“You shall not be interrupted,” said Lady Sarah: “I will exert myself as much as possible.”
A tremendous knock at the door.—Vivian passed through the saloon, and gained his study, where, after remaining for some time in painful reflection, he was roused by hearing the clock strike twelve. He recollected that he had several arrangements to make in his affairs this night; and that it was incumbent on him to sign and execute a will, which had been for some time in his possession, with certain blanks not yet filled up. His wife was, by his marriage settlements, amply provided for; but he inserted in his will some clauses which he thought would add to her peculiar comfort, and took care to word them so that his respect and esteem should be known hereafter to all the world; and that, if he died, he should leave her the consolation of knowing that his last feelings for her were those of gratitude and affection. To his mother he left all that was in his power to contribute to the ease of her declining years—often obliged to pause whilst he wrote, overcome by the thoughts of what her grief would be if he died. He left his friend Russell in remainder, to a considerable part of his estate; and he was just adding the bequest of certain books, which they had read together in his better days, when the door of the study suddenly opened, and his mother entered.
“What is all this?” cried she: “immersed in papers at such a time as this!”
“I so hate crowded assemblies,” said Vivian, huddling his papers together, and advancing to meet his mother.
“So do I,” said Lady Mary; “but I have been waiting with exemplary patience where I was stationed by Lady Sarah, at the card-table, every instant expecting your arrival, that I might have a few minutes’ conversation with you, and inquire how matters went on at the house, and congratulate——”
Before she had finished the word congratulate, she stopped short; for she had, by this time, a full view of her son’s countenance: and she knew that countenance so well, that it was impossible to disguise it so as to deceive her maternal penetration.
“My dear son!” said she, “something is going wrong: I conjure you, tell me what is the matter!”—Her eye glanced upon the parchments, and she saw that it was a will. Vivian forced a laugh; and asked her if she had the weakness some people felt, of disliking to see a will, or of fancying that a man was going to die if he made his will. Then, to quiet her apprehensions, and to put a stop to her farther inquiries, he threw aside his papers, and returned with her to the company, where he exerted himself to appear as gay as the occasion required. Lord Glistonbury, who had called in for a few moments, was now playing the great man, as well as his total want of dignity of mind and manners would permit; he was answering, in whispers, questions about his marquisate, and sustaining with all his might his new part of the friend of government. Every thing conspired to strike Vivian with melancholy—yet he constrained himself so far, that his charming spirits delighted all who were uninterested in observing any but the external signs of gaiety; but his mother saw that his vivacity was forced. She made inquiries from all the gentlemen of her acquaintance about what had passed the preceding day both at the House of Commons, and to-day at the dinner at Lord Glistonbury’s: but those who had been at Lord Glistonbury’s dinner assured her that every thing had been as amicable as could be; and his ministerial friends said that every thing had gone on as smoothly as possible at the house: of what had passed between Mr. Wharton and Vivian in the coffee-room nobody could give her an account. Baffled, but not satisfied, the anxious mother sent to the hotel where Mr. Russell lodged, to inquire whether he was returned to town, and to beg to see him immediately. From him, she thought, she should learn the truth; or, by his influence over her son, she hoped that, if there was any danger of a quarrel, it might be in time prevented. Her servant, however, brought word that Mr. Russell was not expected from the country till ten o’clock the next morning; but that her note would be given to him directly on his arrival. She applied herself next to the study of her daughter’s countenance, whilst she asked two or three questions, calculated to discover whether Lady Sarah was under any anxiety about Vivian. But though Lady Sarah’s countenance exhibited not the slightest variation under this trial, yet this tranquillity was by no means decisively satisfactory; because, whatever might be her internal agitation, she knew that Lady Sarah could maintain the same countenance. Lady Sarah, who plainly discerned her mother’s anxious curiosity, thought it her duty to keep her husband’s secrets; and, imagining that she knew the whole truth, was not farther alarmed by these hints, nor did they lead her to suspect the real state of the case.
Lady Mary was at length tolerably well satisfied, by a conversation with her son; during the course of which she settled in her imagination that he had only been inserting in his will a bequest to his friend Russell; and that the depression of his spirits arose from the struggle he had had in determining to vote against his patriotic ideas. She rose to depart; and Vivian, as he conducted her down stairs, and put her into her carriage, could scarcely repress his feelings; and he took so tender a leave of her, that all her apprehensions revived; but there was a cry of “Lady—somebody’s carriage!” and Lady Mary’s coachman drove on immediately, without giving her time for one word more. After his mother’s departure, Vivian, instead of returning to the company, went to his study, and took this opportunity of finishing his will; but as the servants were all in attendance at supper he could not get any body to witness it; and for this he was obliged to wait till a very late hour, when all the company at last departed. The rattle of carriages at length died away; and when all was silence, just as he was about to ring for his witnesses, he heard Lady Sarah’s step coming along the corridor towards the study: he went out immediately to meet her, drew her arm within his affectionately, and took two or three turns with her, up and down the empty saloon, whilst a servant was extinguishing the lights. Vivian’s mind was so full that he could not speak; and he was scarcely conscious that he had not spoken, till Lady Sarah broke the silence by asking if he had finished his business.
“No, my dear, I have more to do yet; but you will oblige me if you will go to rest—you must be fatigued—mind and body.”
“You seem fatigued almost to death,” said Lady Sarah: “and cannot you finish the remainder of your business as well to-morrow?”