to any one. In answer to this, Harcourt gave him pretty nearly the
same counsel as she had done. "Wait, my dear fellow, with a little
patience; you'll have lots of time before you for married troubles.
What's the use of a man having half-a-score of children round him
just when he is beginning to enjoy life? It is that that Miss
Waddington thinks about; though, of course, she can't tell you so."

And then, also--that is to say, on some occasion a little subsequent
to the conversation above alluded to--Bertram also told his friend
what he knew of Miss Waddington's birth.

"Whew-w-w," whistled Harcourt; "is that the case? Well, now I am
surprised."

"It is, indeed."

"And he has agreed to the marriage?"

"He knows of it, and has not disagreed. Indeed, he made some peddling
little offer about money."

"But what has he said to you about it?"

"Nothing, not a word. I have only seen him once since Christmas, and
then I did not speak of it; nor did he."

Harcourt asked fifty other questions on the matter, all eagerly, as
though he considered this newly-learned fact to be of the greatest
importance: all of which Bertram answered, till at last he was tired
of talking of his uncle.

"I cannot see that it makes any difference," said he, "whose
granddaughter she is."

"But it does make the greatest difference. I own that I am surprised
now that Miss Waddington should wish to delay the marriage. I thought
I understood her feelings and conduct on the matter, and must say
that I regarded them as admirable. But I cannot quite understand her
now. It certainly seems to me that with such a guarantee as that she
needs be afraid of nothing. Whichever of you he selected, it would
come to the same thing."

"Harcourt, if she would marry me to-morrow because by doing so she
would make sure of my uncle's money, by heaven, I would not take her!
If she will not take me for myself, and what I can do for her, she
may let me alone." Thus majestically spoke Bertram, sitting with his
friend on the side of a Scottish mountain, with a flask of brandy and
a case of sandwiches between them.

"Then," said Harcourt, "you are an ass;" and as he spoke he finished
the flask.

Bertram kept his word, and told his lady-love all particulars as to
the game he killed; some particulars also he gave her as to scenery,
as to his friends, and as to Scotch people. He wrote nice, chatty,
amusing letters, such as most people love to get from their friends;