Vivian went up to his room for his gloves, which he missed at the moment when he was going. Whilst he was opening the empty drawers one after another, in search of his gloves, and, at the same time, calling his servant to find them, he heard a loud scream from an adjoining apartment. He listened again—all was silent; and he supposed that what he had heard was not a scream: but, at that moment, Lady Sarah’s maid flung open his door, and, running in with out-stretched arms, threw herself at Vivian’s feet. Her sobs and tears prevented his understanding one syllable she said. At last she articulated intelligibly, “Oh, sir!—don’t be so cruel to go—my lady!—my poor lady! If you go, it will kill Lady Sarah!”
“Kill Lady Sarah?—Why I saw her in perfect health this morning at breakfast!”
“Dear, dear sir! you know nothing of the matter!” said the maid, rising, and shutting the door: “you don’t know what a way she has been in ever since the talk of your going—fits upon fits every night, and my lady, her mother, and I up holding her—and none in the house knowing it but ourselves. Very well at breakfast! Lord help us! sir. How little you know of what she has suffered! Lord have mercy upon me! I would not be a lady to be so much in love, and left so, for any thing in the whole world. And my Lady Sarah keeps every thing so to herself;—if it was not for these fits they would never have knowed she cared no more for you than a stone.”
“And, probably you are quite mistaken,” said Vivian; “and that I have nothing to do with the young lady’s illness. If she has fits, I am very sorry for it; but I can’t possibly——Certainly, you are quite mistaken!”
“Lord, sir!—mistaken! As if I could be mistaken, when I know my lady as well as I know myself! Why, sir, I know from the time of the election, when you was given to her by all the country—and to be sure when we all thought it would be a match directly—and the Lord knows what put it off!—I say, from that time, her heart was set upon you. Though she never said a word to me, or any one, I knew how it was, through all her coldness—And to be sure, when you was in Lon’on so much with us, all the town said, as all the country did afore, that to be sure it was to be a match—But then that sad affair, with that artfullest of women, that took you off from all that was good, and away, the Lord knows where, to foreign parts!—Well! to be sure, I never shall forget the day you come back again to us!—and the night of the ball!—and you dancing with my lady, and all so happy; then, to be sure, all were sarten it was to be immediately——And now to go and break my poor lady’s heart at the last—Oh, sir, sir! if you could but see her, it would touch a heart of marble!”
Vivian’s astonishment and dismay were so great, that he suffered the girl, who was an unpractised creature, to go on speaking without interruption: the warmth of affection with which she spoke of her lady, also, surprised him: for, till this instant, he had no idea that any one could love Lady Sarah Lidhurst; and the accounts she gave of the lady’s sufferings not only touched his compassion, but worked upon his vanity. “This cold, proud young lady that never loved none before, to think,” as her maid said, “that she should come to such a pass, as to be in fits about him. And it was her belief that Lady Sarah never would recover it, if he went away out of the castle this day.”
The ringing of a bell had repeatedly been heard, whilst Lady Sarah’s maid was speaking; it now rang violently, and her name was called vehemently from the adjoining apartment. “I must go, I must go!—Oh, sir! one day, for mercy’s sake! stay one day longer!”
Vivian, though he had been moved by this girl’s representations, was determined to effect his retreat whilst it was yet in his power; therefore he ran down stairs, and had gained the hall, where he was shaking hands with Lord Glistonbury, when my Lady Glistonbury’s own woman came in a great hurry to say, that her lady, finding herself a little better now, and able to see Mr. Vivian, begged he would be so good as to walk up to her dressing-room.
Vivian, with a heavy heart and slow steps, obeyed; there was no refusing, no evading such a request. He summoned all his resolution, at the same time saying to himself, as he followed his conductor along the gallery, “It is impossible that I can ever be drawn in to marry Lady Sarah.—This is a concerted plan, and I shall not be so weak as to be the dupe of so gross an artifice.”
Lady Glistonbury’s maid showed him into her lady’s dressing-room and retired. Lady Glistonbury was seated, and, without speaking, pointed to a chair which was set opposite to her. “So! a preparation for a scene,” thought Vivian. He bowed, but, still keeping his hat in his hand, did not sit down:—he was extremely happy to hear, that her ladyship found herself something better—much honoured by her permitting him to pay his respects, and to offer his grateful acknowledgments to her ladyship before his departure from Glistonbury.