“Yes, so Thornhill himself supposed, till, on examining the title-deeds, I found he was under a mistake. These lands are not comprised in the settlement made by old Jasper Thornhill, which ties up the rest of the property. The title will be perfect. Thornhill wants to settle the matter at once—losses on the turf, you understand; an immediate purchaser would get still better terms. A Sir John Spratt would give the money; but the addition of these lands would make the Spratt property of more consequence in the county than the Thornhill. So my client would rather take a few thousands less from a man who don’t set up to be his rival. Balance of power in counties as well as nations.” Randal was silent. “Well,” said Levy, with great kindness of manner, “I see I pain you; and though I am what my very pleasant guests will call a _parvenu_, I comprehend your natural feelings as a gentleman of ancient birth. _Parvenu!_ Ah! is it not strange, Leslie, that no wealth, no fashion, no fame can wipe out that blot? They call me a _parvenu_, and borrow my money. They call our friend, the wit, a _parvenu_, and submit to all his insolence—if they condescend to regard his birth at all—provided they can but get him to dinner. They call the best debater in the Parliament of England a _parvenu_, and will entreat him, some day or other, to be prime minister, and ask him for stars and garters. A droll world, and no wonder the _parvenus_ want to upset it!” Randal had hitherto supposed that this notorious tuft-hunter—this dandy capitalist—this money-lender, whose whole fortune had been wrung from the wants and follies of an aristocracy, was naturally a firm supporter of things as they are—how could things be better for men like Baron Levy? But the usurer’s burst of democratic spleen did not surprise his precocious and acute faculty of observation. He had before remarked, that it is the persons who fawn most upon an aristocracy, and profit the most by the fawning, who are ever at heart its bitterest disparagers. Why is this? Because one full half of democratic opinion is made up of envy; and we can only envy what is brought before our eyes, and what, while very near to us, is still unattainable. No man envies an archangel. “But,” said Levy, throwing himself back in his chair, “a new order of things is commencing; we shall see. Leslie, it is lucky for you that you did not enter Parliament under the government; it would be your political ruin for life.” “You think that the ministry can not last?” “Of course I do; and what is more, I think that a ministry of the same principles can not be restored. You are a young man of talent and spirit; your birth is nothing compared to the rank of the reigning party; it would tell, to a certain degree, in a democratic one. I say, you should be more civil to Avenel; he could return you to Parliament at the next election.” “The next election! In six years! We have just had a general election.”