The words, “and no woman will ever love you, nor ever, did,” rung upon Vivian’s ear. “There she is mistaken, thank Heaven!” said he to himself: yet the words still dwelt upon his mind, and gave him exquisite pain. Upon looking again at Russell’s letter, he observed that Selina Sidney’s name was never mentioned; that she was neither directly nor indirectly alluded to in the whole letter. What omen to draw from this he could not divine. Again he read it; and all that Russell said of public life, and his exhortations to him to come and distinguish himself in public and in the political world, struck him in a new light. It seemed as if Russell was sensible that, there were no farther hopes of Selina, and that therefore he tried to turn Vivian’s mind from love to ambition. Fourteen times he read over this letter before he reached England; but he could not discover from it any thing as to the point on which his heart was most interested. He reached London in this, uncertainty. “Put me out of suspense, my best friend,” cried he, the moment he saw Russell: “tell me, is Selina living?” “Yes--she has been very ill, but is now recovered--quite recovered, and with your mother, who is grown fonder of her than ever she was.” “Selina alive! well! and with my mother!--and may I--I don’t mean may I _now_,--but may I _ever_ hope?--Believe me, I feel myself capable of any exertions, any forbearance, to obtain her forgiveness--to merit--May I ever hope for it?--Speak!” Russell assured him that he need not dread Miss Sidney’s resentment, for that she felt none; she had expressed pity more than anger--that she had taken pains to sooth his mother; and had expressed sincere satisfaction on hearing of his _release_ from his unworthy bondage, and at his return home to his friends. The tone in which Russell spoke, and the seriousness and embarrassment of his manner, alarmed Vivian inexpressibly. He stood silent, and dared not ask farther explanation for some minutes.--At length he broke silence, and conjured his friend to go immediately to Miss Sidney and his mother, and to request permission for him to see them both in each other’s presence. Russell said, that if Vivian insisted, he would comply with his request; but that he advised him not to attempt to see Miss Sidney at present; not till he had been some time in London--till he had given some earnest of the steadiness of his conduct--till he had appeared again, and distinguished himself in public life. “This might raise you again in her esteem; and,” continued Russell, “you must be aware that her love depends on her esteem--at least, that the one cannot exist without the other.” “Will you deliver a letter to her from me?” said Vivian. “If you think I had better not attempt to see her yet, you will deliver a letter for me?” After some hesitation, or rather some deliberation, Russell answered, in a constrained voice, “I will deliver your letter, if you insist upon it.”