"And you did consider me? And that _did_ weigh with you?"

"--Oh, this is what I dreaded most!" cried Lady Sarah.--"When will you know my real character? When will you have confidence in your wife, sir?

When will you know the power, the unconquered, unconquerable power of her affection for you?"

Vivian, much struck by the strength of her expression as she uttered these words, was a moment silent in astonishment; and then could only, in an incoherent manner, protest, that he did know--that he had always done justice to her character--that he believed in her affection--and had the greatest confidence in its power.

"No, sir, no!--Do not say that which I cannot credit!--You have not confidence in the power of my affection, or you would never have done this thing to save me pain. What pain can be so great to me as the thought of my husband's reputation suffering abas.e.m.e.nt?--Do you think that, in comparison with this, I, your wife, could put the loss of a service of plate, or house in town, or equipage, or servants, or such baubles as these?" added she, her eyes glancing upon the diamonds; then, s.n.a.t.c.hing them up, "Take them, take them!" cried she; "they were my mother's; and if her spirit could look down from heaven upon us she would approve my offer--she would command your acceptance. Then here on my knees I conjure you, my beloved husband, take them--sell them--sell plate, furniture, house, equipage, sell every thing rather than your honour!"

"It is sold," said Vivian, in a voice of despair.

"Redeem it, redeem it at any price!" cried Lady Sarah. "No! I will kneel here at your feet--you shall not raise me--till I have obtained this promise, this justice to me, to yourself!"

"It is too late," said Vivian, writhing in agony.

"Never too late," cried Lady Sarah. "Give up the place.--Never too late!--Give up the place--write this moment, and all will be well; for your honour will be saved, and the rest is as nothing in my eyes!"

"High-minded woman!" cried Vivian: "why did not I hear you sooner? Why did not I avail myself of your strength of soul?"

"Use it now--hear me now--let us waste no time in words--here is a pen and ink--write, my dearest husband! and be yourself again."

"You waste the energy of your mind on me," cried Vivian, breaking from Lady Sarah, and striking his forehead violently; "I am not worthy of such attachment! It is done--it cannot be undone: I am a weak, ruined, dishonoured wretch!--I tell you, it CANNOT be undone!"

Lady Sarah rose, and stood in despair. Then, looking up to heaven, she was silent for some moments. After which, approaching her husband, she said, in an altered, calm voice, "Since it cannot be undone, I will urge you no more. But, whether in glory or in shame, you are secure that your wife will abide by you."

Vivian embraced her with a tenderness which he had never before felt.

"Excellent woman! in justice to myself, I must tell you," cried he, "that I was deceived into this situation. I CAN say no more!"

At this moment a servant knocked at the door, bringing a message from Lord Glis...o...b..ry, to say that all the company were a.s.sembled, and that dinner waited for Mr. Vivian.

"You are not in a fit state to go. Shall I send an apology to my father?"

"Oh, no! I must go," cried Vivian, starting up, "I must go, or it will be thought--or it will be suspected--I can't explain it to you, my dear; but I must go--I must _appear_ to-day, and in spirits too, if possible."

He hurried away. A servant delivered to Lady Sarah a number of notes and cards. The notes were notes of congratulation, from many of her acquaintance, upon the report in circulation, that her father was immediately to be a marquis. The cards were from people who were to be at her a.s.sembly that night. This was one of _her nights_, which were usually crowded. Lady Sarah's first wish was to write apologies, and to say that she was not well enough to see company; but, recollecting that her husband had said, "he must _appear_, and in spirits, too, if possible," she thought that it might be more for their interest, and according to his wishes, that she should see company, and that no appearance of dejection should be discerned in his wife. She prepared herself accordingly, and, with a heavy heart, walked through her splendid apartments, to see whether the decorations had been properly executed.

In the mean time Vivian dined at Lord Glis...o...b..ry's, with a large ministerial party. As soon as he could, after dinner, Vivian got away; and Lord Glis...o...b..ry attributed his retiring early to the awkwardness he might feel in the company of men whom he had, till now, so violently opposed. This his lordship thought a foolish _young man's feeling,_ which would soon wear away. Vivian returned home, anxious to escape from crowds, and to have some hours of leisure to pa.s.s alone; but, the moment he entered his own house, he saw the great staircase lined with roses and orange-trees; he found the rooms lighted up and prepared for company; and Lady Sarah dressed, for the first time, in all her mother's diamonds.

"Good Heavens!--Do you see company to-night?" cried he.

