ption recording
the fire and rebuilding of the cloister; and looked with respect on
the powdered wigs in the hairdresser's window. He felt benumbed by the
high, dismal, worm-eaten buildings, but was relieved when the sound of
falling water attracted his eye to the fountain, flinging its column
of silver into the air amidst elms and sycamores. Hastening towards
this green spot, he saw the hall of which Mr. Winter had spoken, and
proceeded to the stairs leading to the quiet little garden, one of the
pleasantest retreats in all London. Randolph gazed some time on this
oasis in the legal desert, and then turned to fulfil the rest of his
mission. And now he marked the many singular dials, fixed aloft
against the buildings, so that one or other was always available,
reminding the denizens of the value of the minutes by their dry
mottos, "Time and tide tarry for no man," "Pereunt et imputantur,"
they perish and are laid to charge. Retracing his steps, he surveyed
with pleasure the more spacious garden which had decided his choice of
a society for his studentship.

The office which he sought was close at hand. On making his
application he was provided with a printed form, and instructed to
fill up the blanks and return it. With this he obtained admission to
the garden, and sat down in one of the alcoves by the river-side to
examine the document. Perplexity fell upon him as he read. Two
barristers were to certify that they knew him, and believed him to be
a gentleman. The expression awoke all the pride of a Trevethlan.

"Was my father, then, right?" he thought, gazing moodily on the water.
"Is this a course meet for one of our name? To skulk among men in
disguise? To beg certificates of honour? Believed to be a gentleman!
Already my dream is fading away. Oh! my own sister, would we were back
at Trevethlan! Yet shall I vex you too with my doubts?... Know me? Who
knows me? Who in London knows Randolph Morton?"

Irresolute and half desponding, Randolph returned to Mr. Winter's.
That gentleman soon solved the difficulty implied in the conclusion of
the above reverie. "Come with me," he said; conducted the neophyte to
some neighbouring chambers, presented him to Mr. Flotsam, and told his
errand. "Happy to oblige a friend of yours, Winter," said the
conveyancer, signing the paper; "hope Mr. Morton will prosper." The
second signature was still more a matter of form, Mr. Winter merely
sending the paper to Mr. Jetsam, with his complim