself to prophesy its destruction, is too much for my sufferance!" "You take her idle words too seriously, good friend," said the earl with a laugh. "A fig for the old witch and her evil sayings! But, Jack, you have seen much trouble. I am not a religious man, and know no text whereon to preach you a sermon on resignation, but honestly I hope that time has softened this blow?" "I verily learned resignation hardly, my lord," answered the boatman, "and the Evil One oft bade me, like the wife of Job, curse God and die. But I was fain at last to learn that 'whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth,' and that doubtless He saw what was good for the little maid better than I did." "Well, Jack," said the young earl, rising and stretching himself, "I am glad you found comfort in your own way. After all, death is surely preferable to a life of unhappiness? Which would you have chosen for your daughter?" "It may be I would never have been called upon to make such a choice, my lord," answered the boatman thoughtfully. "So far as my eye could see, there was as happy a life in store for my little lass as falls to the lot of most of us whatever. But if there were to be hard things in store for her, why then I am glad indeed for the Lord to have taken her." "Beshrew me, if there are not hard things in store for all of us sooner or later!" said the earl. "For my part, I confess that I find this the greatest solace for the troubles of life. To the long preservation of your bridge, Jack!" and he tossed off a glass of wine carelessly. "I thank you humbly, my lord," said Jack, "but I would have put more confidence in the toast if you had drunk it in water." "Very good, Jack!" laughed the earl. "Verily thou art a man of principle! Well, I am playing the part of a poor host, leaving my guests to roam yon sunny glades alone, while I gossip with you! Have the boat ready in an hour's time, good Jack, to row us homewards." And turning on his heel, he strolled off into the woods, waving a kiss to Little Miss Primrose, who, leaning against Jack's knee, condescended to raise for a moment her dark-fringed eyes from the grapes she was engrossed with, to say, "Good-bye, Mr. Earl!" in the most dignified of baby voices, giving him at the same time, with a dismissing flourish of her tiny white hand, a gracious permission to depart.