‘Don’t be down-hearted, old fellow,’ he said, walking slowly under the spreading boughs, with his hand resting affectionately upon Turchill’s shoulder. ‘Be sure things will work round in time. She is a pert capricious minx; but she cannot help being fond of you, if you are only patient.’ ‘I would wait for her as Jacob waited for Rachel, if I were as sure of winning her,’ answered Edgar; ‘but I am afraid there’s no chance. If she detested me; if the very sight of me were odious to her; there might be some hope. But she likes me—she is even fond of me; in a calm sisterly way. If you knew how sweet she was to me in the spring before you came—she had no fits of temper then—when I taught her sculling; how she used to boil a kettle down in the boat-house and——’ ‘Yes; it was awfully nice of her,’ interjected Gerald somewhat impatiently, having heard the story of these boat-house breakfasts several times before. ‘If she were less kind I should have more hope,’ pursued Edgar. ‘I think I shall go away—out of the country—where I shall never see her lovely face. I have a great mind to go to India and shoot big game.’ ‘And stick pigs?—a curious cure for the heart-ache. No, old fellow; stay at home and bide your time. That’s your game.’ ‘I could never look her in the face after to-night,’ said Edgar. ‘Nonsense, man! Treat this capricious minx as coolly as if nothing had ever been said about love and despair. Let her think to-night’s avowal the consequence of too much wine—a mere after-dinner outburst of sentiment. Look her in the face, forsooth! If you are a wise man, you may make her ashamed to look you in the face before she is six months older. You have spoilt her by your flatteries and footings and compliances. Give her a little of the rough side of your bark. She professes to care for you as a brother, quotha! Treat her with brotherly discourtesy—brotherly indifference. Be as candid about her faults and follies as if you were her very brother. When she finds you can live without her she will begin to languish for the old adulation.’ ‘I love her too well to be such a Jesuit,’ said Edgar. ‘Pshaw! do you suppose Petruchio did not love Kate? He knew there was but one way of taming his fair shrew, and he used the wisdom Heaven had given him.’ ‘I couldn’t act a part where she is concerned,’ argued Edgar. ‘She would find me out in a moment.’