Old Mr. Bertram still kept his nephew's hand, and it seemed as though he liked to hold it. He continued to look up into George's face as though striving to read there something different from the words which he heard, something which might yet give him some consolation. He had said that George was honest, and he believed it, as far as he could believe in honesty. But, nevertheless, he was still meditating at what price he could buy over his nephew to his purpose. After such a struggle as that of his whole lifetime, could he have any other faith but that money were omnipotent? No; this of course, this necessarily was his belief. As to the sufficient quantity—on that point it was possible for him to doubt. His nephew's manner to him was very touching; the tone of his voice, the look of his countenance, the grief which sat on his brow, did touch him. But they touched him in this manner; they made him feel that a few thousands were not sufficient. He had at last a desire at his heart, a family domestic warm desire; and he began to feel that if he were not prepared to give up his desire, he must bid high for its fulfilment.
"George," said he, "after all, you and Caroline are the nearest relatives I have; the nearest and the dearest."
"Caroline is your own child's child, sir."
"She is but a girl; and it would all go to some spendthrift, whose very name would be different. And, I don't know, but I think I like you better than her. Look here now. According to my present will, nine-tenths of my property will go to build a hospital that shall bear my name. You'll not repeat that to anybody, will you?"
"No, sir; I will not."
"If you'll do as I would have you about this marriage, I'll make a new will, and you and your children shall have— I'll let you say yourself how much you shall have; there—and you shall see the will yourself before the wedding takes place."
"What can I say to him? what can I say to him?" said George, turning away his face. "Sir, it is quite impossible. Is not that enough? Money has nothing to do with it; can have nothing to do with it."
"You don't think I'd deceive you, do you, and make another will afterwards? It shall be a deed of gift if you like, or a settlement—to take effect of course after my death." On hearing this George turned away his face. "You shall have half, George; there, by G—— you shall have half; settled on you—there—half of it, settled on you." And then only did the uncle drop his nephew's hand. He dropped it, and closing his eyes, began to meditate on the tremendous sacrifice he had made.
There was something terrible in this to young Bertram. He had almost ceased to think of himself in watching his uncle's struggles. It was dreadful to see how terribly anxious the old man was, and more dreadful still to witness the nature of the thoughts which were running through his mind. He was making lavish tenders of his heaven, his god, his blessings; he was offering to part with his paradise, seeing that nature would soon imperatively demand that he should part with it. But useless as it must soon be to him, he could not bring himself to believe that it was not still all-powerful with others.
"Mr. Bertram, it is clearly necessary that we should understand each other," said George, with a voice that he intended should be firm, but which in truth was stern as well as firm. "I thought it right to come and tell you that this match was broken off. But seeing that that has once been told, there is no longer room for further conversation on the matter. We have made up our minds to part; and, having done so, I can assure you that money can have no effect upon our resolution."