ht of Avenel, of Lansmere, of
parliament; with one hand he grasped fortune, with the next power. "And
yet I entered on life with no patrimony (save a ruined hall and a barren
waste),--no patrimony but knowledge. I have but turned knowledge from
books to men; for books may give fame after death, but men give us power
in life." And all the while he thus ruminated, his act was speeding his
purpose. Though it was but in a miserable hack-cab that he erected airy
scaffoldings round airy castles, still the miserable hack-cab was flying
fast, to secure the first foot of solid ground whereon to transfer the
mental plan of the architect to foundations of positive slime and
clay. The cab stopped at the door of Lord Lansmere's house. Randal
had suspected Violante to be there: he resolved to ascertain. Randal
descended from his vehicle and rang the bell. The lodge-keeper opined
the great wooden gates.

"I have called to see the young lady staying here,--the foreign young
lady."

Lady Lansmere had been too confident of the security of her roof to
condescend to give any orders to her servants with regard to her guest,
and the lodge-keeper answered directly,--

"At home, I believe, sir. I rather think she is in the garden with my
lady."

"I see," said Randal; and he did see the form of Violante at a distance.
"But, since she is walking, I will not disturb her at present. I will
call another day."

The lodge-keeper bowed respectfully, Randal jumped into his cab: "To
Curzon Street,--quick!"

CHAPTER XXII.

Harley had made one notable oversight in that appeal to Beatrice's
better and gentler nature, which he entrusted to the advocacy of
Leonard,--a scheme in itself very characteristic of Harley's romantic
temper, and either wise or foolish, according as his indulgent theory
of human idiosyncrasies in general, and of those peculiar to Beatrice
di Negra in especial, was the dream of an enthusiast, or the inductive
conclusion of a sound philosopher.

Harley had warned Leonard not to fall in love with the Italian,--he had
forgotten to warn the Italian not to fall in love with Leonard; nor had
he ever anticipated the probability of that event. This is not to
be very much wondered at; for if there be anything on which the
most sensible men are dull-eyed, where those eyes are not lighted by
jealousy, it is as to the probabilities of another male creature being
beloved. All, the least vain of the whiskered gender, think it pruden