“I am so delighted that I had some slight hand in your complete reconciliation with Mr. Hazeldean,” said Randal, as the young men walked from the hotel. “I saw that you were disheartened, and I told him to speak to you kindly.”
“Did you? Ah—I am sorry he needed telling.”
“I know his character so well already,” said Randal, “that I flatter myself I can always keep things between you as they ought to be. What an excellent man!”
“The best man in the world,” cried Frank, heartily; and then, as his accents drooped, “yet I have deceived him. I have a great mind to go back—”
“And tell him to give you twice as much money as you had asked for? He would think you had only seemed so affectionate in order to take him in. No, no, Frank! save, lay by, economize; and then tell him that you have paid half your own debts. Something high-minded in that.”
“So there is. Your heart is as good as your head. Goodnight.”
“Are you going home so early? Have you no engagements!”
“None that I shall keep.”
“Good-night, then.”
They parted, and Randal walked into one of the fashionable clubs. He neared a table where three or four young men (younger sons, who lived in the most splendid style, Heaven knew how) were still over their wine.