Lord Lansmere threw open the door widely, and with a certain consciousness that a door by which an Earl of Lansmere entered ought to be thrown open widely. It could not have been opened with more majesty if a huissier or officer of the Household had stood on either side. The countess passed by her lord with a light step, and escaped.
“I was occupied with my architect in designs for the new infirmary, of which I shall make a present to our county. I have only just heard that you were here, Harley. What is all this about our fair Italian guest? Is she not coming back to us? Your mother refers me to you for explanations.”
“You shall have them later, my dear father; at present I can think only of public affairs.”
“Public affairs! they are indeed alarming. I am rejoiced to hear you express yourself so worthily. An awful crisis, Harley! And, gracious Heaven! I have heard that a low man, who was born in Lansmere, but made a fortune in America, is about to contest the borough. They tell me he is one of the Avenels,—a born Blue; is it possible?”
“I have come here on that business. As a peer you cannot, of course, interfere; but I propose, with your leave, to go down myself to Lansmere, and undertake the superintendence of, the election. It would be better, perhaps, if you were not present; it would give us more liberty of action.”
“My dear Harley, shake hands; anything you please. You know how I have wished to see you come forward, and take that part in life which becomes your birth.”
“Ah, you think I have sadly wasted my existence hitherto.”
“To be frank with you, yes, Harley,” said the earl, with a pride that was noble in its nature, and not without dignity in its expression. “The more we take from our country, the more we owe to her. From the moment you came into the world as the inheritor of lands and honours, you were charged with a trust for the benefit of others, that it degrades one of our order of gentleman not to discharge.”
Harley listened with a sombre brow, and made no direct reply.
“Indeed,” resumed the earl, “I would rather you were about to canvass for yourself than for your friend Egerton. But I grant he is an example that it is never too late to follow. Why, who that had seen you both as youths, notwithstanding Audley had the advantage of being some years your senior—who could have thought that he was the one to become distinguished and eminent, and you to degenerate into the luxurious idler, averse to all trouble and careless of all fame? You, with such advantages, not only of higher fortunes, but, as every one said, of superior talents; you, who had then so much ambition, so keen a desire for glory, sleeping with Plutarch’s Lives under your pillow, and only, my wild son, only too much energy. But you are a young man still; it is not too late to redeem the years you have thrown away.”