“I don’t see that at all.  You come down again,—­let me see,—­it’s May now.  Say you come when the shooting begins in September.  If we can’t get you leave of absence in any other way, we’ll make old Buffle come too.  Only, by George, I believe he’d shoot us all.  But never mind; we’ll manage that.  You keep up your spirits till September, and then we’ll fight the battle in another way.  The squire shall get up a little party for the bride, and my lady Lily must go then.  You shall meet her so; and then we’ll shoot over the squire’s land.  We’ll bring you together so; you see if we don’t.  Lord bless me!  Refused once!  My belief is, that in these days a girl thinks nothing of a man till she has refused him half-a-dozen times.”

“I don’t think Lily is at all like that.”

“Look here, Johnny.  I have not a word to say against Miss Lily.  I like her very much, and think her one of the nicest girls I know.  When she’s your wife, I’ll love her dearly, if she’ll let me.  But she’s made of the same stuff as other girls, and will act in the same way.  Things have gone a little astray among you, and they won’t right themselves all in a minute.  She knows now what your feelings are, and she’ll go on thinking of it, till at last you’ll be in her thoughts more than that other fellow.  Don’t tell me about her becoming an old maid, because at her time of life she has been so unfortunate as to come across a false-hearted man like that.  It may take a little time; but if you’ll carry on and not be down-hearted, you’ll find it will all come right in the end.  Everybody doesn’t get all that they want in a minute.  How I shall quiz you about all this when you have been two or three years married!”

“I don’t think I shall ever be able to ask her again; and I feel sure, if I do, that her answer will be the same.  She told me in so many words; but never mind, I cannot repeat her words.”

“I don’t want you to repeat them; nor yet to heed them beyond their worth.  Lily Dale is a very pretty girl; clever, too, I believe, and good, I’m sure; but her words are not more sacred than those of other men or women.  What she has said to you now, she means, no doubt; but the minds of men and women are prone to change, especially when such changes are conducive to their own happiness.”

“At any rate I’ll never forget your kindness, Lord De Guest.”

“And there is one other thing I want to say to you, Johnny.  A man should never allow himself to be cast down by anything,—­not outwardly, to the eyes of other men.”

“But how is he to help it?”

“His pluck should prevent him.  You were not afraid of a roaring bull, nor yet of that man when you thrashed him at the railway station.  You’ve pluck enough of that kind.  You must now show that you’ve that other kind of pluck.  You know the story of the boy who would not cry though the wolf was gnawing him underneath his frock.  Most of us have some wolf to gnaw us somewhere; but we are generally gnawed beneath our clothes, so that the world doesn’t see; and it behoves us so to bear it that the world shall not suspect.  The man who goes about declaring himself to be miserable will be not only miserable, but contemptible as well.”