'You are both mistaken, ladies. I am a magician; and if you will have patience I shall give you a taste of my skill.'

Alan went out of the room, but was absent scarcely a minute. When he returned, he went straight up to Andrew and addressed him.

I have the honour, sir, to present you with your cap-which you did not lose in the Saltmarket, as you say; which was not stolen from you by Radicals, as the police suspect; but which you lost in a certain court in the Gallowgate, as you know. I got it from the person who saw it fall from your head, as you staggered from a window, the glass of which happened to get smashed in your face-you know under what circumstances. Take it,' said Alan warmly, handing Semple the cap, and for your own sake, if not for God's sake, try in future to speak truth about yourself, to whom you owe some respect; and about others, whether Radicals or rats, who never did you an injury. Good-night.'

Alan swept to his own room with the stride of a tragedian, not a little indignant at finding how the traitor had also begun to study the art of lying.

Mr. Dundas continued to sit behind his newspaper, thoroughly enjoying the encounter between the young men, with the subject of which Alan had made him acquainted.

The incident fell upon Andrew like fire from

heaven, and for a time he sat in his seat, unable to think, speak, or move. Soon, however, he recovered so far as to be able to stumble from the house; not repentant, but with the fire of hell burning in his heart. Aggie, who knew her brother well, said: ‘It is just like the fool.'

After which truthful epithet she bade good-night, and followed.

CHAPTER VIII.

LOVERS' TALK.

AFTER the ignominious retreat of Semple, the lovers contrived to have a brief interview.

'What is the matter, Alan, between you and Andrew? Your conduct to-night astonished me.'

'Well it might, Christine; and it will astonish you more when I explain the immediate cause of it.'

Alan then gave her an account of the Gallowgate episode, in which Andrew had got his face scarred, and lost his cap, which was picked up by Mrs. Campbell.

'Then Andrew's own story was a fabrication?' "From beginning to end, excepting the small circumstance that his wounds were actually dealt by

Radicals, though neither in the place nor the manner he so falsely asserted.'

'How very strange,' remarked Christine thoughtfully, that Andrew and poor Mrs. Campbell should have met at the same place on the same night!'

'But how different must have been their ends! Andrew seems to hate Reformers and Radicals, and I suspect he was there for some spiteful purpose. Mrs. Campbell was looking after Jamie, for his good. She sees only ruin in the meetings, and wants him to give them up altogether.'

'Good advice, Alan,' said Christine earnestly, and I wish you would take the like from me.' 'Would you have me give up Reform ?' 'No. But these meetings-I don't like them. Are they doing any good?'

Can we be doing evil in seeking the people's

rights?'

'Surely not, unless you seek them in a wrong way.'

'I hope we are not doing that,' said Alan, in a rather ambiguous tone. Christine had touched a tender point, and his reply was a sheer evasion of her remark.

'But why should you hold your meetings so often in a public-house?'

'I don't defend the custom, though it seems generally convenient to the members.'

'Convenient! What for? There is sometimes

drinking, I suppose ?'

'A little.'

'Look now, dear, what an ugly thing it is. You seek the rights of man; is there not something noble in that? I have heard and read as much, and my father's daughter should know something. But is there anything noble or good in haunting a low tavern, making speeches, and drinking, and shouting? Can that be the right way to get rights?' 'Why, I don't drink-at least, not much.' "Not-much" is the father of "Much-more. 'But what are you driving at, Christine? You speak as if I was in danger of becoming an outcast.'

And is there really no danger, Alan?' she asked eagerly, as she hung on his shoulder, and looked anxiously into his face. I hear strange, frightsome rumours about these meetings.'

'Evil rumours, of course.'

'Yes, very dark and evil. If only half of them is true, there can be no good at all in what your societies are doing, or would do if they had the power. All the people want Reform; but why should they have such doubts and fears of the very societies that are trying to give force to their wishes ?'

'Ah! there's your error. It is not the people

that dislike our societies.'

'Who, then?'

'Just the possessors of wealth and rank, who too often seem to value their riches more than they love right or justice. Having everything they wish, Reform is of less consequence to them. They don't want to be disturbed in the enjoyment of ease and the good things of life, by the bold vulgarities of Radicalism. They hate Reform and fear Reformers. They think that we can only be doing evil at our meetings. They whisper, shake their heads, turn up their eyes, sigh, shudder, become suddenly silent, listen mysteriously, and then look round in terror, as if they expected to see the city in flames or the gutter running blood. Such cowardly feelings can only beget false rumour and misrepresentation, even of the purest motives.'

'Can it be possible that there is no foundation for all that is said and suspected ?'

'O yes, there is. The best foundation for falsehood is truth. For instance, we want to reform our small part of the world, and our enemies say that we want to turn the whole world upside down.'

'What if you cannot reform the world without turning it upside down ?'

that's its preThen he added,

'So much the worse for the world. It must submit to the turning process. In fact, sent business,' said Alan, smiling. 'But, Christine, why bother your

beautiful head