“My dear Mr. Leslie, pardon me if I take a liberty not warranted by our acquaintance. Against the lady I say nothing. Indeed, I have heard some things which appear to entitle her to compassion and respect. But as to Peschiera all who prize honour suspect him to be a knave,—I know him to be one. Now, I think that the longer we preserve that abhorrence for knavery which is the generous instinct of youth, why, the fairer will be our manhood, and the more reverend our age. You agree with me?” And Harley suddenly turning, his eyes fell like a flood of light upon Randal’s pale and secret countenance.
“To be sure,” murmured the schemer.
Harley, surveying him, mechanically recoiled, and withdrew his arm.
Fortunately for Randal, who somehow or other felt himself slipped into a false position, he scarce knew how or why, he was here seized by the arm; and a clear, open, manly voice cried, “My dear fellow, how are you? I see you are engaged now; but look into my rooms when you can, in the course of the day.”
And with a bow of excuse for his interruption to Lord L’Estrange, the speaker was then turning away, when Harley said,
“No, don’t let me take you from your friend, Mr. Leslie. And you need not be in a hurry to see Egerton; for I shall claim the privilege of older friendship for the first interview.”
“It is Mr. Egerton’s nephew Frank Hazeldan.”
“Pray, call him back, and present me to him. He has a face that would have gone far to reconcile Timon to Athens.” Randal obeyed, and after a few kindly words to Frank, Harley insisted on leaving the two young men together, and walked on to Downing Street with a brisker step.