bright enough only an hour before, was suddenly shadowed by an
unthought of pain, but presently began to shine with a new and
altogether different luster. He began to hear again what was
passing between his father and the shop keeper.

"There's a sight more good in him than folks think. However wrong
his views, he believes them right, and is ready to suffer for 'em,
too. Bless me, that's odd, to be sure! There is Mr. Raeburn, on
the other side of the Row! Fine-looking man, isn't he?"

Brian, looking up eagerly, fancied he must be mistaken for the
only passenger in sight was a very tall man of remarkably benign
aspect, middle-aged, yet venerable--or perhaps better described
by the word "devotional-looking," pervaded too by a certain majesty
of calmness which seemed scarcely suited to his character of public
agitator. The clean-shaven and somewhat rugged face was
unmistakably that of a Scotchman, the thick waves of tawny hair
overshadowing the wide brow, and the clear golden-brown eyes showed
Brian at once that this could be no other than the father of his
ideal.

In the meantime, Raeburn, having caught sight of his daughter,
slowly crossed the road, and coming noiselessly up to her, suddenly
took hold of the book she was reading, and with laughter in his
eyes, said, in a peremptory voice:

"Five shillings to pay, if you please, miss!"

Erica, who had been absorbed in the poem, looked up in dismay; then
seeing who had spoken, she began to laugh.