We have seen Squire Hazeldean (proud of the contents of his pocketbook,
and his knowledge of the mercenary nature of foreign women) set off on
his visit to Beatrice di Negra. Randal thus left, musing lone in the
crowded streets, resolved with astute complacency the probable results of
Mr. Hazeldean's bluff negotiation; and convincing himself that one of his
vistas towards Fortune was becoming more clear and clear, he turned, with
the restless activity of some founder of destined cities in a new
settlement, to lop the boughs that cumbered and obscured the others. For
truly, like a man in a vast Columbian forest, opening entangled space,
now with the ready axe, now with the patient train that kindles the
slower fire, this child of civilized life went toiling on against
surrounding obstacles, resolute to destroy, but ever scheming to
construct. And now Randal has reached Levy's dainty business-room, and
is buried deep in discussion how to secure to himself, at the expense of
his patron, the representation of Lansmere, and how to complete the
contract which shall reannex to his forlorn inheritance some fragments of
its ancient wealth.
Meanwhile, Chance fought on his side in the boudoir of May Fair. The
squire had found the marchesa at home, briefly introduced himself and his
business, told her she was mistaken if she had fancied she had taken in a
rich heir in his son; that, thank Heaven, he could leave his estates to
his ploughman, should he so please, but that he was willing to do things
liberally; and whatever she thought Frank was worth, he was very ready to
pay for.
At another time Beatrice would perhaps have laughed at this strange
address; or she might, in some prouder moment, have fired up with all a
patrician's resentment and a woman's pride; but now her spirit was
crushed, her nerves shattered: the sense of her degraded position, of her
dependence on her brother, combined with her supreme unhappiness at the
loss of those dreams with which Leonard had for a while charmed her
wearied waking life,--all came upon her. She listened; pale and
speechless; and the poor squire thought he was quietly advancing towards
a favourable result, when she suddenly burst into a passion of hysterical
tears; and just at that moment Frank himself entered the room. At the
sight of his father, of Beatrice's grief, his sense of filial duty gave
way. He was maddened by irritation, by the insult offered to the woman
he loved, which a few trembling words from her explained to him,--
maddened yet more by the fear that the insult had lost her to him; warm
words ensued between son and father, to close with the peremptory command
and vehement threat of the last.
"Come away this instant, sir! Come with me, or before the day is over, I
strike you out of my will!"
The son's answer was not to his father; he threw himself at Beatrice's
feet.
"Forgive him; forgive us both--"
"What! you prefer that stranger to me,--to the inheritance of Hazeldean!"
cried the squire, stamping his foot.
"Leave your estates to whom you will; all that I care for in life is
here!"
The squire stood still a moment or so, gazing on his son with a strange
bewildered marvel at the strength of that mystic passion, which none not
labouring under its fearful charm can comprehend, which creates the
sudden idol that no reason justifies, and sacrifices to its fatal shrine
alike the Past and the Future. Not trusting himself to speak, the father
drew his hand across his eyes, and dashed away the bitter tear that
sprang from a swelling and indignant heart; then he uttered an
inarticulate sound, and, finding his voice gone, moved away to the door,
and left the house.
He walked through the streets, bearing his head very erect, as a proud
man does when deeply wounded, and striving to shake off some affection
that he deems a weakness; and his trembling nervous fingers fumbled at
the button of his coat, trying to tighten the garment across his chest,
as if to confirm a resolution that still sought to struggle out of the
revolting heart.
Thus he went on, and the reader, perhaps, will wonder whither; and the
wonder may not lessen when he finds the squire come to a dead pause in
Grosvenor Square, and at the portico of his "distant brother's" stately
house.
At the squire's brief inquiry whether Mr. Egerton was at home, the porter
summoned the groom of the chambers; and the groom of the chambers, seeing
a stranger, doubted whether his master was not engaged, but would take in
the stranger's card and see.
"Ay, ay," muttered the squire, "this is true relationship!--my child
prefers a stranger to me; why should I complain that I am a stranger in a
brother's house? Sir," added the squire aloud, and very meekly--"sir,
please to say to your master that I am William Hazeldean."
