To his fellow- students he appeared the same shy, quiet youth he had always seemed; to Mr Newcome, whom he met in the street, he appeared still as Charlie's chosen and dear friend, ready for his holiday and rejoicing in the prospect of the coming meeting; to his professors he appeared still the same steady, hard-working student, bent on making his way in his profession.

But to himself, alas! how altered, how degraded he appeared! In the midst of his duties his thoughts ran continually--now back to the strange experience of last evening, now forward to the doubtful events of this.
The recollection of the past had lost a good deal of its repulsiveness after twelve hours' interval, and although he still felt it to be low and harmful, he yet secretly encouraged his curiosity to revisit the place of his temptation.
"After all, it did me no harm," said he to himself; "it's not interfered with my work, or made me feel worse than before.

What harm in going again to-night?
When Charlie comes, and we get away from town, I shall easily be able to break it off; and besides, Charlie's sure to help to put me square; he always does.

Yes; I think I'll just go and see what's on there to-night; it can't be worse than it was.

Besides," thought he, glad to seize on any straw of excuse, "I'm bound in honour to play Gus a return match; it would be ungentlemanly to back out of that." But why sicken you, dear reader, and myself, with recapitulating the sad workings of this poor fellow's mind?
The more he tried to convince himself he was doing only a slight wrong, the more his conscience cried out he was running to his ruin.