“Do not reproach yourself,” said Selina in a sweet voice; but the voice, though sweet, was so altered to him, that it threw him into despair. “It is my wish, not to inflict, but to spare you pain. I have, therefore, desired to see you as soon as possible, that you might not form false expectations.”
“Then you no longer love me, Selina? Now, after all I have suffered, you have the cruelty to tell me so? And you, who could form my character to every thing that is good and honourable; you, who alone could restore me to myself—you reject, you cast me from you for ever?”
“I have suffered much,” said Selina, in a trembling voice, “since we parted.”
Vivian’s eye quickly ran over her face and whole form as she spoke these words; and he saw, indeed, traces of sickness and suffering: with the idea of his power over her affections, his hopes revived; he seized the feeble hand, which lay motionless; but she withdrew it decidedly, and his hopes again forsook him, when she gently raised her head, and continued to speak, “I have suffered much since we parted, Mr. Vivian; and I hope you will spare me unnecessary and useless pain in this interview: painful to a certain degree it must be to both of us; for I cannot, even now that all feelings of passion have subsided, and that the possibility of my being united to you is past, tell you so, with all the composure which I had expected to do; nor with all the firmness of voice and manner which is necessary, perhaps, to convince you of the truth, and to restore your mind to itself.”
“The possibility of my being united to you is past!—Why?” interrupted Vivian, incapable of understanding or listening to any thing else, till this question was answered.
“Do not force me to what may seem like cruel reproach; but let it suffice for me to say, that my sentiments have been so much altered by a year’s experience, that it is impossible for me ever to become your wife. My love was founded on esteem. I had, indeed, always fears of the instability of your character; therefore, I put your resolution to the proof: the event has proved to me that my fears were but too just. I speak with difficulty; for I cannot easily give you so much pain as I know that I am inflicting at this moment. But,” resumed she, in a more resolute tone, “it is absolutely necessary for your future peace of mind, as well as for my own, that I should convince you I am sincere, perfectly sincere, at this moment; that I know my own heart; that my determination has not been hastily formed, and cannot be altered. The deliberate manner in which I now speak to you will, I hope, persuade you of this truth. And if I have hesitated, or showed any agitation in this interview, attribute it to its real cause—the weakness of my health; feebleness of body, not of mind.”
She rose to leave the room; but Vivian detained her, beseeching her, with all the eloquence of passion in despair, to hear him but for one moment; whilst he urged that there was no probability of his ever relapsing into errors from which he had suffered so much; that now his character was formed by adversity; and that such was the power which Selina possessed over his heart, that a union with her would, at this crisis, decide his fate; that her steadiness would give stability to his resolutions; and that his gratitude would so increase his affection, that he should have the strongest possible motives to make her a good husband; that when he was happy in domestic life, he should feel every energy of his mind revive; that he should exert all his powers to distinguish himself, and to justify the choice of the woman he adored.
In spite of the word adored, which has usually such power to confound female judgment, Selina perceived that all he said was merely a repetition of his former arguments, of which experience had proved the insufficiency. She was aware that, if before marriage his resolution and constancy had not been able to support the trial, it would be folly or madness to marry him with the vague hope that she might reform his character. She therefore continued steady to her resolution; and as she found that Vivian’s disappointment was greater than she had expected, she immediately withdrew from his mother’s house. The next morning, when Vivian came to breakfast, after having spent a sleepless night, planning new arguments or new intreaties in favour of his love, he found that Miss Sidney was gone. His mother and his friend Russell joined in representing to him that it would be useless to follow her, that it would only give himself and Selina unavailing pain. Vivian felt this stroke severely. His mind was, as it were, adrift again. After the first violence of his feelings had spent itself, and when he sunk into that kind of apathy which is the consequence of exhausted passion, his friend Russell endeavoured to excite him to honourable ambition. Vivian caught the idea, that if he distinguished himself in public life, and if he there displayed any steadiness of character, he might win back Selina’s esteem and affection. Fired with this hope, he immediately turned his whole mind to the object; applied with indefatigable ardour, day and night, to make himself master of the subjects likely to be discussed in the ensuing session of parliament. At length his application