e deuce is a-gate now?" called out the followers of Mr. Carlyle.
"That's Levison! Has he been in a railway smash, and got drenched by the
engine?"

"He has been _ducked_!" grinned the yellows, in answer. "They have been
and ducked him in the rush pool on Mr. Justice Hare's land."

The soaked and miserable man increased his speed as much as his cold and
trembling legs would allow him; he would have borne on without legs
at all, rather than remain under the enemy's gaze. The enemy loftily
continued their way, their heads in the air, and scorning further
notice, all, save young Lord Vane. He hovered round the ranks of the
unwashed, and looked vastly inclined to enter upon an Indian jig, on his
own account.

"What a thundering ass I was to try it on at West Lynne!" was the
enraged comment of the sufferer.

Miss Carlyle laid her hand upon the shrinking arm of her pale companion.

"You see him--my brother Archibald?"

"I see him," faltered Lady Isabel.

"And you see _him_, that pitiful outcast, who is too contemptible to
live? Look at the two, and contrast them. Look well."

"Yes!" was the gaping answer.

"The woman who called him, that noble man, husband, quitted him for the
other! Did she come to repentance, think you?"

You may wonder that the submerged gentleman should be _walking_ through
the streets, on his way to his quarters, the Raven Inn--for he had been
ejected from the Buck's Head--but he could not help himself. As he was
dripping and swearing on the brink of the pond, wondering how he should
get to the Raven, an empty fly drove past, and Mr. Drake immediately
stopped it; but when the driver saw that he was expected to convey not
only a passenger, but a tolerable quantity of water as well, and that
the passenger, moreover, was Sir Francis Levison, he refused the job.
His fly was fresh lined with red velvet, and he "weren't a going to
have it spoilt," he called out, as he whipped his horse and drove
away, leaving the three in wrathful despair. Sir Francis wanted another
conveyance procured; his friends urged that if he waited for that he
might catch his death, and that the shortest way would be to hasten to
the inn on foot. He objected. But his jaws were chattering, his limbs
were quaking, so they seized him between them, and made off, but never
bargained for the meeting of Mr. Carlyle and his party. Francis Levison
would have stopped in the pond, of his own accord, head downward, rather
than faced _the