It was therefore her chief and greatest desire to make a man of fashion of her son.  Her purse was long—­he might dip into it as deep as he pleased.  Let him but take his proper position, on an equality with the noblest and best, and all charges would be gladly defrayed by her.  She wanted him to be a dandy, repandu in society, a member of the Coaching Club, well known at Prince’s, at Hurlingham, at Lord’s; sought after by dowagers; intimate with royalties; she would not have seriously resented a reputation for a little wickedness, provided he erred in the right direction—­with people of the blue blood, that is to say—­and the scandal did not go too far.

Unhappily, Harold’s tastes and inclinations lay all in the opposite direction.  In external appearance he favoured his mother, in disposition he was his father’s son.  Like him reserved—­he would have been shy but for his training at school and college, which had rubbed the sensitive skin off his self-consciousness; like him studious too, thoughtful, quiet, with scientific tastes and proclivities.  His friends in familiar talk called him “Old Steady”; he had never got into debt or serious trouble.  Even in the midst of the whirling maze of London life he continued steadfastly sober and sedate.

Here at once was to be found the germ of discord between mother and son, the first gap or chink in their friendly relations, which might widen some day into a yawning breach.  But yet Mrs. Purling could find no fault with her son.  She might resent the staid sober-mindedness of his conduct; but she was perforce compelled to confess that he was a dear good son, affectionate, devoted, considerate; and there was much solid comfort in the thought that the good name of the Purlings, as well as their substantial wealth, could be safely intrusted to his hands.  This she readily allowed; and, had he continued obedient and tractable until he was grey-haired, Mrs. Purling might have gone down into her grave without a shadow of excuse for quarreling with her son.

It was when he was past five-and-twenty that there arose between them misunderstanding, at first only a small cloud no bigger than a man’s hand.  Harold suddenly declared that he was sick of gallivanting about the fashionable world; sick of idleness—­sick of the silly purposeless existence he led; and thereupon announced his intention of studying medicine seriously and as a profession.  Mrs. Purling was at first aghast, then argumentative, finally indignant.  But Harold remained inflexible, and she grew more and more wrathful.  It led at length to something like a rupture between them.  She received the news of his success in the schools with grim contempt, condescending only to ask once whether he wished her to buy him a practice, or whether he meant to put up a red lamp at the family-mansion in Berkeley Square.

Her persistent implacability gave Harold much pain, but he did not despair of bringing her round in the end; only, to avoid further dissensions, he wisely resolved to keep out of her way:  and as soon as he had gained his diploma he started for Germany, intending to prosecute his studies abroad.