Left to his cool reflection, Vivian thought with horror of the misery into which the event of this duel might involve all with whom he was connected, and all who were attached to him. The affair was of course to be kept a secret from all at Glistonbury House, where Vivian was engaged to dine with a large ministerial party. He went home to dress, hoping to have a quarter of an hour to himself; but, on entering his own dressing-room, he, to his surprise and mortification, found his wife seated there, waiting for him with a face of anxious expectation; a case of newly-set diamonds on a table beside her. “I thought you were at your father’s, my dear: are you not to be at Glistonbury House to-day?” said Vivian.
“No,” replied Lady Sarah. “Surely, Mr. Vivian, you know that my father gives a political dinner, and I suppose you are to be there?”
“Oh, yes!” cried Vivian; “I did not know what I was saying—I am to be there, and must dress (looking at his watch), for I have no time to spare.”
“Be that as it may, I must intrude upon your time for a few minutes,” said Lady Sarah.
Vivian stood impatiently attentive, whilst Lady Sarah seemed to find it difficult to begin some speech which she had prepared.
“Women, I know, have nothing to do with politics,” she began in a constrained voice; but, suddenly quitting her air and tone of constraint, she started up and exclaimed, “Oh, my dear, dear husband! what have you done?—No, no, I cannot, will not believe it, till I hear it from your OWN lips!”
“What is the matter, my dear Lady Sarah?—You astonish and almost alarm me!” said Vivian, endeavouring to preserve composure of countenance.
“I will not—Heaven forbid that I should alarm you as I have been alarmed!” said Lady Sarah, commanding her voice again to a tone of tranquillity. “I ought, and, if I were not weak, should be convinced that there is no reason for alarm. There has been some mistake, no doubt; and I have been to blame for listening to idle reports. Let me, however, state the facts. Half an hour ago, I was at Gray’s the jeweller’s, to call for my poor mother’s diamonds, which, you know, he has reset——”
“Yes—Well!”
“And whilst I was in the shop, a party of gentlemen came in, all of them unknown to me, and, of course, I was equally unknown to them; for they began to speak of you in a manner in which none knowing me could venture in my presence. They said—I cannot bear to repeat or to think of what they said—you cannot have bartered your public reputation for a marquisate for my father!—You cannot have done that which is dishonourable—you cannot have deserted your party for a paltry place for yourself!—You turn pale.—I wish, if it pleased God, that I was this moment in my grave!”