Vivian explained his reasons--Lord Glistonbury would not allow them any weight, entreated and insisted that he should stay at least a few days longer; for his going “just at this moment would seem quite like a break up in the family, and would be the most unfriendly and cruel thing imaginable.” Why Lord Glistonbury so earnestly pressed his stay, perhaps even his lordship himself did not exactly know; for, with all the air of being a person of infinite address and depth of design, his lordship was in reality childishly inconsistent; what the French call _inconséquent_. On any subject, great or small, where he once took it into his head, or, as he called it, _made it a point_, that a thing should be so or so, he was as peremptory, or, where he could not be peremptory, as anxious, as if it were a matter of life and death. In his views there was no perspective, no keeping--all objects appeared of equal magnitude; and even now, when it might be conceived that his whole mind was intent upon a great family misfortune, he, in the course of a few minutes, became as eager about a mere trifle as if he had nothing else in the world to think of. From the earnestness with which Lord Glistonbury urged him to stay a few days, at least one day longer, Vivian was induced to believe that it must be a matter of real consequence to his lordship--“And, in his present state of distress, I cannot refuse such a request,” thought Vivian. He yielded, therefore, to these solicitations, and consented to stay a few days longer; though he knew the prolonging his visit would be, in every respect, disagreeable.