neither on the next day did he; but on the third day,
just as George was about to leave Hadley, he said, in his usual
bantering tone, "Don't have any more intimate friends, George, as far
as my private matters are concerned."

"No, sir, I will not," said George.

It was in consequence of what Mr. Bertram had then learnt that he
became acquainted with Mr. Harcourt. As Mr. Harcourt had heard this
about his grandchild, he thought it better to see that learned
gentleman. He did see him; and, as has been before stated, they
became intimate with each other.

And so ended the first of these two years.

CHAPTER III.

RETROSPECTIVE.--SECOND YEAR.

The next year passed almost more uncomfortably for George Bertram and
for the ladies at Littlebath than had the latter months of the last
year. Its occurrences can, I hope, be stated less in detail, so that
we may get on without too great delay to the incidents of the period
which is to be awhile for us the present existing time.

This year was Harcourt's great year. In January and February and
March he did great things in Chancery. In April he came into
Parliament. In May and June and July, he sat on committees. In
August he stuck to his work till London was no longer endurable. In
the latter part of autumn there was an extraordinary session, during
which he worked like a horse. He studied the corn-law question as
well as sundry legal reforms all the Christmas week, and in the
following spring he came out with his great speech on behalf of Sir
Robert Peel. But, nevertheless, he found time to devote to the cares
and troubles of Miss Baker and Miss Waddington.

In the spring Bertram paid one or two visits to Littlebath; but it
may be doubted whether he made himself altogether agreeable there. He
stated broadly that he was doing little or nothing at his profession:
he was, he said, engaged on other matters; the great excitement to
work, under which he had commenced, had been withdrawn from him;
and under these circumstances he was not inclined to devote himself
exclusively to studies which certainly were not to his taste. He
did not condescend again to ask Caroline to revoke her sentence; he
pressed now for no marriage; but he made it quite apparent that all
the changes in himself for the worse--and there had been changes for
the worse--were owing to her obstinacy.

He was now living a life of dissipation. I do not intend that it
should be understood that he utterly g