Part 172 (2/2)
d.i.c.k's voice trembled.
”Her name will be righted; and I will explain why it was my fault that Egerton did not before acknowledge his marriage, and claim you as a brother. Come, then, it is all fixed and settled.”
”No, my Lord; I am pledged the other way. I don't see how I can get off my word--to Randal Leslie. I'm not over nice, nor what is called Quixotic; but still my word is given that if I retire from the election, I will do my best to return Leslie instead of Egerton.”
”I know that through Baron Levy. But if your nephew retires?”
”Oh, that would solve all difficulties. But the poor boy has now a wish to come into parliament; and he has done me a service in the hour of need.”
”Leave it to me. And as to Randal Leslie, he shall have an occasion himself to acquit you and redeem himself; and happy, indeed, will it be for him if he has yet one spark of grat.i.tude, or one particle of honour!”
The two continued to converse for a few moments, d.i.c.k seeming to forget the election itself, and ask questions of more interest to his heart, which Harley answered so, that d.i.c.k wrung L'Estrange's hand with great emotion, and muttered, ”My poor mother! I understand now why she would never talk to me of Nora. When may I tell her the truth?”
”To-morrow evening, after the election, Egerton shall embrace you all.”
d.i.c.k started, and saying, ”See Leonard as soon as you can,--there is no time to lose,” plunged into a lane that led towards the obscurer recesses of the town. Harley continued his way with the same light elastic tread which (lost during his abnegation of his own nature) was now restored to the foot, that seemed loath to leave a print upon the mire.
At the commencement of the High Street he encountered Mr. Dale and Fairfield, walking slowly, arm-in-arm.
HARLEY.--”Leonard, I was coming to you. Give me your hand. Forget for the present the words that justly stung and offended you. I will do more than apologize,--I will repair the wrong. Excuse me, Mr. Dale, I have one word to say in private to Leonard.” He drew Fairfield aside.
”Avenel tells me that if you were to retire from this contest, it would be a sacrifice of inclination. Is it so?”
”My Lord, I have sorrows that I would fain forget; and though I at first shrunk from the strife in which I have been since engaged, yet now a literary career seems to me to have lost its old charm; and I find that, in public life, there is a distraction to the thoughts which embitter solitude, that books fail to bestow. Therefore, if you still wish me to continue this contest, though I know not your motive, it will not be as it was to begin it,--a reluctant and a painful obedience to your request.”
”I understand. It was a sacrifice of inclination to begin the contest; it would be now a sacrifice of inclination to withdraw?”
”Honestly, yes, my Lord.”
”I rejoice to hear it, for I ask that sacrifice,--a sacrifice which you will recall hereafter with delight and pride; a sacrifice sweeter, if I read your nature aright--oh, sweeter far, than all which commonplace ambition could bestow! And when you learn why I make this demand, you will say, 'This, indeed, is reparation for the words that wounded my affections, and wronged my heart.'”
”My Lord, my Lord!” exclaimed Leonard, ”the injury is repaired already.
You give me back your esteem, when you so well antic.i.p.ate my answer.
Your esteem!--life smiles again. I can return to my more legitimate career without a sigh. I have no need of distraction from thought now. You will believe that, whatever my past presumption, I can pray sincerely for your happiness.”
”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 ingrat.i.tude 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!”
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