his wages and perquisites in the discount
of bills; and it was part of his own money that had (though unknown to
himself) swelled the last L5,000 which Egerton had borrowed from Levy.

"I have settled with our committee; and, with Lord Lansmere's consent,"
said Egerton, briefly, "you will stand for the borough, as we proposed,
in conjunction with myself. And should any accident happen to me,--that
is, should I vacate this seat from any cause,--you may succeed to it,
very shortly perhaps. Ingratiate yourself with the electors, and speak
at the public-houses for both of us. I shall stand on my dignity, and
leave the work of the election to you. No thanks,--you know how I hate
thanks. Good-night."

"I never stood so near to fortune and to power," said Randal, as he
slowly undressed. "And I owe it but to knowledge,--knowledge of men,
life, of all that books can teach us."

So his slight thin fingers dropped the extinguisher on the candle, and
the prosperous Schemer laid himself down to rest in the dark. Shutters
closed, curtains drawn--never was rest more quiet, never was room more
dark!

That evening, Harley had dined at his father's. He spoke much to Helen,
scarcely at all to Violante. But it so happened that when later, and
a little while before he took his leave, Helen, at his request, was
playing a favourite air of his, Lady Lausmere, who had been seated
between him and Violante, left the room, and Violante turned quickly
towards Harley.

"Do you know the Marchesa di Negra?" she asked, in a hurried voice.

"A little. Why do you ask?"

"That is my secret," answered Violante, trying to smile with her old
frank, childlike archness. "But, tell me, do you think better of her
than of her brother?"

"Certainly. I believe her heart to be good, and that she is not without
generous qualities."

"Can you not induce my father to see her? Would you not counsel him to
do so?"

"Any wish of yours is a law to me," answered Harley, gallantly. "You
wish your father to see her? I will try and persuade him to do so. Now,
in return, confide to me your secret. What is your object?"

"Leave to return to my Italy. I care not for honours, for rank; and
even my father has ceased to regret their loss. But the land, the native
land--Oh, to see it once more! Oh, to die there!"

"Die! You children have so lately left heaven, that ye talk as if
ye could return there, without passing through the gates of sorrow,
infirmity, and age! B