The ringing of a bell had repeatedly been heard, whilst Lady Sarah’s maid was speaking; it now rang violently, and her name was called vehemently from the adjoining apartment. “I must go, I must go! — Oh, sir! one day, for mercy’s sake! stay one day longer!”
Vivian, though he had been moved by this girl’s representations, was determined to effect his retreat whilst it was yet in his power; therefore he ran down stairs, and had gained the hall, where he was shaking hands with Lord Glistonbury, when my Lady Glistonbury’s own woman came in a great hurry to say, that her lady, finding herself a little better now, and able to see Mr. Vivian, begged he would be so good as to walk up to her dressing-room.
Vivian, with a heavy heart and slow steps, obeyed; there was no refusing, no evading such a request. He summoned all his resolution, at the same time saying to himself, as he followed his conductor along the gallery, “It is impossible that I can ever be drawn in to marry Lady Sarah. — This is a concerted plan, and I shall not be so weak as to be the dupe of so gross an artifice.”
Lady Glistonbury’s maid showed him into her lady’s dressing-room and retired. Lady Glistonbury was seated, and, without speaking, pointed to a chair which was set opposite to her. “So! a preparation for a scene,” thought Vivian. He bowed, but, still keeping his hat in his hand, did not sit down: — he was extremely happy to hear, that her ladyship found herself something better — much honoured by her permitting him to pay his respects, and to offer his grateful acknowledgments to her ladyship before his departure from Glistonbury.
Her ladyship, still without speaking, pointed to the chair. Vivian sat down, and looked as if he had “screwed his courage to the sticking place.” Lady Glistonbury had sometimes a little nervous trembling of her head, which was the only symptom of internal agitation that was ever observable in her; it was now increased to a degree which Vivian had never before seen.
“Are you in haste, sir, to be gone?” said Lady Glistonbury.
“Not if her ladyship had any commands for him; but otherwise, he had intended, if possible, to reach town that night.”
“I shall not delay you many minutes, Mr. Vivian,” said her ladyship. “You need not be under apprehension that Lady Glistonbury should seek to detain you longer than your own inclinations induce you to stay; it is, therefore, unnecessary to insult her with any appearance of haste or impatience.”
Vivian instantly laid down his hat, and protested that he was not in the slightest degree impatient: he should be very ungrateful, as well as very ill-bred, if, after the most hospitable manner in which he had been received and entertained at Glistonbury Castle, he could be in haste to quit it. He was entirely at her ladyship’s orders.
Lady Glistonbury bowed formally — was again silent — the trembling of her head very great — the rest of her form motionless.
“I have sent for you, Mr. Vivian,” said she, “that I might, before you leave this castle, set you right on a subject which much concerns me. From the representations of a foolish country girl, a maid-servant of my daughter, Lady Sarah Lidhurst, which I have just discovered she has made to you, I had reason to fear that you might leave Glistonbury with very false notions — —”
A cry was heard at this moment from the inner apartment, which made Vivian start; but Lady Glistonbury, without noticing it, went on speaking.
“With notions very injurious to my daughter Sarah; who, if I know any thing of her, would rather, if it were so ordained, go out of this world, than condescend to any thing unbecoming her sex, her education, and her family.”
Vivian, struck with respect and compassion for the mother, who spoke to him in this manner, was now convinced that there had been no concerted plan to work upon his mind, that the maid had spoken without the knowledge of her lady; and the more proudly solicitous Lady Glistonbury showed herself to remove what she called the false impression from his mind, the more he was persuaded that the girl had spoken the truth. He was much embarrassed between his good-nature and his dread of becoming a sacrifice to his humanity.
He replied in general terms to Lady Glistonbury, that he had the highest respect for Lady Sarah Lidhurst, and that no opinion injurious to her could be entertained by him.
“Respect she must command from all,” said Lady Glistonbury; “that it is out of any man’s power to refuse her: as to the rest, she leaves you, and I leave you, sir, to your own conscience.”
Lady Glistonbury rose, and so did Vivian. He hoped that neither her ladyship nor Lady Sarah had any cause —— He hesitated; the words, to reproach, to complain, to be displeased, all came to his lips; but each seemed improper; and, none other being at hand to convey his meaning, he could not finish his sentence: so he began another upon a new construction, with “I should be much concerned if, in addition to all my other causes of regret in leaving Glistonbury Castle, I felt that I had incurred Lady Glistonbury’s or Lady Sarah’s displea — disapprobation.”
