Sir Patrick had reached Mrs Mowbray's some time before him, and had,
to his great satisfaction, found Adeline alone; nor did it escape his
penetration that her cheeks glowed, and her eyes sparkled with pleasure,
at his approach.
But he would not have rejoiced in this circumstance, had he known
that Adeline was pleased to see him merely because she considered his
appearance as a proof of Glenmurray's safety; for, in spite of his
having written against duelling, and of her confidence in his firmness
and consistency, she was not quite convinced that the reasoning
philosopher would triumph over the feeling man.
'You are welcome, Sir Patrick!' cried Adeline, as he entered, with a
most winning smile: 'I am very glad to see you: pray sit down.'
The baronet, who, audacious as his hopes and intentions were, had not
expected so kind a reception, was quite thrown off his guard by it, and
catching her suddenly in his arms, endeavoured to obtain a still kinder
welcome. Adeline as suddenly disengaged herself from him, and, with the
dignity of offended modesty, desired him to quit the room, as, after
such an insolent attempt, she could not think herself justified in
suffering him to remain with her.
But her anger was soon changed into pity, when she saw Sir Patrick lay
down his hat, seat himself, and burst into a long deliberate laugh.
'He is certainly mad!' she exclaimed; and, leaning against the
chimney-piece, she began to contemplate him with a degree of fearful
interest.
'Upon my soul! now,' cried the baronet, when his laugh was over, 'you
do not suppose, my dear creature, that you and I do not understand one
another! Telling a young fellow to leave the house on such occasions,
means, in the pretty no meaning of your sex, "Stay, and offend again,"
to be sure.'
'He is certainly mad!' said Adeline, more confirmed than before in her
idea of his insanity, and immediately endeavoured to reach the door: but
in so doing she approached Sir Patrick, who, rather roughly seizing her
trembling hand, desired her to sit down, and hear what he had to say to
her. Adeline, thinking it not right to irritate him, instantly obeyed.
'Now, then, to open my mind to you,' said the baronet, drawing his chair
close to hers: 'From the very first moment I saw you, I felt that we
were made for one another; though, being bothered by my debts, I made up
to the old duchess, and she nibbled the bait directly,--deeming my clean
inches (six feet one, without shoes) well worth her dirty acres.'
'How dreadfully incoherent he is!' thought Adeline, not suspecting for a
moment that, by the old duchess, he meant her still blooming mother.
'But, my lovely dear!' continued Sir Patrick, most ardently pressing her
hand, 'so much have your sweet person, and your frank and liberal way of
thinking, charmed me, that I here freely offer myself to you, and we will
begin the life of honour together as soon as you please.'
Still Adeline, who was unconscious how much her avowed opinions, had
exposed her to insult, continued to believe Sir Patrick insane; a belief
which the wildness of his eyes confirmed. 'I really know not,--you
surprise me, Sir Patrick,--I--'
'Surprise you, my dear soul! How could you expect anything else from
a man of my spirit, after your honest declaration last night?--All I
feared was, that Glenmurray should get the start of me.'
Adeline, though alarmed, bewildered, and confounded, had still
recollection enough to know that, whether sane or insane, the words and
looks of Sir Patrick were full of increasing insult. 'I believe, I think
I had better retire', faltered out Adeline.
'Retire!--No, indeed,' exclaimed the baronet; rudely seizing her.
This outrage restored Adeline to her usual spirit and self-possession;
and bestowing on him the epithet of 'mean-soul'd ruffian!' she had
almost freed herself from his grasp, when a quick step was heard on the
stairs, and the door was thrown open by Glenmurray. In a moment Adeline,
bursting into tears, threw herself into his arms, as if in search of
protection.
Glenmurray required no explanation of the scene before him: the
appearance of the actors in it was explanation sufficient; and while
with one arm he fondly held Adeline to his bosom, he raised the other in
a threatening attitude against Sir Patrick, exclaiming as he did it,
'Base, unmanly villain!'
