Ejected with brutal coarseness from the establishment in Clerkenwell, his presence at Highbury was of course, out of the question.
His future was now in his own hands. Most men have latent energies; of these there is a class who can only have them elicited by the pressure of dire disaster; there is another class, in whom they spring into action at the first call of necessity; Harry Vivian was one of the latter. He had money by him. Mr. Harper had, early in life, taught him the advantages of spending less than he received; and funding the residue. This habit was grafted upon him in no miserly spirit; but that in the most important epoch of his life he should be able to determine the value of living within his income by the inestimable comfort enjoyed by all who are never in debt.
One night’s anxious deliberation and his course was clear to him. He was gifted with remarkable powers of perception. When he erred it was by accident—it was never by the failing of his understanding. He detected the right side of a question at the first glance, and though his decision was not formed without a careful consideration, he rarely had occasion to ignore his first impression.
He saw mapped out before him the order events would take, if he adopted an unworthy, clandestine, and mean course with regard to Flora Wilton. She could be his, and she would be, without her father’s consent, but, dearly as he wished for such a result, it would never, he felt, be productive to him or to her of that unalloyed happiness he so ardently longed to enjoy with her.
He saw clearly enough the probable result of straightforward, honourable and manly action; for no matter what the pangs they might be called upon to endure, or the self-sacrifices each might be compelled to make in the interval, the remainder of their life-companionship would be unclouded by a reflection that they had, in order to achieve the hope nearest and dearest to their heart, violated their truth, sullied their open sincerity, or forfeited their honour.
He saw, in their respective positions, Colonel Mires and the Honorable Lester Vane, and he examined their prospects as rival candidates for the hand of Flora Wilton.
The former he feared on no other grounds than that a vehement and passionate nature might hurry him to some deed of violence, out of his unbridled desire to make Flora his own. To prevent such an unwished-for event he resolved should be his especial duty.
Lester Vane he regarded as by far his most dangerous rival; and, from the first moment he beheld him, when he heard, to his dismay, the warm greetings of old Wilton, accompanied by his pressing invite to his mansion, he determined to ascertain as far as possible his antecedents. He saw that he was handsome, highborn, a welcomed guest, evidently much struck by Flora’s beauty, and quite ready to form an alliance with her; while Flora, under the strong pressure of her father’s earnest urgings, had but small plea to refuse accepting his offer.
“If he be unworthy, and I can prove him to be so,” reflected Hal, “I may save Flora from becoming the victim of her father’s unhesitating sacrifice of her to a phantasm, and to the cupidity of a needy adventurer.”
He did make close and acute inquiries, through a well-qualified agent, and he had in his possession a report carefully framed, which, at the proper time, he intended to produce and substantiate, in the strong expectation that the utter discomfiture of a scoundrel would be the inevitable consequence.