Part 131 (1/2)
It is a tolerably large const.i.tuency. My father, it is true, has considerable interest in it, but only what is called the legitimate influence of property. At all events, it is more secure than a contest for a larger town, more dignified than a seat for a smaller. Hesitating still? Even my mother entreats me to say how she desires you to renew that connection.”
”Harley,” again exclaimed Egerton; and fixing upon his friend's earnest face eyes which, when softened by emotion, were strangely beautiful in their expression,--”Harley, if you could but read my heart at this moment, you would--you would--” His voice faltered, and he fairly bent his proud head upon Harley's shoulder; grasping the hand he had caught nervously, clingingly, ”Oh, Harley, if I ever lose your love, your friends.h.i.+p, nothing else is left to me in the world.”
”Audley, my dear, dear Audley, is it you who speak to me thus? You, my school friend, my life's confidant,--you?”
”I am grown very weak and foolish,” said Egerton, trying to smile. ”I do not know myself. I, too, whom you have so often called 'Stoic,'
and likened to the Iron Man in the poem which you used to read by the riverside at Eton.”
”But even then, my Audley, I knew that a warm human heart (do what you would to keep it down) beat strong under the iron ribs. And I often marvel now, to think you have gone through life so free from the wilder pa.s.sions. Happier so!”
Egerton, who had turned his face from his friend's gaze, remained silent for a few moments; and he then sought to divert the conversation, and roused himself to ask Harley how he had succeeded in his views upon Beatrice, and his watch on the count.
”With regard to Peschiera,” answered Harley, ”I think we must have overrated the danger we apprehended, and that his wagers were but an idle boast. He has remained quiet enough, and seems devoted to play. His sister has shut her doors both on myself and my young a.s.sociate during the last few days. I almost fear that in spite of very sage warnings of mine, she must have turned his poet's head, and that either he has met with some scornful rebuff to incautious admiration or that, he himself has grown aware of peril, and declines to face it; for he is very much embarra.s.sed when I speak to him respecting her. But if the count is not formidable, why, his sister is not needed; and I hope yet to get justice for my Italian friend through the ordinary channels. I have secured an ally in a young Austrian prince, who is now in London, and who has promised to back, with all his influence, a memorial I shall transmit to Vienna.--a propos, my dear Audley, now that you have a little breathing-time, you must fix an hour for me to present to you my young poet, the son of her sister. At moments the expression of his face is so like hers.”
”Ay, ay,” answered Egerton, quickly, ”I will see him as you wish, but later. I have not yet that breathing-time you speak of; but you say he has prospered; and, with your friends.h.i.+p, he is secure from fortune. I rejoice to think so.”
”And your own protege, this Vandal Leslie, whom you forbid me to dislike--hard task!--what has he decided?”
”To adhere to my fate. Harley, if it please Heaven that I do not live to return to power, and provide adequately for that young man, do not forget that he clung to me in my fall.”
”If he still cling to you faithfully, I will never forget it. I will forget only all that now makes me doubt him. But you talk of not living, Audley! Pooh! your frame is that of a predestined octogenarian.”
”Nay,” answered Audley, ”I was but uttering one of those vague generalities which are common upon all mortal lips. And now farewell,--I must see this baron.”
”Not yet, until you have promised to consent to my proposal, and be once more member for Lansmere. Tut! don't shake your head. I cannot be denied. I claim your promise in right of our friends.h.i.+p, and shall be seriously hurt if you even pause to reflect on it.”
”Well, well, I know not how to refuse you, Harley; but you have not been to Lansmere yourself since--since that sad event. You must not revive the old wound,--you must not go; and--and, I own it, Harley, the remembrance of it pains even me. I would rather not go to Lansmere.”
”Ah, my friend, this is an excess of sympathy, and I cannot listen to it. I begin even to blame my own weakness, and to feel that we have no right to make ourselves the soft slaves of the past.”
”You do appear to me of late to have changed,” cried Egerton, suddenly, and with a brightening aspect. ”Do tell me that you are happy in the contemplation of your new ties,--that I shall live to see you once more restored to your former self.”
”All I can answer, Audley,” said L'Estrange, with a thoughtful brow, ”is, that you are right in one thing,--I am changed; and I am struggling to gain strength for duty and for honour. Adieu! I shall tell my father that you accede to our wishes.”
CHAPTER VI.
When Harley was gone, Egerton sunk back on his chair, as if in extreme physical or mental exhaustion, all the lines of his countenance relaxed and jaded.
”To go back to that place--there--there--where--Courage, courage! what is another pang?”
He rose with an effort, and folding his arms tightly across his breast, paced slowly to and fro the large, mournful, solitary room. Gradually his countenance a.s.sumed its usual cold and austere composure,--the secret eye, the guarded lip, the haughty, collected front. The man of the world was himself once more.
”Now to gain time, and to baffle the usurer,” murmured Egerton, with that low tone of easy scorn, which bespoke consciousness of superior power and the familiar mastery over hostile natures. He rang the bell: the servant entered.
”Is Baron Levy still waiting?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Admit him.” Levy entered.