So the brothers laid their huge heads together, and the result was that they devised a plan by which they hoped to get rid altogether of the fair syren, and cure Og of his ridiculous passion, as they deemed it. Their plan was to send back Lilias to Southampton, and persuade Og that she had left him of her own accord to return to her former admirer, and they managed the matter so adroitly, that Og was completely duped, and, after a tremendous burst of indignation against the fickleness of the sex, vowed he would never think of the false jillflirt again. His brothers commended his resolution, and told him he had had a narrow escape. “If you are wise, you will take warning by me, and never marry,” said Magog. “If he must needs marry, let him choose a buxom widow, and not a tricksome girl like Lilias.” “I don’t mean to marry at all,” cried Og, resolutely. But the fangs of disappointment gnawed his heart. He grew moody and dull, and avoided the society of his brothers. After a month’s absence from the Tower, the three gigantic warders returned there, and resumed their ordinary duties. But Og’s melancholy increased, and his brothers at last began to feel uneasy about him, and to regret the part they had played. “It would be a grievous thing were he to break his heart for this silly girl,” remarked Gog. “He seems pining away for her.” “He may be pining away,” observed Magog; “but he is in good case still, and his appetite is not amiss, judging by the havoc he made with the cold chine of beef and lumbar-pie at breakfast this morning, to say nothing of the stoup of ale which he managed to empty. Nevertheless, I agree with you, brother Gog, that he is not himself, and hath quite lost his old pleasant humour. He never jests, as was his wont, and I have not heard a hearty laugh from him since we sent Lilias away.” “I begin to think we did wrong in meddling in the matter,” observed Gog. “I shall never cease to reproach myself if anything should happen to him.” “Well, we acted for the best,” said Magog. “I only wish my marriage had been prevented,” he added, with a groan. “Let us see how he goes on. Perchance, he may recover.” But Og did _not_ recover, and, although he did not exhibit any of the usual symptoms of despairing love, as loss of appetite, or flesh, a lacklustre eye, and disordered manner, still he became more gloomy and sullen than ever, and rarely exchanged a word with his brothers. Nearly eight months had now flown since he had beheld Lilias, and still her image was constantly before him, and the witchery she had practised upon him by her fascinations and allurements had not lost a jot of its power. He was still as much under her sway as if she had been with him all the time. One evening, while he was taking a solitary walk upon the ramparts, and thinking of Lilias, he saw Xit hastening towards him, and would have avoided him, but the dwarf stopped him, saying,—