moment our eyes met. We each turned round, and went on our separate
way.

But his whole appearance was not one to be easily forgotten; the
thorough appointment of the dress, and evident thought bestowed on
it, made but an incongruous whole with the dark, gloomy expression of
his countenance. Because he was Lucy's father, I sought
instinctively to meet him everywhere. At last he must have become
aware of my pertinacity, for he gave me a haughty scowl whenever I
passed him. In one of these encounters, however, I chanced to be of
some service to him. He was turning the corner of a street, and came
suddenly on one of the groups of discontented Flemings of whom I have
spoken. Some words were exchanged, when my gentleman out with his
sword, and with a slight but skilful cut drew blood from one of those
who had insulted him, as he fancied, though I was too far off to hear
the words. They would all have fallen upon him had I not rushed
forwards and raised the cry, then well known in Antwerp, of rally, to
the Austrian soldiers who were perpetually patrolling the streets,
and who came in numbers to the rescue. I think that neither Mr.
Gisborne nor the mutinous group of plebeians owed me much gratitude
for my interference. He had planted himself against a wall, in a
skilful attitude of fence, ready with his bright glancing rapier to
do battle with all the heavy, fierce, unarmed men, some six or seven
in number. But when his own soldiers came up, he sheathed his sword;
and, giving some careless word of command, sent them away again, and
continued his saunter all alone down the street, the workmen snarling
in his rear, and more than half-inclined to fall on me for my cry for
rescue. I cared not if they did, my life seemed so dreary a burden
just then; and, perhaps, it was this daring loitering among them that
prevented their attacking me. Instead, they suffered me to fall into