Chapter 22

After he had despatched his two letters, he became excessively anxious to receive Mrs. Wharton’s answer. By trifling but unavoidable accidents, it was delayed a few hours. At last it arrived; Vivian tore it open, and read with surprise these words:

“Your letter is just what I wished, and makes me the happiest of women--that is, if you are sincere--which, after all you’ve said, I can’t doubt. I am so hurried by visitors, and annoyed, that I cannot write more; but shall have time to talk to-night at the opera.”

At the opera Mrs. Wharton appeared in high spirits, and was dressed with more than usual elegance. It was observed that she had never been seen to look so beautiful. There was something in her manner that puzzled Vivian extremely; this extraordinary gaiety was not what he had reason to expect. “Is it possible,” thought he, “that this woman is a mere coquette, who has been amusing herself at my expense all this time, and can now break off all connexion with me without a moment’s regret?” Vivian’s pride was piqued: though he wished to part from the lady, he could not bear that this parting should evidently cost her nothing. He was mortified beyond expression by the idea that he had been duped. After the opera was over, whilst Mrs. Wharton was waiting for her carriage, he had an opportunity of speaking to her without being overheard.

“I am happy,” said he, with a constrained voice, “I am extremely happy to see you, madam, in such charming spirits to-night.”

“But are not you a strange man to look so grave?” cried Mrs. Wharton. “I vow, I don’t know what to make of you! But I believe you want to quarrel for the pleasure of making it up again. Now that won’t do. By-the-bye, I have a quarrel with you, sir.--How came you to sign your name to that foolish stuff you wrote me yesterday? Never do so any more, I charge you, for fear of accidents. But what’s the matter now?--You are a strange mortal!--Are you going to die upon the spot?--What is the matter?”

“My letter to you was not signed, I believe,” said Vivian, in an altered voice.

“Indeed it was,” said Mrs. Wharton. “It was signed Charles Vivian at full length. But why are you in such tremors about it? I only mentioned it to put you on your guard in future.--I’ve burnt the letter--people always get themselves into scrapes if they don’t burn love-letters--as I’ve often heard Mr. Wharton say,” added she, laughing.

To his unspeakable consternation, Vivian now discovered that he had sent the letter intended for Selina to Mrs. Wharton; and that which was designed for Mrs. Wharton he had directed to Miss Sidney. Vivian was so lost in thought, that the cry of _“Mrs. Wharton’s carriage stops the way!”_ was vociferated many times before he recovered sufficient presence of mind to hand the lady out of the house. He went home immediately, that he might reflect upon what was best to be done. His servant presently gave him a letter which a messenger had just brought from the country. The packet was from Selina.

“Enclosed, I return the letter which I received from you this morning. I read the first three lines of it before I perceived that it could not be intended for me--I went no farther.--I cannot help knowing for whom it was designed; but you may be assured that your secret shall be kept inviolably.--You have no reproaches to fear from me.--This is the last