young man, walking quickly from the opposite direction, came full
against him, and drawing back with a brief apology, recognized him,
and exclaimed, "What! you in England, Lord L'Estrange! Accept my
congratulations on your return. But you seem scarcely to remember me."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Leslie. I remember you now by your smile; but
you are of an age in which it is permitted me to say that you look older
than when I saw you last."

"And yet, Lord L'Estrange, it seems to me that you look younger."

Indeed, this reply was so far true that there appeared less difference
of years than before between Leslie and L'Estrange; for the wrinkles
in the schemer's mind were visible in his visage, while Harley's dreamy
worship of Truth and Beauty seemed to have preserved to the votary the
enduring youth of the divinities.

Harley received the compliment with a supreme indifference, which might
have been suitable to a Stoic, but which seemed scarcely natural to
a gentleman who had just proposed to a lady many years younger than
himself.

Leslie renewed: "Perhaps you are on your way to Mr. Egerton's. If so,
you will not find him at home; he is at his office."

"Thank you. Then to his office I must re-direct my steps."

"I am going to him myself," said Randal, hesitatingly. L'Estrange had no
prepossessions in favour of Leslie from the little he had seen of that
young gentleman; but Randal's remark was an appeal to his habitual
urbanity, and he replied, with well-bred readiness, "Let us be
companions so far."

Randal accepted the arm proffered to him; and Lord L'Estrange, as
is usual with one long absent from his native land, bore part as a
questioner in the dialogue that ensued.

"Egerton is always the same man, I suppose,--too busy for illness, and
too firm for sorrow?"

"If he ever feel either, he will never stoop to complain. But, indeed,
my dear lord, I should like much to know what you think of his health."

"How! You alarm me!"

"Nay, I did not mean to do that; and pray do not let him know that
I went so far. But I have fancied that he looks a little worn and
suffering."

"Poor Audley!" said L'Estrange, in a tone of deep affection. "I will
sound him, and, be assured, without naming you; for I know well how
little he likes to be supposed capable of human infirmity. I am obliged
to you for your hint, obliged to you for your interest in one so dear to
me."

And Harley's voice was more cordial to Randal than it