"In what you say, Mr. Bertram, you do me injustice; I am not unhappy."
"Are you not? then I congratulate you on getting over the troubles consequent on a true heart."
"I did not mean in any way to speak of myself; I have cares, regrets, and sorrows, as have most of us; but I have no cause of misery which I cannot assuage."
"Well, you are fortunate; that is all I can say."
"But Caroline I can see is not happy; and, Mr. Bertram, I fear that your coming here will not make her more so."
She had said her little word, meaning it so well. But perhaps she had done more harm than good. He did not come again to Eaton Square till after she was gone; but very shortly after that he did so.
Adela had seen that short, whispered conversation between Lady Harcourt and Bertram—that moment, as it were, of confidence; and so, also, had Sir Henry; and yet it had been but for a moment.
"Lady Harcourt," Bertram had said, "how well you do this sort of thing!"
"Do I?" she answered. "Well, one ought to do something well."
"Do you mean to say that your excellence is restricted to this?"