"Oh!" cried the secretary, with a facetious air, "Mr. Vivian a.s.suredly knows, as well as we do, that--

'A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age, Whom all lord chamberlains allow the stage.'

But off the stage we lay aside heroics, or how should we ever get on?--Did you hear, my lord," continued the secretary, turning to Lord Glis...o...b..ry, "that there is another blue riband fallen in to us by the death of Lord G----?"

"I had a great regard for poor Lord G----. Many applications, I suppose, for the vacant riband?"

From the vacant riband they went on to talk over this man's pension and the other man's job; and considered who was to get such and such a place when such and such a person should resign or succeed to something better. Then all the miserable mysteries of ministerial craft were unveiled to Vivian's eyes. He had read, he had heard, he had believed, that public affairs were conducted in this manner; but he had never, till now, actually seen it: he was really novice enough still to feel surprise at finding that, after all the fine professions made on all sides, the main, the only object of these politicians, was to keep their own, or to get into the places of others. Vivian felt every moment his disgust and his melancholy increase. "And it is with these people I have consented to act! And am I to be hurried along by this stream of corruption to infamy and oblivion! Then Russell--"

Vivian resolved to retract the engagement he had just made with Lord Glis...o...b..ry and the secretary, and he waited only for a pause in their conversation to explain himself. But, before any pause occurred, more company came in,--the secretary hurried away, saying to Vivian, who would have stopped him at the door, "Oh, my dear sir, every thing is settled now, and you must be with us in the house to-night--and you will find the whole business will go on as smoothly as possible, if gentlemen will but act together, and strengthen the hands of government. I beg pardon for breaking away--but so many people are waiting for me--and any thing further we can settle when we meet in the house."

Lord Glis...o...b..ry also refused to listen to farther explanations--said that all was settled, and that it was impossible to make any recantations.

CHAPTER XV.

The hour of going to the House of Commons at length arrived; Lord Glis...o...b..ry saw that Vivian was so much out of spirits, and in such confusion of mind, that he began to fear that our hero's own account of himself was just, and that he would not be able to command ideas, or even words, when he was to speak in opposition to what he called his principles and his conscience. "This son of mine, instead of being our great Apollo, will be a dead weight on our hands, unless we can contrive to raise his spirits."

So, to raise his spirits, Lord Glis...o...b..ry accompanied him to the coffee-room of the house, and insisted upon his taking some refreshment before he should attempt to speak. His lordship _fortified_ him with b.u.mper after b.u.mper, till at last Vivian came up to the speaking point.

He took his seat in his new place in the house, and, endeavouring to brave away the sense of shame, rose to speak. Notwithstanding the a.s.sistance of the wine, and the example of Mr. Marmaduke Lidhurst, who spoke before him with undaunted a.s.surance, Vivian could scarcely get on with a hesitating, confused, inconsistent speech, uttered in so low and indistinct a voice, that the reporters in the gallery complained that they could not catch this honourable member's meaning, or that his words did not reach them. Conscious of his failure, and still more conscious of its cause, he retired again to the coffee-room as soon as he had finished speaking, and again Lord Glis...o...b..ry plied him with wine, saying that he would find he would _do very well in reply_ presently.

It happened that Lord Glis...o...b..ry was called away--Vivian remained. Mr.

Wharton, with a party of his friends, entered the coffee-room. Wharton seemed much heated both with wine and anger--he was talking eagerly to the gentlemen with him, and he p.r.o.nounced the words, "Infamous conduct!--Shabby!--Paltry fellow!" so loud, that all the coffee-room turned to listen. Colonel S----, a gentleman who was one of Wharton's party, but who had a good opinion of Vivian, at this moment took him by the arm, and, drawing him aside, whispered, in confidence, that he was persuaded there had been some _mistake_ in the arrangements, which, as it was reported, Lord Glis...o...b..ry had just made with the ministry, for that Mr. Wharton and many of his lordship's former party, complained of having been shamefully deserted. "And to break our word and honour to our party, is a thing no gentleman _can_ do. Wharton had a direct promise from his lordship, that he never would _come in_ till he should _come in_ along with him. And now it is confidently said, that Lord Glis...o...b..ry has made his bargain for his own marquisate, and provided only for himself, his nephew, and his son-in-law."

