“Going!—where? Going!—when? Going!—how?” cried Lord Glistonbury, as soon as the servant withdrew. “Surely, you are not going to leave us, Mr. Vivian?”
Vivian explained his reasons—Lord Glistonbury would not allow them any weight, entreated and insisted that he should stay at least a few days longer; for his going “just at this moment would seem quite like a break up in the family, and would be the most unfriendly and cruel thing imaginable.” Why Lord Glistonbury so earnestly pressed his stay, perhaps even his lordship himself did not exactly know; for, with all the air of being a person of infinite address and depth of design, his lordship was in reality childishly inconsistent; what the French call inconséquent. On any subject, great or small, where he once took it into his head, or, as he called it, made it a point, that a thing should be so or so, he was as peremptory, or, where he could not be peremptory, as anxious, as if it were a matter of life and death. In his views there was no perspective, no keeping—all objects appeared of equal magnitude; and even now, when it might be conceived that his whole mind was intent upon a great family misfortune, he, in the course of a few minutes, became as eager about a mere trifle as if he had nothing else in the world to think of. From the earnestness with which Lord Glistonbury urged him to stay a few days, at least one day longer, Vivian was induced to believe that it must be a matter of real consequence to his lordship—“And, in his present state of distress, I cannot refuse such a request,” thought Vivian. He yielded, therefore, to these solicitations, and consented to stay a few days longer; though he knew the prolonging his visit would be, in every respect, disagreeable.
At dinner Lord Glistonbury announced to the company that the physician had advised change of air immediately for Lord Lidhurst; and that, in consequence, his son would set out early the next morning for Devonshire—that his daughter Julia wished to go with her brother, and that Miss Strictland would accompany them. Lord Glistonbury apologized for his daughter’s absence, “preparations for her journey so suddenly decided upon,” &c. Lady Glistonbury and Lady Sarah looked terribly grim whilst all this was saying; but the gravity and stiffness of their demeanour did not appear any thing extraordinary to the greater part of the company, who had no idea of what was going forward. The lawyer, the captain, and the chaplain, however, interchanged significant looks; and many times, during the course of the evening, they made attempts to draw out Vivian’s thoughts, but they found him impenetrable. There was an underplot of a quarrel between Miss Strictland and Miss Bateman, to which Vivian paid little attention; nor was he affected, in the slightest degree, by the Rosamunda’s declaration to Lord Glistonbury, that she must leave his family, since she found that Miss Strictland had a larger share than herself of his lordship’s confidence, and was, for what reason she could not divine, to have the honour of accompanying Lady Julia into Devonshire. Vivian perceived these quarrels, and heard the frivolous conversation of the company at Glistonbury Castle without interest, and with a sort of astonishment at the small motives by which others were agitated, whilst his whole soul was engrossed by love and pity for Lady Julia. In vain he hoped for another opportunity of seeing and speaking to her. She never appeared. The next morning he rose at daybreak that he might have the chance of seeing her: he begged Miss Strictland to entreat her ladyship would allow him to say a few words before she set out; but Miss Strictland replied, that she was assured the request would be vain; and he thought he perceived that Miss Strictland, though she affected to lament Lady Julia’s blindness to her own interests and contumacy, in opposing her father’s wishes, was, in reality, glad that she persisted in her own determination. Lord Lidhurst, on account of the weak state of his health, was kept in ignorance of every thing that could agitate him; and, when Vivian took leave of him, the poor young man left many messages of kindness and gratitude for Mr. Russell.
“I am sorry that he was obliged to leave me; for, ill or well, there is no human being, I will not except any one but my sister Julia, whom I should so much wish to have with me. Tell him so; and tell him—be sure you remember my very words, for perhaps I shall never see him again—tell him, that, living or dying, I shall feel grateful to him. He has given me tastes and principles very different from those I had when he came into this house. Even in sickness, I feel almost every hour the advantage of my present love for literature. If I should live and recover, I hope I shall do him some credit; and I trust my family will join in my gratitude. Julia, my dear sister! why do you weep so bitterly?—If I had seen you come into the room, I would not have spoken of my health.”
Lord Glistonbury came up to tell them that Miss Strictland was ready. “Mr. Vivian,” cried his lordship, “will you hand Julia into the carriage?—Julia, Mr. Vivian is offering you his services.”
Vivian, as he attended Lady Julia, had so much respect for her feelings, that, though he had been waiting with extreme impatience for an opportunity to say a few words, yet now he would not speak, but handed her along the gallery, down the staircase, and across the great hall, in profound silence. She seemed sensible of this forbearance; and, turning to him at a moment when they could not be overheard, said, “It was not from unkindness, Mr. Vivian, I refused to see you again, but to convince you that my mind is determined—if you have any thing to say, I am ready to hear it.”
“Is there nothing to be hoped from time?” said Vivian. “Your father, I know, has hopes that——All I ask is, that you will not make any rash resolutions.”
“I make none; but I tell you, for your own sake, not to cherish any vain hope. My father does not know my mind sufficiently, therefore he may deceive you; but I will not.——I thought, after the manner in which I spoke to you yesterday, you would have had too much strength of mind to have rendered this repetition of my sentiments necessary.——Attach yourself elsewhere as soon as you can.—I sincerely wish your happiness. Miss Strictland is waiting.—Farewell!”
She hurried forward to the carriage; and, when she was gone, Vivian repented that he had seen her again, as it had only given them both additional and fruitless pain.
What passed during some succeeding days at Glistonbury Castle he scarcely knew; no trace remained in his mind of anything but the confused noise of people, who had been talking, laughing, and diverting themselves in a manner that seemed to him incomprehensible. He exerted himself, however, so far as to write to Russell, to implore his forgiveness, and to solicit a return of his friendship, which, in his present state of unhappiness, was more necessary to him than ever. When he had finished and despatched this letter, he sunk again into a sort of reckless state, without hope or determination, as to his future life. He could not decide whether he should go to his mother immediately on leaving Glistonbury, or to Mr. Russell, or (which he knew was the best course he could pursue) attend his duty in parliament, and, by plunging at once into public business, change the course of his thoughts, and force his mind to resume its energy. After altering his determination twenty times, after giving at least a dozen contradictory orders about his journey, his servant at last had his ultimatum, for London—the carriage to be at the door at ten o’clock the next morning. Every thing was ready at the appointed hour. Breakfast over, Vivian waited only to pay his compliments to Lady Glistonbury, who had breakfasted in her own apartment. Lady Sarah, with a manner as formal as usual, rose from the breakfast-table, and said she would let her mother know that Mr. Vivian was going. Vivian waited half an hour—an hour—two hours. Lady Glistonbury did not appear, nor did Lady Sarah return. The company had dispersed after the first half-hour. Lord Glistonbury began to believe that the ladies did not mean to make their appearance. At length a message came from Lady Glistonbury.—“Lady Glistonbury’s compliments to Mr. Vivian—her ladyship was concerned that it was out of her power to have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Vivian, as she was too much indisposed to leave her room.—She and Lady Sarah wished him a very good journey.”