What may have passed on the subject between Sir Henry and his wife cannot be said. A man does not willingly accuse his wife of even the first germ of infidelity; does not willingly suggest to her that any one is of more moment to her than himself. It is probable that his brow became blacker than it had been, that his words were less courteous, and his manner less kind; but of Bertram himself, it may be presumed that he said nothing. It might, however, have been easy for Caroline to perceive that he no longer wished to have his old friend at his house. At Mrs. Madden's ball, Bertram asked her to dance with him, and she did stand up for a quadrille. Mr. Madden was a rich young man, in Parliament, and an intimate friend both of Sir Henry's and of Bertram's. Caroline had danced with him--being her first performance of that nature since her marriage; and having done so, she could not, as she said to herself, refuse Mr. Bertram. So they stood up; and the busy solicitor-general, who showed himself for five minutes in the room, saw them moving, hand-in-hand together, in the figure of the dance. And as he so moved, Bertram himself could hardly believe in the reality of his position. What if any one had prophesied to him three months since that he would be dancing with Caroline Harcourt! "Adela did not stay with you long," said he, as they were standing still. "No, not very long. I do not think she is fond of London;" and then they were again silent till their turn for dancing was over. "No; I don't think she is," said Bertram, "nor am I. I should not care if I were to leave it for ever. Do you like London, Lady Harcourt?" "Oh, yes; as well as any other place. I don't think it much signifies--London, or Littlebath, or New Zealand." They were then both silent for a moment, till Bertram again spoke, with an effort that was evident in his voice. "You used not to be so indifferent in such matters." "Used!" "Has all the world so changed that nothing is any longer of any interest?" "The world has changed, certainly--with me." "And with me also, Lady Harcourt. The world has changed with both of us. But Fortune, while she has been crushing me, has been very kind to you." "Has she? Well, perhaps she has--as kind, at any rate, as I deserve. But you may be sure of this--I do not complain of her." And then they were again silent. "I wonder whether you ever think of old days?" he said, after a pause. "At any rate, I never talk of them, Mr. Bertram." "No; I suppose not. One should not talk of them. But out of a full heart the mouth will speak. Constant thoughts will break forth in words. There is nothing else left to me of which I can think."