Are you really in love with Miss Sarah, or are you not? If you are,
nothing that I could say would change your mind. Suppose I were to tell
you that this Sarah is a wretched creature, an infamous forger, who has
already the death of three poor devils on her conscience, who loved her
as you do? Suppose I told you worse things than these, and could prove
them? Do you know what would happen? You would press my hand with
effusion. You would overwhelm me with thanks, tears in your eye. You
would vow, in the candor of your heart, that you are forever cured, and,
when you leave me"--

"Well?"

"You would rush to your beloved, tell her all I said, and beseech her to
clear herself of all these charges."

"I beg your pardon; I am not one of those men who"--

But Brevan was getting more and more excited. He interrupted his friend,
and said,--

"Nonsense! You are a man like all other men. Passion does not reason,
does not calculate; and that is the secret of its strength. As long as
we have a spark of commonsense left, we are not really in love. That is
so, I tell you; and no will, no amount of energy, can do any thing with
it. There are people who tell you soberly that they have been in love
without losing their senses, and reproach you for not keeping cool.
Bosh! Those people remind me of still champagne blaming sparkling
champagne for popping off the cork. And now, my dear fellow, have the
kindness to accept this cigar, and let us take a walk."