“Poet, you adorn your career; you fulfil your mission, even at this moment; you beautify the world; you give to the harsh form of Duty the cestus of the Graces,” said Harley, trying to force a smile to his quivering lips. “But we must hasten back to the prose of existence. I accept your sacrifice. As for the time and mode I must select in order to insure its result, I will ask you to abide by such instructions as I shall have occasion to convey through your uncle. Till then, no word of your intentions,—not even to Mr. Dale. Forgive me if I would rather secure Mr. Egerton’s election than yours. Let that explanation suffice for the present. What think you, by the way, of Audley Egerton?”
“I thought when I heard him speak and when he closed with those touching words,—implying that he left all of his life not devoted to his country ‘to the charity of his friends,’—how proudly, even as his opponent, I could have clasped his hand; and if he had wronged me in private life, I should have thought it ingratitude to the country he had so served to remember the offence.”
Harley turned away abruptly, and joined Mr. Dale.
“Leave Leonard to go home by himself; you see that I have healed whatever wounds I inflicted on him.”
PARSON.—“And, your better nature thus awakened, I trust, my dear Lord, that you have altogether abandoned the idea of—”
HARLEY.—“Revenge?—no. And if you do not approve that revenge to-morrow, I will never rest till I have seen you—a bishop!”
MR. DALE (much shocked).—“My Lord, for shame!”
HARLEY (seriously).—“My levity is but lip-deep, my dear Mr. Dale. But sometimes the froth on the wave shows the change in the tide.”
The parson looked at him earnestly, and then seized him by both hands with holy gladness and affection.
“Return to the Park now,” said Harley, smiling; “and tell Violante, if it be not too late to see her, that she was even more eloquent than you.”