“As to that, sir,” said Lady Glistonbury, “I cannot but have my own opinion of your conduct; and you can scarcely expect, I apprehend, that a mother, such as I am, should not feel some disapprobation of conduct, which has —— Sir, I beg I may not detain you — I have the honour to wish you a good journey and much happiness.”
An attendant came from an inner apartment with a message! from Lady Sarah, who was worse, and wished to see her mother—”Immediately! — tell her, immediately!”
The servant returned with the answer. Vivian was retiring, but he came back, for he saw at that moment a convulsive motion contract Lady Glistonbury’s face: she made an effort to walk; but if Vivian had not supported her instantly, she must have fallen. She endeavoured to disengage herself from his assistance, and again attempted to walk.
“For God’s sake, lean upon me, madam!” said Vivian, much alarmed. With his assistance, she reached the door of the inner room: summoning all the returning powers of life, she then withdrew her arm from his, and pointing back to the door at which Vivian entered, she said, “That is your way, sir.”
“Pardon me — I cannot go — I cannot leave you at this moment,” said Vivian.
“This is my daughter’s apartment, sir,” said Lady Glistonbury, stopping, and standing still and fixed. Some of the attendants within, hearing her ladyship’s voice, opened the door; Lady Glistonbury made an effort to prevent it, but in vain: the chamber was darkened, but as the door opened, the wind from an open window blew back the curtain, and some light fell upon a canopy bed, where Lady Sarah lay motionless, her eyes closed, and pale as death; one attendant chafing her temples, another rubbing her feet: she looked up just after the door opened, and, raising her head, she saw Vivian — a gleam of joy illumined her countenance, and coloured her cheek.
“Sir,” repeated Lady Glistonbury, “this is my daughter’s — —”
She could articulate no more. She fell across the threshold, struck with palsy. Her daughter sprang from the bed, and, with Vivian’s assistance, raised and carried Lady Glistonbury to an arm-chair near the open window, drew back the curtain, begged Vivian to go to her father, and instantly to despatch a messenger for medical assistance. Vivian sent his own servant, who had his horse ready at the door, and he bid the man go as fast as he could.
“Then you don’t leave Glistonbury to-day, sir?” said the servant.
“Do as I order you — Where’s Lord Glistonbury?”
His lordship, with the newspapers and letters open in his hand, came up — but they dropped on hearing the intelligence that Vivian communicated. His lordship was naturally humane and good-natured; and the shock was greater, perhaps, to him, from the sort of enmity in which he lived with Lady Glistonbury.
“I dread to go up stairs,” said he. “For God’s sake, Vivian, don’t leave me in this distress! — do order your carriage away! —— Put up Mr. Vivian’s carriage.”
Lady Sarah’s maid came to tell them that Lady Glistonbury had recovered her speech, and that she had asked, “if Mr. Vivian was gone?”
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p; “Do come up with me,” cried Lord Glistonbury, “and she will see you are not gone.”
“Here’s my lord and Mr. Vivian, my lady,” said the girl.
Then, turning to Lady Glistonbury’s woman, she added, in a loud whisper, “Mr. Vivian won’t go to-day.”
Lady Sarah gave her maid some commission, which took her out of the room. Lady Sarah, no longer the formal, cold, slow personage whom Vivian detested, now seemed to him, and not only seemed but was, quite a different being, inspired with energy, and quickness, and presence of mind: she forgot herself, and her illness, and her prudery, and her love, and every other consideration, in the sense of her mother’s danger. Lady Glistonbury had but imperfectly recovered her recollection. At one moment she smiled on Vivian, and tried to stretch out her hand to him, as she saw him standing beside Lady Sarah. But when he approached Lady Glistonbury, and spoke to her, she seemed to have some painful recollection, and, looking round the room, expressed surprise and uneasiness at his being there. Vivian retired; and Lord Glistonbury, who was crying like a child, followed, saying, “Take me out with you — Dr. G —— ought to be here before now — I’ll send for another physician! — Very shocking — very shocking — at Lady Glistonbury’s time of life, too — for she is not an old woman by any means. Lady Glistonbury is eighteen months younger than I am! — Nobody knows how soon it may be their turn! — It’s very shocking! — If I had known she was ill, I would have had advice for her sooner. She is very patient — too patient — a great deal too patient. She never will complain — never tells what she feels, body or mind — at least never tells me; but that may be my fault in some measure. Should be very sorry Lady Glistonbury went out of the world with things as they are now between us. Hope to God she will get over this attack! — Hey! Mr. Vivian?”
