nest love of virtue, it is all but impossible that he
should throw himself away. But the present moment is of such vital
importance! It is so hard to make up for the loss even of twelve
months!"

"I am sure it is," said Caroline; "but I would not care for that so
much if I thought--"

"Thought what, Miss Waddington?"

"That his disposition was not altered. He was so frank, so candid,
so--so--so affectionate."

"It is the manner of men to change in that respect. They become,
perhaps, not less affectionate, but less demonstrative."

To this Miss Waddington answered nothing. It might probably be so. It
was singular enough that she, with her ideas, should be complaining
to a perfect stranger of an uncaressing, unloving manner in her
lover; she who had professed to herself that she lived so little for
love! Had George been even kneeling at her knee, her heart would have
been stern enough. It was only by feeling a woman's wrong that she
found herself endowed with a woman's privilege.

"I do not think that Bertram's heart is changed," continued Harcourt;
"he is doubtless very angry that his requests to you last summer were
not complied with."

"But how could we have married then, Mr. Harcourt? Think what our
income would have been; and he as yet without any profession!"

"I am not blaming you. I am not taking his part against you. I only
say that he is very angry."

"But does he bear malice, Mr. Harcourt?"

"No, he does not bear malice; men may be angry without bearing
malice. He thinks that you have shown a want of confidence in him,
and are still showing it."

"And has he not justified that want of confidence?"

To this Harcourt answered nothing, but he smiled slightly.

"Well, has he not? What could I have done? What ought I to have done?
Tell me, Mr. Harcourt. It distresses me beyond measure that you
should think I have been to blame."

"I do not think so; far from it, Miss Waddington. Bertram is my dear
friend, and I know his fine qualities; but I cannot but own that he
justified you in that temporary want of confidence which you now
express."

Mr. Harcourt, though a member of Parliament and a learned pundit,
was nevertheless a very young man. He was an unmarried man also,
and a man not yet engaged to be married. It may be surmised that
George Bertram would not have been pleased had he known the sort
of conversations that were held between his dear friend and his
betrothed bride. And yet Caroline at t