Part 53 (1/2)

These letters did not take long in the reading. Within five minutes Bertram was spreading the b.u.t.ter on his toast; and within two minutes more he was asking what news there was from Arthur--when would he be home? He had received a great blow, a stunning blow; but he was able to postpone the faintness which would follow it till he should be where no eye could see him.

The breakfast pa.s.sed away very silently. They all knew what those two letters contained. One of the girls had had them in her hand, and had known the handwriting of one and guessed that of the other. But even without this they would have known. Are not most of our innermost secrets known to all the world?

And then Bertram skulked off--or endeavoured rather to do so; for Mrs. Wilkinson detected him in the act, and stopped him. She had said nothing hitherto about his matrimonial or non-matrimonial affairs.

She had abstained with wonderful discretion; and she now intended that her discretion should be rewarded.

”George, George,” she said, as he turned from the breakfast-parlour door to the rack in the hall on which his hat was hanging, ”I want you just for a minute.” So George returned into the parlour as the girls pa.s.sed across the hall into the drawing-room.

”I'm afraid you'll think me unkind because I've said nothing about this sad affair of yours.”

”Not at all, aunt,” he said: though she was no aunt of his, he had always called her so when he had been at Hurst Staple as a child.

”There are some things which had, perhaps, better not be talked about.” Mrs. Wilkinson, however, was not the woman to be deterred by such a faint repulse as this.

”Exactly so; except among intimate family friends. But I was very sorry to hear about your breaking off the affair with Caroline Waddington. I was, indeed; very. It would have been so suitable as regards the old gentleman--I know all about that you know--” and the lady nodded her head, as ladies will do sometimes when they flatter themselves that they know more about such things than their neighbours.

”It was necessary,” said Bertram.

”Necessary--ah, yes: I dare say. I don't in the least mean to blame you, George. I am sure you would not behave badly to any girl--and, from what I have heard, I am quite sure--quite sure it was not your fault. Indeed, I know very well--” and in lieu of finis.h.i.+ng her speech, Mrs. Wilkinson again nodded her head.

”n.o.body was to blame, aunt; n.o.body, and it is much better to say nothing about it.”

”That is very good of you, George; very. But I always shall say--”

”Dear aunt, pray say nothing. We had thought when we knew little of each other that it would suit us to live together. As we learnt each other's characters more thoroughly, we found that we had been wrong.

It was better for us, therefore, to part; and we did part.”

”And so now she is going to be Lady Harcourt?”

”Yes; it seems so.”

”Well, at any rate, we must all say this: she hasn't lost any time. I don't know what Sir Henry may think of it; but it certainly does seem to me--”

”Dear aunt, pray do not talk to me about this. I think Miss Waddington quite right to accept Sir Henry Harcourt. That is, I think her right under the circ.u.mstances. He is a rising man, and she will grace any station in which he can place her. I do not at all blame her, not in the least; it would be monstrous if I did.”

”Oh, of course--we all know that it was you broke off the other match; all the world knows that. But what I want to speak about is this. The old gentleman's money, George! Now Sir Henry of course is looking to that.”

”He has my permission.”

”And of course he will get some of it. That's to be expected--she's his grandchild--of course I know that,” and Mrs. Wilkinson again nodded her head. ”But, George, you must look very close after the old gentleman. It won't at all do to let Harcourt cut you out altogether.

I do hope you mean to be a good deal down at Hadley. It won't last for long, you know.”

Bertram would not condescend to explain to Mrs. Wilkinson that he had no intention of going near his uncle again, and that he was sick of the very name of the old man's money. So he hummed and hawed, and changed the conversation by saying that he should be so glad to see Arthur on his return.

”Yes, I am sure you will. But you'll find Arthur much changed--very much.” And it was clear from the tone of Mrs. Wilkinson's voice that she did not think that this change in her son was for the better.

”He is growing older, I suppose; like the rest of us,” said Bertram, attempting to laugh.