ure, at what lowest
amount of ready money to be paid down, he could purchase the object
which he now desired. "I'll give you four thousand pounds on the day
you are married. There, that will be ten thousand beside your own
income, and whatever your profession will bring you."

"What am I to say, sir? I know how generous you are; but this is not
an affair of money."

"What is it then?"

"We should not be happy together."

"Not happy together! You shall be happy, I tell you; you will be
happy if you have enough to live on. Remember, I may leave you
something more than that when I die; that is, I may do so if you
please me. You will understand, however, that I make no promise."

"Dear uncle," said George, and as he spoke he rose from his seat, and
crossing over to his uncle, took the old man's hand in his own. "You
shall be asked for no promise; you shall be asked for nothing. You
have been most liberal, most kind to me; too kind, I know, for I have
not returned it by that attention which you deserved from me. But,
believe me, I cannot do as you ask me. If you will speak to Miss
Waddington, she will tell you the same."

"Miss Waddington! Pshaw!"

"Caroline, I mean. It is impossible, sir. And it adds greatly to my
own suffering--for I have suffered in all this--that you also should
be grieved."

"Why, you were so much in love with her the other day! Mary told me
that you were dying for her."

"I cannot explain it all. But she--Caroline--doubtless will. However,
pray, pray take this for granted: the engagement between us cannot be
renewed."

Old Mr. Bertram still kept his nephew's hand, and it seemed as though
he liked to hold it. He continued to look up into George's face as
though striving to read there something different from the words
which he heard, something which might yet give him some consolation.
He had said that George was honest, and he believed it, as far as he
could believe in honesty. But, nevertheless, he was still meditating
at what price he could buy over his nephew to his purpose. After
such a struggle as that of his whole lifetime, could he have any
other faith but that money were omnipotent? No; this of course,
this necessarily was his belief. As to the sufficient quantity--on
that point it was possible for him to doubt. His nephew's manner
to him was very touching; the tone of his voice, the look of his
countenance, the grief which sat on his brow, did touch him. But they
touched him in