"Yes; for I thought, my dear, that you would wish it."

"I wish it!--Oh! if you knew how I wish to be alone!"

"Then, as no one is yet come, I can still shut my doors, and order them to say that I am not well enough to see company--I am sure it is true.

Shall I?"

"No, my dear, it is too late," said Vivian: "I am afraid it is impossible for you to do that."

"Not impossible, if you wish it."

"Well, do as you please."

"Which is most for your interest? I have no other pleasure."

"You are too good to me, and I fear I shall never have it in my power to show you any grat.i.tude----"

"But decide which is best to be done, my dear," said Lady Sarah.

"Why, my dear, I believe you judged rightly--see your friends, and make the best of it: but I can appear only for a moment; I have business of consequence--letters--papers--that must be finished to-night; and I must go now to my study."

"You shall not be interrupted," said Lady Sarah: "I will exert myself as much as possible."

A tremendous knock at the door.--Vivian pa.s.sed through the saloon, and gained his study, where, after remaining for some time in painful reflection, he was roused by hearing the clock strike twelve. He recollected that he had several arrangements to make in his affairs this night; and that it was inc.u.mbent on him to sign and execute a will, which had been for some time in his possession, with certain blanks not yet filled up. His wife was, by his marriage settlements, amply provided for; but he inserted in his will some clauses which he thought would add to her peculiar comfort, and took care to word them so that his respect and esteem should be known hereafter to all the world; and that, if he died, he should leave her the consolation of knowing that his last feelings for her were those of grat.i.tude and affection. To his mother he left all that was in his power to contribute to the ease of her declining years--often obliged to pause whilst he wrote, overcome by the thoughts of what her grief would be if he died. He left his friend Russell _in remainder_, to a considerable part of his estate; and he was just adding the bequest of certain books, which they had read together in his better days, when the door of the study suddenly opened, and his mother entered.

"What is all this?" cried she: "immersed in papers at such a time as this!"

"I so hate crowded a.s.semblies," said Vivian, huddling his papers together, and advancing to meet his mother.

"So do I," said Lady Mary; "but I have been waiting with exemplary patience where I was stationed by Lady Sarah, at the card-table, every instant expecting your arrival, that I might have a few minutes'

conversation with you, and inquire how matters went on at the house, and congratulate----"

Before she had finished the word _congratulate_, she stopped short; for she had, by this time, a full view of her son's countenance: and she knew that countenance so well, that it was impossible to disguise it so as to deceive her maternal penetration.

"My dear son!" said she, "something is going wrong: I conjure you, tell me what is the matter!"--Her eye glanced upon the parchments, and she saw that it was a will. Vivian forced a laugh; and asked her if she had the weakness some people felt, of disliking to see a will, or of fancying that a man was going to die if he made his will. Then, to quiet her apprehensions, and to put a stop to her farther inquiries, he threw aside his papers, and returned with her to the company, where he exerted himself to appear as gay as the occasion required. Lord Glis...o...b..ry, who had called in for a few moments, was now playing the great man, as well as his total want of dignity of mind and manners would permit; he was answering, in whispers, questions about his marquisate, and sustaining with all his might his new part of the friend of government. Every thing conspired to strike Vivian with melancholy--yet he constrained himself so far, that his _charming spirits_ delighted all who were uninterested in observing any but the external signs of gaiety; but his mother saw that his vivacity was forced. She made inquiries from all the gentlemen of her acquaintance about what had pa.s.sed the preceding day both at the House of Commons, and to-day at the dinner at Lord Glis...o...b..ry's: but those who had been at Lord Glis...o...b..ry's dinner a.s.sured her that every thing had been as amicable as could be; and his ministerial friends said that every thing had gone on as smoothly as possible at the house: of what had pa.s.sed between Mr. Wharton and Vivian in the coffee-room _n.o.body could_ give her an account. Baffled, but not satisfied, the anxious mother sent to the hotel where Mr. Russell lodged, to inquire whether he was returned to town, and to beg to see him immediately. From him, she thought, she should learn the truth; or, by his influence over her son, she hoped that, if there was any danger of a quarrel, it might be in time prevented. Her servant, however, brought word that Mr. Russell was not expected from the country till ten o'clock the next morning; but that her note would be given to him directly on his arrival. She applied herself next to the study of her daughter's countenance, whilst she asked two or three questions, calculated to discover whether Lady Sarah was under any anxiety about Vivian. But though Lady Sarah's countenance exhibited not the slightest variation under this trial, yet this tranquillity was by no means decisively satisfactory; because, whatever might be her internal agitation, she knew that Lady Sarah _could_ maintain the same countenance. Lady Sarah, who plainly discerned her mother's anxious curiosity, thought it her duty to keep her husband's secrets; and, imagining that she knew the whole truth, was not farther alarmed by these hints, nor did they lead her to suspect the real state of the case.

