“The years are nothing,—mere dates in an almanac; but the feelings, what can give me back those?—the hope, the enthusiasm, the—No matter! feelings do not, help men to rise in the world. Egerton’s feelings are not too lively. What I might have been, leave it to me to remember; let us talk of the example you set before me,—of Audley Egerton.”
“We must get him in,” said the earl, sinking his voice into a whisper. “It is of more importance to him than I even thought for. But you know his secrets. Why did you not confide to me frankly the state of his affairs?”
“His affairs? Do you mean that they are seriously embarrassed? This interests me much. Pray speak; what do you know?”
“He has discharged the greater part of his establishment. That in itself is natural on quitting office; but still it set people talking; and it has got wind that his estates are not only mortgaged for more than they are worth, but that he has been living upon the discount of bills; in short, he has been too intimate with a man whom we all know by sight,—a man who drives the finest horses in London, and they tell me (but that I cannot believe) lives in the familiar society of the young puppies he snares to perdition. What’s the man’s name? Levy, is it not?—yes, Levy.”
“I have seen Levy with him,” said Harley; and a sinister joy lighted up his falcon eyes. “Levy—Levy—it is well.”
“I hear but the gossip of the clubs,” resumed the earl; “but they do say that Levy makes little disguise of his power over our very distinguished friend, and rather parades it as a merit with our party (and, indeed, with all men—for Egerton has personal friends in every party) that he keeps sundry bills locked up in his desk until Egerton is once more safe in parliament. Nevertheless if, after all, our friend were to lose his election, and Levy were then to seize on his effects, and proclaim his ruin, it would seriously damage, perhaps altogether destroy, Audley’s political career.”
“So I conclude,” said Harley. “A Charles Fox might be a gamester, and a William Pitt be a pauper. But Audley Egerton is not of their giant stature; he stands so high because he stands upon heaps of respectable gold. Audley Egerton, needy and impoverished, out of parliament, and, as the vulgar slang has it, out at elbows, skulking from duns, perhaps in the Bench—”
“No, no; our party would never allow that; we would subscribe—”
“Worse than all, living as the pensioner of the party he aspired to lead! You say truly, his political prospects would be blasted. A man whose reputation lay in his outward respectability! Why, people would say that Audley Egerton has been—a solemn lie; eh, my father?”
“How can you talk with such coolness of your friend? You need say nothing to interest me in his election—if you mean that. Once in parliament, he must soon again be in office,—and learn to live on his salary. You must get him to submit to me the schedule of his liabilities. I have a head for business, as you know. I will arrange his affairs for him. And I will yet bet five to one, though I hate wagers, that he will be prime minister in three years. He is not brilliant, it is true; but just at this crisis we want a safe, moderate, judicious, conciliatory man; and Audley has so much tact, such experience of the House, such knowledge of the world, and,” added the earl, emphatically summing up his eulogies, “he is so thorough a gentleman!”