The servant bowed low, and without another word conducted the visitor
into the statesman's library, and announcing Mr. Hazeldean, closed the
door.
Audley was seated at his desk, the grim iron boxes still at his feet, but
they were now closed and locked. And the ex-minister was no longer
looking over official documents; letters spread open before him of far
different nature; in his hand there lay a long lock of fair silken hair,
on which his eyes were fixed sadly and intently. He started at the sound
of his visitor's name, and the tread of the squire's stalwart footstep;
and mechanically thrust into his bosom the relic of younger and warmer
years, keeping his hand to his heart, which beat loud with disease under
the light pressure of that golden hair.
The two brothers stood on the great man's lonely hearth, facing each
other in silence, and noting unconsciously the change made in each during
the long years in which they had never met.
The squire, with his portly size, his hardy sunburned cheeks, the partial
baldness of his unfurrowed open forehead, looked his full age,--deep into
middle life. Unmistakably he seemed the pater familias, the husband and
the father, the man of social domestic ties. But about Audley (really
some few years junior to the squire), despite the lines of care on his
handsome face, there still lingered the grace of youth. Men of cities
retain youth longer than those of the country,--a remark which Buffon has
not failed to make and to account for. Neither did Egerton betray the
air of the married man; for ineffable solitariness seemed stamped upon
one whose private life had long been so stern a solitude. No ray from
the focus of Home played round that reserved, unjoyous, melancholy brow.
In a word, Audley looked still the man for whom some young female heart
might fondly sigh; and not the less because of the cold eye and
compressed lip, which challenged interest even while seeming to repel it.
Audley was the first to speak, and to put forth the right hand, which he
stole slowly from its place at his breast, on which the lock of hair
still stirred to and fro at the heave of the labouring heart. "William,"
said he, with his rich deep voice, "this is kind. You are come to see
me, now that men say that I am fallen. The minister you censured is no
more; and you see again the brother."
The squire was softened at once by this address. He shook heartily the
hand tendered to him; and then, turning away his head, with an honest
conviction that Audley ascribed to him a credit which he did not deserve,
he said, "No, no, Audley; I am more selfish than you think me. I have
come--I have come to ask your advice,--no, not exactly that--your
opinion. But you are busy?"
"Sit down, William. Old days were coining over me when you entered; days
earlier still return now,--days, too, that leave no shadow when their
suns are set."
The proud man seemed to think he had said too much. His practical nature
rebuked the poetic sentiment and phrase. He re-collected himself, and
added, more coldly, "You would ask my opinion? What on? Some public
matter--some parliamentary bill that may affect your property?"
"Am I such a mean miser as that? Property--property? what does property
matter, when a man is struck down at his own hearth? Property, indeed!
But you have no child--happy brother!"
"Ay, ay; as you say, I am a happy man; childless! Has your son
displeased you? I have heard him well spoken of, too."
"Don't talk of him. Whether his conduct be good or ill is my affair,"
resumed the poor father, with a testy voice--jealous alike of Audley's
praise or blame of his rebellious son. Then he rose a moment, and made
a strong gulp, as if for air; and laying his broad brown hand on his
brother's shoulder, said, "Randal Leslie tells me you are wise,--a
consummate man of the world. No doubt you are so. And Parson Dale tells
me that he is sure you have warm feelings,--which I take to be a strange
thing for one who has lived so long in London, and has no wife and no
child, a widower, and a member of parliament,--for a commercial city,
too. Never smile; it is no smiling matter with me. You know a foreign
woman, called Negra or Negro; not a blackymoor, though, by any means,--at
least on the outside of her. Is she such a woman as a plain country
gentleman would like his only son to marry--ay or no?"
"No, indeed," answered Audley, gravely; "and I trust your son will commit
no action so rash. Shall I see him, or her? Speak, my dear William.
What would you have me do?"
