Mrs Mowbray was but just returned from her charitable visit when Adeline
entered the room. 'And pray, Miss Mowbray, where have you been?' she
exclaimed, seeing Adeline with her hat and cloak on.
'I have been visiting poor Mr Glenmurray,' she replied.
'Indeed!' cried Mrs Mowbray: 'and without my leave! and pray who went
with you?'
'Nobody, ma'am.'
'Nobody!--What! visit a man alone at his lodgings, after the education
which you have received!'
'Indeed, madam,' replied Adeline meekly, 'my education never taught me
that such conduct was improper; nor, as you did the same this afternoon,
could I have dared to think it so.'
'You are mistaken, Miss Mowbray,' replied her mother: 'I did not do the
same; for the terms which I am upon with Sir Patrick made my visiting
him no impropriety at all.'
'If you think I have acted wrong,' replied Adeline timidly, 'no doubt I
have done so; though you were quite right in visiting Sir Patrick, as
the respectability of your age and character, and Sir Patrick's youth,
warranted the propriety of the visit:--but, surely the terms which I am
upon with Mr Glenmurray--'
'The terms which you are upon with Mr Glenmurray! and my age and
character! what can you mean?' angrily exclaimed Mrs Mowbray.
'I hope, my dear mother,' said Adeline tenderly, 'that you had long
ere this guessed the attachment which subsists between Mr Glenmurray
and me;--an attachment cherished by your high opinion of him and his
writings; but which respect has till now made me hesitate to mention to
you.'
'Would to heaven!' replied Mrs Mowbray, 'that respect had made you
for ever silent on the subject! Do you suppose that I would marry my
daughter to a man of small fortune,--but more especially to one who, as
Sir Patrick informs me, is shunned for his principles and profligacy by
all the world?'
'To what Sir Patrick says of Mr Glenmurray I pay no attention,' answered
Adeline; 'nor are you, my dear mother, capable, I am sure, of being
influenced by the prejudices of the world.--But you are quite mistaken
in supposing me so lost to consistency, and so regardless of your
liberal opinions and the books which we have studied, as to think of
_marrying_ Mr Glenmurray.'
'Grant me patience!' cried Mrs Mowbray; 'why, to be sure you do not
think of living with him _without_ being married?'
'Certainly, madam; that you may have the pleasure of beholding one union
founded on rational grounds and cemented by rational ties.'
'How!' cried Mrs Mowbray, turning pale. 'I!--I have pleasure in seeing
my daughter a kept mistress!--You are mad, quite mad.--_I_ approve such
unhallowed connexions!'
'My dearest mother,' replied Adeline, 'your agitation terrifies me,--but
indeed what I say is strictly true; and see here, in Mr Glenmurray's
book, the very passage which I so often have heard you admire.' As she
said this, Adeline pointed to the passage; but in an instant Mrs Mowbray
seized the book and threw it on the fire.
Before Adeline had recovered her consternation Mrs Mowbray fell into a
violent hysteric; and long was it before she was restored to composure.
When she recovered she was so exhausted that Adeline dared not renew
the conversation; but leaving her to rest, she made up a bed on the
floor in her mother's room, and passed a night of wretchedness and
watchfulness,--the first of the kind which she had ever known.--Would
it had been the last!
In the morning Mrs Mowbray awoke, refreshed and calm; and, affected at
seeing the pale cheek and sunk eye of Adeline, indicative of a sleepless
and unhappy night, she held out her hand to her with a look of kindness;
Adeline pressed it to her lips, as she knelt by the bed-side, and
moistened it with tears of regret for the past and alarm for the future.
'Adeline, my dear child,' said Mrs Mowbray in a faint voice, 'I hope you
will no longer think of putting a design in execution so fraught with
mischief to you, and horror to me. Little did I think that you were so
romantic as to see no difference between amusing one's imagination with
new theories and new systems, and acting upon them in defiance of common
custom, and the received usages of society. I admire the convenient
trousers and graceful dress of the Turkish women; but I would not wear
them myself, lest it should expose me to derision.'
'Is there no difference,' thought Adeline, 'between the importance of a
dress and an opinion!--Is the one to be taken up, and laid down again,
with the same indifference as the other!' But she continued silent, and
Mrs Mowbray went on.
'The poetical philosophy which I have so much delighted to study, has
served me to ornament my conversation, and make persons less enlightened
than myself wonder at the superior boldness of my fancy, and the acuteness
of my reasoning powers;--but I should as soon have thought of making
this little gold chain round my neck fasten the hall-door, as act upon
the precepts laid down in those delightful books. No; though I think all
they say is true, I believe the purity they inculcate too much for this
world.'
Adeline listened in silent astonishment and consternation. Conscience,
and the conviction of what is right, she then for the first time learned,
were not to be the rule of action; and though filial tenderness made her
resolve never to be the mistress of Glenmurray, she also resolved never
to be his wife, or that of any other man; while, in spite of herself,
the great respect with which she had hitherto regarded her mother's
conduct and opinions began to diminish.
'Would to heaven, my dear mother,' said Adeline, when Mrs Mowbray had
done speaking, 'that you had said all this to me ere my mind had been
indelibly impressed with the truth of these forbidden doctrines; for now
my conscience tells me that I ought to act up to them!'
