across his memory, how a
friend and he had ascended to the top of one of its many towers with the
purpose of making observations on the stars; and how, while his friend
was busily engaged with the pointers, he, earthly-minded youth, had
been looking down into the deep, gas-lit, dark-shadowed quadrangles,
and wondering if he should ever be Fellow of this or that College, which
he singled out from the mass of academical buildings. All had passed as
a dream, and he was a stranger where he had hoped to have had a home.

He was drawing near Oxford; he saw along the road before him brisk
youths pass, two and two, with elastic tread, finishing their modest
daily walk, and nearing the city. What had been a tandem a mile back,
next crossed his field of view, shorn of its leader. Presently a stately
cap and gown loomed in the distance; he had gained the road before their
owner crossed him; it was a college-tutor whom he had known a little.
Charles expected to be recognized; but the resident passed by with that
half-conscious, uncertain gaze which seemed to have some memory of a
face which yet was strange. He had passed Folly Bridge; troops of
horsemen overtook him, talking loud, while with easy jaunty pace they
turned into their respective stables. He crossed to Christ Church, and
penetrated to Peckwater. The evening was still bright, and the gas was
lighting. Groups of young men were stationed here and there, the greater
number in hats, a few in caps, one or two with gowns in addition; some
were hallooing up to their companions at the windows of the second
story; scouts were carrying about _aeger_ dinners; pastry-cook boys were
bringing in desserts; shabby fellows with Blenheim puppies were
loitering under Canterbury Gate. Many stared, but no one knew him. He
hurried up Oriel Lane; suddenly a start and a low bow from a passer-by;
who could it be? it was a superannuated shoeblack of his college, to
whom he had sometimes given a stray shilling. He gained the High Street,
and turned down towards the Angel. What was approaching? the vision of a
proctor. Charles felt some instinctive quiverings; but it passed by him,
and did no harm. Like Kehama, he had a charmed life. And now he had
reached his inn, where he found his portmanteau all ready for him. He
chose a bedroom, and, after fully inducting himself into it, turned his
thoughts towards dinner.

He wished to lose no time, but, if possible, to proceed to London the
following morni