Thrown into the utmost consternation by the idea of this double forfeiture of honour, this breach both of public and private faith, Vivian, after thanking Colonel S---- for his friendly manner of communicating this information, and declaring that the transaction was totally unknown to him, begged that the colonel would do him the favour and the justice to be present when he should require an explanation from Lord Glis...o...b..ry. To this Colonel S---- consented, and they hastened in search of his lordship: his lordship was not to be found; but Mr.

Marmaduke Lidhurst was, however, in the coffee-room, and upon Vivian's referring to him, he could not deny the truth of the charge, though he used all his powers of circ.u.mlocution to evade giving a direct answer.

The shame, the indignation, that rapidly succeeded to each other in Vivian's countenance, sufficiently convinced Colonel S---- that he had no share in the _private_ part of this disgraceful transaction; and he very handsomely a.s.sured Vivian, that he would set the matter in its true point of view with his friends. Marmaduke soon found a pretence to withdraw--some member was speaking in the house, whom he must hear, he said, and away he went.

At this moment Mr. Wharton, who was walking down the room with his friends, pa.s.sed by Vivian, and, as he pa.s.sed, said,

"That _private vices are public benefits_, we all know; but that public vices are private benefits, some of us, alas! have yet to learn. But I'd have that little, whiffling, _most n.o.ble and puissant prince_ expectant, his majesty's _right trusty and entirely beloved cousin_ elect, know, that plain Bob Wharton is not a man to be duped and deserted with impunity."

"Whom does he mean?--What does he mean?" whispered some of the bystanders. "What prince is he talking of?--Which of the princes?"

"Oh! none of the princes," replied another. "You know _most n.o.ble and puissant prince_ is the t.i.tle of a marquis, and _our right trusty and entirely beloved cousin_, the style in which the king writes to him."

"But who is this marquis expectant?"

"Don't you know?--Lord Glis...o...b..ry."

"But some of his lordship's friends ought to take it up, surely."

"Hush!--his son-in-law will hear you."

"Where?"

"There--don't look!"

Vivian was, with reason, so much exasperated by the treacherous duplicity of Lord Glis...o...b..ry's conduct, that he was ill inclined to undertake his lordship's defence, and determined to leave it to himself, or to his nephew; yet the whispers operated not a little upon his weakness. Wharton, who was walking with his set up and down the room, again came within Vivian's hearing, and, as he pa.s.sed, exclaimed, "_Public vice!_ and _public virtue!_ precious, well-matched pair!"

"Who is _public vice_, and who is _public virtue_?" said one of Wharton's companions.

"Don't you know?" replied Wharton: "the heir-at-law and the son-in-law."

On hearing this speech, Vivian, who knew that he was one of the persons to whom it alluded, started forward to demand an explanation from Wharton: but Colonel S---- held him back. "You are not called upon, by any means, to take notice of this," said the colonel: "Wharton did not address himself to you, and though he might mean what he said for you, yet he speaks under a false impression; and besides, he is not quite sober. Leave it to me, and I will settle it all to your satisfaction before to-morrow." Vivian listened unwillingly and uneasily to the friendly counsel: he was more hurt than he had ever before felt himself by any of Wharton's sarcasms, because there was now in them a mixture of truth; and a man seldom feels more irritable than when he is conscious that he is partly to blame, and apprehensive that others will think him more blameable than he really is. His irritability was increased by the whispers he had heard, and the looks he now perceived among the bystanders: the voice, the opinion of numbers, the fear of what others would think or say, operated against his better judgment.

"Come," said Colonel S----, "let us go and see what they are doing in the house."

Vivian refused to stir, saying that it would be leaving the field to Wharton. Wharton at this instant repa.s.sed; and still running the changes, with half-intoxicated wit, upon the same ideas, reiterated, "_Public vice!_--We all knew where _that_ would end in these days--in public honours; but none of you would believe me, when I told you where _public virtue_ would end--in private treachery!"

"That's neat!--that's strong!--faith, that's home!" whispered some one.

"Mr. Wharton!" cried Vivian, going up to him, "I could not help hearing what you said just now--did you intend it for me?"

"You heard it, it seems, sir, and that is sufficient," replied Wharton, in an insolent tone: "as to what I meant, I presume it is pretty evident; but, if you think it requires any explanation, I am as ready to give as you can be to ask it."