"Nothing; you have said enough," replied the squire, gloomily; and his
head sank on his breast.
Audley took his hand, and pressed it fraternally. "William," said the
statesman, "we have been long estranged; but I do not forget that when we
last met, at--at Lord Lansmere's house, and when I took you aside, and
said, 'William, if I lose this election, I must resign all chance of
public life; my affairs are embarrassed. I would not accept money from
you,--I would seek a profession, and you can help me there,' you divined
my meaning, and said, 'Take orders; the Hazeldean living is just vacant.
I will get some one to hold it till you are ordained.' I do not forget
that. Would that I had thought earlier of so serene an escape from all
that then tormented me! My lot might have been far happier."
The squire eyed Audley with a surprise that broke forth from his more
absorbing emotions. "Happier! Why, all things have prospered with you;
and you are rich enough now; and--you shake your head. Brother, is it
possible! do you want money? Pooh, not accept money from your mother's
son!--stuff!" Out came the squire's pocketbook. Audley put it gently
aside.
"Nay," said he, "I have enough for myself; but since you seek and speak
with me thus affectionately, I will ask you one favour. Should I die
before I can provide for my wife's kinsman, Randal Leslie, as I could
wish, will you see to his fortunes, so far as you can, without injury to
others,--to your own son?"
"My son! He is provided for. He has the Casino estate--much good may it
do him! You have touched on the very matter that brought me here. This
boy, Randal Leslie, seems a praiseworthy lad, and has Hazeldean blood in
his veins. You have taken him up because he is connected with your late
wife. Why should I not take him up, too, when his grandmother was a
Hazeldean? My main object in calling was to ask what you mean to do for
him; for if you do not mean to provide for him, why, I will, as in duty
bound. So your request comes at the right time; I think of altering my
will. I can put him into the entail, besides a handsome legacy. You are
sure he is a good lad,--and it will please you too, Audley!"
"But not at the expense of your son. And stay, William: as to this
foolish marriage with Madame di Negra,--who told you Frank meant to take
such a step?"
"He told me himself; but it is no matter. Randal and I both did all we
could to dissuade him; and Randal advised me to come to you."
"He has acted generously, then, our kinsman Randal--I am glad to hear
it," said Audley, his brow somewhat clearing. "I have no influence with
this lady; but, at least, I can counsel her. Do not consider the
marriage fixed because a young man desires it. Youth is ever hot and
rash."
"Your youth never was," retorted the squire, bluntly.
"You married well enough, I'm sure. I will say one thing for you: you
have been, to my taste, a bad politician--beg pardon--but you were always
a gentleman. You would never have disgraced your family and married a--"
"Hush!" interrupted Egerton, gently. "Do not make matters worse than
they are. Madame di Negra is of high birth in her own country; and if
scandal--"
"Scandal!" cried the squire, shrinking, and turning pale. "Are you
speaking of the wife of a Hazeldean? At least she shall never sit by the
hearth at which now sits his mother; and whatever I may do for Frank, her
children shall not succeed. No mongrel cross-breed shall kennel in
English Hazeldean. Much obliged to you, Audley, for your good feeling;
glad to have seen you; and hark ye, you startled me by that shake of your
head, when I spoke of your wealth; and from what you say about Randal's
prospects, I guess that you London gentlemen are not so thrifty as we
are. You shall let me speak. I say again, that I have some thousands
quite at your service. And though you are not a Hazeldean, still you are
my mother's son; and now that I am about to alter my will, I can as well
scratch in the name of Egerton as that of Leslie. Cheer up, cheer up:
you are younger than I am, and you have no child; so you will live longer
than I shall."
"My dear brother," answered Audley, "believe me, I shall never live to
want your aid. And as to Leslie, add to the L5,000 I mean to give him an
equal sum in your will, and I shall feel that he has received justice."