Vivian said whatever he could to fortify this hope, and was glad to see Lord Glistonbury show feelings of this sort. The physician arrived, and confirmed these hopes by his favourable prognostics. In the course of the day and night her face, which had been contracted, resumed its natural appearance; she recovered the use of her arm: a certain difficulty of articulation, and thickness of speech, with what the physician called hallucination of mind, and a general feebleness of body, were all the apparent consequences of this stroke. She was not herself sensible of the nature of the attack, or clear in her ideas of any thing that had passed immediately previous to it. She had only an imperfect recollection of her daughter’s illness, and of some hurry about Mr. Vivian’s going away. She was, however, well enough to go into her dressing-room, where Vivian went to pay his respects to her, with Lord Glistonbury. By unremitting exertions, and unusual cheerfulness, Lady Sarah succeeded in quieting her mother’s confused apprehensions on her account. When out of Lady Glistonbury’s hearing, all the attendants and the physicians repeatedly expressed fear that Lady Sarah would over-fatigue and injure herself by this extraordinary energy; but her powers of body and mind seemed to rise with the necessity for exertion; and, on this great occasion, she suddenly discovered a warmth and strength of character, of which few had ever before discerned even the slightest symptoms.
“Who would have expected this from Sarah?” whispered Lord Glistonbury to Vivian. “Why, her sister did not do more for me when I was ill! I always knew she loved her mother, but I thought it was in a quiet, commonplace way — Who knows but she loves me too? — or might—” She came into the room at this moment—”Sarah, my dear,” said his lordship, “where are my letters and yesterday’s papers, which I never read? — I’ll see if there be any thing in them that can interest your mother.”
Lord Glistonbury opened the papers, and the first article of public news was, “a dissolution of parliament confidently expected to take place immediately.” This must put an end to Vivian’s scheme of going to town to attend his duty in parliament. “But, may be, it is only newspaper information.” It was confirmed by all Lord Glistonbury and Vivian’s private letters. A letter from his mother, which Vivian now for the first moment had time to peruse, mentioned the dissolution of parliament as certain; she named her authority, which could not be doubted; and, in consequence, she had sent down supplies of wine for an election; and she said that she would “be immediately at Castle Vivian, to keep open house and open heart for her son. Though not furnished,” she observed, “the castle would suit the better all the purposes of an election; and she should not feel any inconvenience, for her own part, let the accommodations be what they might.”
Lord Glistonbury directly proposed and insisted upon Lady Mary Vivian’s making Glistonbury her head-quarters. Vivian objected: Lady Glistonbury’s illness was an ostensible and, he hoped, would be a sufficient excuse for declining the invitation. But Lord Glistonbury persisted: “Lady Glistonbury, he was sure, would wish it — nothing would be more agreeable to her.” His lordship’s looks appealed to Lady Sarah, but Lady Sarah was silent; and, when her father positively required her opinion, by adding, “Hey! Sarah?” she rather discouraged than pressed the invitation. She said, that though she was persuaded her mother would, if she were well, be happy to have the pleasure of seeing Lady Mary Vivian; yet she could not, in her mother’s present situation, venture to decide how far her health might be able to stand any election bustle.
Lady Sarah said this with a very calm voice, but blushed extremely as she spoke; and, for the first time, Vivian thought her not absolutely plain; and, for the first time, he thought even the formality and deliberate coolness of her manner were not disagreeable. He liked her more, at this moment, than he had ever imagined it possible he could like Lady Sarah Lidhurst; but he liked her chiefly because she did not press him into her service, but rather forwarded his earnest wish to get away from Glistonbury.
Lord Glistonbury appealed to the physician, and asked whether company and amusement were not “the best things possible for his patient? Lady Glistonbury should not be left alone, surely! Her mind should be interested and amused; and an election would be a fortunate circumstance just at present!”
