that a seat in parliament had sunk into a secondary object;
nevertheless his ambitious and all-grasping nature felt a bitter pang,
when he heard that Egerton thus interposed between himself and any
chance of advancement.

"So," he muttered sullenly,--"so this man, who pretends to be my
benefactor, squanders away the wealth of my forefathers, throws me
penniless on the world; and, while still encouraging me to exertion and
public life, robs me himself of--"

"No!" interrupted Levy, "not robs you; we may prevent that. The Lansmere
interest is not so strong in the borough as Dick Avenel's."

"But I cannot stand against Egerton."

"Assuredly not,--you may stand with him."

"How?"

"Dick Avenel will never suffer Egerton to come in; and though he cannot,
perhaps, carry two of his own politics, he can split his votes upon
you."

Randal's eyes flashed. He saw at a glance that if Avenel did not
overrate the relative strength of parties, his seat could be secured.

"But," he said, "Egerton has not spoken to me on such a subject; nor can
you expect that he would propose to me to stand with him, if he foresaw
the chance of being ousted by the very candidate he himself introduced."

"Neither he nor his party will anticipate that possibility. If he ask
you, agree to stand,--leave the rest to me."

"You must hate Egerton bitterly," said Randal; "for I am not vain enough
to think that you thus scheme but from pure love to me."

"The motives of men are intricate and complicated," answered Levy, with
unusual seriousness. "It suffices to the wise to profit by the actions,
and leave the motives in shade."

There was silence for some minutes. Then the two drew closer towards
each other, and began to discuss details in their joint designs.

Randal walked home slowly. It was a cold moonlit night. Young idlers
of his own years and rank passed him by on their way from the haunts of
social pleasure. They were yet in the first fair holiday of life. Life's
holiday had gone from him forever. Graver men, in the various callings
of masculine labour--professions, trade, the State--passed him also.
Their steps might be sober, and their faces careworn; but no step had
the furtive stealth of his, no face the same contracted, sinister,
suspicious gloom. Only once, in a lonely thoroughfare, and on the
opposite side of the way, fell a footfall, and glanced an eye, that
seemed to betray a soul in sympathy with Randal Leslie's.

And Randal, w