Major Jervis made the most of his five weeks in England. He invested in a new and gorgeous uniform, a new battery of guns, saddlery, presents for Indian friends and his _fiancée_, and saw as much as possible of Mark. The more the pair were acquainted the better they liked each other. They went to the Tower, Madame Tussaud’s, the Zoo, the theatres. Mark invariably accompanied his parent to tailors, boot-makers and gun-smiths, and became subsequently quite the authority on these matters at school. His soldierly, open-handed sire, who loaded him with gifts, who told him tales of the stirring deeds of his ancestors, of his own swarthy sowars, of tiger-hunting and elephant drives, speedily became his hero and his idol. On being sounded as to his own choice of a profession, Mark, after taking thought for a considerable time, gravely announced to his father and uncle, “that he would prefer to be a bachelor.” “And by no means a bad choice,” roared Mr. Pollitt, in great glee. “Stick to that, my boy, stick to that, copy your old uncle.” “I don’t think he will,” remarked Major Jervis, with decision; “he will take after me. We are a susceptible race, we Jervises, and I’ll give him till he is two and twenty.” The day of parting was a dismal one for father and son. The child struggled desperately to be a man, to shed no tears, and bore himself wonderfully, at any rate in public, but after the cab had driven off, he rushed away and shut himself up in his own little bedroom, and flung himself upon the floor, and abandoned himself to the bitterest grief he had ever experienced, and he was ten years old. Some years after this scene, Mr. Pollitt, to every one’s surprise, married a faded, elegant-looking woman, of good family, but portionless. He bought a house in Princes Gate, rented a grouse moor, deer forest, and hunting box, and invested in some celebrated diamonds. He had now amassed a great fortune, and at the age of fifty-five, retired from business, in order to spend it. But here arose an unexpected difficulty, he did not know how to enjoy the result of his labours, save by proxy. He looked up to his handsome well-born nephew to manipulate his thousands, much as a child appeals to an experienced friend to work a new mechanical toy. All his own youth had been spent among great city warehouses, on wharves, and in offices. He had never ridden, save on the top of an omnibus, he could not drive, shoot, row, or even fish, and, alas! it was now too late to learn. He, however, took to field sports in the character of a spectator, with surprising enthusiasm. He walked with the guns on his moors, and was much excited respecting the bag. He gave fancy prices for his nephew’s hunters, and attended every meet (on wheels), where there was a prospect of seeing their performance, following the line, and keeping the hounds in sight as far as possible, by means of short cuts and glasses.