me. Here we are at my office. Good-by; and--and pray believe that, in
whatever you do with Levy, I have no hand in it."




CHAPTER XI.

Towards the evening, Randal was riding fast on the road to Norwood. The
arrival of Harley, and the conversation that had passed between that
nobleman and Randal, made the latter anxious to ascertain how far
Riccabocca was likely to learn L'Estrange's return to England, and to
meet with him. For he felt that, should the latter come to know that
Riccabocca, in his movements, had gone by Randal's advice. Harley would
find that Randal had spoken to him disingenuously; and on the other hand,
Riccabocca, placed under the friendly protection of Lord L'Estrange,
would no longer need Randal Leslie to defend him from the machinations of
Peschiera. To a reader happily unaccustomed to dive into the deep and
mazy recesses of a schemer's mind, it might seem that Randal's interest
in retaining a hold over the exile's confidence would terminate with the
assurances that had reached him, from more than one quarter, that
Violante might cease to be an heiress if she married himself. "But
perhaps," suggests some candid and youthful conjecturer,--"perhaps Randal
Leslie is in love with this fair creature?" Randal in love!--no! He was
too absorbed by harder passions for that blissful folly. Nor, if he
could have fallen in love, was Violante the one to attract that sullen,
secret heart; her instinctive nobleness, the very stateliness of her
beauty, womanlike though it was, awed him. Men of that kind may love
some soft slave,--they cannot lift their eyes to a queen. They may look
down,--they cannot lookup. But on the one hand, Randal could not resign