truth was stern as well as firm. "I thought it right
to come and tell you that this match was broken off. But seeing
that that has once been told, there is no longer room for further
conversation on the matter. We have made up our minds to part; and,
having done so, I can assure you that money can have no effect upon
our resolution."

"Then you want it all--all!" said the uncle, almost weeping.

"Not all, nor ten times all would move me one inch--not one inch,"
said George, in a voice that was now loud, and almost angry.

Mr. Bertram turned towards the table, and buried his face in his
hands. He did not understand it. He did not know whence came all this
opposition. He could not conceive what was the motive power which
caused his nephew thus to thwart and throw him over, standing forward
as he did with thousands and tens of thousands in his hand. But he
knew that his request was refused, and he felt himself degraded and
powerless.

"Do not be angry with me, uncle," said the nephew.

"Go your own way, sir; go your own way," said the uncle. "I have
done with you. I had thought--but never mind--" and he rang the bell
violently. "Sarah, I will go to bed--are my things ready? Woman, is
my room ready, I say?" and then he had himself led off, and George
saw him no more that night.

Nor did he see him the next morning; nor for many a long day
afterwards. When the morning came, he sent in his love, with a hope
that his uncle was better. Sarah, coming out with a long face, told
George that his uncle had only muttered between his teeth--"That it
was nothing to him"--to his nephew, namely--"whether he were better
or worse." And so, having received this last message, he went his
way, and returned to town.

CHAPTER X.

DOES HE KNOW IT YET?

Almost immediately after this George Bertram did go to Paris;
but before he went he received a letter from Arthur Wilkinson,
begging him to go down to Hurst Staple. This was Arthur's answer
to the letter in which Bertram had communicated the last news from
Littlebath. There were not as many words in the letter as there had
been in that from Adela to Caroline; but they were much to the same
effect. "This is an important step, old fellow; very: pray--pray be
careful; for your own sake and hers. I am not good at letter-writing,
as you know; but come down here and talk it over. I have other things
of my own I want to talk about. The spare bedroom is empty." That was
nearly the who