She knew that Bertha had wished to tell him that she had refused Carthew's offer, but that this would come of it she had never dreamt.

A year before she had approved of Bertha's rejection of Frank, but since then much had happened.

Bertha had shown that she would not marry for position only, and that she would be likely to take her own way entirely in the matter; and, although this was a downfall to the hopes that she had once entertained, Lady Greendale was herself very fond of Frank, and it was at any rate better than having Bertha marry a man of whose real means she was ignorant, and who, as everyone knew, bet heavily on the turf.

These ideas flashed rapidly through her mind, and holding out one hand to each, she said: "There is no one to whom I could more confidently entrust her happiness, Frank.

God bless you both." Then she betook herself to her pocket handkerchief, for her tears came easily, and on this occasion she herself could hardly have said whether they were the result of pleasure in Bertha's happiness, or regret at the downfall of the air castles she had once built.
"I think, Bertha, our best plan will be to go below now," Frank suggested, quietly.
"What for ?" Bertha asked, shyly.
The thing had been done.