Observing that the squire, though he listened attentively, made no ready
answer, Audley turned the subject again to Frank; and with the adroitness
of a man of the world, backed by cordial sympathy in his brother's
distress, he pleaded so well Frank's lame cause, urged so gently the
wisdom of patience and delay, and the appeal to filial feeling rather
than recourse to paternal threats, that the squire grew mollified in
spite of himself, and left his brother's house a much less angry and less
doleful man.
Mr. Hazeldean was still in the Square, when he came upon Randal himself,
who was walking with a dark-whiskered, showy gentleman, towards Egerton's
house. Randal and the gentleman exchanged a hasty whisper, and the
former then exclaimed,
"What, Mr. Hazeldean, have you just left your brother's house? Is it
possible?"
"Why, you advised me to go there, and I did. I scarcely knew what I was
about. I am very glad I did go. Hang politics! hang the landed
interest! what do I care for either now?"
"Foiled with Madame di Negra?" asked Randal, drawing the squire aside.
"Never speak of her again!" cried the squire, fiercely. "And as to that
ungrateful boy--but I don't mean to behave harshly to him,--he shall have
money enough to keep her if he likes, keep her from coming to me, keep
him, too, from counting on my death, and borrowing post-obits on the
Casino--for he'll be doing that next--no, I hope I wrong him there; I
have been too good a father for him to count on my death already. After
all," continued the squire, beginning to relax, "as Audley says, the
marriage is not yet made; and if the woman has taken him in, he is young,
and his heart is warm. Make yourself easy, my boy. I don't forget how
kindly you took his part; and before I do anything rash, I'll at least
consult with his poor mother."
Randal gnawed his pale lip, and a momentary cloud of disappointment
passed over his face.
"True, sir," said he, gently; "true, you must not be rash. Indeed, I was
thinking of you and poor dear Frank at the very moment I met you. It
occurred to me whether we might not make Frank's very embarrassments a
reason to induce Madame di Negra to refuse him; and I was on my way to
Mr. Egerton, in order to ask his opinion, in company with the gentleman
yonder."
"Gentleman yonder. Why should he thrust his long nose into my family
affairs? Who the devil is he?"
"Don't ask, sir. Pray let me act."
But the squire continued to eye askant the dark-whiskered personage thus
interposed between himself and his son, and who waited patiently a few
yards in the rear, carelessly readjusting the camellia in his button-
hole.
"He looks very outlandish. Is he a foreigner too?" asked the squire at
last.
"No, not exactly. However, he knows all about Frank's embarrassments;
and--"
"Embarrassments! what, the debt he paid for that woman? How did he raise
the money?"
"I don't know," answered Randal; "and that is the reason I asked Baron
Levy to accompany me to Egerton's, that he might explain in private what
I have no reason--"
"Baron Levy!" interrupted the squire. "Levy, Levy--I have heard of a
Levy who has nearly ruined my neighbour Thornhill,--a money-lender.
Zounds! is that the man who knows my son's affairs? I'll soon learn,
sir."
Randal caught hold of the squire's arm: "Stop, stop; if you really insist
upon learning more about Frank's debts, you must not appeal to Baron Levy
directly, and as Frank's father: he will not answer you. But if I
present you to him as a mere acquaintance of mine, and turn the
conversation, as if carelessly, upon Frank, why, since, in the London
world, such matters are never kept secret, except from the parents of
young men, I have no doubt he will talk out openly."
"Manage it as you will," said the squire.
Randal took Mr. Hazeldean's arm, and joined Levy--"A friend of mine from
the country, Baron." Levy bowed profoundly, and the three walked slowly
on.
"By the by," said Randal, pressing significantly upon Levy's arm, "my
friend has come to town upon the somewhat unpleasant business of settling
the debts of another,--a young man of fashion,--a relation of his own.
No one, sir (turning to the squire), could so ably assist you in such
arrangements as could Baron Levy."
BARON (modestly, and with a moralizing air).--"I have some experience in
such matters, and I hold it a duty to assist the parents and relations of
young men who, from want of reflection, often ruin themselves for life.
I hope the young gentleman in question is not in the hands of the Jews?"
RANDAL.--"Christians are as fond of good interest for their money as ever
the Jews can be."
