"Yes, I did," said Mr. Bertram senior; and his hands went to work as he sat in the arm-chair.
"Did you find him much altered since you last met? It was a great many years since, I believe?"
"Not in the least altered. Your father will never alter."
George now knew enough of his father's character to understand the point of this; so he changed the subject, and did that which a man who has anything to tell should always do at once; he commenced the telling of it forthwith.
"I have come down here, to-day, sir, because I think it right to let you know at once that Miss Waddington and I have agreed that our engagement shall be at an end."
Mr. Bertram turned sharp round in his chair. "What?" said he. "What?"
"Our engagement is at an end. We are both aware that it is better for us it should be so."
"What do you mean? Better for you! How can it be better for you? You are two fools."
"Very likely, sir. We have been two fools; or, at any rate, I have been one."
Mr. Bertram sat still in his chair, silent for a few moments. He still kept rubbing his hands, but in meditation rather than in anger. Though his back reached to the back of his chair, his head was brought forward and leaned almost on his chest. His cheeks had fallen in since George had seen him, and his jaw hung low, and gave a sad, thoughtful look to his face, in which also there was an expression of considerable pain. His nephew saw that what he had said had grieved him, and was sorry for it.