ed; he had no pity for me.--"You are no
fool," said he, "and you chose your course." I showed him that he had
misconceived his duty, that certificates were things of form, attendance
a matter of taste. Two things, he replied, had been required for
graduation: a certain competency proved in the final trials, and a
certain period of genuine training proved by certificate; if he did as I
desired, not less than if he gave me hints for an examination, he was
aiding me to steal a degree. "You see, Mr. Stevenson, these are the
laws, and I am here to apply them," said he. I could not say but that
this view was tenable, though it was new to me; I changed my attack: it
was only for my father's eye that I required his signature, it need
never go to the Senatus, I had already certificates enough to justify my
year's attendance. "Bring them to me; I cannot take your word for that,"
said he. "Then I will consider." The next day I came charged with my
certificates, a humble assortment. And when he had satisfied himself,
"Remember," said he, "that I can promise nothing, but I will try to find
a form of words." He did find one, and I am still ashamed when I think
of his shame in giving me that paper. He made no reproach in speech, but
his manner was the more eloquent; it told me plainly what a dirty
business we were on; and I went from his presence, with my certificate
indeed in my possession, but with no answerable sense of triumph. That
was the bitter beginning of my love for Fleeming; I never thought
lightly of him afterwards.

Once, and once only, after our friendship was truly founded did we come
to a considerable difference. It was, by the rules of poor humanity, my
fault and his. I had been led to dabble in society journalism; and this
coming to his ears, he felt it like a disgrace upon himself. So far he
was exactly in the right; but he was scarce happily inspired when he
broached the subject at his own table and before guests who were
strangers to me. It was the sort of error he was always ready to repent,
but always certain to repeat; and on this occasion he spoke so freely
that I soon made an excuse and left the house, with the firm purpose of
returning no more. About a month later I met him at dinner at a common
friend's. "Now," said he, on the stairs, "I engage you--like a lady to
dance--for the end of the evening. You have no right to quarrel with me
and not give me a chance." I have often said and thought that Fleeming
ha