One of Vivian’s virtues was decision, and another was energy. Without the latter, the first would be almost valueless. Ere two hours had elapsed, he was seated in the drawing-room at Walton Hall, awaiting the appearance of its owner. He recalled, with some misgivings, the contents of his uncle’s letter. “He has set his heart upon my marriage with Miss Walton, and I have set mine upon this bewitching unknown. My poor, kind uncle! I regret his disappointment. I dare say Miss Margaret is a very nice, well-behaved young person, but my affections are irrevocably devoted to another, and it can never be!” Just as he came to this sublime conclusion, he heard a far off voice, the very first tone of which he could not help loving, it was so sweet, so rich, and seemed so fresh from the heart. It was warbling snatches of a simple ballad, one only sentence of which he could distinctly hear; but that sentence he never forgot—
One only she loved, and forever!
She wore an invisible chain
That Pride wildly struggled to sever;
And daily more deep grew the pain!
“Ah, vain,” she would sigh, “each endeavor!”
And Echo still answered “in vain!”
And as the voice sang, it came nearer and nearer, and did not cease till the singer, a beautiful girl, tripping gaily into the room, beheld and, blushing deeply, curtsied to our hero. Could he believe his eyes? “It is—it is—”
“Miss Walton,” said the lady, finishing the sentence for him, and recovering instantly her self-possession. “You wish to see my father? I will send him to you immediately;” and she glided from the room, leaving poor Vivian in doubt whether he were dreaming or awake. If awake, then were the half-dreaded Miss Walton and the lovely unknown of the stage-coach one and the same person! And he had wasted a whole precious fortnight, that he might have passed in her society! Well, he would make the most of his present visit at any rate; and so thinking, he made his best bow to Mr. Walton, who now entered, and who, most cordially shaking hands with him, welcomed him to Walton Hall, as the son of his oldest and dearest friend.
“When you sent up your card,” continued he, “I little thought that I should find in Vivian Russell the youth who so kindly assisted my daughter when our chariot was overturned. I regret that we did not know you then; but we must make up for lost time. Your uncle promised me a long visit from you, and I trust you have come to fulfill the promise.” After a short conversation, Vivian agreed to return in time for breakfast the next day, and remain for several weeks.