and his energy were crowned with success. On a question of considerable political importance, which he had carefully considered, he made an excellent speech; a speech which directly made him of consequence in the house; which, in the language of the newspapers, “was received with unbounded applause, was distinguished for strength of argument, lucid order, and a happy choice of expression.” But what encouraged our hero more than newspaper puffs or party panegyrics was the approbation of his friend Russell. Russell never praised violently; but a few words, or even a look of satisfaction from him, went farther than the most exaggerated eulogiums from others. Vivian pursued his course for some time with honour and increasing reputation. There was one man who never joined in any of the compliments paid to the rising orator; there was one man who always spoke of him with contempt, who pronounced that “Vivian would never go far in politics—that it was not in him—that he was too soft—que c’étoit bâtir sur de la boue, que de compter sur lui.” This depreciator and enemy of Vivian was the man who, but a few months before, had been his political proneur and unblushing flatterer, Mr. Wharton. Exasperated by the consciousness of his own detected baseness, and provoked still more by his being frustrated in all his schemes, Wharton now practised every art that a malicious and unprincipled wit could devise to lower the opinion of Vivian’s talents, and to prevent his obtaining either power or celebrity. Our hero was stimulated by this conduct to fresh exertions. So far Wharton’s enmity was of service to him; but it was of disservice, by changing, in some measure, the purity of the motives from which he acted. With love and honourable ambition now mixed hatred, thoughts of vengeance, views of vulgar vanity and interest: he thought more of contradicting Mr. Wharton’s prophecies than of fulfilling his own ideas of what was fair and right. He was anxious to prove, that he could “go far in politics, that it was in him, that he was not too soft, and that it was not building on mud to depend on him.” These indefinite expressions operated powerfully and perniciously on his imagination. To prove that Wharton was mistaken in his prognostics, it was necessary to our hero to obtain the price and stamp of talents—it was essential to gain political power; and this could not be attained without joining a party. Vivian joined the party then in opposition. Wharton and he, though both in opposition, of course, after what had passed, could never meet in any private company; nor had they any communication in public, though on the same side of the question: their enmity was so great, that not only the business of the nation, but even the interests of their party, were often impeded by their quarrels. In the midst of these disputes, Vivian insensibly adopted more and more of the language and principles of the public men with whom he daily associated. He began to hear and talk of compensations and jobs, as they did; and to consider all measures proved to be necessary for the support of his party as expedient, if not absolutely right. His country could not be saved, unless he and his friends could obtain the management of affairs; and no men, be found, could gain parliamentary influence, or raise themselves into political power, without acting as a body. Then, of course, all subordinate points of right were to be sacrificed to the great good of promoting the views of the party. Still, however, his patriotism was upon the whole pure; he had no personal views of interest, no desire even to be in place, independently of a wish to promote the good of his country. Secret overtures were, about this time, made to him by government; and inquiries were made if there was any thing which could gratify him, or by which he could be induced to lay aside his opposition, and to assist in supporting their measures. Many compliments to his talents and eloquence, and all the usual commonplaces, about the expediency and propriety of strengthening the hands of government, were, of course, added. Something specific was at length mentioned: it was intimated, that as he was of an ancient family, it might gratify him that his mother should be made a baroness in her own right. The offer was declined, and the temptation was firmly withstood by our hero; his credit was now at its acme with his own coadjutors. Lady Mary whispered the circumstance, as a state secret, to all her acquaintance; and Russell took care that Miss Sidney should hear of it.
Vivian was now cited as an incorruptible patriot. Wharton’s malice, and even his wit, was almost silenced; yet he was heard to say, amidst the din of applause, “This is only the first offer; he is in the right to make a show of resistance: he will coquet for a time, and keep philandering on till he suits himself, and then he’ll jilt us, you’ll see.”
Such speeches, though they reached Vivian’s ear by the kind officiousness of friends, were never made by Mr. Wharton so directly that he could take hold of them; and Russell strenuously advised him not to seek occasion to quarrel with a man who evidently desired only to raise his own reputation by making Vivian angry, getting him in the wrong, and forcing him into an imprudent duel.