lately
acquired of rubbing his hands quickly together.

"Well, George," he said, when his nephew shook hands with him and
asked after his health.

"I hope you are better than you were, sir. I was sorry to hear that
you had been again suffering."

"Suffer, yes; a man looks to suffer when he gets to my age. He's a
fool if he doesn't, at least. Don't trouble yourself to be sorry
about it, George."

"I believe you saw my father not long since?" Bertram said this, not
quite knowing how to set the conversation going, so that he might
bring in the tidings he had come there to communicate.

"Yes, I did," said Mr. Bertram senior; and his hands went to work as
he sat in the arm-chair.

"Did you find him much altered since you last met? It was a great
many years since, I believe?"

"Not in the least altered. Your father will never alter."

George now knew enough of his father's character to understand the
point of this; so he changed the subject, and did that which a man
who has anything to tell should always do at once; he commenced the
telling of it forthwith.

"I have come down here, to-day, sir, because I think it right to let
you know at once that Miss Waddington and I have agreed that our
engagement shall be at an end."

Mr. Bertram turned sharp round in his chair. "What?" said he. "What?"

"Our engagement is at an end. We are both aware that it is better for
us it should be so."

"What do you mean? Better for you! How can it be better for you? You
are two fools."

"Very likely, sir. We have been two fools; or, at any rate, I have
been one."

Mr. Bertram sat still in his chair, silent for a few moments. He
still kept rubbing his hands, but in meditation rather than in anger.
Though his back reached to the back of his chair, his head was
brought forward and leaned almost on his chest. His cheeks had fallen
in since George had seen him, and his jaw hung low, and gave a sad,
thoughtful look to his face, in which also there was an expression of
considerable pain. His nephew saw that what he had said had grieved
him, and was sorry for it.

"George," he said, in a softer voice than had ever been usual with
him. "I wish you to marry Caroline. Go back to her, and make it up.
Tell her that I wish it, if it be necessary to tell her anything."

"Ah, sir, I cannot do that. I should not have come to you now if
there had been any room for doubt."

"There must be no room for doubt. This is nonsense; sheer nonsense.