"Is she?" said George, quite startled by the information. Why on earth had Miss Baker not told him of this?
"And what did you think of Caroline?" asked Mr. Bertram.
"Think of her?" said George.
"Perhaps you did not think anything about her at all. If so, I shall be delighted to punish her vanity by telling her so. She had thought a great deal about you; or, at any rate, she talked as though she had."
This surprised George a great deal, and almost made him forgive his uncle the inquiry he had received. "Oh, yes, I did think of her," said he. "I thought of her a little at least."
"Oh, a little!"
"Well, I mean as much as one does generally think of people one meets—perhaps rather more than of others. She is very handsome and clever, and what I saw of her I liked."
"She is a favourite of mine—very much so. Only that you are too young, and have not as yet a shilling to depend on, she might have done for a wife for you."
And so saying, he drew the candles to him, took up his newspaper, and was very soon fast asleep.
George said nothing further that night to his uncle about Caroline, but he sat longing that the old man might again broach the subject. He was almost angry with himself for not having told his uncle the whole truth; but then he reflected that Caroline had not yet acknowledged that she felt anything like affection for him; and he said to himself, over and over again, that he was sure she would not marry him without loving him for all the rich uncles in Christendom; and yet it was a singular coincidence that he and his uncle should have thought of the same marriage.