After Mr. Martindale the elder had addressed what he thought an encouraging speech to his cousin, he called out to the coachman to stop when they were near to Temple Bar. The old gentleman then alighted, saying, he would return in a few minutes; and in a very few minutes did he return, bringing with him a gentleman whom Philip had seen before. This was no other than Horatio Markham. Now here was another mortification. Thus the poor man was annoyed with one trouble after another; and thus his mortifications increased upon him, and all because he must support the dignity of his rank. He could not be uncivil to Markham, nor indeed did he wish to be so. He had said, and that very sincerely, that there was nothing at all objectionable in Markham’s speech at the trial. He had been rather pleased with it than otherwise; he thought it far better than that of his own counsellor; and he had observed to several persons that there were some spouting prigs at the bar, that in a cause like that would have represented the defendant as a demon of incomparable malignity, and would have smothered him with a countless accumulation of awkward metaphors. He had said that Markham had shown much good sense in stating his case clearly and strongly, and without any of that school-boy slang, and those theme-like declamations by which some ill-judging ranters seem rather to seek the applauses of a tasteless mob than to apply themselves to that which may benefit a client. All this he had said, and all this he had really and truly thought; but he had no wish for all that to be brought into immediately close contact and intimacy with the person of whom he had said it. He respected Markham as a young man of good understanding and sound judgment; but he had no particular desire to be acquainted with all young men of good understanding and sound judgment. Still, however, he behaved civilly to Markham; and recollecting what his cousin had told him, that the young barrister was about to carry his legal talents to another part of the world, he on this account behaved to him with the less reserve, because there was not much danger of soon meeting him again, or being much troubled with his acquaintance. On the other hand, Horatio Markham, knowing or shrewdly suspecting the character and disposition of the gentleman to whom he was introduced, did not give himself any pedantic or professional airs, but with a very becoming and gentleman-like distance quietly entered into common-place talk, directing himself more to the elder of the two with whom he had been previously acquainted, than with the younger to whom he had been but recently introduced. Philip Martindale, therefore, began actually to like his new acquaintance, who was agreeable because he did not take any especial pains to make himself so, and who appeared to be well-informed because he did not studiously make a display of his knowledge. Now Philip, who could not