I were to meet, there would be very little question of mercy on my
side. I hold a man who could act as he has acted unworthy of all
consideration--utterly unworthy of the woman he has won from me."

"My dear fellow, you know the old saying. A man who is in love thinks
everything fair. There is no such thing as honour in such a case as this.
Of course, I don't want to defend this Holbrook; I only want to awaken
your senses to the absurdity of any vindictive pursuit of the man. If the
lady did not love you, believe me you are well out of the business."

"Yes, that is what every one would tell me, I daresay," Gilbert answered
impatiently. "But is there to be no atonement for my broken life,
rendered barren to me by this man's act? I tell you, Sir David, there is
no such thing as pardon for a wrong like this. But I know how foolish
this talk must seem to you: there is always something ridiculous in the
sufferings of a jilted lover."

"Not at all, my dear Fenton. I heartily wish that I could be of use to
you in this matter; but there is very little chance of that; and, believe
me, there is only one rational course open to you, which is, to forget
Miss Nowell, or Mrs. Holbrook, with all possible assiduity."

Gilbert smiled, a melancholy incredulous smile. Sir David's advice was
only the echo of John Saltram's counsel--the counsel which he would
receive from every man of the world, no doubt--the counsel which he
himself would most likely have given to a friend under the same
circumstances.

Sir David was very cordial, and wanted his visitor to dine and sleep at
Heatherly; but this Gilbert declined. He was eager to get back to London