“Enough,” interrupted Harley. “I now invite you to visit me at Lansmere; give me your address, and I will apprise you of the day on which I will request your presence. Leonard Fairfield shall find a father—I was about to say, worthy of himself. For the rest—stay; reseat yourself. For the rest”—and again the sinister smile broke from Harley’s eye and lip—“I will not yet say whether I can, or ought to, resign to a younger and fairer suitor the lady who has accepted my own hand. I have no reason yet to believe that she prefers him. But what think you, meanwhile, of this proposal? Mr. Avenel wishes his nephew to contest the borough of Lansmere, has urged me to obtain the young man’s consent. True, that he may thus endanger the seat of Mr. Audley Egerton. What then? Mr. Audley Egerton is a great man, and may find another seat; that should not stand in the way. Let Leonard obey his uncle. If he win the election, why, he ‘ll be a more equal match, in the world’s eye, for Miss Digby, that is, should she prefer him to myself; and if she do not, still, in public life, there is a cure for all private sorrow. That is a maxim of Mr. Audley Egerton’s; and he, you know, is a man not only of the nicest honour, but the deepest worldly wisdom. Do you like my proposition?”
“It seems to me most considerate, most generous.”
“Then you shall take to Leonard the lines I am about to write.”
LORD L’ESTRANGE TO LEONARD FAIRFIELD.
I have read the memoir you intrusted to me. I will follow up all
the clews that it gives me. Meanwhile I request you to suspend all
questions; forbear all reference to a subject which, as you may well
conjecture, is fraught with painful recollections to myself. At
this moment, too, I am compelled to concentre my thoughts upon
affairs of a public nature, and yet which may sensibly affect
yourself. There are reasons why I urge you to comply with your
uncle’s wish, and stand for the borough of Lansmere at the
approaching election. If the exquisite gratitude of your nature so
overrates what I may have done for you that you think you owe me
some obligations, you will richly repay them on the day in which I
bear you hailed as member for Lansmere. Relying on that generous
principle of self-sacrifice, which actuates all your conduct,
I shall count upon your surrendering your preference to private
life, and entering the arena of that noble ambition which has
conferred such dignity on the name of my friend Audley Egerton. He,
it is true, will be your opponent; but he is too generous not to
pardon my zeal for the interests of a youth whose career I am vain
enough to think that I have aided. And as Mr. Randal Leslie stands
in coalition with Egerton, and Mr. Avenel believes that two
candidates of the same party cannot both succeed, the result may be
to the satisfaction of all the feelings which I entertain for Audley
Egerton, and for you, who, I have reason to think, will emulate his
titles to my esteem.
Yours, L’ESTRANGE.
“There, Mr. Dale,” said Harley, sealing his letter, and giving it into the parson’s hands,—“there, you shall deliver this note to your friend. But no; upon second thoughts, since he does not yet know of your visit to me, it is best that he should be still in ignorance of it. For should Miss Digby resolve to abide by her present engagements, it were surely kind to save Leonard the pain of learning that you had communicated to me that rivalry he himself had concealed. Let all that has passed between us be kept in strict confidence.”
“I will obey you, my Lord,” answered the parson, meekly, startled to find that he who had come to arrogate authority was now submitting to commands; and all at fault what judgment he could venture to pass upon the man whom he had regarded as a criminal, who had not even denied the crime imputed to him, yet who now impressed the accusing priest with something of that respect which Mr. Dale had never before conceded but to Virtue. Could he have then but looked into the dark and stormy heart, which he twice misread!
“It is well,—very well,” muttered Harley, when the door had closed upon the parson. “The viper and the viper’s brood! So it was this man’s son that I led from the dire Slough of Despond; and the son unconsciously imitates the father’s gratitude and honour—Ha, ha!” Suddenly the bitter laugh was arrested; a flash of almost celestial joy darted through the warring elements of storm and darkness. If Helen returned Leonard’s affection, Harley L’Estrange was free! And through that flash the face of Violante shone upon him as an angel’s. But the heavenly light and the angel face vanished abruptly, swallowed up in the black abyss of the rent and tortured soul.
“Fool!” said the unhappy man, aloud, in his anguish—“fool! what then? Were I free, would it be to trust my fate again to falsehood? If, in all the bloom and glory of my youth, I failed to win the heart of a village girl; if, once more deluding myself, it is in vain that I have tended, reared, cherished, some germ of woman’s human affection in the orphan I saved from penury,—how look for love in the brilliant princess, whom all the sleek Lotharios of our gaudy world will surround with their homage when once she alights on their sphere! If perfidy be my fate—what hell of hells, in the thought!—that a wife might lay her head in my bosom, and—oh, horror! horror! No! I would not accept her hand were it offered, nor believe in her love were it pledged to me. Stern soul of mine, wise at last, love never more,—never more believe in truth!”