'Villain!' echoed Sir Patrick--'but it is very well--very well for the
present--Good morning to you, sir!' So saying he hastily withdrew.
As soon as he was gone, Glenmurray for the first time declared to
Adeline the ardent passion with which she had inspired him; and she,
with equal frankness, confessed that her heart was irrevocably his.
From this interesting tete-a-tete Adeline was summoned to attend a
person on business to her mother; and during her absence Glenmurray
received a challenge from the angry baronet, appointing him to meet him
that afternoon at five o'clock, about two miles from Bath. To this note,
for fear of alarming the suspicions of Adeline, Glenmurray returned only
a verbal message, saying he would answer it in two hours: but as soon as
she returned he pleaded indispensable business; and before she could
mention any fears respecting the consequences of what had passed between
him and Sir Patrick, he had left the room, having, to prevent any alarm,
requested leave to wait on her early the next day.
As soon as Glenmurray reached his lodgings, he again revolved in his
mind the propriety of accepting the challenge. 'How can I expect to
influence others by my theories to act right, if my practice sets them
a bad example?' But then again he exclaimed, 'How can I expect to have
any thing I say attended to, when, by refusing to fight, I put it in
the power of my enemies to assert I am a poltroon, and worthy only of
neglect and contempt? No, no; I must fight:--even Adeline herself,
especially as it is on her account, will despise me if I do not:'--and
then, without giving himself any more time to deliberate, he sent an
answer to Sir Patrick, promising to meet him at the time appointed.
But after he had sent it he found himself a prey to so much self-reproach,
and after he had forfeited his claims to consistency of conduct, he felt
himself so strongly aware of the value of it, that, had not the time of
the meeting been near at hand, he would certainly have deliberated upon
some means of retracting his consent to it.
Being resolved to do as little mischief as he could, he determined on
having no second in the business; and accordingly repaired to the field
accompanied only by a trusty servant, who had orders to wait his master's
pleasure at a distance.
Contrary to Glenmurray's expectations, Sir Patrick also came unattended
by a second; while his servant, who was with him, was, like the other,
desired to remain in the back ground.
'I wish, Mr Glenmurray, to do every thing honourable,' said the baronet,
after they had exchanged salutations: 'therefore, Sir, as I concluded
you would find it difficult to get a second, I am come without one, and
I _conclude_ that I _concluded_ right.--Aye, men of your principle can
have but few friends.'
'And men of your practice ought to have none, Sir Patrick,' retorted
Glenmurray: 'but, as I don't think it worth while to explain to you my
reasons for not having a second, as I fear that you are incapable of
understanding them, I must desire you to take your ground.'
'With all my heart,' replied his antagonist; and then taking aim, they
agreed to fire at the same moment.
They did so; and the servants, hearing the report of the pistols, ran to
the scene of action, and saw Sir Patrick bleeding in the sword-arm, and
Glenmurray, also wounded, leaning against a tree.
'This is cursed unlucky,' said Sir Patrick coolly: 'you have disabled my
right arm. I can't go on with this business at present; but when I am
well again command me. Your wound, I believe, is as slight as mine; but
as I can walk, and you cannot, and as I have a chaise, and you not, you
shall use it to convey you and your servant home, and I and mine will go
on foot.'
To this obliging offer Glenmurray was incapable of giving denial; for he
became insensible from loss of blood, and with the assistance of his
antagonist was carried to the chaise, and supported by his terrified
servant, conveyed back to Bath.
It is not to be supposed that an event of this nature should be long
unknown. It was soon told all over the city that Sir Patrick O'Carrol
and Mr Glenmurray had fought a duel, and that the latter was dangerously
wounded; the quarrel having originated in Mr Glenmurray's scoffing at
religion, king, and constitution, before the pious and loyal baronet.
