CHAPTER THREE.
"NIL DESPERANDUM." To-morrow's sun shall warmer glow, And o'er this gloomy vale of woe Diffuse a brighter ray! "O you lovers, you lovers!"-- exclaimed little Miss Pimpernell, on my unbosoming myself to her, and recounting the incidents of my unhappy interview with Min's mother, shortly after I quitted the scene of my discomfiture.--"O you lovers, you lovers! You are always, either on the heights of ecstasy, or deep down in the depths of despair! Be a man, Frank, and let her see what noble stuff there is in you! There is nothing in this world worth the having, which can be obtained by merely looking at it and longing for it.

Bear in mind Monsieur Parole's favourite proverb, `On ne peut pas faire une omelette sans casser les oeufs!' You mustn't expect that a girl is going to drop into your mouth, like a ripe cherry, the moment you gape for her! Young ladies are not so easily won as that, Master Frank, let me tell you! Put your shoulder to the wheel, my boy! You will have to work and wait.
Remember how long it was that Jacob remained in suspense about his first love, Rachel--seven, long years; and, _then_, he had to serve seven more for her after that!" "Ah, Miss Pimpernell!"-- said I,--"but, seven years were not so much to the long-lived men who existed in those times, as seven months are to us ephemerals of the nineteenth century! Jacob could very well afford to wait that time; for he was not over what we call `middle-age' when he married; and was, most likely, in the flower of his youth on his ninetieth birthday!--He did not die you know, until he had reached the ripe age of `an hundred and forty and seven years.'-- Besides, he had Laban's promise to keep him up to his work; but, _I_ have no promise, and no hope to lead me on, if I do wait--and what would I be at the end of seven years?
Why, I would be thirty--quite old." "Nonsense, Frank!"-- replied the dear old lady, in her brisk cheery way, jumping round in her chair, and looking me full in the face with her twinkling black eyes.--"When you are as old as I am, you will not think thirty such a very great age, you may be sure! And, I didn't say, too, that you should have to wait seven years, or anything like it--although, if you really love Miss Min, you would think nothing of twice that time of probation.

As for Jacob's age, the vicar could explain about that better than I, Master Frank, sharp though you are; you had best ask him what he thinks on the subject?
What I say, is, my boy, that you must make up your mind to work, and wait for your sweetheart; work, at any rate--and wait, if needs be.

`Rome wasn't built in a day;' and, when did you ever hear of the course of true love running smooth?
Be a man, Frank! Say to yourself, `I'll work and win her,' and you will.

Put your heart in it, and it will soon be done--sooner than you now think.
There's no good in your sitting down and whining at your present defeat, like the naughty child that cried for the moon! You must be up and doing.