George merely laughed, and looked rather like a simpleton.
"If you were not in love with her, I can only say that you ought to have been. I was, I know."
"Well, sir, I believe she is free as yet; you can try your chance if you have a mind."
"Ah! I would I could. If I knew Medea's secret, I would have myself chopped and boiled that I might come out young on her behalf; but, George, I can tell you something about her."
"Well, sir!"
"I would have told you then, when we were at Jerusalem, but we were not so well acquainted then as we are now, and I did not like to interfere."
"It could not be interference from you."
"Well, but the matter is this: if my brother ever loved any human being—and I am not quite sure he ever did—but if he did, it was that girl's father. Had Waddington lived, he would now have been my age. Your uncle took him early by the hand, and would have made his fortune for him, but the poor fellow died. In my opinion, it would assist your views if your uncle knew that you were going to marry Caroline Waddington."
George said nothing, but sat sucking the mouth-piece of his pipe-stick and blowing out great clouds of smoke. Sir Lionel said nothing further, but easily changed the conversation. Early on the following morning, Bertram left Constantinople, having received a promise that Sir Lionel would visit him in England as soon as the exigencies of the public service would permit of his doing so.