here?" said she.

"Yes, of course he is. He is upstairs."

"And I am to go up to be looked at. How vain you men are of your
playthings! Not that you have anything in this respect of which you
ought to be vain."

"But a great deal of which I ought to be, and am, very proud. I am
proud of you, Caroline; proud at this moment that my friend should
see how beautiful is the girl that loves me."

"Tush!" said Caroline, putting the back of her nosegay up to his
mouth. "What delightful nonsense you can talk. But come, your London
friend won't much appreciate my excellence if I keep him waiting for
his dinner." And so they went upstairs.

But Caroline, though she laughed at her lover for showing her off,
had not failed to make the best of herself. She was sufficiently
anxious that Bertram should be proud of her, should have cause to be
proud of her; and she seemed to be aware that if she could satisfy
Mr. Harcourt's fastidious judgment, she might probably hope to pass
as approved of among his other friends. She determined, therefore, to
look her best as she walked into the drawing-room; and she did look
her best.

"Mr. Harcourt, my niece, Miss Waddington," said Miss Baker. Harcourt,
as he rose and bowed, was lost in wonder.

Bertram fell immediately into conversation with Miss Penelope
Gauntlet, but even while listening to her enthusiasm as to Arthur
Wilkinson's luck in getting the living of Hurst Staple, and her
praise of Lord Stapledean, he contrived to keep an eye on his friend
Harcourt. "Yes, indeed, quite fortunate; wasn't it?" But as he thus
spoke, his very soul within him was rejoicing at his own triumph.
He had said nothing about Caroline personally; he had refrained his
tongue, and now he had his reward.

We have said that Harcourt was lost in wonder, and such was literally
the case. He had taught himself to believe that Caroline Waddington
was some tall, sharp-nosed dowdy; with bright eyes, probably, and
even teeth; with a simpering, would-be-witty smile, and full of
little quick answers such as might suit well for the assembly-rooms
at Littlebath. When he heard that she was engaged in seeing that the
sherry-bottles were duly decantered, the standard of her value did
not at all rise in his estimation. Candle-ends and cold mutton would
doubtless be her forte, an economical washing-bill her strong point.

So was he thinking, much distressed in mind--for, to do him justice,
he was as anxious on behalf of Bertr