There was something terrible in this to young Bertram. He had almost ceased to think of himself in watching his uncle's struggles. It was dreadful to see how terribly anxious the old man was, and more dreadful still to witness the nature of the thoughts which were running through his mind. He was making lavish tenders of his heaven, his god, his blessings; he was offering to part with his paradise, seeing that nature would soon imperatively demand that he should part with it. But useless as it must soon be to him, he could not bring himself to believe that it was not still all-powerful with others. "Mr. Bertram, it is clearly necessary that we should understand each other," said George, with a voice that he intended should be firm, but which in truth was stern as well as firm. "I thought it right to come and tell you that this match was broken off. But seeing that that has once been told, there is no longer room for further conversation on the matter. We have made up our minds to part; and, having done so, I can assure you that money can have no effect upon our resolution." "Then you want it all--all!" said the uncle, almost weeping. "Not all, nor ten times all would move me one inch--not one inch," said George, in a voice that was now loud, and almost angry. Mr. Bertram turned towards the table, and buried his face in his hands. He did not understand it. He did not know whence came all this opposition. He could not conceive what was the motive power which caused his nephew thus to thwart and throw him over, standing forward as he did with thousands and tens of thousands in his hand. But he knew that his request was refused, and he felt himself degraded and powerless. "Do not be angry with me, uncle," said the nephew. "Go your own way, sir; go your own way," said the uncle. "I have done with you. I had thought--but never mind--" and he rang the bell violently. "Sarah, I will go to bed--are my things ready? Woman, is my room ready, I say?" and then he had himself led off, and George saw him no more that night. Nor did he see him the next morning; nor for many a long day afterwards. When the morning came, he sent in his love, with a hope that his uncle was better. Sarah, coming out with a long face, told George that his uncle had only muttered between his teeth--"That it was nothing to him"--to his nephew, namely--"whether he were better or worse." And so, having received this last message, he went his way, and returned to town. CHAPTER X. DOES HE KNOW IT YET?