BARON.--"Granted, but they have not always so much money to lend. The
first thing, sir" (addressing the squire),--"the first thing for you to
do is to buy up such of your relation's bills and notes of hand as may be
in the market. No doubt we can get them a bargain, unless the young man
is heir to some property that may soon be his in the course of nature."
RANDAL.--"Not soon--Heaven forbid! His father is still a young man,--a
fine healthy man," leaning heavily on Levy's arm; "and as to
post-obits--"
BARON.--"Post-obits on sound security cost more to buy up, however
healthy the obstructing relative may be."
RANDAL.--"I should hope that there are not many sons who can calculate,
in cold blood, on the death of their fathers."
BARON.--"Ha, ha! He is young, our friend Randal; eh, sir?"
RANDAL.--"Well, I am not more scrupulous than others, I dare say; and I
have often been pinched hard for money, but I would go barefoot rather
than give security upon a father's grave! I can imagine nothing more
likely to destroy natural feeling, nor to instil ingratitude and
treachery into the whole character, than to press the hand of a parent,
and calculate when that hand may be dust; than to sit down with strangers
and reduce his life to the measure of an insurance-table; than to feel
difficulties gathering round one, and mutter in fashionable slang, 'But
it will be all well if the governor would but die.' And he who has
accustomed himself to the relief of post-obits must gradually harden his
mind to all this."
The squire groaned heavily; and had Randal proceeded another sentence in
the same strain, the squire would have wept outright. "But," continued
Randal, altering the tone of his voice, "I think that our young friend,
of whom we were talking just now, Levy, before this gentleman joined us,
has the same opinions as myself on this head. He may accept bills, but
he would never sign post-obits."
BARON (who, with the apt docility of a managed charger to the touch of a
rider's hand, had comprehended and complied with each quick sign of
Randal's).--"Pooh! the young fellow we are talking of? Nonsense. He
would not be so foolish as to give five times the percentage he otherwise
might. Not sign post-obits! Of course he has signed one."
RANDAL.--"Hist! you mistake, you mistake!"
SQUIRE (leaving Randal's arm and seizing Levy's).--"Were you speaking of
Frank Hazeldean?"
BARON.--"My dear sir, excuse me, I never mention names before strangers."
SQUIRE.--"Strangers again! Man, I am the boy's father Speak out, sir,"
and his hand closed on Levy's arm with the strength of an iron vice.
BARON.--"Gently; you hurt me, sir: but I excuse your feelings. Randal,
you are to blame for leading me into this indiscretion; but I beg to
assure Mr. Hazeldean, that though his son has been a little
extravagant--"
RANDAL.--"Owing chiefly to the arts of an abandoned woman."
BARON.--"Of an abandoned woman;--still he has shown more prudence than
you would suppose; and this very post-obit is a proof of it. A simple
act of that kind has enabled him to pay off bills that were running on
till they would have ruined even the Hazeldean estate; whereas a charge
on the reversion of the Casino--"
SQUIRE.--"He has done it then? He has signed a postobit?"
RANDAL.--"No, no, Levy must be wrong."
BARON.--"My dear Leslie, a man of Mr. Hazeldean's time of life cannot
have your romantic boyish notions. He must allow that Frank has acted in
this like a lad of sense--very good head for business has my young friend
Frank! And the best thing Mr. Hazeldean can do is quietly to buy up the
post-obit, and thus he will place his son henceforth in his power."
SQUIRE.--"Can I see the deed with my own eyes?"
BARON.--"Certainly, or how could you be induced to buy it up? But on one
condition; you must not betray me to your son. And, indeed, take my
advice, and don't say a word to him on the matter."
SQUIRE.--"Let me see it, let me see it with my own eyes! His mother else
will never believe it--nor will I."
BARON.--"I can call on you this evening."
SQUIRE.--"Now, now!"
BARON.--"You can spare me, Randal; and you yourself can open to Mr.
Egerton the other affair respecting Lansmere. No time should be lost,
lest L'Estrange suggest a candidate."
