In the evening, when the ladies had gone to their rooms, they were again together; and Bertram thought that he would speak of Caroline. But he was again foiled. There had been some little bickering on the part of Mrs. Wilkinson. She had been querulous, and had not cared to hide it, though George and Adela were sitting there as guests. This had made her son unhappy, and he now spoke of it.
"I am sorry you should hear my mother speak in that way, George. I hope I am not harsh to her. I try to refrain from answering her. But unless I go back to my round jackets, and take my food from her hand like a child, I cannot please her."
"Perhaps you are too careful to please her. I think you should let her know that, to a certain extent, you must be master in your own house."
"Ah! I have given that up long since. She has an idea that the house is hers. I do not care to thwart her in that. Perhaps I should have done it at first; but it is too late now. To-night she was angry with me because I would not read a sermon."
"And why then didn't you?"
"I have preached two to-day." And the young clergyman yawned somewhat wearily. "She used to read them herself. I did put a stop to that."
"Why so? why not let her read them?"
"The girls used to go to sleep, always—and then the servants slept also, I don't think she has a good voice for sermons. But I am sure of this, George—she has never forgiven me."
"And never will."
"Sometimes, I almost think she would wish to take my place in the pulpit."