This story soon reached the ears of Mrs Mowbray, who, in an agony of
tender sorrow, and in defiance of all decorum, went in person to call
on her admired Sir Patrick; and Adeline, who heard of the affair soon
after, as regardless of appearances as her mother, and more alarmed,
went in person to inquire concerning her wounded Glenmurray.
By the time that she had arrived at his lodgings, not only his own
surgeon but Sir Patrick's had seen him, as his antagonist thought it
necessary to ascertain the true state of his wound, that he might know
whether he ought to stay, or fly his country.
The account of both the surgeons was, however, so favourable, and
Glenmurray in all respects so well, that Sir Patrick's alarms were soon
quite at an end; and the wounded man was lying on a sofa, lost in no
very pleasant reflections, when Adeline knocked at his door. Glenmurray
at that very moment was saying to himself, 'Well;--so much for principle
and consistency! Now, my next step must be to marry, and then I shall
have made myself a complete fool, and the worst of all fools,--a man
presuming to instruct others by his precepts, when he finds them
incapable of influencing even his own actions.'
At this moment his servant came up with Miss Mowbray's compliments, and,
if he was well enough to see her, she would come up and speak to him.
In an instant all his self-reproaches were forgotten; and when Adeline
hung weeping and silent on his shoulder, he could not but rejoice in an
affair which had procured him a moment of such heartfelt delight. At
first Adeline expressed nothing but terror at the consequences of his
wound, and pity for his sufferings; but when she found that he was in
no danger, and in very little pain, the tender mistress yielded to the
severe monitress, and she began to upbraid Glenmurray for having acted
not only in defiance of her wishes and principles, but of his own; of
principles laid down by him to the world in the strongest point of view,
and in a manner convincing to every mind.
'Dearest Adeline, consider the provocation,' cried Glenmurray:--'a gross
insult offered to the woman I love!'
'But who ever fought a duel without provocation, Glenmurray? If
provocation be a justification, your book was unnecessary; and did not
you offer an insult to the understanding of the woman you love, in
supposing that she could be obliged to you for playing the fool on her
account?'
'But I should have been called a coward had I declined the challenge;
and though I can bear the world's hatred, I could not its contempt:--I
could not endure the loss of what the world calls honour.'
'Is it possible,' rejoined Adeline, 'that I hear the philosophical
Glenmurray talking thus, in the silly jargon of a man of the world?'
'Alas! I am a man, not a philosopher, Adeline!'
'At least be a sensible one;--consistent I dare not now call you. But
have you forgotten the distinction which, in your volume on the subject
of duels, you so strongly lay down between real and apparent honour?
In which of the two classes do you put the honour of which, in this
instance, you were so tenacious? What is there in common between the
glory of risking the life of a fellow-creature, and testimony of an
approving conscience?'
'An excellent observation that of yours, indeed, my sweet monitress,'
said Glenmurray.
'An observation of mine; It is your own,' replied Adeline: 'but see, I
have the book in my muff; and I will punish you for the badness of your
practice, by giving you a dose of your theory.'
'Cruel girl!' cried Glenmurray, 'I am not ordered a sleeping draught!'
Adeline was however resolved; and, opening the book, she read argument
after argument with unyielding perseverance, till Glenmurray, who,
like the eagle in the song, saw on the dart that wounded him his own
feathers, cried 'Quarter!'
'But tell me, dear Adeline,' said Glenmurray, a little piqued at her too
just reproofs, 'you, who are so severe on my want of consistency, are
you yourself capable of acting up in every respect to your precepts?'
'After your weakness,' replied Adeline, smiling, 'it becomes me to
doubt my own strength; but I assure you that I make it a scruple of
conscience, to show by my conduct my confidence in the truth of my
opinions.'
'Then, in defiance of the world's opinion, that opinion which I, you
see, had not resolution to brave, you will be mine--not according to the
ties of marriage, but with no other ties or sanction than those of love
and reason?'
'I will,' said Adeline: 'and may He whom I worship' (raising her fine
eyes and white arms to heaven) 'desert me when I desert you!'
