"And tell him to give you twice as much money as you had asked for. He would think you had only seemed so affectionate in order to take him in. No, no, Frank; save--lay by--economize; and then tell him that you have paid half your own debts. Something high-minded in that." "So there is. Your heart is as good as your head. Good-night." "Are you going home so early? Have you no engagements?" "None that I shall keep." "Good-night, then." They parted, and Randal walked into one of the fashionable clubs. He neared a table, where three or four young men (younger sons who lived in the most splendid style, heaven knew how) were still over their wine. Leslie had little in common with these gentlemen; but he forced his nature to be agreeable to them, in consequence of a very excellent piece of worldly advice given to him by Audley Egerton. "Never let the dandies call you a prig," said the statesman. "Many a clever fellow fails through life, because the silly fellows, whom half a word well spoken could make his _claqueurs_, turn him into ridicule. Whatever you are, avoid the fault of most reading men: in a word, don't be a prig!" "I have just left Hazeldean," said Randal, "what a good fellow he is!" "Capital," said the Honorable George Borrowwell. "Where is he?" "Why, he is gone to his rooms. He has had a little scene with his father, a thorough, rough country squire. It would be an act of charity if you would go and keep him company, or take him with you to some place a little more lively than his own lodgings." "What! the old gentleman has been teasing him?--a horrid shame! Why, Frank is not expensive, and he will be very rich--eh?" "An immense property," said Randal, "and not a mortgage on it; an only son," he added, turning away. Among these young gentlemen there was a kindly and most benevolent whisper, and presently they all rose, and walked away toward Frank's lodgings. "The wedge is in the tree," said Randal to himself, "and there is a gap already between the bark and the wood." CHAPTER XXII. Harley L'Estrange is seated beside Helen at the lattice-window in the cottage at Norwood. The bloom of reviving health is on the child's face, and she is listening with a smile, for Harley is speaking of Leonard with praise, and of Leonard's future with hope. "And thus," he continued, "secure from his former trials, happy in his occupation, and pursuing the career he has chosen, we must be content, my dear child, to leave him." "Leave him!" exclaimed Helen, and the rose on her cheek faded. Harley was not displeased to see her emotion. He would have been disappointed in her heart if it had been less susceptible to affection.