"
"Poor fellow! Has he any relatives?"
"Oh yes, Sir; a wife and son--a very handsome, nice young gentleman."
"Then his widow will be rich, I suppose?"
"Oh, pray, don't call her a widow yet, Sir; let us hope her husband may
be found. It's a dreadful thing to be drowned like that on a Sunday
morning; and for one who knows the cliff path so well as he did, too. He
was a hard man, and no favorite, but one forgets that now, of course."
"You have also forgotten the Harvey Sauce, my good girl; oblige me by
bringing it, will you?" said Mr. Balfour, beginning to whistle something
which did not sound like a psalm tune. "You must excuse my
hard-heartedness, but I had not the pleasure of knowing this gentleman."
An hour afterward the solitary guest had left the inn, and was on his
road to Plymouth. His departure caused little surprise, for the weather
was such as to induce no visitor to prolong his stay.
Whether from his long enforced abstinence from society, or from the
unwelcome nature of his thoughts, Robert Balfour was always disinclined
to be alone. His expeditions with Charley in search of pleasure had
been, though he did not find pleasure, more agreeable to him than the
being left to his own resources; and now this was more the case than
ever. He preferred even such company as that which the smoking-room of
an hotel afforded to none at all.
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