Lady Mary was at length tolerably well satisfied, by a conversation with her son; during the course of which she settled in her imagination that he had only been inserting in his will a bequest to his friend Russell; and that the depression of his spirits arose from the struggle he had had in determining to vote against his patriotic ideas. She rose to depart; and Vivian, as he conducted her down stairs, and put her into her carriage, could scarcely repress his feelings; and he took so tender a leave of her, that all her apprehensions revived; but there was a cry of "_Lady--somebody's_ carriage!" and Lady Mary's coachman drove on immediately, without giving her time for one word more. After his mother's departure, Vivian, instead of returning to the company, went to his study, and took this opportunity of finishing his will; but as the servants were all in attendance at supper he could not get any body to witness it; and for this he was obliged to wait till a very late hour, when all the company at last departed. The rattle of carriages at length died away; and when all was silence, just as he was about to ring for his witnesses, he heard Lady Sarah's step coming along the corridor towards the study: he went out immediately to meet her, drew her arm within his affectionately, and took two or three turns with her, up and down the empty saloon, whilst a servant was extinguishing the lights.

Vivian's mind was so full that he could not speak; and he was scarcely conscious that he had not spoken, till Lady Sarah broke the silence by asking if he had finished his business.

"No, my dear, I have more to do yet; but you will oblige me if you will go to rest--you must be fatigued--mind and body."

"_You_ seem fatigued almost to death," said Lady Sarah: "and cannot you finish the remainder of your business as well to-morrow?"

"No," replied Vivian; "it must be finished before to-morrow. I am bound in duty to finish it before to-morrow."

"If it is a point of duty, I have no more to say," replied Lady Sarah; "but," continued she, in a tone of proud humility, "but if I might so far intrude upon your confidence, as to inquire----"

"Make no inquiries, my dear; for I cannot answer any, even of yours,"

said Vivian. "And let me beg of you to go to rest; my mind will then be more at ease. I cannot command my thoughts whilst I am anxious about you; and I am anxious--more anxious than ever I was in my life--about you at this moment. You will oblige me if you will go to rest."

"I CANNOT rest, but I will leave you, since you desire it--I have no idle curiosity--Good night!"

"Good night! and thank you once more, my excellent wife, for all your kindness."

"There cannot be a better woman!" said Vivian to himself as she retired.

"Why have I not loved her as she deserved to be loved? If I live, I will do my utmost to make her happy--if I live, I will yet repair all. And, if I die, she will have but little reason to deplore the loss of such a husband."

Vivian now executed his will--wrote several letters of business--burnt letters and arranged papers--regretted that Russell, who was to be his executor, was not near him--made many bitter reflections on the past, many good resolutions for the future, in case he should survive; then, overpowered with fatigue of mind, slept for some time, and was awakened by the clock striking seven. By eight o'clock he was at the place appointed--Mr. Wharton appeared a few minutes afterwards. Their seconds having measured out the distance, they took their ground. As Vivian had given the challenge, Wharton had the first fire. He fired--Vivian staggered some paces back, fired his pistol into the air, and fell.

The seconds ran to his a.s.sistance, and raised him from the ground. The bullet had entered his chest. He stretched out his hand to Mr. Wharton in token of forgiveness, and, as soon as he could speak, desired the seconds to remember that it was he who gave the challenge, and that he thought he deserved to bear the blame of the quarrel. Wharton, callous as he was, seemed struck with pity and remorse: he asked what friends Vivian would wish to have apprised of his situation. A surgeon was in attendance. Vivian, faint from loss of blood, just p.r.o.nounced Russell's name, and the name of the hotel where he was to be found, adding "_n.o.body else_." Wharton rode off, undertaking to find Mr. Russell; and Vivian was carried into a little public-house, by the orders of the surgeon, who thought that he could not bear the motion of a carriage.

Wharton met Mr. Russell, who was coming from town. He had come to London earlier than he had intended, and, in consequence of Lady Mary Vivian's note, which he had received immediately on his arrival, had made such inquiries as convinced him that her apprehensions were just; and having discovered the place where the parties were to meet, he had hastened thither, in hopes of preventing the fatal event. The moment he saw Mr.