who could hit hardest, who could most effectually baffle and ruin
him; while the quieter spirits contented themselves with rarely
mentioning his obnoxious name, and endeavoring as far as possible,
to ignore his existence. Brian felt that till now he had followed
with the multitude to do evil. He had, as far as possible, ignored
his existence; had even been rather annoyed when his father had
once publicly urged that Raeburn should be treated with as much
justice and courtesy and consideration as if he had been a
Christian. He had been vexed that his father should suffer on
behalf of such a man, had been half inclined to put down the scorn
and contempt and anger of the narrow-minded to the atheist's
account. The feeling had perhaps been natural, but all was changed
now; he only revered his father all the more for having suffered in
an unpopular cause. With some eagerness, he went back into the
shop to see if he could gather any more particulars from the old
bookseller. Charles Osmond had, however, finished his purchases
and his conversation, and was ready to go.

"The second house in Guilford Terrace, you say?" he observed,
turning at the door. "Thank you. I shall be sure to find it.
Good day." Then turning to his son, he added, "I had no idea we
were such near neighbors! Did you hear what he told me? Mr.
Raeburn lives in Guilford Terrace."

"What, that miserable blind alley, do you mean at the other side of
the square?"

"Yes, and I am just going round there now, for our friend the
'book-worm' tells me he has heard it rumored that some unscrupulous
person who is going to answer Mr. Raeburn this evening, has hired