his nephew, the habit which he had now given himself for
years of paying the cost of that nephew's education, and the income
which he now allowed him, all led to such a conclusion. But then the
uncle liked so well to lead, and Mr. George was so unwilling to be
led! Had Waddington lived, he would have been the heir, doubtless.
Miss Waddington might still be so, or even Miss Baker. Mr. Bertram,
in his way, was certainly very fond of Miss Baker. It was thus that
Mr. Pritchett speculated from day to day. George, however, was always
regarded by him as the favourite in the race.

And now at last we may return to our story.

Having seen his uncle, George's next business was to see his
lady-love. His was a disposition which would not allow him to remain
quiet while his hopes were so doubtful and his heart so racked. Had
he been travelling with Miss Baker ever since, and living in daily
intercourse with Caroline, it is probable enough that he might by
this time have been half tired of her. But his love had had no such
safety-valve, and was now, therefore, bubbling and boiling within his
heart in a manner very subversive of legal accuracy and injurious to
legal studies.

It was absolutely necessary, he said to himself, that he should know
on what ground he stood; absolutely necessary, also, that he should
be able to talk to some one on the subject. So he wrote to Miss
Baker, saying that he intended to do himself the pleasure of renewing
his acquaintance with her at Littlebath, and he determined to see
Arthur Wilkinson on his way. These were the days in which Wilkinson
was taking pupils at Oxford, the days in which he used to think so
much of Adela Gauntlet.

The meeting of the two friends was sufficiently joyous; for such love
sorrows as those which oppressed Bertram when sitting in the chambers
of Mr. Neversaye Die rarely oppress a young man in moments which
would otherwise be jovial. And Arthur had at this time gotten over
one misery, and not yet fallen into another. He had obtained the
fellowship which he had hardly expected, and was commencing the life
of a don, with all a don's comforts around him.

"Well, upon my word, I envy you, Arthur; I do, indeed," said Bertram,
looking round his cousin's room at Balliol as they sat down to pass
an evening quietly together. "This was what I always looked forward
to, as you did also; you have obtained it, I have forsworn it."

"Your envy cannot be very envious," said Wilkinson,