For several generations the legal business of the Trevethlan family had been managed in the office over which Mr. Winter now presided; and it was with a sad heart that the worthy attorney effected the alienations ordered by the late owner of the castle. He entertained a high regard for the steward, and was quite prepared to extend it to the son of his friend. No time elapsed after Randolph had sent in his name, before he was ushered into Mr. Winter's private room. "Welcome, my young friend," the lawyer cried, extending his hand, and looking with satisfaction on Randolph's open countenance, "welcome to town. I have been expecting you: it is a pleasure to know a friend of Griffith's. How is the worthy steward? He has had his trials, poor man! Trevethlan is not what it was--Ah me! The young squire going abroad, I understand. No use. He should marry, Mr. Morton. There's many a girl would jump at the castle, even yet.--So you are for the bar. A fashionable profession just now, Mr. Morton. Red coats are cheap. Cornets from Waterloo--midshipmen of Trafalgar--all rushing to the law. Uncommonly martial it is just now. _N'importe_: there's room for all. But this by-and-by.--Miss Morton came with you--Where have you left her?--Not over-fatigued, I hope?" The attorney's volubility was meant to give his new acquaintance time to overcome his first diffidence, and effected its object. Randolph thanked him, and gave the information asked for. "Lodgings," said Winter, "that's what you want, I suppose? There is a friend of mine on Hampstead Heath, who might perhaps suit you. An old clerk in one of the great city houses, and a sterling fellow; with an amiable old maiden sister. Would you like to try it?" "Surely, my dear sir," Randolph answered. "I thought so," Winter said. "Then just observe: here is the precise address. A porter of the inn will put you and Miss Morton into a coach, which will drop you at Peach's door. Tell Clotilda, Miss Peach, I mean, you are from me. If you like it, well. Let Miss Morton take possession then and there. You come back for the luggage. If it does not suit, ask Miss Peach the way to my house--I live at Hampstead--leave your sister there, and equally come back for the traps. I shall he home by six. So, you understand. And now excuse me. There is no time to lose. There never is. Good morning."