and secret countenance,--"yes, he does not write from
Hazeldean,--not there when my letter arrived, in London, could not rest
at the Hall,--the place reminded him too much of Frank;--went again to
town, on the receipt of my first letter concerning the rupture of the
marriage, to see after his son, and take up some money to pay off his
post-obit. Read what he says:--

"'So, while I was about a mortgage--never did I guess that I should
be the man to encumber the Hazeldean estate--I thought I might as
well add L20,000 as L10,000 to the total. Why should you be
indebted at all to that Baron Levy? Don't have dealings with money-
lenders. Your grandmother was a Hazeldean; and from a Hazeldean you
shall have the whole sum required in advance for those Rood lands,--
good light soil some of them. As to repayment, we'll talk of that
later. If Frank and I come together again, as we did of old, why,
my estates will be his some day, and he'll not grudge the mortgage,
so fond as he always was of you; and if we don't come together, what
do I care for hundreds or thousands, either more or less? So I
shall be down at Lansmere the day after to-morrow, just in the thick
of your polling. Beat the manufacturer, my boy, and stick up for
the land. Tell Levy to have all ready. I shall bring the money
down in good bank-notes, and a brace of pistols in my coat pocket to
take care of them in ease robbers get scent of the notes and attack
me on the road, as they did my grandfather sixty years ago, come
next Michaelmas. A Lansmere election puts one in mind of pistols.
I once fought a duel with an officer in his Majesty's service, R.N.,
and had a ball lodged in my right shoulder, on account of an
election at Lansmere; but I have forgiven Audley his share in that
transaction. Remember me to him kindly. Don't get into a duel
yourself; but I suppose manufacturers don't fight,--not that I blame
them for that--far from it.'"

The letter then ran on to express surprise, and hazard conjecture, as to
the wealthy marriage which Randal had announced as a pleasing surprise
to the squire.

"Well," said Levy, returning the letter, "you must have written as
cleverly as you talk, or the squire is a booby indeed."

Randal smiled, pocketed his letter, and responding to the impatient call
of his proposer, sprang lightly into the carriage.

Harley, too, seemed pleased with the letters deliver