that there were circumstances you might find
it hard to explain."

"Hard! Nothing so easy. Allow me to tender to you the same explanations
which satisfied one whom philosophy itself has made as open to truth as
he is clear-sighted to imposture."

"Another time, Mr. Leslie. If your bride's father be satisfied, what
right have I to doubt? By the way, you stand for Lansmere. Do me the
favour to fix your quarters at the Park during the election. You will,
of course, accompany Mr. Egerton."

"You are most kind," answered Randal, greatly surprised.

"You accept? That is well. We shall then have ample opportunity for
those explanations which you honour me by offering; and, to make your
visit still more agreeable, I may perhaps induce our friends at Norwood
to meet you. Good-day." Harley walked on, leaving Randal motionless in
amaze, but tormented with suspicion. What could such courtesies in Lord
L'Estrange portend? Surely no good.

"I am about to hold the balance of justice," said Harley to himself. "I
will cast the light-weight of that knave into the scale. Violante never
can be mine; but I did not save her from a Peschiera to leave
her to a Randal Leslie. Ha, ha! Audley Egerton has some human
feeling,--tenderness for that youth whom he has selected from the world,
in which he left Nora's child to the jaws of Famine. Through that side
I can reach at his heart, and prove him a fool like myself, where he
esteemed and confided! Good."

Thus soliloquizing, Lord L'Estrange gained the corner of Bruton Street,
when he was again somewhat abruptly accosted.

"My dear Lord L'Estrange, let me shake you by the hand; for Heaven knows
when I may see you again, and you have suffered me to assist in one good
action."

"Frank Hazeldean, I am pleased indeed to meet you. Why do you indulge in
that melancholy doubt as to the time when I may see you again?"

"I have just got leave of absence. I am not well, and I am rather
hipped, so I shall go abroad for a few weeks."

In spite of himself, the sombre, brooding man felt interest and sympathy
in the dejection that was evident in Frank's voice and countenance.
"Another dupe to affection," thought he, as if in apology to
himself,--"of course, a dupe; he is honest and artless--at present." He
pressed kindly on the arm which he had involuntarily twined within his
own. "I conceive how you now grieve, my young friend," said he; "but you
will congratulate yourself hereafter on what this day