Ravenshoe. By Henry Kingsley.

FRESH MISCHIEF IS BREWED. 199
much alike (all blind men are), that Charles might have mistaken one for the other. This blind man met with no such serious accident as the other, either. Only, turning into the publichouse at the corner, opposite Mr. Hope's, the dog lagged behind,
and, the swing-doors closing between him and his master, Charles
saw him pulled through by his chain and nearly throttled.
Next there came by Lord Palmerston, with his umbrella on
his shoulder, walking airily arm-in-arm with Lord John Russell.
They were talking together; and, as they passed, Charles heard
Lord Palmerston say that it was much warmer on this side of
the street than on the other. With which proposition Lord John
Russell appeared to agree; and so they passed on westward.
After this there came by three prize-fighters, arm-in-arm; each
of them had a white hat and a cigar; two had white bull-dogs,
and one a black and tan terrier. They made a left wheel, and
looked at Charles and his horses, and then they made a right
wheel, and looked into the bonnet-shop; after which they went
into the public-house into which the blind man had gone before;
and, from the noise which immediately arose from inside, Charles
came to the conclusion, that the two white bull-dogs and the black
and tan terrier had set upon the blind man's dog, and touzled
him.
After the prize-fighters came Mr. Gladstone, walking very
fast. A large Newfoundland dog with a walking-stick in his
mouth, blundered up against him, and nearly threw him down.
Before he got under way again, the Irish orange-woman bore
down on him, and faced him with three orangfes in each hand,
offering them for sale. Did she know, with the sagacity of her
nation, that he was then on his way to the house, to make a
Great Statement, and that he would want oranges? I cannot
say. He probably got his oranges at Bellamy's, for he bought
none of her. After him came a quantity of indifferent people;
and then Charles's heart beat high, —for here was some one
coming whom he knew with a vengeance.
Lord Welter, walking calmly down the street, with his big
chest thrown out, and his broad, stupid face in moody repose.
He was thinking. He came so close to Charles that, stepping
aside to avoid a passer-by, he whitened the shoulder of his coat
against the pipe-clay on Charles's knee; then he stood stock still
within six inches of him, but looking the other way towards the
houses.
He pulled off one of his gloves and bit his nails. Though his
back was towards Charles, still Charles knew well what expression was on his face as he did that. The old cruel lowering of
the eyebrows, and pinching in of the lips was there, he knew.
The same expression as that which Marston remarked the time
he quarrelled with Cuthbert once at Ravenshoe, - mischief!