about quite
openly till the consummation of them is nigh at hand. I have no wish
for any mystery in the matter. Her name is Caroline Waddington."

"What! a daughter of Sir Augustus?"

"No; nothing to Sir Augustus, that I have heard."

"She must, then, be one of the General's family?"

"Not that either. Her only relative, that I know, is a Miss Baker."

"Miss Baker!" said Harcourt; and the tone of his voice was not
encouraging.

"Yes, Miss Baker," said Bertram; and the tone of his voice was hardly
conciliatory.

"Oh--ah--yes. I don't exactly think I know her. Miss Baker!"

"It would be odd if you did, for she lives at Littlebath, and hardly
ever comes to town. When she does, she stays down at Hadley with my
uncle."

"Oh--h! That's a horse of another colour. I beg your pardon entirely,
my dear fellow. Why did you not tell me at first that this is a match
of your uncle's making?"

"My uncle's making! It is not a match of my uncle's making."

"Well, well; one that he approves. I hardly gave you credit for so
much prudence. That will be as good as having everything settled
exactly as you could wish it."

"You are giving me a great deal too much credit," said Bertram,
laughing. "My uncle knows nothing about my marriage, and I have not
the slightest idea of consulting him. I should think it mean to do
so, considering everything."

"Mean to consult the only relative you have who can do anything for
you?"

"Yes. He has told me over and over again that I have no claim on him;
and, therefore, I will make none."

Bertram had said to himself frequently that he cared nothing for
this man's judgment in such matters; but, nevertheless, after what
had passed, he did desire that Harcourt should see Caroline. He
was aware, judging rather from Harcourt's tone than from his words,
that that keen-sighted friend of his had but a low opinion of Miss
Waddington; that he thought that she was some ordinary, intriguing
girl, who had been baiting a hook for a husband, after the manner
which scandal states to be so common among the Littlebathians; and
Bertram longed, therefore, to surprise his eyes and astound his
intellect with a view of her charms and a near knowledge of her
attributes. Nothing should be said of her beauty, and the blaze of it
should fall upon him altogether unprepared.

George was right in his feelings in this respect. Harcourt had formed
a very false idea of Miss Waddington;--had led himself to imagine
th