that as he was of an ancient family, it might gratify him that his mother should be made a baroness in her own right. The offer was declined, and the temptation was firmly withstood by our hero; his credit was now at its _acme_ with his own coadjutors. Lady Mary whispered the circumstance, as a state secret, to all her acquaintance; and Russell took care that Miss Sidney should hear of it. Vivian was now cited as an incorruptible patriot. Wharton’s malice, and even his wit, was almost silenced; yet he was heard to say, amidst the din of applause, “This is only the first offer; he is in the right to make a show of resistance: he will coquet for a time, and keep _philandering_ on till he suits himself, and then he’ll jilt us, you’ll see.” Such speeches, though they reached Vivian’s ear by the kind officiousness of friends, were never made by Mr. Wharton so directly that he could take hold of them; and Russell strenuously advised him not to seek occasion to quarrel with a man who evidently desired only to raise his own reputation by making Vivian angry, getting him in the wrong, and forcing him into an imprudent duel. “Let your actions continue to contradict his words, and they can never injure you,” said Russell. For some time Vivian adhered to his friend’s advice, and he proudly felt the superiority of principle and character. But, alas! there was one defence that his patriotism wanted--economy. Whilst he was thus active in the public cause, and exulting in his disinterestedness, his private affairs were getting into terrible disorder. The expense of building his castle had increased beyond all his calculations--the expense of his election--the money he had lost at play whilst he was in Wharton’s society--the sums he had lent to Wharton--the money he had spent abroad,--all these accumulated brought him to great difficulties: for though his estate was considerable, yet it was so settled and tied up that he could neither sell nor mortgage. His creditors became clamorous--he had no means of satisfying or quieting them: an execution was actually sent down to his castle, just as it was finished. Lady Mary Vivian was in the greatest alarm and distress: she had no means of extricating her son. As to his fashionable friends--no hopes from such extravagant and selfish beings. What was to be done? At this critical moment, the offers from _a certain quarter_ were renewed in another, and, as it seemed, a more acceptable form,--a pension was proffered instead of a title; and it was promised that the business should be so managed, and the pension so held in another name, that nothing of the transaction should transpire; and that his seceding from opposition should be made to appear a change of sentiments from conviction, not from interested motives. Vivian’s honourable feelings revolted from these offers, and abhorred these subterfuges; but distress--pecuniary distress! he had never before felt its pressure; he had never till