“Impossible! ma’am.”
“Impossible! Why, my dear Charles, you astonish me! for you cannot but see the views and expectations of all the family, and of the young lady herself; and your attentions to-day were such as could bear but one construction.”
“Were they, ma’am? I was not aware of that at the time—that is, I did not mean to engage myself—Good Heavens! surely I am not engaged?—You know a man is not bound, like a woman, by a few foolish words; compliments and gallantry are not such serious things with us men. Men never consider themselves engaged to a woman till they make an absolute proposal.”
“I know that is a common maxim with young men of the present day, but I consider it as dishonourable and base; and very sorry should I be to see it adopted by my son!” cried Lady Mary indignantly. “Ask your friend Mr. Russell’s opinion on this point: he long ago told you—I know he did—that if you had not serious thoughts of Lady Sarah Lidhurst, you would do very wrong, after all the reports that have gone abroad, to continue your intimacy with the Glistonburys, and thus to deceive her and her whole family—I only appeal to Mr. Russell;—will you ask your friend Russell’s opinion?”
Vivian sighed again deeply for the loss of his friend Russell; but as he could not, without touching upon Lady Julia’s affairs, explain the cause of the coolness between him and his friend, he answered only, “that an appeal to Mr. Russell was unnecessary when he had his mother’s opinion.” Lady Mary’s wish for the Glistonbury connexion fortified her morality at this moment, and she replied, “Then my decided opinion is, that it would be an immoral and dishonourable action to break such a tacit engagement as this, which you have voluntarily contracted, and which you absolutely could not break without destroying the peace and happiness of a whole family. Even that cold Lady Glistonbury grew quite warm to-day; and you must see the cause.—And in Lady Glistonbury’s state of health, who could answer for the consequences of any disappointment about her favourite daughter, just after the loss of her son, too?”
“No more, mother, for Heaven’s sake! I see it all—I feel it all—I must marry Lady Sarah, then.—By what fatality am I doomed, am I forced to marry a woman whom I cannot love, whose person and manners are peculiarly disagreeable to me, and when I’m half in love with another woman!”
“That would be a shocking thing, indeed,” said Lady Mary, retracting, and alarmed; for now another train of associations was wakened, and she judged not by her worldly, but by her romantic system.—“I am sure I would not, upon any account, urge you to act against your feelings. I would not be responsible for such a marriage, if you are really in love with her sister, and if Lady Sarah’s person and manners are peculiarly and absolutely disagreeable to you. I should do a very wicked action—should destroy my son’s happiness and morals, perhaps, by insisting on such a marriage—Heaven forbid!” (A silence of a mile and a half long ensued.) “But, Charles, after all I saw to-day, how can I believe that Lady Sarah is so disagreeable to you?”
“Ma’am, she happened not to be absolutely disagreeable to me to-day.”
“Oh! well! then she may not happen to be disagreeable to you to-morrow, or the next day, or ever again!—And, as to the fancy for her sister, when all hope is over, you know love soon dies of itself.”
So ended the conversation.—The next morning, at an unusual hour, Lord Glistonbury made his appearance at Castle Vivian, with an air of great vexation and embarrassment: he endeavoured to speak of trivial topics; but, one after another, these subjects dropped. Then Lady Mary, who saw that he was anxious to speak to her son, soon took occasion to withdraw, not without feeling some curiosity, and forming many conjectures, as to the object his lordship might have in view in this conference.