Leonard was not the least struck. And yet, with a very little money, and a very little taste, it would be easy to render this entrance to London as grand and imposing as that to Paris from the _Champs Elysées_. As they came near the Edgeware Road, Helen took her new brother by the hand and guided him. For she knew all that neighborhood, and she was acquainted with a lodging near that occupied by her father (to _that_ lodging itself she could not have gone for the world), where they might be housed cheaply. But just then the sky, so dull and overcast since morning, seemed one mass of black cloud. There suddenly came on a violent storm of rain. The boy and girl took refuge in a covered mews, in a street running out of the Edgeware Road. This shelter soon became crowded; the two young pilgrims crept close to the wall, apart from the rest; Leonard's arm round Helen's waist, sheltering her from the rain that the strong wind contending with it beat in through the passage. Presently a young gentleman, of better mien and dress than the other refugees, entered, not hastily, but rather with a slow and proud step, as if, though he deigned to take shelter, he scorned to run to it. He glanced somewhat haughtily at the assembled group--passed on through the midst of it--came near Leonard--took off his hat, and shook the rain from its brim. His head thus uncovered, left all his features exposed; and the village youth recognized, at the first glance, his old victorious assailant on the green at Hazeldean. Yet Randal Leslie was altered. His dark cheek was as thin as in boyhood, and even yet more wasted by intense study and night vigils; but the expression of his face was at once more refined and manly, and there was a steady concentrated light in his large eye, like that of one who has been in the habit of bringing all his thoughts to one point. He looked older than he was. He was dressed simply in black, a color which became him; and altogether his aspect and figure were not showy indeed, but distinguished. He looked, to the common eye, a gentleman; and to the more observant, a scholar. Helter-skelter!--pell-mell! the group in the passage--now pressed each on each--now scattered on all sides--making way--rushing down the mews--against the walls--as a fiery horse darted under shelter; the rider, a young man, with a very handsome face, and dressed with that peculiar care which we commonly call dandyism, cried out, good-humoredly, "Don't be afraid; the horse shan't hurt any of you--a thousand pardons--so ho! so ho!" He patted the horse, and it stood as still as a statue, filling up the centre of the passage. The groups resettled--Randal approached the rider. "Frank Hazeldean!" "Ah--is it indeed Randal Leslie!" Frank was off his horse in a moment, and the bridle was consigned to the care of a slim prentice-boy holding a bundle.