,
cannot you too forgive? Me he has wronged; you have wronged him, and
more foully."

"No, my Lord, I cannot forgive him. You he has never humiliated, you he
has never employed for his wants, and scorned as his companion. You have
never known what it is to start in life with one whose fortunes were
equal to your own, whose talents were not superior. Look you, Lord
L'Estrange, in spite of this difference between me and Egerton, that he
has squandered the wealth that he gained without effort, while I
have converted the follies of others into my own ample revenues, the
spendthrift in his penury has the respect and position which millions
cannot bestow upon me. You would say that I am an usurer, and he is a
statesman. But do you know what I should have been, had I not been born
the natural son of a peer? Can you guess what I should have been if
Nora Avenel had been my wife? The blot on my birth, and the blight on my
youth, and the knowledge that he who was rising every year into the rank
which entitled him to reject me as a guest at his table--he whom the
world called the model of a gentleman--was a coward and a liar to the
friend of his youth,--all this made me look on the world with contempt;
and, despising Audley Egerton, I yet hated him and envied. You, whom
he wronged, stretch your hand as before to the great statesman; from my
touch you would shrink as pollution. My Lord, you may forgive him whom
you love and pity; I cannot forgive him whom I scorn and envy. Pardon my
prolixity. I now quit your house." The baron moved a step, then, turning
back, said with a withering sneer,--

"But you will tell Mr. Egerton how I helped to expose the son he
adopted! I thought of the childless man when your Lordship imagined I
was but in fear of your threats. Ha! ha! that will sting."

The baron gnashed his teeth as, hastily entering the carriage, he drew
down the blinds. The post-boys cracked their whips, and the wheels
rolled away.

"Who can judge," thought Harley, "through what modes retribution comes
home to the breast? That man is chastised in his wealth, ever gnawed by
desire for what his wealth cannot buy!" He roused himself, cleared his
brow, as from a thought that darkened and troubled; and, entering the
saloon, laid his hand upon Leonard's shoulder, and looked, rejoicing,
into the poet's mild, honest, lustrous eyes. "Leonard," said he, gently,
"your hour is come at last."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Audely Egerton was alon