Solomon started for Gethin on the ensuing morning; but his wife did not, as usual, find his departure a relief, since Balfour remained behind.  Her last instructions from her husband were to treat this unwelcome guest with marked consideration, and to let him have his way in every thing.  He also hinted, though it was scarcely necessary to insure her obedience, at certain brilliant prospects which were about to present themselves, through Balfour’s means, if he were only kept in good-humor.  Harry would have much preferred to relinquish his favor at the price of his absence; but not so her son.  Notwithstanding the disparity in their ages, he and this new acquaintance were already fast friends.  The latter had laid himself out to please the lad, and had succeeded; partly, perhaps, from the very novelty of companionship, for Charley knew no one in town, and was tired of taking his pleasure therein alone, but chiefly through his store of agreeable anecdotes, all illustrative of the enjoyments which wealth conferred, with which Balfour tickled his ears.

“In a few years—­perhaps sooner, who knows?—­all these things of which I speak will be within your own means.  You will be rich; and he who is so can please himself in almost every thing.  You can then marry your Agnes, if you will, without fear of being disinherited; or, what is better and more likely, you may choose from a score of Agneses, or even take them all.”

He had a light amusing way with him, this Balfour, that hid the cynicism which would otherwise have jarred upon his young companion; for Charles, though selfish and fond of pleasure, was good-natured, and had not reached that period of life when our sherry must needs not only be dry, but have bitters in it.  He was genuinely fond of his mother; yet even in this short time Balfour, as she well knew, had taught him to disobey her; not setting her at open defiance, indeed, but regarding her advice and remonstrances with a sort of tender contempt.  She meant all for his good, his Mentor admitted, but women had not much knowledge of the world; and if a young man was not to be his own master at eighteen, he must look to be in leading-strings all his life.  Harry perceived her darling’s plastic nature changing daily for the worse in the hands of this crafty potter; and though it was an admission humiliating to her, as a mother, to make, she made it to Mrs. Basil in her sick-room.

“Mr. Balfour is doing my Charley harm,” she said.  “He is an altered boy already, and yet my husband talks as though we are never to be rid of the man.  What money, what gain, can ever compensate for the demoralization of our child?”

“Nothing, indeed,” said Mrs. Basil, quietly.  “But have a little patience.  Is not this gentleman going on Friday?”

“Yes; but he will come back again.  It is only some business that calls him into Midlandshire.  He does not even take all his luggage away.  I have a great mind to tell him point-blank that his presence in this house—­at all events in Mr. Coe’s absence—­is unwelcome; but I dare not do it; I am afraid.”