HARLEY.—"Happiness, I hoped so. But perhaps—"
EGERTON.—"Perhaps what?"
HARLEY.—-"Perhaps the marriage may not take place. Perhaps I have a rival; not an open one,—a secret, stealthy wooer, in one, too, whom I have loved, served, trusted. Question me not now. Such instances of treachery make one learn more how to prize a friendship honest, devoted, faithful as your own, Audley Egerton. But here comes your protege, released awhile from his canvass, and your confidential adviser, Baron Levy. He accompanied Randal through the town to-day. So anxious is he to see that that young man does not play false, and regard his own interest before yours! Would that surprise you?"
EGERTON.—"You are too severe upon Randal Leslie. He is ambitious, worldly, has no surplus of affection at the command of his heart—"
HARLEY.—"Is it Randal Leslie you describe?"
EGERTON (with a languid smile).—"Yes, you see I do not flatter. But he is born and reared a gentleman; as such he would scarcely do anything mean. And, after all, it is with me that he must rise or fall. His very intellect must tell him that. But again I ask, do not strive to prepossess me against him. I am a man who could have loved a son. I have none. Randal, such as he is, is a sort of son. He carries on my projects and my interest in the world of men beyond the goal of the tomb."
Audley turned kindly to Randal.
"Well, Leslie, what report of the canvass?"
"Levy has the book, sir. I think we have gained ten fresh votes for you, and perhaps seven for me."
"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."