At noon the next day, London stole upon them, through a gloomy, thick,
oppressive atmosphere. For where is it that we can say London _bursts_
on the sight? It stole on them through one of its fairest and most
gracious avenues of approach--by the stately gardens of
Kensington--along the side of Hyde Park, and so on towards Cumberland
Gate.
Leonard was not the least struck. And yet, with a little money, and a
very little taste, it would be easy to render this entrance to London
as grand and imposing as that to Paris from the _Champs Elysees_. As
they came near the Edgeware Road, Helen took her new brother by the
hand and guided him. For she knew all that neighborhood, and she was
acquainted with a lodging near that occupied by her father (to _that_
lodging itself she could not have gone for the world), where they
might be housed cheaply.
But just then the sky, so dull and overcast since morning, seemed one
mass of black cloud. There suddenly came on a violent storm of rain.
The boy and girl took refuge in a covered mews, in a street running
out of the Edgeware Road. The shelter soon became crowded; the two
young pilgrims crept close to the wall, apart from the rest;
Leonard's arm round Helen's waist, sheltering her from the rain that
the strong wind contending with it beat in through the passage.
Presently a young gentleman, of better mien and dress than the other
refugees, entered, not hastily, but rather with a slow and proud step,
as if, though he deigned to take shelter, he scorned to run to it. He
glanced somewhat haughtily at the assembled group--passed on through
the midst of it--came near Leonard--took off his hat, and shook the
rain from its brim. His head thus uncovered, left all his features
exposed; and the village youth recognized, at the first glance, his
old victorious assailant on the green at Hazeldean.
Yet Randal Leslie was altered. His dark cheek was as thin as in
boyhood, and even yet more wasted by intense study and night vigils;
but the expression of his face was at once more refined and manly, and
there was a steady concentrated light in his large eye, like that of
one who has been in the habit of bringing all his thoughts to one
point. He looked older than he was. He was dressed simply in black, a
color which became him; and altogether his aspect and figure were not
showy indeed, but distinguished. He looked, to the common eye, a
gentleman; and to the more observant, a scholar.
Helter-skelter!--pell-mell! the group in the passage--now pressed each
on each--now scattered on all sides--making way--rushing down the
mews--against the walls--as a fiery horse darted under shelter; the
rider, a young man, with a very handsome face, and dressed with that
peculiar care which we commonly call dandyism, cried out, good
humoredly,--"Don't be afraid; the horse shan't hurt any of you--a
thousand pardons--so ho! so ho!" He patted the horse, and it stood as
still as a statue, filling up the centre of the passage. The groups
resettled--Randal approached the rider.
"Frank Hazeldean!"
"Ah--is it indeed Randal Leslie!"
Frank was off his horse in a moment, and the bridle was consigned to
the care of a slim 'prentice-boy holding a bundle.
"My dear fellow, how glad I am to see you. How lucky it was that I
should turn in here. Not like me either, for I don't much care for a
ducking. Staying in town, Randal?"
"Yes, at your uncle's, Mr. Egerton. I have left Oxford."
"For good?"
"For good."
"But you have not taken your degree, I think? We Etonians all
considered you booked for a double first. Oh! we have been so proud of
you--you carried off all the prizes."
"Not all; but some, certainly. Mr. Egerton offered me my choice--to
stay for my degree, or to enter at once into the Foreign Office. I
preferred the ends to the means. For, after all, what good are
academical honors but as the entrance to life? To enter now is to save
a step in a long way, Frank."
"Ah! you were always ambitious, and you will make a great figure, I am
sure."
"Perhaps so--if I work for it. Knowledge is power."
Leonard started.
"And you," resumed Randal, looking with some curious attention at his
old schoolfellow. "You never came to Oxford. I did hear you were going
into the army."
"I am in the Guards," said Frank, trying hard not to look too
conceited as he made that acknowledgment. "The Governor pished a
little, and would rather I had come to live with him in the old hall,
and take to farming. Time enough for that--eh? By Jove, Randall, how
pleasant a thing is life in London? Do you go to Almack's to-night?"
"No; Wednesday is a holiday in the House! There is a great
parliamentary dinner at Mr. Egerton's. He is in the Cabinet now, you
know; but you don't see much of your uncle, I think."
"Our sets are different," said the young gentleman, in a tone of voice
worthy of Brummell. "All those parliamentary fellows are devilish
dull. The rain's over. I don't know whether the Governor would like me
to call at Grosvenor Square; but, pray come and see me; here's my card
to remind you; you must dine at our mess. Such nice fellows. What day
will you fix?"
"I will call and let you know. Don't you find it rather expensive in
the Guards? I remember that you thought the Governor, as you call him,
used to chafe a little when you wrote for more pocket-money; and the
only time I ever remember to have seen you with tears in your eyes,
was when Mr. Hazeldean, in sending you L5, reminded you that his
estates were not entailed--were at his own disposal, and they should
never go to an extravagant spendthrift. It was not a pleasant threat,
that, Frank."
"Oh!" cried the young man, coloring deeply, "It was not the threat
that pained me, it was that my father could think so meanly of me as
to fancy that--well--well, but those were schoolboy days. And my
father was always more generous than I deserved. We must see a good
deal of each other, Randal. How good-natured you were at Eton, making
my longs and shorts for me; I shall never forget it. Do call soon."
Frank swung himself into his saddle, and rewarded the slim youth with
half-a-crown; a largess four times more ample than his father would
have deemed sufficient. A jerk of the reins and a touch of the
heel--off bounded the fiery horse and the gay young rider. Randal
mused; and as the rain had now ceased, the passengers under shelter
dispersed and went their way. Only Randal, Leonard, and Helen remained
behind. Then, as Randal, still musing, lifted his eyes, they fell full
upon Leonard's face. He started, passed his hand quickly over his
brow--looked again, hard and piercingly; and the change in his pale
cheek to a shade still paler--a quick compression and nervous gnawing
of his lip--showed that he too had recognized an old foe. Then his
glance ran over Leonard's dress, which was somewhat dust-stained, but
far above the class amongst which the peasant was born. Randal raised
his brows in surprise, and with a smile slightly supercilious--the
smile stung Leonard; and with a slow step Randal left the passage, and
took his way towards Grosvenor Square. The Entrance of Ambition was
clear to _him_.
Then the little girl once more took Leonard by the hand, and led him
through rows of humble, obscure, dreary streets. It seemed almost like
an allegory personified, as the sad, silent child led on the penniless
and low-born adventurer of genius by the squalid shops, and through
the winding lanes, which grew meaner and meaner, till both their forms
vanished from the view.