On this occasion Harcourt seemed determined to talk about Miss Waddington. Bertram, who was not in the best possible humour, had shown, one might say plainly enough, that it was a subject on which he did not wish to speak. One might also say that it was a subject as to talking on which the choice certainly ought to have been left to himself. A man who is engaged may often choose to talk to his friend about his engaged bride; but the friend does not usually select the lady as a topic of conversation except in conformity with the Benedict's wishes. On this occasion, however, Harcourt would talk about Miss Waddington, and Bertram, who had already given one or two short answers, began to feel that his friend was almost impertinent. They were cracking decayed walnuts and sipping not the very best of wine, and Bertram was expatiating on Sir Robert Peel's enormity in having taken the wind out of the sails of the Whigs, and rehearsing perhaps a few paragraphs of a new pamphlet that was about to come out, when Harcourt again suddenly turned the conversation. "By-the-by," said he, "I believe there is no day absolutely fixed for your marriage." "No," said Bertram, sharply enough. "No day has been fixed. Could anything on earth have been more base than the manner in which he has endeavoured to leave Cobden as a necessary legacy to the new government? Would he have put Cobden into any place in a government of his own?" "Oh, d---- Cobden! One has enough of him in the House,--quite." "But I have not that advantage." "You shall have some of these days. I'll make over the Battersea Hamlets to you as soon as I can get a judge's wig on my head. But I'm thinking of other things now. I wonder whether you and Caroline Waddington ever will be man and wife?" "Probably about the time that you are made a judge." "Ha! ha! Well, I hope if you do do it, it will come off before that. But I doubt it's coming off at all. Each of you is too proud for the other. Neither of you can forgive what the other has done." "What do you mean? But to tell you the truth, Harcourt, I have no great inclination to discuss that matter just at present. If you please, we will leave Miss Waddington alone." "What I mean is this," said the embryo judge, perseveringly, "that you are too angry with her on account of this enforced delay, and she is too angry with you because you have dared to be angry with her. I do not think you will ever come together." Bertram looked full at Harcourt as this was said, and observed that there was not the usual easy, gentlemanlike smile on the barrister's face; and yet the barrister was doing his best to look as usual. The fact was, that Harcourt was playing a game, and playing it with considerable skill, but his performance was not altogether that of a Garrick. Something might have been read in his face had Bertram been cunning enough to read it. But Bertram was not a cunning man.