“Let me rid you of your book, Baron Levy,” said Harley. Just at this time Riccabocca and Violante approached the house, both silent. The Italian caught sight of Randal, and made him a sign to join them. The young lover glanced fearfully towards Harley, and then with alacrity bounded forward, and was soon at Violante’s side. But scarce had Harley, surprised by Leslie’s sudden disappearance, remarked the cause, than with equal abruptness he abandoned the whispered conference he had commenced with Levy, and hastening to Randal, laid hand on the young man’s shoulder, exclaiming, “Ten thousand pardons to all three! But I cannot allow this waste of time, Mr. Leslie. You have yet an hour before it grows dark. There are three out-voters six miles off, influential farmers, whom you must canvass in person with my father’s steward. Hasten to the stables; choose your own horse. To saddle, to saddle! Baron Levy, go and order my Lord’s steward, Mr. Smart, to join Mr. Leslie at the stables; then come back to me,—quick. What! loitering still, Mr. Leslie! You will make me throw up your whole cause in disgust at your indolence and apathy.”
Alarmed at this threat, Randal lifted his accusing eyes to heaven and withdrew.
Meanwhile Audley had drawn close to Lady Lansmere, who was leaning, in thought, over the balustrade of the terrace. “Do you note,” said Audley, whispering, “how Harley sprang forward when the fair Italian came in sight? Trust me, I was right. I know little of the young lady, but I have conversed with her. I have gazed on the changes in her face. If Harley ever love again, and if ever love influence and exalt his mind, wish with me that his choice may yet fall where I believe that his heart inclines it.”
LADY LANSMERE.—“Ah, that it were so! Helen, I own, is charming; but—but—Violante is equal in birth! Are you not aware that she is engaged to your young friend Mr. Leslie?”
AUDLEY.—“Randal told me so; but I cannot believe it. In fact, I have taken occasion to sound that fair creature’s inclinations, and if I know aught of women, her heart is not with Randal. I cannot believe her to be one whose affections are so weak as to be easily constrained; nor can I suppose that her father could desire to enforce a marriage that is almost a misalliance. Randal must deceive himself; and from something Harley just let fall, in our painful but brief conversation, I suspect that his engagement with Miss Digby is broken off. He promises to tell me more later. Yes,” continued Audley, mournfully, “observe Violante’s countenance, with its ever-varying play; listen to her voice, to which feeling seems to give the expressive music, and tell me whether you are not sometimes reminded of—of—In one word, there is one who, even without rank or fortune, would be worthy to replace the image of Leonora, and be to Harley—what Leonora could not; for sure I am that Violante loves him.”
Harley, meanwhile, had lingered with Riccabocca and Violante, speaking but on indifferent subjects, obtaining short answers from the first, and none from the last, when the sage drew him a little aside, and whispered, “She has consented to sacrifice herself to my sense of honour. But, O Harley! if she be unhappy, it will break my heart. Either you must give me sufficient proof of Randal’s unworthiness, to absolve me from my promise, or I must again entreat, you to try and conciliate the poor child in his favour. All you say has weight with her; she respects you as—a second father.”
Harley did not seem peculiarly flattered by that last assurance; but he was relieved from an immediate answer by the appearance of a man who came from the direction of the stables, and whose dress, covered with dust, and travel-stained, seemed like that of a foreign courier. No sooner did Harley catch sight of this person, than he sprang forward, and accosted him briefly and rapidly.
“You have been quick; I did not expect you so soon. You discovered the trace? You gave my letter—”
“And have brought back the answer, my Lord,” replied the man, taking the letter from a leathern pouch at his side. Harley hastily broke open the seal, and glanced over the contents, which were comprised in a few lines.
“Good. Say not whence you came. Do not wait here; return at once to London.”