al at Screwstown. "Mullins is the man, if I can but catch him," said
Dick. "You have heard of Mullins?--a wonderful great man; you should see
his nails; he never cuts them! Three millions, at least, he has scraped
together with those nails of his, sir. And in this rotten old country,
a man must have nails a yard long to fight with a devil like Levy!
Good-by, good-by,--Goon-by, MY DEAR, nephew!"

CHAPTER XX.

Harley L'Estrange was seated alone in his apartments. He had just put
down a volume of some favourite classic author, and he was resting
his hand firmly clenched upon the book. Ever since Harley's return to
England, there had been a perceptible change in the expression of his
countenance, even in the very bearing and attitudes of his elastic
youthful figure. But this change had been more marked since that last
interview with Helen which has been recorded. There was a compressed,
resolute firmness in the lips, a decided character in the brow. To
the indolent, careless grace of his movements had succeeded a certain
indescribable energy, as quiet and self-collected as that which
distinguished the determined air of Audley Egerton himself. In fact, if
you could have looked into his heart, you would have seen that Harley
was, for the first time, making a strong effort over his passions and
his humours; that the whole man was nerving himself to a sense of duty.
"No," he muttered,--"no! I will think only of Helen; I will think
only of real life! And what (were I not engaged to another) would that
dark-eyed Italian girl be to me?--What a mere fool's fancy is this! I
love again,--I, who through all the fair spring of my life have clung
with such faith to a memory and a grave! Come, come, come, Harley
L'Estrange, act thy part as man amongst men, at last! Accept regard;
dream no more of passion. Abandon false ideals. Thou art no poet--why
deem that life itself can be a poem?"

The door opened, and the Austrian prince, whom Harley had interested
in the cause of Violante's father, entered, with the familiar step of a
friend.

"Have you discovered those documents yet?" said the prince. "I must now
return to Vienna within a few days; and unless you can arm me with
some tangible proof of Peschiera's ancient treachery, or some more
unanswerable excuse for his noble kinsman, I fear that there is no other
hope for the exile's recall to his country than what lies in the hateful
option of giving his daughter to his perfidious f