good of humanity, and instinctively a silence grew and deepened.

Erica was the first to break it as they came in sight of the hall.

"What a crowd there is!" she exclaimed. "Are these Mr. Randolph's
roughs?"

"We can put up with them outside," said Raeburn; but Charles Osmond
noticed that as he spoke he drew the child nearer to him, with a
momentary look of trouble in his face, as though he shrunk from
taking her through the rabble. Erica, on the other hand, looked
interested and perfectly fearless. With great difficulty they
forced their way on, hooted and yelled at by the mob, who, however,
made no attempt at violence. At length, reaching the shelter of
the entrance lobby, Raeburn left them for a moment, pausing to give
directions to the door keepers. Just then, to his great surprise,
Charles Osmond caught sight of his son standing only a few paces
from them. His exclamation of astonishment made Erica look up.
Brian came forward eagerly to meet them.

"You here!" exclaimed his father, with a latent suspicion confirmed
into a certainty. "This is my son, Miss Raeburn."

Brian had not dreamed of meeting her, he had waited about curious
to see how Raeburn would get on with the mob; it was with a strange
pang of rapture and dismay that he had seen his fair little ideal.
That she should be in the midst of that hooting mob made his heart
throb with indignation, yet there was something so sweet in her
grave, steadfast face that he was, nevertheless, glad to have
witnessed the scene. Her color was rather heightened, her eyes