Audley! Pooh! your frame is that of a predestined octogenarian."

"Nay," answered Audley, "I was but uttering one of those vague
generalities which are common upon all mortal lips. And now farewell,--
I must see this baron."

"Not yet, until you have promised to consent to my proposal, and be once
more member for Lansmere. Tut! don't shake your head. I cannot be
denied. I claim your promise in right of our friendship, and shall be
seriously hurt if you even pause to reflect on it."

"Well, well, I know not how to refuse you, Harley; but you have not been
to Lansmere yourself since--since that sad event. You must not revive
the old wound,--you must not go; and--and, I own it, Harley, the
remembrance of it pains even me. I would rather not go to Lansmere."

"Ah, my friend, this is an excess of sympathy, and I cannot listen to it.
I begin even to blame my own weakness, and to feel that we have no right
to make ourselves the soft slaves of the past."

"You do appear to me of late to have changed," cried Egerton, suddenly,
and with a brightening aspect. "Do tell me that you are happy in the
contemplation of your new ties,--that I shall live to see you once more
restored to your former self."

"All I can answer, Audley," said L'Estrange, with a thoughtful brow, "is,
that you are right in one thing,--I am changed; and I am struggling to
gain strength for duty and for honour. Adieu! I shall tell my father
that you accede to our wishes."