Mr. Harcourt was very attentive to them--in spite of his being at that time so useful a public man. He was very attentive to both, being almost as civil to the elder lady as he was to the younger, which, for an Englishman, showed very good breeding. By degrees they both began to regard him with confidence--with sufficient confidence to talk to him of Bertram; with sufficient confidence even to tell him of all their fears. By degrees Caroline would talk to him alone, and when once she permitted herself to do so, she concealed nothing. Harcourt said not a word against his friend. That friend himself might perhaps have thought that his friend, speaking of him behind his back, might have spoken more warmly in his praise. But it was hard at present to say much that should be true in Bertram's praise. He was not living in a wise or prudent manner; not preparing himself in any way to live as a man should live by the sweat of his brow. Harcourt could not say much in his favour. That Bertram was clever, honest, true, and high-spirited, that Miss Waddington knew; that Miss Baker knew: what they wanted to learn was, that he was making prudent use of these high qualities. Harcourt could not say that he was doing so. "That he will fall on his legs at last," said Harcourt once when he was alone with Caroline, "I do not doubt; with his talent, and his high, honest love of virtue, it is all but impossible that he should throw himself away. But the present moment is of such vital importance! It is so hard to make up for the loss even of twelve months!" "I am sure it is," said Caroline; "but I would not care for that so much if I thought--" "Thought what, Miss Waddington?" "That his disposition was not altered. He was so frank, so candid, so--so--so affectionate." "It is the manner of men to change in that respect. They become, perhaps, not less affectionate, but less demonstrative." To this Miss Waddington answered nothing. It might probably be so. It was singular enough that she, with her ideas, should be complaining to a perfect stranger of an uncaressing, unloving manner in her lover; she who had professed to herself that she lived so little for love! Had George been even kneeling at her knee, her heart would have been stern enough. It was only by feeling a woman's wrong that she found herself endowed with a woman's privilege. "I do not think that Bertram's heart is changed," continued Harcourt; "he is doubtless very angry that his requests to you last summer were not complied with." "But how could we have married then, Mr. Harcourt? Think what our income would have been; and he as yet without any profession!" "I am not blaming you. I am not taking his part against you. I only say that he is very angry." "But does he bear malice, Mr. Harcourt?" "No, he does not bear malice; men may be angry without bearing malice. He thinks that you have shown a want of confidence in him, and are still showing it."