Randal passed a sleepless night; but, indeed, he was one of those persons
who neither need, nor are accustomed to, much sleep. However, towards
morning, when dreams are said to be prophetic, he fell into a most
delightful slumber, a slumber peopled by visions fitted to lure on,
through labyrinths of law, predestined chancellors, or wreck upon the
rocks of glory the inebriate souls of youthful ensigns; dreams from which
Rood Hall emerged crowned with the towers of Belvoir or Raby, and looking
over subject lands and manors wrested from the nefarious usurpation of
Thornhills and Hazeldeans; dreams in which Audley Egerton's gold and
power, rooms in Downing Street, and saloons in Grosvenor Square, had
passed away to the smiling dreamer, as the empire of Chaldaea passed to
Darius the Median. Why visions so belying the gloomy and anxious
thoughts that preceded them should visit the pillow of Randal Leslie,
surpasses my philosophy to conjecture. He yielded, however, passively to
their spell, and was startled to hear the clock strike eleven as he
descended the stairs to breakfast. He was vexed at the lateness of the
hour, for he had meant to have taken advantage of the unwonted softness
of Egerton, and drawn therefrom some promises or proffers to cheer the
prospects which the minister had so chillingly expanded before him the
preceding night; and it was only at breakfast that he usually found the
opportunity of private conference with his busy patron. But Audley
Egerton would be sure to have sallied forth; and so he had, only Randal
was surprised to hear that he had gone out in his carriage, instead of on
foot, as was his habit. Randal soon despatched his solitary meal, and
with a new and sudden affection for his office, thitherwards bent his
way. As he passed through Piccadilly, he heard behind a voice that had
lately become familiar to him, and turning round, saw Baron Levy walking
side by side, though not arm-in-arm, with a gentleman almost as smart as
himself, but with a jauntier step and a brisker air,--a step that, like
Diomed's, as described by Shakspeare,--
"Rises on the toe; that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth."
Indeed, one may judge of the spirits and disposition of a man by his
ordinary gait and mien in walking. He who habitually pursues abstract
thought looks down on the ground. He who is accustomed to sudden
impulses, or is trying to seize upon some necessary recollection, looks
up with a kind of jerk. He who is a steady, cautious, merely practical
man, walks on deliberately, his eyes straight before him; and, even in
his most musing moods, observes things around sufficiently to avoid a
porter's knot or a butcher's tray. But the man with strong ganglions--of
pushing, lively temperament, who, though practical, is yet speculative;
the man who is emulous and active, and ever trying to rise in life;
sanguine, alert, bold--walks with a spring, looks rather above the heads
of his fellow-passengers, but with a quick, easy turn of his own, which
is lightly set on his shoulders; his mouth is a little open, his eye is
bright, rather restless, but penetrative, his port has something of
defiance, his form is erect, but without stiffness. Such was the
appearance of the baron's companion. And as Randal turned round at
Levy's voice, the baron said to his companion, "A young man in the first
circles--you should book him for your fair lady's parties. How d' ye do,
Mr. Leslie? Let me introduce you to Mr. Richard Avenel." Then, as he
hooked his arm into Randal's, he whispered, "Man of first-rate talent,
monstrous rich, has two or three parliamentary seats in his pocket, wife
gives parties,--her foible."
"Proud to make your acquaintance, sir," said Mr. Avenel, lifting his hat.
"Fine day."
"Rather cold too," said Leslie, who, like all thin persons with weak
digestions, was chilly by temperament; besides, lie had enough on his
mind to chill his body.
"So much the healthier,--braces the nerves," said Mr. Avenel; "but you
young fellows relax the system by hot rooms and late hours. Fond of
dancing, of course, sir?" Then, without waiting for Randal's negative,
Mr. Richard continued rapidly, "Mrs. Avenel has a /soiree dansante/ on
Thursday,--shall be very happy to see you in Eaton Square. Stop, I have
a card;" and he drew out a dozen large invitation-cards, from which he
selected one, and presented it to Randal. The baron pressed that young
gentleman's arm, and Randal replied courteously that it would give him
great pleasure to be introduced to Mrs. Avenel. Then, as he was not
desirous to be seen under the wing of Baron Levy, like a pigeon under
that of a hawk, he gently extricated himself, and pleading great haste,
walked quickly on towards his office.
"That young man will make a figure some day," said the baron. "I don't
know any one of his age with so few prejudices. He is a connection by
marriage to Audley Egerton, who--"
"Audley Egerton!" exclaimed Mr. Avenel; "a d---d haughty, aristocratic,
disagreeable, ungrateful fellow!"
"Why, what do you know of him?"
"He owed his first seat in parliament to the votes of two near relations
of mine, and when I called upon him some time ago, in his office, he
absolutely ordered me out of the room. Hang his impertinence; if ever I
can pay him off, I guess I sha'n't fail for want of good will!"
"Ordered you out of the room? That's not like Egerton, who is civil, if
formal,--at least to most men. You must have offended him in his weak
point."
"A man whom the public pays so handsomely should have no weak point.
What is Egerton's?"
"Oh, he values himself on being a thorough gentleman,--a man of the
nicest honour," said Levy, with a sneer. "You must have ruffled his
plumes there. How was it?"
"I forget," answered Mr. Avenel, who was far too well versed in the
London scale of human dignities since his marriage, not to look back with
a blush at his desire of knighthood. "No use bothering our heads now
about the plumes of an arrogant popinjay. To return to the subject we
were discussing: you must be sure to let me have this money next week."
"Rely on it."
"And you'll not let my bills get into the market; keep them under lock
and key."
"So we agreed."
"It is but a temporary difficulty,--royal mourning, such nonsense; panic
in trade, lest these precious ministers go out. I shall soon float over
the troubled waters."
"By the help of a paper boat," said the baron, laughing; and the two
gentlemen shook hands and parted.