The baron smiled.
“You have good prospects in that direction, Leslie; look now to another. I spoke to you of the borough of Lansmere. Your patron, Audley Egerton, intends to stand for it.”
Randal’s heart had of late been so set upon other and more avaricious schemes, that a seat in parliament had sunk into a secondary object; nevertheless his ambitious and all-grasping nature felt a bitter pang, when he heard that Egerton thus interposed between himself and any chance of advancement.
“So,” he muttered sullenly,—“so this man, who pretends to be my benefactor, squanders away the wealth of my forefathers, throws me penniless on the world; and, while still encouraging me to exertion and public life, robs me himself of—”
“No!” interrupted Levy, “not robs you; we may prevent that. The Lansmere interest is not so strong in the borough as Dick Avenel’s.”
“But I cannot stand against Egerton.”
“Assuredly not,—you may stand with him.”
“How?”
“Dick Avenel will never suffer Egerton to come in; and though he cannot, perhaps, carry two of his own politics, he can split his votes upon you.”
Randal’s eyes flashed. He saw at a glance that if Avenel did not overrate the relative strength of parties, his seat could be secured.