At last Mr. Kyffin arrived. He was much pleased with Harry's appearance. They spent a very pleasant evening. Harry could not help contrasting the conversation of his guardian with that of his grandmother--the man of business, so unworldly, and with a heart so full of warm affection, anxious for the welfare of his fellow-creatures, while the old lady with one foot in the grave was truly of the earth-- earthy. Harry did not exactly say as much as this to himself, but he felt it, notwithstanding. Roger Kyffin was very much pleased to hear of Harry's wish to enter a profession. "I would not have you decide in a hurry," he said, "and you must consider for what you are best fitted. You know that I, as far as I have the power, will help you to the utmost--on that you may depend. Further than that, Harry, I don't wish to bias you." Harry slept at Mr. Kyffin's, a pretty little cottage, and accompanied him the next day back to London. He found that the mornings hung somewhat heavily on his hands; the evenings, too, were not spent in a way particularly agreeable to him, as Lady Tryon insisted on his accompanying her to the routs and other parties she frequented. He had a dislike to cards, and could never learn to play, so she had not insisted on his joining her, but she spent the whole of the evening at the card-table. He saw, however, from the piles of gold placed before her that she was playing high; how high he could not tell; but very often she returned home in an unusually bad humour, when he found it safer to keep silence than to attempt any conversation with her. At this time, ladies of fashion, as well as gentlemen, were fearfully addicted to the vice of gambling. The law was doing its utmost to put down public hells, but it was unable in general to stop the practice in private houses, in consequence of the difficulty of obtaining evidence. One evening Lady Tryon had been at the house of the Countess of Buckinghamshire, to which Harry had, very unwillingly, been compelled to accompany her. As usual, gambling went on, a gentleman of fashion keeping the faro-table. Harry saw by the expression of his grandmother's countenance that she was a heavy loser. The more she lost, the higher stakes she seemed inclined to play for. "Let the old lady have her way," he heard a gentleman near whom he was standing observe, "a little bleeding will do her no harm."