"No--I have just done." The house-steward withdrew, much surprised and disgusted, and meditating the resignation of his own office--in order, not like Egerton, to save, but to spend. The house-steward had private dealings with Baron Levy, and was in fact the veritable X. Y. of the _Times_, for whom Dick Avenel had been mistaken. He invested his wages and perquisites in the discount of bills; and it was part of his own money that had (though unknown to himself) swelled the last £5000 which Egerton had borrowed from Levy. "I have settled with our committee; and, with Lord Lansmere's consent," said Egerton, briefly, "you will stand for the borough as we proposed, in conjunction with myself. And should any accident happen to me--that is, should I vacate this seat from any cause, you may succeed to it--very shortly perhaps. Ingratiate yourself with the electors, and speak at the public-houses for both of us. I shall stand on my dignity, and leave the work of the election to you. No thanks--you know how I hate thanks. Good-night." "I never stood so near to fortune and to power," said Randal, as he slowly undressed. "And I owe it but to knowledge--knowledge of men--life--of all that books can teach us." So his slight thin fingers dropped the extinguisher on the candle, and the prosperous Schemer laid himself down to rest in the dark. Shutters closed, curtains down--never was rest more quiet, never was room more dark! That evening Harley had dined at his father's He spoke much to Helen--scarcely at all to Violante. But it so happened that when later, and a little while before he took his leave, Helen, at his request, was playing a favorite air of his; Lady Lansmere, who had been seated between him and Violante, left the room, and Violante turned quickly toward Harley. "Do you know the Marchesa di Negra?" she asked, in a hurried voice. "A little. Why do you ask?" "That is my secret," answered Violante, trying to smile, with her old frank, childlike archness. "But, tell me, do you think better of her than of her brother?" "Certainly. I believe her heart to be good, and that she is not without generous qualities." "Can you not induce my father to see her? Would you not counsel him to do so?" "Any wish of yours is a law to me," answered Harley, gallantly. "You wish your father to see her? I will try and persuade him to do so. Now, in return, confide to me your secret. What is your object?" "Leave to return to my Italy. I care not for honors--for rank; and even my father has ceased to regret their loss. But the land, the native land--Oh, to see it once more! Oh, to die there!" "Die! You children have so lately left heaven, that ye talk as if ye could return there, without passing through the gates of sorrow, infirmity, and age! But I thought you were content with England. Why so eager to leave it? Violante, you are unkind to us!--to Helen, who already loves you so well!"