The Bertrams Part 28

"You have not a horse here, I suppose?" said Miss Baker.

"No; but why do you ask? I can get one in ten minutes, no doubt."

"Because Caroline will be so glad to have some one to ride with her."

"Nothing will induce aunt Mary to mount a steed since the day she was lifted out of her saddle at Jaffa," said Caroline.

"Oh, that journey, Mr. Bertram! but I am a stronger woman than I ever thought I was to have lived through it."

It was soon arranged that George should go back to his inn and hire a horse, and that he and Caroline should then ride together. In another hour or so they were cantering up the face of Ridgebury Hill.

But the ride produced very little. Caroline here required her attention, and George did not find it practicable to remain close enough to his love, or long enough close to her, to say what he had to say with that emphasis which he felt that the subject demanded.

There were some little tender allusions to feats of horsemans.h.i.+p done in Syria, some mention of the Mount of Olives, of Miss Todd's picnic, and the pool of Siloam, which might, if properly handled, have led to much; but they did lead to nothing: and when George helped Miss Waddington to dismount at Miss Baker's door, that young lady had almost come to the conclusion that he had thought better of his love, and that it would be well that she should think better of hers.

In accordance with our professed attempt at plain speaking, it may be as well explained here that Miss Baker, with the view of sounding her uncle's views and wishes, had observed to him that George had appeared to her to admire Caroline very much. Had the old man remarked, as he might so probably have done, that they were two fools, and would probably become two beggars, Miss Baker would have known that the match would be displeasing to him. But he had not done so. "Ah!" he said; "did he? It is singular they should have met." Now Miss Baker in her wisdom had taken this as a strong hint that the match would not be displeasing to him.

Miss Baker had clearly been on George's side from the beginning.

Perhaps, had she shown a little opposition, Caroline's ardour might have been heightened. As it was, she had professed to doubt. She had nothing to say against George; much might doubtless be said in his favour, but--. In fact, Miss Waddington would have been glad to know what were the intentions of Mr. George Bertram senior.

"I really wish he had stayed away," she said to her aunt as they were getting ready for dinner.

"Nonsense, Caroline; why should he have stayed away? Why should you expect him to stay away? Had he stayed away, you would have been the first to grumble. Don't be missish, my dear."

"Missis.h.!.+ Upon my word, aunt Mary, you are becoming severe. What I mean is, that I don't think he cares so very much for me; and on the whole, I am not--not _quite_ sure, whether--well, I won't say anything more; only it does seem to me that you are much more in love with him than I am."

Bertram came to dinner; and so also did one of the Littlebath curates, a very energetic young man, but who had not yet achieved above one or two pairs of worked slippers and a kettle-holder.

Greater things, however, were no doubt in store for him if he would remain true to his mission. Aunt Mary had intended to ask no one; but Caroline had declared that it was out of the question to expect that Mr. Bertram should drink his wine by himself.

The whole evening was dull enough, and the work of disenchantment on Caroline's part was nearly accomplished; but Bertram, a few minutes before he went away, as the curate was expatiating to Miss Baker on the excellence of his rector's last sermon, found an occasion to say one word.

"Miss Waddington, if I call to-morrow, early after breakfast, will you see me?" Miss Waddington looked as though there were nothing in the proposition to ruffle her serenity, and said that she would.

George's words had been tame enough, but there had been something in the fire of his eye that at last reminded her of Jerusalem.

On the next morning, punctually at ten, his knock was heard at the door. Caroline had at first persisted that her aunt should not absent herself; but even Miss Baker would not obey such an injunction as this.

"How do you expect that the poor young man is to behave?" she had said. "I do not much care how he behaves," Caroline had replied. But, nevertheless, she did care.

She was therefore sitting alone when Bertram entered the room. He walked up to her and took her hand, and as he did so he seemed to be altogether a different man from that of yesterday. There was purpose enough in his countenance now, and a purpose, apparently, which he had an intention of pursuing with some energy.

"Miss Waddington," he said, still holding her hand; "Caroline! Or am I to apologize for calling you so? or is the privilege to be my own?"

and then, still holding her hand, he stood as though expectant of an answer that should settle the affair at once.

"Our connection through your uncle ent.i.tles you to the privilege,"

said Caroline, smiling, and using a woman's wiles to get out of the difficulty.

"I will take no privilege from you on such a basis. What I have to ask of you must be given on my own account, or on my own refused.

Caroline, since we parted in that room in Jerusalem, I have thought seriously of little else than of you. You could not answer me then; you gave me no answer; you did not know your own heart, you said. You must know it now. Absence has taught me much, and it must have taught you something."

"And what has it taught you?" said she, with her eyes fixed on the ground.

"That the world has but one thing desirable for me, and that I should not take a man's part unless I endeavoured to obtain it. I am here to ask for it. And now, what has absence taught you?"

"Oh, so many things! I cannot repeat my lesson in one word, as you do."

"Come, Caroline, I look at least for sincerity from you. You are too good, too gracious to indulge a girlish vanity at the cost of a man's suspense."

Missish and girlis.h.!.+ Miss Waddington felt that it behoved her to look to her character. These were words which had not usually been applied to her.

"Indeed, Mr. Bertram, I should think myself unpardonable to keep you in suspense."

"Then answer me," said he. He had by this time let go her hand, and was standing at a little distance from her, on the hearth-rug. Never had lady been wooed in a sterner manner; but Caroline almost felt that she liked him the better for it. He had simpered and said his little nothings so like an ordinary gentleman during their ride, that his present brusqueness was quite a relief to her.

But still she did not answer him at once. She essayed to stick her needle into her work, and p.r.i.c.ked her finger in lieu of it.

"Come, Caroline; am I wrong in supposing that now at least you must know your own feelings? Or shall I tell you again how dearly, how truly I love you?"

"No!--no!--no!"

"Answer me, then. In honest, plain, Christian sincerity, answer me; as a true woman should answer a true man. Do you love me?"

For a moment there was no answer.

"Well, I will not ask again. I will not torment you."

"Oh, Mr. Bertram! What am I to say? What would you have me say? Do not be so stern with me."

"Stern!"

"Well, are you not stern?" And coming up close to him, she looked into his face.

"Caroline," said he, "will you be my wife?"

"I will." It was a motion of the lips rather than a spoken word; but, nevertheless, he heard it. Fool that he was not to have heard it before in the beating of her heart; not to have seen it in the tear in her eye; not to have felt it in the warmth of her hand.

On that afternoon Miss Waddington's ride was much more energetic, and on that evening Miss Baker did not think it necessary to catch a curate to drink wine with George Bertram. He was made quite at home, and given to understand that he had better leave the dining-room when the ladies did so.

There was much talked over that evening and the next day: the upshot of which was, that no marriage could take place till next summer; that perhaps it might be expedient to postpone it till the summer twelvemonths. To this George put, or would have put, an absolute veto; but Miss Baker only shook her head, and smilingly said that she thought it must be so. Nothing was to be done before Christmas; but as Miss Baker was to be at Hadley very early in January, she undertook to inform Mr. Bertram, and gave strong hopes that he would be prevailed on to favour the marriage.

"It can make no difference to my purpose whether he does or no," said George, very independently.

CHAPTER XIV.

WAYS AND MEANS.