"If I were you, nothing would induce me to resign my hopes, not even her own coldness. I would win her. Have you tried again since your return?"
"Frank, she is a recluse now; I could not marry a recluse; my wife must play her part in the world, and be my helpmate abroad as well as at home."
"Yes, yes; but as I said in my own case, win her love and that will all right itself. No woman's resolve will hold out against a true passion."
"But you forget, she has no true passion for me."
Frank did not answer; he was musing over the subject. He had had an opportunity for seeing into the hearts of these girls which had been denied to Edgar. Had he seen love there? Yes, but in Hermione's breast, not Emma's. And yet Emma was deeply sad, and it was Emma whom he had just seen walking her restlessness off under the trees at midnight.
"Edgar," he suddenly exclaimed, "you may not understand this girl. Their whole existence is a mystery, and so may their hearts be. Won't you tell me how it was she refused you? It may serve to throw some light upon the facts."
"What light? She refused me as all coquettish women refuse the men whom they have led to believe in their affection."
"Ah! you once believed, then, in her affection."
"Should I have offered myself if I had not?"
"I don't know; I only know I didn't wait for any such belief on the part of Hermione."