“I wonder what the old lady has got to say for herself,” he murmured.  “Can she have seen Nina?  And has Nina said anything.  Not that she can seriously injure me in the mater’s eyes.  No one would be more lenient to a little harmless flirtation which was never meant to lead anywhere than my good mother.  Still it was a great bore for Josephine to turn up when she did.  Obliged me to shorten my leave abruptly, and see less of Miss Beatrice.  What a little tiger Nina would be if her jealousy was aroused—­no help for me but flight.  Yes, Saunders, you needn’t wait.”

Bertram’s servant withdrew; and taking his mother’s letter out of its envelope, the young man proceeded to acquaint himself with its contents.  They interested him, not a little, but deeply.  The color flushed up into his face as he read.  He made one or two strong exclamations, finally he laughed aloud.  His laugh was excited and full of good humor.

“By Jove! the mother never thought of a better plot.  Beatrice—­and fortune.  Beatrice, and an escape into the bargain from all my worries.  Poor mater!  She does not know that that six hundred of hers has only just scraped me through my most pressing liabilities.  But a small dip out of Beatrice Meadowsweet’s fortune will soon set me on my feet.  The mater’s wishes and mine never so thoroughly chimed together as now.  Of course I’ll do it.  No fear on that point.  I’ll write off to the dear old lady, and set her heart at rest, by this very post.  As to leave, I must manage that somehow.  The mother is quite right.  With a girl like Beatrice there is no time to be lost.  Any fellow might come over to Northbury and pick her up.  Why, she’s perfectly splendid.  I knew I was in love with her—­felt it all along.  Just think of my patrician mother giving in, though.  Well, nothing could suit me better.”

Bertram felt so excited that he paced up and down his room, and even drank off a brandy and soda, which was not in his usual line, for he was a sober young fellow enough.

As he walked up and down he thought again of that night when he had last seen Beatrice.  How splendid she had looked in her boat on the water; how unreserved, and yet how reticent she was; how beautiful, and yet how unconscious of her beauty.  What a foil she made to that dreadful little Matty Bell!

Bertram laughed as he remembered Matty’s blushes and affected giggles and simpers.  He conjured up the whole scene, and when he recalled poor Mrs. Bell’s frantic efforts to get the white boat away from the green, his sense of hilarity doubled.  Finally he thought of his walk home, of the meditations which had occupied his mind, and last of all of the girl in the gray dress who had put her arms round his neck, laid her head on his breast, and whose lips he had passionately kissed.  That head!  He felt a thrill now as he remembered the sheen of its golden locks, and he knew that the kisses he had given this girl had been full of the passion of his manhood.  He ceased to laugh as he thought of her.  A growing sense of uneasiness, of even fear, took possession of him, and chased away the high spirits which his mother’s acceptable proposal had given rise to.