The physician qualified the assent which his lordship’s peremptory tone seemed to demand, by saying, “that certainly moderate amusement, and whatever interested without agitating her ladyship, would be salutary.” His lordship then declared that he would leave it to Lady Glistonbury herself to decide: quitting the end of the room where they were holding their consultation, he approached her ladyship to explain the matter. But Lady Sarah stopped him, beseeching so earnestly that no appeal might be made to her mother, that Vivian was quite moved; and he settled the business at once to general satisfaction, by declaring that, though neither he nor Lady Mary Vivian could think of intruding as inmates at present, yet that they should, as soon as Lady Glistonbury’s health would permit, be as much at Glistonbury Castle as possible; and that the short distance from his house would make it, he hoped, not inconvenient to his lordship for all election business. Lord Glistonbury acceded, and Lady Sarah appeared gratefully satisfied. His lordship, who always took the task of explanation upon himself, now read the paragraph about the dissolution aloud to Lady Glistonbury; informed her, that Lady Mary Vivian was coming immediately to the country; and that they should hope to see Lady Mary and Mr. Vivian almost every day, though he could not prevail upon them to take up their abode during the election at Glistonbury. Lady Glistonbury listened, and tried, and seemed to understand — bowed to Mr. Vivian and smiled, and said she remembered he was often at Glistonbury during the last election — that she was happy to hear she should have the pleasure to see Lady Mary Vivian — that some people disliked election times, but for her part she did not, when she was strong. Indeed, the last election she recollected with particular pleasure — she was happy that Lord Glistonbury’s interest was of service to Mr. Vivian. Then “she hoped his canvass to-day had been successful?” — and asked some questions that showed her mind had become confused, and that she was confounding the past with the present. Lady Sarah and Mr. Vivian said a few words to set her right — she looked first at one
, and then at the other, listening, and then said—”I understand — God bless you both.” Vivian took up his hat, and looked out of the window, to see if his carriage was at the door.
“Mr. Vivian wishes you a good morning, madam,” said Lady Sarah: “he is going to Castle Vivian, to get things ready for Lady Mary’s arrival.”
“I wish you health and happiness, sir,” said Lady Glistonbury, attempting to rise, whilst some painful reminiscence altered her countenance.
“Pray do not stir, don’t disturb yourself, Lady Glistonbury. I shall pay my respects to your ladyship again as soon as possible.”
“And pray bring me good news of the election, and how the poll stands to-morrow, Mr. Vivian,” added her ladyship, as he left the room.
CHAPTER XII.
Vivian, who had felt oppressed and almost enslaved by his compassion, breathed more freely when he at last found himself in his carriage, driving away from Glistonbury. His own castle, and the preparations for his mother’s arrival, and for the expected canvass, occupied him so much for the ensuing days, that he had scarcely time to think of Lady Julia or of Lady Sarah, of Russell or Selina: he could neither reflect on the past, nor anticipate the future; the present, the vulgar present, full of upholsterers, and paper-hangers, and butlers, and grooms, and tenants, and freeholders, and parasites, pressed upon his attention with importunate claims. The dissolution of parliament took place. Lady Mary Vivian arrived almost as soon as the newspaper that brought this intelligence: with her came a new set of thoughts, all centering in the notion of her son’s consequence in the world, and of his happiness — ideas which were too firmly associated in her mind ever to be separated. She said that she had regretted his having made such a long stay in the country during the last session, because he had missed opportunities of distinguishing himself farther in parliament. The preceding session her ladyship had received gratifying compliments on her son’s talents, and on the figure he had already made in public life; she felt her self-love as well as her affection interested in his continuing his political career with spirit and success. “As to the present election,” she observed, “there could be little doubt that he would be re-elected with the assistance of the Glistonbury interest; and,” added her ladyship, smiling significantly, “I fancy your interest is pretty strong in that quarter. The world has given you by turns to Lady Julia and Lady Sarah Lidhurst; and I am asked continually which of the Lady Lidhursts you are in love with. One of these ladies certainly must be my daughter-in-law; pray, if you know, empower me to say which.” Lady Mary Vivian spoke but half in earnest, till the extraordinary commotion her words created in her son, convinced her that the report had not, now at least, been mistaken.
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