On rising that morning, had I anticipated that before night I should have acted the part of a gay lover in a vaudeville; and an hour after, frankly discussed with Dr.
John the question of his hapless suit, and rallied him on his illusions?
I had no more presaged such feats than I had looked forward to an ascent in a balloon, or a voyage to Cape Horn.
The Doctor and I, having paced down the walk, were now returning; the reflex from the window again lit his face: he smiled, but his eye was melancholy.

How I wished that he could feel heart's-ease! How I grieved that he brooded over pain, and pain from such a cause! He, with his great advantages, _he_ to love in vain! I did not then know that the pensiveness of reverse is the best phase for some minds; nor did I reflect that some herbs, "though scentless when entire, yield fragrance when they're bruised." "Do not be sorrowful, do not grieve," I broke out.

"If there is in Ginevra one spark of worthiness of your affection, she will--she _must_ feel devotion in return.

Be cheerful, be hopeful, Dr.John.Who should hope, if not you ?" In return for this speech I got--what, it must be supposed, I deserved--a look of surprise: I thought also of some disapprobation.

We parted, and I went into the house very chill.