“Do not stop me,” cried he to Russell; “it is the only act of friendship—the only thing I can do in this world now with pleasure, and let me do it.”
His notes contained nearly what he had just said to Russell—he put them open into his friend’s hand; then, good-natured to the last, Vivian took up his pen again, with no small difficulty, and wrote a few affectionate words to his wife. “She well deserves this from me,” said he. “Be a friend to her, Russell—when I am gone, she will, I know, want consolation,” After Russell had assured him that he would do all he desired, Vivian said, “I believe there is no one else in the world who will regret my death, except, perhaps, Lady Julia Lidhurst. How generous she was to forgive me!—Tell her, I remembered it when I was dying!—Weakness, weakness of mind!—the cause of all my errors!——Oh, Russell! how well you knew me from the first!—But all is over now!—My experience can be of no use to me—Every thing swims before my eyes.——One comfort is, I have not the blood of a fellow-creature to answer for. My greatest error was making that profligate man my friend—he was my ruin. I little thought, a few years ago, that I should die by his hand—but I forgive him, as I hope to be forgiven myself! Is the clergyman who was sent for come?—My dear Russell, this would be too severe a task for you.—He is come? Then let me see him.”
Vivian was left for some time to his private devotions. The clergyman afterwards summoned Russell to return:—he found his friend calmed and resigned. Vivian stretched out his hand—thanked him once more—and expired!
“Oh! worthy of a better fate!” thought Russell.—“With such a heart!—With such talents!—And so young!—With only one fault of character!—Oh, my friend! is it all over?—and all in vain?”
Vivian’s mother and widow arrived just at this moment; and Russell and Lord Glistonbury, who followed breathless, could not stop them from entering the apartment. The mother’s grief bordered on distraction; but it found relief in tears and cries. Lady Sarah shed no tear, and uttered no exclamation; but advancing, insensible of all opposition, to the bed on which her dead husband lay, tried whether there was any pulse, any breath left; then knelt down beside him in silent devotion. Lord Glistonbury, striking his forehead continually, and striding up and down the room, repeated, “I killed him!—I killed him!—I was the cause of his death!—My victim!—My victim!—But take her away!—Take her away—I cannot.—For mercy’s sake, force her away, Mr. Russell!”
“There is no need of force,” said Lady Sarah, rising, as her father approached; “I am going to leave my husband for ever.”——Then, turning to Mr. Russell, she inquired if his friend had left any message or letter for her—desired to see the letter—retired with it—still without shedding a tear—a few hours afterwards was taken ill, and, before night, was delivered of a dead son.
Lady Sarah survived, but has never since appeared in what is called the WORLD.