of yours. Do you think that I cannot understand?
that I cannot see? She would have been silent enough to you but for
your encouragement. I do not know that I was ever so vexed as when I
received that letter from you. You took upon yourself--"

"I know you were angry, very angry. But that was not my fault. I said
nothing but what a friend under such circumstances was bound to say."

"Well, let the matter drop now; and let Miss Waddington and myself
settle our own affairs."

"I cannot let the matter drop; you have driven me to defend myself,
and I must do it as best I may. I know that you were angry,
exceedingly angry--

"Exceedingly angry!" he repeated; "but that was no fault of mine.
When Miss Baker sent for me, I could not but go to her. When I was
there, I could not but listen to her. When Caroline told me that she
was wretched--"

"Miss Waddington!" shouted Bertram, in a voice that caused the
glasses to shake, and made the waiter turn round. And then suddenly
recollecting himself, he scowled round the room as he observed that
he was noticed.

"Hush, my dear fellow. It shall be Miss Waddington; but not quite
so loud. And I beg your pardon, but hearing the lady called by her
Christian name so often, both by yourself and Miss Baker, I forgot
myself. When she spoke to me of her wretched state, what was I to do?
Was I to say, fie! fie! and take my hat and go away?

"She was very wretched," he continued, for Bertram merely scowled and
said nothing, "and I could not but sympathize with her. She thought
that you had neglected her. It was clear that you had gone abroad
without telling her. Was it to be wondered at that she should be
unhappy?"

"Her telling you that she was so was unexcusable."

"At any rate, I am blameless. I myself think that she was also; but
that is another question. In what I wrote to you, I did my duty as a
friend to both parties. After that, I do confess that I thought your
anger too great to allow you ever to stand at the altar with her."

"You do not mean to say that she showed you my letter?" said Bertram,
almost leaping at him.

"Your letter! what letter?"

"You know what letter--my letter from Paris? The letter which I wrote
to her in reference to the one I received from you? I desire at once
to have an answer from you. Did Caroline show you that letter?"

Harcourt looked very guilty, extremely guilty; but he did not
immediately make any reply.

"Harcourt, answer me," said Bertr