nusually cheerful as he rejoined the Italians,
that the duke exclaimed,--

"A despatch from Vienna? My recall!"

"From Vienna, my dear friend! Not possible yet. I cannot calculate
on hearing from the prince till a day or two before the close of this
election. But you wish me to speak to Violante. Join my mother yonder.
What can she be saying to Mr. Egerton? I will address a few words apart
to your fair daughter, that may at least prove the interest in her fate
taken by--her second father."

"Kindest of friends!" said the unsuspecting pupil of Machiavelli, and
he walked towards the terrace. Violante was about to follow. Harley
detained her.

"Do not go till you have thanked me; for you are not the noble Violante
for whom I take you, unless you acknowledge gratitude to any one who
delivers you from the presence of an admirer in Mr. Randal Leslie."

VIOLANTE.--"Ought I to hear this of one whom--whom--"

HARLEY.--"One whom your father obstinately persists in obtruding on your
repugnance? Yet, O dear child, you who, when almost an infant, ere yet
you knew what snares and pitfalls, for all who trust to another, lie
under the sward at our feet, even when decked the fairest with the
flowers of spring; you who put your small hands around my neck, and
murmured in your musical voice, 'Save us,--save my father,'--you at
least I will not forsake, in a peril worse than that which menaced you
then,--a peril which affrights you more than that which threatened
you in the snares of Peschiera. Randal Leslie may thrive in his meaner
objects of ambition; those I fling to him in scorn: but you!
the presuming varlet!" Harley paused a moment, half stifled with
indignation. He then resumed, calmly, "Trust to me, and fear not. I will
rescue this hand from the profanation of Randal Leslie's touch; and then
farewell, for life, to every soft emotion. Before me expands the
welcome solitude. The innocent saved, the honest righted, the perfidious
stricken by a just retribution,--and then--what then? Why, at least I
shall have studied Machiavelli with more effect than your wise father;
and I shall lay him aside, needing no philosophy to teach me never again
to be deceived." His brow darkened; he turned abruptly away, leaving
Violante lost in amaze, fear, and a delight, vague, yet more vividly
felt than all.

CHAPTER XXI.

That night, after the labours of the day, Randal had gained the
sanctuary of his own room, and seated himself at his