“I am certain that I shall dislike him,” said Charles to his brother the evening before Mr. Sligo made his appearance. “It will seem to me as though he usurped the place of my friend.” [Illustration: THE NEW TUTOR.] “I confess that I feel a prejudice against any tutor recommended by Lady Fitzwigram. But then such a prejudice may be neither kind nor just: he never taught in her family, therefore has nothing to do with any of the faults of her sons. We must meet Mr. Sligo in a fair, candid spirit. Mr. Ewart would have been the first to tell us to treat our new tutor as we would wish to be treated in his position ourselves.” Mr. Sligo proved quite a different kind of person from what his pupils had expected. Instead of a proud, opinionative scholar, bearing the stamp of one familiar with the _haut-ton_—a walking peerage, a follower of the world and its fashions—they beheld a mild-looking, delicate little man, with a manner quick but gentle, who spoke in low, soft tones, with an almost timid air, as if afraid of giving offence. To such a person it was impossible for a generous spirit to be unkind. The brothers did all in their power to put him at his ease; and they were flattered by the grateful deferential manner, in which he received the smallest attention. Mr. Sligo was soon found to be not only an intelligent tutor, but a very agreeable companion. He was ready for anything, either business or play; could do anything, from setting a drawing for Charles to assisting in the construction of the school: he entered with pleasure into every project, especially such as had charity for their object, listened to pious sentiments with an approving smile, and delighted in helping forward every good work. With such a companion, with such occupations and such encouragements, was not our pilgrim almost at the gate of heaven? Had Ernest been an angel, free from human frailty, perhaps it might have been so with him now. Never had he walked onwards with a firmer step, never had he been such a blessing to others, never had he kept his lips more pure, nor been more watchful over every action; and yet he was, perhaps, in more danger of falling than when passing through Vanity Fair! To a mind like his, the society of a worldly companion might have been less dangerous than that of Mr. Sligo. And why so? His tutor never taught him evil, never set him an evil example. But there was silent flattery in his admiring look, the attention with which he listened, the heartiness with which he approved. With all his quickness of perception, there was one thing which he seemed to lack—the power of discovering a fault in his pupil.