"The sooner the better, then, sir," said Vivian. The two gentlemen walked away together, whilst the spectators exclaimed, "Very spirited indeed!--very right!--very proper!--Vivian could do no less than call him out. But, after all, what was the quarrel about? Which of them was to blame?"

Long before these points were settled, the challenge was given and accepted. Colonel S----, who followed Vivian and Wharton, endeavoured to set things to rights, by explaining that Vivian had been deceived by Lord Glis...o...b..ry, and kept totally in the dark respecting the negotiation for the marquisate. But Wharton, aware that by _taking up the matter immediately in such a spirited way_ he should do himself infinite honour with his party, and with that majority of the world who think that the greatest merit of a man is to stand to be shot at, was not at all willing to listen to these representations. Colonel S----declared that, were he in Mr. Wharton's place, he should, without hesitation, make an apology to Mr. Vivian, and publicly acknowledge that what he said in the coffee-room was spoken under a false impression, which a plain statement of facts had totally removed: but Wharton disdained all terms of accommodation; his policy, pride, and desire of revenge, all conspired to produce that air of insolent determination to fight, which, with some people, would obtain the glorious name of COURAGE. By this sort of courage can men of the most base and profligate characters often put themselves in a moment upon an equal footing with men of principle and virtue!

It was settled that Mr. Wharton and Vivian should meet, at eight o'clock the next morning, in a field near town. Colonel S---- consented to be Vivian's second. Russell was not yet returned--not expected till ten the next day.

Left to his cool reflection, Vivian thought with horror of the misery into which the event of this duel might involve all with whom he was connected, and all who were attached to him. The affair was of course to be kept a secret from all at Glis...o...b..ry House, where Vivian was engaged to dine with a large ministerial party. He went home to dress, hoping to have a quarter of an hour to himself; but, on entering his own dressing-room, he, to his surprise and mortification, found his wife seated there, waiting for him with a face of anxious expectation; a case of newly-set diamonds on a table beside her. "I thought you were at your father's, my dear: are you not to be at Glis...o...b..ry House to-day?" said Vivian.

"No," replied Lady Sarah. "Surely, Mr. Vivian, you know that my father gives a political dinner, and I suppose you are to be there?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Vivian; "I did not know what I was saying--I am to be there, and must dress (looking at his watch), for I have no time to spare."

"Be that as it may, I must intrude upon your time for a few minutes,"

said Lady Sarah.

Vivian stood impatiently attentive, whilst Lady Sarah seemed to find it difficult to begin some speech which she had prepared.

"Women, I know, have nothing to do with politics," she began in a constrained voice; but, suddenly quitting her air and tone of constraint, she started up and exclaimed, "Oh, my dear, _dear_ husband!

what have you done?--No, no, I cannot, will not believe it, till I hear it from your OWN lips!"

"What is the matter, my dear Lady Sarah?--You astonish and almost alarm me!" said Vivian, endeavouring to preserve composure of countenance.

"I will not--Heaven forbid that I should alarm you as I have been alarmed!" said Lady Sarah, commanding her voice again to a tone of tranquillity. "I ought, and, if I were not weak, should be convinced that there is no reason for alarm. There has been some mistake, no doubt; and I have been to blame for listening to idle reports. Let me, however, state the facts. Half an hour ago, I was at Gray's the jeweller's, to call for my poor mother's diamonds, which, you know, he has reset----"

"Yes--Well!"

"And whilst I was in the shop, a party of gentlemen came in, all of them unknown to me, and, of course, I was equally unknown to them; for they began to speak of you in a manner in which none knowing me could venture in my presence. They said--I cannot bear to repeat or to think of what they said--you cannot have bartered your public reputation for a marquisate for my father!--You cannot have done that which is dishonourable--you cannot have deserted your party for a paltry place for yourself!--You turn pale.--I wish, if it pleased G.o.d, that I was this moment in my grave!"

"Heaven forbid, my dear Lady Sarah!" cried Vivian, forcing a smile, and endeavouring to speak in a tone of raillery. "Why should you wish to be in your grave, because your husband has just got a good warm place?

Live! live!" said he, raising her powerless hand; "for consider--as I did--and this consideration was of no small weight with me--consider, my dear Sarah, how much better you will live for it!"