e in that way.
You forget that I love her. The argument might have some weight."

"Not much. After all, why do you love her? You do not know her well."

Paul stared at me as though he thought I were going mad. I dare say that
I must have appeared to him to be perfectly insane. But I was
disconcerted by the gravity of the situation, and I believed that he had
a bad chance against Alexander. It was wiser to accustom his mind to the
idea of failure than to flatter him with imaginary hopes of success. A
man in love is either a hero or a fool; heroes who fail are generally
called fools for their pains, and fools who succeed are sometimes called
heroes. Paul stared, and turned away in silence.

"You do not seem to have any answer ready," I observed. "You say you
love a certain lady. Is there any reason, in the nature of things, why
some one else should not love her at the same time? Then it follows that
the most important point is this,--she must love you. If she does not,
your affection is wasted. I am not an old man, but I am far from being a
young one, and I have seen much in my time. You may analyze your
feelings and those of others, when in love, as much as you please, but
you will not get at any other result. Unless a woman loves you, it is of
very little use that you love her."

"What in the world are you talking about, Griggs?" asked Paul, whose
ideas, perhaps, did not coincide with mine. "What can you know about
love? You are nothing but a hardened old bachelor; you never loved a
woman in your life, I am sure."

I was much struck by the truth of this observation, and I held my peace.
A cannibal cannot be expected to understand French cooking.

"I tell you," continued Paul, "that Miss Carvel has promised to marry
me, and I constantly speak to her of our marriage."

"But does she speak to you of it?" I asked. "I fancy that she never
alludes to it except to tell you not to go to her father."

In his turn Paul was silent, and bent his brows. He must have been half
distracted, or he would not have talked to me as he did. I never knew a
less communicative man.

"This is a very delicate matter," I said presently. "You ask my advice;
I will give you the best I can. Do one of two things. Either go to Mr.
Carvel without his daughter's permission, or else fight it out as you
can until your brother goes. Then you will have the field to yourself."

"The difficulty lies in the choice," said Paul.

"The choice depends u