RANDAL (whispering).--"Never mind me. This is more important." (Aloud)
--"Go with Mr. Hazeldean. My dear kind friend" (to the squire), "do not
let this vex you so much. After all, it is what nine young men out of
ten would do in the same circumstances. And it is best you should know
it; you may save Frank from further ruin, and prevent, perhaps, this very
marriage."
"We will see," exclaimed the squire, hastily. "Now, Mr. Levy, come."
Levy and the squire walked on, not arm in arm, but side by side. Randal
proceeded to Egerton's house.
"I am glad to see you, Leslie," said the ex-minister. "What is it I have
heard? My nephew, Frank Hazeldean, proposes to marry Madame di Negra
against his father's consent? How could you suffer him to entertain an
idea so wild? And how never confide it to me?"
RANDAL.--"My dear Mr. Egerton, it is only to-day that I was informed of
Frank's engagement. I have already seen him, and expostulated in vain;
till then, though I knew your nephew admired Madame di Negra, I could
never suppose he harboured a serious intention."
EGERTON.--"I must believe you, Randal. I will myself see Madame di
Negra, though I have no power, and no right, to dictate to her. I have
but little time for all such private business. The dissolution of
parliament is so close at hand."
RANDAL (looking down).--"It is on that subject that I wished to speak to
you, sir. You think of standing for Lansmere. Well, Baron Levy has
suggested to me an idea that I could not, of course, even countenance,
till I had spoken to you. It seems that he has some acquaintance with
the state of parties in that borough. He is informed that it is not only
as easy to bring in two of our side as to carry one, but that it would
make your election still more safe not to fight single-handed against two
opponents; that if canvassing for yourself alone, you could not carry a
sufficient number of plumper votes; that split votes would go from you to
one or other of the two adversaries; that, in a word, it is necessary to
pair you with a colleague. If it really be so, you of course will learn
best from your own Committee; but should they concur in the opinion Baron
Levy has formed, do I presume too much on your kindness to deem it
possible that you might allow me to be the second candidate on your side?
I should not say this, but that Levy told me you had some wish to see me
in parliament, amongst the supporters of your policy. And what other
opportunity can occur? Here the cost of carrying two would be scarcely
more than that of carrying one. And Levy says the party would subscribe
for my election; you, of course, would refuse all such aid for your own;
and indeed, with your great name, and Lord Lansmere's interest, there can
be little beyond the strict legal expenses."
As Randal spoke thus at length, he watched anxiously his patron's
reserved, unrevealing countenance.
EGERTON (dryly).--"I will consider. You may safely leave in my hands any
matter connected with your ambition and advancement. I have before told
you I hold it a duty to do all in my power for the kinsman of my late
wife, for one whose career I undertook to forward, for one whom honour
has compelled to share in my own political reverses."
Here Egerton rang the bell for his hat and gloves, and walking into the
hall, paused at the street door. There beckoning to Randal, he said,
slowly, "You seem intimate with Baron Levy; I caution you against him,
--a dangerous acquaintance, first to the purse, next to the honour."
RANDAL.--"I know it, sir; and am surprised myself at the acquaintance
that has grown up between us. Perhaps its cause is in his respect for
yourself."
EGERTON.--"Tut."
RANDAL.---"Whatever it be, he contrives to obtain a singular hold over
one's mind, even where, as in my case, he has no evident interest to
serve. How is this? It puzzles me!"
EGERTON.--"For his interest, it is most secured where he suffers it to be
least evident; for his hold over the mind, it is easily accounted for.
He ever appeals to two temptations, strong with all men,--Avarice and
Ambition. Good-day."
RANDAL.--"Are you going to Madame di Negra's? Shall I not accompany you?
Perhaps I may be able to back your own remonstrances."
EGERTON.--"No, I shall not require you."
RANDAL.--"I trust I shall hear the result of your interview? I feel so
much interested in it. Poor Frank!"
Audley nodded. "Of course, of course."