Vivian felt exalted in his own opinion by such praise, and by these the warmest expressions he had ever received of Russell’s regard. He forgot even his domestic uneasiness; and this day, the first for many months he had spent happily, he passed with his friend. They supped together, and related mutually all that happened since their parting. Russell told Vivian that he had lately been agreeably surprised by the gift of a valuable living from the Bishop of ——, Lady Julia Lidhurst’s uncle; that the bishop, whom he had till then never seen, had written to him in the handsomest manner, saying that he knew the obligations his family owed to Mr. Russell; that it had been the dying request of his nephew, Lord Lidhurst, that some token of the family esteem and gratitude should be offered to him, to whom they owed so much; but the bishop added, that neither family gratitude nor private friendship could have induced him to bestow church preferments upon any but the person whose character best entitled him to such a distinction and such a trust.
This letter, as Vivian observed, was well calculated to satisfy Russell’s conscience and his delicacy. The conversation next turned upon Lady Julia Lidhurst. Russell was not aware that Vivian knew more of her attachment to him than what had been discovered the day before he left Glistonbury; and Vivian could not help admiring the honourable and delicate manner in which his friend spoke of her, without any air of mystery, and with the greatest respect. He told Vivian he had heard that proposals had been lately made to her ladyship by a gentleman of great talents and of high character; but that she had positively declined his addresses, and had repeated her declaration that she would never marry. Her good uncle left her, on this point, entirely at liberty, and did not mention the proposal to Lord Glistonbury, lest she should be exposed to any fresh difficulties. Russell expressed much satisfaction at this part of the bishop’s conduct, as being not only the most kind, but the most judicious, and the most likely to dispose his niece to change her determination. He repeated his opinion that, united to a man of sense and strength of mind, she would make a charming and excellent wife. Vivian agreed with him; yet observed, that he was convinced she would never marry—There he paused.—Could Lady Julia herself have overheard the conversation which afterwards passed between these two gentlemen, one of whom she had loved and the other of whom she had refused, not a word would have hurt her feelings: on the contrary, she would have been raised in her own opinion, and gratified by the strong interest they both showed for her happiness. They regretted only that a young woman of such talents, and of such a fine, generous disposition, had been so injudiciously educated.
“And now, my dear Russell,” cried Vivian, “that we have finished the chapter of Lady Julia, let us talk of Miss Sidney.”—Russell’s change of countenance showed that it was not quite so easy for him to talk upon this subject.—To spare him the effort, Vivian resumed, “As you are a rich man now, my dear Russell, you will certainly marry; and I know,” added he, smiling, “that Miss Sidney will be your wife. If ever man deserved such a prize, you do; and I shall be the first to wish you joy.”
“Stay, my good friend,” interrupted Russell; “your kindness for me, and your imagination, are too quick in this anticipation of my happiness.”—Russell then told him, that he never had declared his attachment to Selina till Vivian’s marriage had put an end to all probability of rivalship with his friend. She had expressed high esteem for Russell, but had told him, that she had suffered so much from a first unfortunate attachment, that she felt averse from any new engagements.
“Shall I assure you, as you assured me just now with regard to Lady Julia,” said Vivian, “that Miss Sidney will he prevailed upon to alter her determination; and shall I add, that, though I should like Lady Julia the less, I should like Selina the better, for changing her mind?”—He went on, generously expressing sincere hopes, that his friend might obtain Selina Sidney’s affections, and might enjoy that domestic happiness, which—Vivian was going to say, which he had himself forfeited; but checking this regret, he only said—“that domestic happiness, which I consider as the summit of human felicity, and which no man can deserve better than you do, my dear Russell.”
Russell easily guessed that poor Vivian had not attained this summit of human felicity by his own marriage, but never adverted to any of the conversations they had held about Lady Sarah Lidhurst; never recalled any of Vivian’s vehement declarations concerning the absolute impossibility of his making such a match; never evinced the least surprise at his marriage; nor inquired how he had conquered his passion for Lady Julia. With friendly forgetfulness, he seemed to have totally obliterated from his mind all that it could do no good to remember. Vivian was sensible of this delicacy, and grateful for it; but to imitate Russell’s reserve and silence upon certain subjects required a force, a forbearance of which he was not capable. At first he had determined not to say one word to Russell of domestic uneasiness; but they had not been many hours together before Vivian poured forth all his complaints, and confessed how bitterly he repented his marriage: be declared that he had been persuaded, by the united efforts of her family and of his mother, against his own judgment, or, at least, against his taste and inclinations, to marry Lady Sarah.
“By whatever persuasions, or by whatever motives, your choice was decided,” interrupted Russell, “reflect that it is decided for life; therefore abide by it, and justify it. Above all, make yourself happy with the means which are yet in your power, instead of wasting your mind in unavailing regret. You are united to a woman who has every estimable quality, as you candidly acknowledge: there are some particulars in which she does not please your taste; but withdraw your attention from these, and you will be happy with a wife who is so firmly attached to you. Consider, besides, that—romance apart—love, though a delightful passion, is not the only resource which a man of sense, virtue, and activity may find for happiness. Your public duties, your success, and your reputation as a public character, will—”
Russell was interrupted in this consolatory and invigorating speech, by the entrance of a servant of Lord Glistonbury’s, who brought a note from his lordship to Mr. Vivian, requesting to see him as soon as he could make it convenient to come to Glistonbury House, as his lordship wanted to speak to him on particular business of the greatest importance. Vivian was provoked by being thus summoned away from his friend, to attend to one of what he called Lord Glistonbury’s important mysteries about nothing. Russell was engaged to go into the country the ensuing day, to take possession of his new living; but he promised that he would see him again soon; and, with this hope, the two friends parted.
Vivian went to Lord Glistonbury’s: he found his lordship in his study. “Where have you been, Vivian?” exclaimed he: “I have sent messenger after messenger to look for you, half over the town: I thought you were to have dined with us, but you ran away, and nobody could tell where, or with whom; and we have been waiting for you at our cabinet council here with the utmost impatience.”—Vivian answered, that he had unexpectedly met with his friend Russell; and was proceeding to tell his lordship how handsomely the Bishop of——had provided for his friend; but Lord Glistonbury, like many other great men, having the habit of forgetting all the services of those from whom they have nothing more to expect, cut short Vivian’s narration, by exclaiming, “True, true! well, well! that’s all over now—Certainly, that Russell did his duty by my poor son; and acted as he ought to do—in all things; and I’m glad to hear my brother has given him a good living; and I hope, as you say, he will soon be married—so best—so best, you know, Vivian, for reasons of our own—Well! well! I’m glad he is provided for—not but what that living would have been of essential service, if it had been reserved for a friend of mine—but my brother the bishop never can enter into any political views—might as well not have a brother a bishop—But, however, Mr. Russell’s a friend of yours—I am not regretting—not so rude to you to regret——on the contrary, rejoice, particularly as Mr. Russell is a man of so much merit—But all that’s over now; and I want to talk to you upon quite another matter. You know I have always said I should, sooner or later, succeed in my grand object, hey, Vivian?”
“Your lordship’s grand object?—I am not sure that I know it.”