“Heaven forbid, my dear Lady Sarah!” cried Vivian, forcing a smile, and endeavouring to speak in a tone of raillery. “Why should you wish to be in your grave, because your husband has just got a good warm place? Live! live!” said he, raising her powerless hand; “for consider—as I did—and this consideration was of no small weight with me—consider, my dear Sarah, how much better you will live for it!”
“And you did consider me? And that did weigh with you?”
“—Oh, this is what I dreaded most!” cried Lady Sarah.—“When will you know my real character? When will you have confidence in your wife, sir? When will you know the power, the unconquered, unconquerable power of her affection for you?”
Vivian, much struck by the strength of her expression as she uttered these words, was a moment silent in astonishment; and then could only, in an incoherent manner, protest, that he did know—that he had always done justice to her character—that he believed in her affection—and had the greatest confidence in its power.
“No, sir, no!—Do not say that which I cannot credit!—You have not confidence in the power of my affection, or you would never have done this thing to save me pain. What pain can be so great to me as the thought of my husband’s reputation suffering abasement?—Do you think that, in comparison with this, I, your wife, could put the loss of a service of plate, or house in town, or equipage, or servants, or such baubles as these?” added she, her eyes glancing upon the diamonds; then, snatching them up, “Take them, take them!” cried she; “they were my mother’s; and if her spirit could look down from heaven upon us she would approve my offer—she would command your acceptance. Then here on my knees I conjure you, my beloved husband, take them—sell them—sell plate, furniture, house, equipage, sell every thing rather than your honour!”
“It is sold,” said Vivian, in a voice of despair.
“Redeem it, redeem it at any price!” cried Lady Sarah. “No! I will kneel here at your feet—you shall not raise me—till I have obtained this promise, this justice to me, to yourself!”
“It is too late,” said Vivian, writhing in agony.
“Never too late,” cried Lady Sarah. “Give up the place.—Never too late!—Give up the place—write this moment, and all will be well; for your honour will be saved, and the rest is as nothing in my eyes!”
“High-minded woman!” cried Vivian: “why did not I hear you sooner? Why did not I avail myself of your strength of soul?”