"Fear me, you should say," he corrected. "As I have told you, I have developed my opportunities in life rather by stimulating men's fears than by angling for their affections. Affection, Robert—and the argument is applicable alike to that tender sentiment which arises periodically betwixt the sexes—is a most unchancy emotion. Fear, on the contrary, once aroused, is never forgotten."
"Ja," said Peters, "andt from fear grows hate."
My great-uncle smiled.
"I find myself, as always, moved to admiration of the philosophy you have distilled from your wide range of experience, friend Peter," he answered. "But suffer me to remind you that, in the language of the alchemists, fear and hate are mutually reactive principles, the one consuming and neutralizing the other."
Peter chewed a grass-stem without replying, and after a courteous pause to allow him ample opportunity, Murray inquired:
"Shall we ascertain if Mistress O'Donnell hath completed her toilet? I own to a normal morning hunger."
"Your mention of her is the mightiest argument for a settlement with Flint," I protested. "What hope is there for her, if you——"
"Robert," he interrupted gently, "you speak to no purpose. The maid's entire future is entangled with my success—and of my success there can be no reasonable doubt. What? Shall I bow the knee to that misbegotten crew of gallowscheats aboard the Walrus? You have seen them!"
His voice rose.
"You know how much of discipline there is amongst them. Do you think that men of their stamp can overcome me? 'Tis incredible, I say! I can not fail."