“I don’t know,” said Randal, with his low soft laugh; “I fear many men, and I know many who ought to fear me; yet at every turn of the street one meets a policeman!”
“Yes,” said Lady Lansmere. “But to suppose that this profligate foreigner could carry away a girl like Violante against her will,—a man she has never seen, and whom she must have been taught to hate!”
“Be on your guard, nevertheless, I pray you, madam; ‘Where there’s a will there’s a way’!”
Randal took his leave, and returned to Madame di Negra’s. He stayed with her an hour, revisited the count, and then strolled to Limmer’s.
“Randal,” said the squire, who looked pale and worn, but who scorned to confess the weakness with which he still grieved and yearned for his rebellious son, “Randal, you have nothing now to do in London; can you come and stay with me, and take to farming? I remember that you showed a good deal of sound knowledge about thin sowing.”
“My dear sir, I will come to you as soon as the general election is over.”
“What the deuce have you got to do with the general election?”
“Mr. Egerton has some wish that I should enter parliament; indeed, negotiations for that purpose are now on foot.”
The squire shook his head. “I don’t like my half-brother’s politics.”
“I shall be quite independent of them,” cried Randal, loftily; “that independence is the condition for which I stipulate.”