isfied with it or with himself.
He had gone to lecture, and he had been lectured; and he had let out his
secret state of mind: no, not let out, he had nothing to let out. He had
indeed implied that he was inquiring after religious truth, but every
Protestant inquires; he would not be a Protestant if he did not. Of
course he was seeking the truth; it was his duty to do so; he
recollected distinctly his tutor laying down, on one occasion, the duty
of private judgment. This was the very difference between Protestants
and Catholics; Catholics begin with faith, Protestants with inquiry; and
he ought to have said this to Willis. He was provoked he had not said
it; it would have simplified the question, and shown how far he was from
being unsettled. Unsettled! it was most extravagant. He wished this had
but struck him during the conversation, but it was a relief that it
struck him now; it reconciled him to his position.

CHAPTER XIV.

The first day of Michaelmas term is, to an undergraduate's furniture,
the brightest day of the year. Much as Charles regretted home, he
rejoiced to see old Oxford again. The porter had acknowledged him at the
gate, and the scout had smiled and bowed, as he ran up the worn
staircase and found a blazing fire to welcome him. The coals crackled
and split, and threw up a white flame in strong contrast with the
newly-blackened bars and hobs of the grate. A shining copper kettle
hissed and groaned under the internal torment of water at boiling point.
The chimney-glass had been cleaned, the carpet beaten, the curtains
fresh glazed. A tea-tray and tea commons were placed on the table;
besides a battel paper, two or three cards from tradesmen who desired
his patronage, and a note from a friend whose term had already
commenced. The porter came in with his luggage, and had just received
his too ample remuneration, when, through the closing door, in rushed
Sheffield in his travelling dress.

"Well, old fellow, how are you?" he said, shaking both of Charles's
hands, or rather arms, with all his might; "here we are all again; I am
just come like you. Where have you been all this time? Come, tell us
all about yourself. Give me some tea, and let's have a good jolly chat."
Charles liked Sheffield, he liked Oxford, he was pleased to get back;
yet he had some remains of home-sickness on him, and was not quite in
cue for Sheffield's good-natured boisterousness. Willis's matter, too,
was still on his mind.