be spared. This
was very short; but, nevertheless, it required no little effort in
its accomplishment.

On the very next day Harcourt came to him at his chambers. This
surprised him much. For though he had no intention of absolutely
quarrelling with the rising legal luminary, he had taught himself to
look upon any renewal of their real intimacy as out of the question.
They were sailing on essentially different tacks in their life's
voyages. They had become men of different views in everything. Their
hours, their habits, their friends, their ways were in all things
unlike. And then, moreover, Bertram no longer liked the successful
barrister. It may be said that he had learned positively to dislike
him. It was not that Harcourt had caused this wound which was tearing
his heart to pieces; at least, he thought that it was not that. He
declared to himself a dozen times that he did not blame Harcourt. He
blamed no one but Caroline--her and himself. Nor was it because the
man was so successful. Bertram certainly did not envy him. But the
one as he advanced in manhood became worldly, false, laborious,
exact, polished, rich, and agreeable among casual acquaintances. The
other was the very reverse. He was generous and true; but idle--idle
at any rate for any good; he was thoughtful, but cloudy in his
thoughts, indifferent as to society, poor, much poorer than he
had been as a lad at college, and was by no means gifted with the
knack of making pretty conversation for the world at large. Of late
whenever they had met, Harcourt had said something which grated
painfully on the other's inner sensibilities, and hence had arisen
this dislike.

But the dislike seemed to be all on one side. Harcourt now was a man
whose name was frequent in other men's mouths. Great changes were
impending in the political world, and Harcourt was one of the men
whom the world regarded as sure to be found swimming on the top of
the troubled waters. The people of the Battersea Hamlets were proud
of him, the House of Commons listened to him, suitors employed him,
and men potent in the Treasury chambers, and men also who hoped to be
potent there, courted and flattered him.

All this made him busy; but, nevertheless, he found time to come to
his dear friend.

"I am sorry for this; very sorry," he said, as he put out his hand
in a manner that seemed to his friend to be almost patronizing. "Can
nothing be done?"

"Nothing at all," said Bertram, rather cur