'How!' exclaimed Mrs Mowbray, starting up in her bed, and in a voice
shrill with emotion, 'are you then resolved to disobey me, and dishonour
yourself?'
'Oh! never, never!' replied Adeline, alarmed at her mother's violence,
and fearful of a relapse. 'Be but the kind affectionate parent that you
have ever been to me; and though I will never marry out of regard to
my own principles, I will also never contract any other union, out
of respect to your wishes,--but will lead with you a quiet, if not a
_happy_ life; for never, never can I forget Glenmurray.'
'There speaks the excellent child I always thought you to be!' replied
Mrs Mowbray; 'and I shall leave it to time and good counsels to convince
you, that the opinions of a girl of eighteen, as they are not founded
on long experience, may possibly be erroneous.'
Mrs Mowbray never made a truer observation; but Adeline was not in a
frame of mind to assent to it.
'Besides,' continued Mrs Mowbray, 'had I ever been disposed to accept
of Mr Glenmurray as a son-in-law, it is very unlikely that I should be
so now; as the duel took place not only, I find, from the treasonable
opinions which he put forth, but from some disrespectful language which
he held concerning me.'
'Who could dare to invent so infamous a calumny!' exclaimed Adeline.
'My authority is unquestionable, Miss Mowbray; I speak from Sir Patrick
himself.'
'Then he adds falsehood to his other villanies!' returned Adeline,
almost inarticulate with rage:--'but what could be expected from a man
who could dare to insult a young woman under the roof of her mother with
his licentious addresses?'
'What mean you?' cried Mrs Mowbray, turning pale.
'I mean that Sir Patrick yesterday morning insulted me by the grossest
familiarities, and--'
'My dear child,' replied Mrs Mowbray laughing, 'that is only the usual
freedom of his manner; a manner which your ignorance of the world led
you to mistake. He did not mean to insult you, believe me, I am sure
that, spite of his ardent passion for me, he never, even when alone with
me, hazarded any improper liberty.'
'The ardent passion which he feels for you, madam!' exclaimed Adeline,
turning pale in her turn.
'Yes, Miss Mowbray! What, I suppose you think me too old to inspire
one!--But, I assure you, there are people who think the mother handsomer
than the daughter!'
'No doubt, dear mother, every one ought to think so,--and would to
heaven Sir Patrick were one of those! But he, unfortunately--'
'Is of that opinion,' interrupted Mrs Mowbray angrily: 'and to convince
you--so tenderly does he love me, and so fondly do I return his passion,
that in a few days I shall become his wife.'
Adeline, on hearing this terrible information, fell insensible on the
ground. When she recovered she saw Mrs Mowbray anxiously watching by
her, but not with that look of alarm and tenderness with which she had
attended her during her long illness; that look which was always present
to her graceful and affectionate remembrance. No; Mrs Mowbray's eye was
cast down with a half-mournful, half-reproachful, and half-fearful
expression, when it met that of Adeline.
The emotion of anguish which her fainting had evinced was a reproach to
the proud heart of Mrs Mowbray, and Adeline felt that it was so; but
when she recollected that her mother was going to marry a man who had
so lately declared a criminal passion for herself, she was very near
relapsing into insensibility. She however struggled with her feelings,
in order to gain resolution to disclose to Mrs Mowbray all that had
passed between her and Sir Patrick. But as soon as she offered to renew
the conversation, Mrs Mowbray sternly commanded her to be silent; and
insisting on her going to bed, she left her to her own reflections, till
wearied and exhausted she fell into a sound sleep: nor, as it was late
in the evening when she awoke, did she rise again till the next morning.
Mrs Mowbray entered her room as she was dressing and inquired how she
did, with some kindness.
'I shall be better, dear mother, if you will but hear what I have to say
concerning Sir Patrick,' replied Adeline, bursting into tears.
'You can say nothing that will shake my opinion of him, Miss Mowbray,'
replied her mother coldly: 'so I advise you to reconcile yourself to a
circumstance which it is not in your power to prevent.' So saying, she
left the room: and Adeline, convinced that all she could say would be
vain, endeavoured to console herself, by thinking that, as soon as Sir
Patrick became the husband of her mother, his wicked designs on her
would undoubtedly cease; and that, therefore, in one respect, that
ill-assorted union would be beneficial to her.
Sir Patrick, meanwhile, was no less sanguine in his expectations from
his marriage. Unlike the innocent Adeline, he did not consider his union
with the mother as a necessary check to his attempts on the daughter;
but, emboldened by what to him appeared the libertine sentiments of
Adeline, and relying on the opportunities of being with her, which he
must infallibly enjoy under the same roof in the country, he looked on
her as his certain prey. Though he believed Glenmurray to be at that
moment preferred to himself, he thought it impossible that the superior
beauty of his person should not, in the end, have its due weight: as a
passion founded in esteem, and the admiration of intellectual beauty,
could not, in his opinion, subsist: besides, Adeline appeared in his
eyes not a deceived enthusiast, but a susceptible and forward girl,
endeavouring to hide her frailty under fine sentiments and high-sounding
theories. Nor was Sir Patrick's inference an unnatural one. Every man
of the world would have thought the same; and on very plausible
grounds.