Who that had seen her countenance and gesture at that moment, could have
imagined she was calling on heaven to witness an engagement to lead a
life of infamy? Rather would they have thought her a sublime enthusiast
breathing forth the worship of a grateful soul.
It may be supposed that Glenmurray's heart beat with exultation at this
confession from Adeline, and that he forgot, in the promised indulgence
of his passion, those bounds which strict decorum required. But
Glenmurray did her justice; he beheld her as she was--all purity of
feeling and all delicacy; and, if possible, the slight favours by which
true love is long contented to be fed, though granted by Adeline with
more conscious emotion, were received by him with more devoted respect:
besides, he again felt that mixture of pain with pleasure, on this
assurance of her love, which he had experienced before. For he knew,
though Adeline did not, the extent of the degradation into which the
step which her conscience approved would necessarily precipitate her;
and experience alone could convince him that her sensibility to shame,
when she was for the first time exposed to it, would not overcome her
supposed fortitude and boasted contempt of the world's opinion, and
change all the roses of love into the thorns of regret and remorse.
And could he who doted on her;--he, too, who admired her as much for her
consummate purity as for any other of her qualities;--could he bear to
behold this fair creature, whose open eye beamed with the consciousness
of virtue, casting her timid glances to the earth, and shrinking with
horror from the conviction of having in the world's eye forfeited all
pretensions to that virtue which alone was the end of her actions! Would
the approbation of her own mind be sufficient to support her under such
a trial, though she had with such sweet earnestness talked to him of its
efficacy! These reflections had for some time past been continually
occurring to him, and now they came across his mind blighting the
triumphs of successful passion:--nay, but from the dread of incurring
yet more ridicule, on account of the opposition of his practice to his
theory, and perhaps the indignant contempt of Adeline, he could have
thrown himself at her feet, conjuring her to submit to the degradation
of being a wife.
But, unknown to Glenmurray, perhaps, another reason prompted him to
desire this concession from Adeline. We are never more likely to be in
reality the slaves of selfishness, than when we fancy ourselves acting
with most heroic disinterestedness.--Egotism loves a becoming dress, and
is always on the watch to hide her ugliness by the robe of benevolence.
Glenmurray thought that he was willing to marry Adeline merely for _her_
sake! but I suspect it was chiefly for _his_. The true and delicate
lover is always a monopolizer, always desirous of calling the woman
of his affections his own: it is not only because he considers marriage
as a holy institution that the lover leads his mistress to the altar;
but because it gives him a right to appropriate the fair treasure to
himself,--because it sanctions and perpetuates the dearest of all
monopolies, and erects a sacred barrier to guard his rights,--around
which, all that is respectable in society, all that is most powerful and
effectual in its organization, is proud and eager to rally.
But while Glenmurray, in spite of his happiness, was sensible to an
alloy of it, and Adeline was tenderly imputing to the pain of his wound
the occasionally mournful expression of his countenance, Adeline took
occasion to declare that she would live with Glenmurray only on condition
that such a step met with her mother's approbation.
'Then are my hopes for ever at an end,' said Glenmurray:--'or,--or' (and
spite of himself his eyes sparkled as he spoke)--'or we must submit to
the absurd ceremony of marriage.'
'Marriage!' replied the astonished Adeline: 'can you think so meanly
of my mother, as to suppose her practice so totally opposite to her
principles, that she would require her daughter to submit to a ceremony
which she herself regards with contempt?--Impossible. I am sure, when I
solicit her consent to my being yours, she will be pleased to find that
her sentiments and observations have not been thrown away on me.'
Glenmurray thought otherwise: however, he bowed and was silent; and
Adeline declared that, to put an end to all doubt on the subject, she
would instantly go in search of Mrs Mowbray and propose the question to
her: and Glenmurray, feeling himself more weak and indisposed than he
chose to own to her, allowed her, though reluctantly, to depart.