“Beg the Baron to wait, unless he would prefer to name his own hour to call again,” answered Egerton, with the slightest possible change of colour. “You can say I am now with Lord L’Estrange.” “I had hoped you had done for ever with that deluder of youth,” said Harley, as soon as the groom of the chambers had withdrawn. “I remember that you saw too much of him in the gay time, ere wild oats are sown; but now surely you can never need a loan; and if so, is not Harley L’Estrange by your side?” EGERTON.—“My dear Harley!—doubtless he but comes to talk to me of some borough. He has much to do with those delicate negotiations.” HARLEY.—“And I have come on the same business. I claim the priority. I not only hear in the world, but I see by the papers, that Josiah Jenkins, Esq., known to fame as an orator who leaves out his h’s, and young Lord Willoughby Whiggolin, who is just now made a Lord of the Admiralty, because his health is too delicate for the army, are certain to come in for the city which you and your present colleague will as certainly vacate. That is true, is it not?” EGERTON.—“My old committee now vote for Jenkins and Whiggolin. And I suppose there will not be even a contest. Go on.” “So my father and I are agreed that you must condescend, for the sake of old friendship, to be once more member for Lansmere!” “Harley,” exclaimed Egerton, changing countenance far more than he had done at the announcement of Levy’s portentous visit—“Harley—No, no!” “No! But why? Wherefore such emotion?” asked L’Estrange, in surprise. Audley was silent. HARLEY.—“I suggested the idea to two or three of the late Ministers; they all concur in advising you to accede. In the first place, if declining to stand for the place which tempted you from Lansmere, what more natural than that you should fall back on that earlier representation? In the second place, Lansmere is neither a rotten borough, to be bought, nor a close borough, under one man’s nomination. It is a tolerably large constituency. My father, it is true, has considerable interest in it, but only what is called the legitimate influence of property. At all events, it is more secure than a contest for a larger town, more dignified than a seat for a smaller. Hesitating still? Even my mother entreats me to say how she desires you to renew that connection.” “Harley,” again exclaimed Egerton; and, fixing upon his friend’s earnest face, eyes which, when softened by emotion, were strangely beautiful in their expression—“Harley, if you could but read my heart at this moment, you would—you would—” His voice faltered, and he fairly bent his proud head upon Harley’s shoulder; grasping the hand he had caught, nervously, clingingly—“Oh Harley, if I ever lose your love, your friendship!—nothing else is left to me in the world.” “Audley, my dear dear Audley, is it you who speak to me thus? You, my school friend, my life’s confidant—you?”