u going, madame?"

They were passing a spectacle shop, and Madame Vine had halted at the
door, one foot on its step. "I must have my glasses to be mended, if you
please."

Miss Carlyle followed her in. She pointed out what she wanted done to
the old glasses, and said she would buy a pair of new ones to wear while
the job was about. The man had no blue ones, no green; plenty of white.
One ugly, old pair of green things he had, with tortoise-shell rims,
left by some stranger, ages and ages ago, to be mended, and never called
for again. This very pair of ugly old green things was chosen by Lady
Isabel. She put them on, there and then, Miss Carlyle's eyes searching
her face inquisitively all the time.

"Why do you wear glasses?" began Miss Corny, abruptly as soon as they
were indoors.

Another deep flush, and an imperceptible hesitation.

"My eyes are not strong."

"They look as strong as eyes can look. But why wear colored glasses?
White ones would answer every purpose, I should suppose."

"I am accustomed to colored ones. I should not like white ones now."

Miss Corny paused.

"What is your Christian name, madame?" began she, again.

"Jane," replied madame, popping out an unflinching story in her alarm.

"Here! Here! What's up? What's this?"

It was a crowd in the street, and rather a noisy one. Miss Corny flew to
the window, Lady Isabel in her wake. Two crowds, it may almost be
said; for, from the opposite way, the scarlet-and-purple party--as Mr.
Carlyle's was called, in allusion to his colors--came in view. Quite a
collection of gentlemen--Mr. Carlyle and Lord Mount Severn heading them.

What could it mean, the mob they were encountering? The yellow party,
doubtless, but in a disreputable condition. Who or what _was_ that
object in advance of it, supported between Drake and the lawyer,
and looking like a drowned rat, hair hanging, legs tottering, cheeks
shaking, and clothes in tatters, while the mob, behind, had swollen
to the length of the street, and was keeping up a perpetual fire of
derisive shouts, groans, and hisses. The scarlet-and-purple halted in
consternation, and Lord Mount Severn, whose sight was not as good as it
had been twenty years back, stuck his pendent eye glasses astride on the
bridge of his nose.

_Sir Francis Levison?_ Could it be? Yes, it actually was! What on earth
had put him into that state? Mr. Carlyle's lip curled; he continued his
way and drew the peer with him.

"What th