Vivian’s mother saw the progress of conjugal discontent with anguish and remorse.
“Alas!” said she to herself, “I was much to blame for pressing this match. My son told me he could never love Lady Sarah Lidhurst. It would have been better far to have broken off a marriage at the church-door than to have forced the completion of such an ill-assorted union. My poor son married chiefly from a principle of honour; his duty and respect for my opinion had also great weight in his decision; and I have sacrificed his happiness to my desire that he should make what the world calls a splendid alliance. I am the cause of all his misery; and Heaven only knows where all this will end!”
In her paroxysm of self-reproach, and her eagerness to set things to rights between her daughter-in-law and her son, she only made matters worse. She spoke with all the warmth and frankness of her own character to Lady Sarah, beseeching her to speak with equal openness, and to explain the cause of the alteration in Vivian.
“I do not know what you mean, madam, by alteration in Mr. Vivian!”
“Is not there some disagreement between you, my dear?”
“There is no disagreement whatever, madam, as far as I know, between Mr. Vivian and me—we agree perfectly,” said Lady Sarah.
“Well, the misunderstanding!”
“I do not know of any misunderstanding, madam. Mr. Vivian and I understand one another perfectly.”
“The coolness, then—Oh! what word shall I use!—Surely, my dear Lady Sarah, there is some coolness—something wrong?”
“I am sure, madam, I do not complain of any coolness on Mr. Vivian’s part. Am I to understand that he complains to your ladyship of any thing wrong on mine? If he does, I shall think it my duty, when he points out the particulars, to make any alteration he may desire in my conduct and manners.”