Part 27 (1/2)

”Are you serious?”

”Yes.”

”Well, then, she receives this evening. I did not mean to go; but when my party breaks up”--

”You can call for me at 'The Travellers.' Do!

”Next--you knew Lady Jane Horton better even than I did, at least in the last year of her life.” Harley sighed, and Egerton turned and stirred the fire.

”Pray, did you ever see at her house, or hear her speak of, a Mrs.

Bertram?”

”Of whom?” said Egerton, in a hollow voice, his face still turned towards the fire.

”A Mrs. Bertram; but heavens! my dear fellow, what is the matter? Are you ill?”

”A spasm at the heart--that is all--don't ring--I shall be better presently--go on talking. Mrs.---- why do you ask?”

”Why! I have hardly time to explain; but I am, as I told you, resolved on righting my old Italian friend, if Heaven will help me, as it ever does help the just when they bestir themselves; and this Mrs. Bertram is mixed up in my friend's affairs.”

”His! How is that possible?”

Harley rapidly and succinctly explained. Audley listened attentively, with his eyes fixed on the floor, and still seeming to labor under great difficulty of breathing.

At last he answered, ”I remember something of this Mrs.--Mrs.--Bertram.

But your inquiries after her would be useless. I think I have heard that she is long since dead; nay, I am sure of it.”

”Dead!--that is most unfortunate. But do you know any of her relations or friends? Can you suggest any mode of tracing this packet if it came to her hands?”

”No.”

”And Lady Jane had scarcely any friend that I remember, except my mother, and she knows nothing of this Mrs. Bertram. How unlucky! I think I shall advertise. Yet, no. I could only distinguish this Mrs. Bertram from any other of the same name, by stating with whom she had gone abroad, and that would catch the attention of Peschiera, and set him to counterwork us.”

”And what avails it?” said Egerton. ”She whom you seek is no more--no more!” He paused, and went on rapidly--”The packet did not arrive in England till years after her death--was no doubt returned to the post-office--is destroyed long ago.”

Harley looked very much disappointed. Egerton went on in a sort of set mechanical voice, as if not thinking of what he said, but speaking from the dry practical mode of reasoning which was habitual to him, and by which the man of the world destroys the hopes of an enthusiast. Then starting up at the sound of the first thundering knock at the street door, he said, ”Hark! you must excuse me.”

”I leave you, my dear Audley. Are you better now?”

”Much, much--quite well. I will call for you, probably between eleven and twelve.”

CHAPTER VIII.

If any one could be more surprised at seeing Lord L'Estrange at the house of Madame di Negra that evening than the fair hostess herself, it was Randal Leslie. Something instinctively told him that this visit threatened interference with whatever might be his ultimate projects in regard to Riccabocca and Violante. But Randal Leslie was not one of those who shrink from an intellectual combat. On the contrary, he was too confident of his powers of intrigue, not to take a delight in their exercise. He could not conceive that the indolent Harley could be a match for his own restless activity and dogged perseverance. But in a very few moments fear crept on him. No man of his day could produce a more brilliant effect than Lord L'Estrange, when he deigned to desire it. Without much pretence to that personal beauty which strikes at first sight, he still retained all the charm of countenance, and all the grace of manner which had made him in boyhood the spoiled darling of society.

Madame di Negra had collected but a small circle round her, still it was of the _elite_ of the great world; not, indeed, those more precise and reserved _dames du chateau_, whom the lighter and easier of the fair dispensers of fas.h.i.+on ridicule as prudes; but, nevertheless, ladies were there, as unblemished in reputation as high in rank; flirts and coquettes, perhaps--nothing more; in short, ”charming women”--the gay b.u.t.terflies that hover over the stiff parterre. And there were amba.s.sadors and ministers, and wits and brilliant debaters, and first-rate dandies (dandies, when first-rate, are generally very agreeable men). Amongst all these various persons, Harley, so long a stranger to the London world, seemed to make himself at home with the ease of an Alcibiades. Many of the less juvenile ladies remembered him, and rushed to claim his acquaintance, with nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles. He had ready compliments for each. And few indeed were there, men or women, for whom Harley L'Estrange had not appropriate attraction.

Distinguished reputation as a soldier and scholar, for the grave; whim and pleasantry for the gay; novelty for the sated; and for the more vulgar natures, was he not Lord L'Estrange, unmarried, heir to an ancient earldom, and some fifty thousand a-year?