At length they arrived at the place of their destination; and Sir
Patrick, warmly embracing his bride, bade her welcome to her new abode;
and immediately approaching Adeline, he bestowed on her an embrace no
less cordial:--or, to say the truth, so ardent seemed the welcome, even
to the innocent Adeline, that she vainly endeavoured to persuade herself
that, as her father-in-law, Sir Patrick's tenderness was excusable.
Spite of her efforts to be cheerful she was angry and suspicious, and
had an indistinct feeling of remote danger; which though she could not
define even to herself, it was new and painful to her to experience.
But as the elastic mind of eighteen soon rebounds from the pressure of
sorrow, and forgets in present enjoyment the prospect of evil, Adeline
gazed on the elegant apartment she was in with joyful surprise; while,
through folding doors on either side of it, she beheld a suite of rooms,
all furnished with a degree of tasteful simplicity such as she had never
before beheld: and through the windows, which opened on a lawn that
sloped to the banks of a rapid river, she saw an amphitheatre of wooded
hills, which proved that, how great soever had been the efforts of art
to decorate their new habitation, the hand of Nature had done still more
to embellish it; and all fear of Sir Patrick was lost in gratitude for
his having chosen such a retirement.
With eager curiosity Adeline hurried from room to room; admired in the
western apartments the fine effect of the declining sun shining through
rose-coloured window curtains; gazed with delight on the statues and
pictures that every where met the eye, and reposed with unsuspecting
gaiety on the couches of eider down which were in profusion around.
Every thing in the house spoke it to be the temple of Pleasure: but the
innocent Adeline and her unobservant mother saw nothing but elegant
convenience in an abode in which the disciples of Epicurus might have
delighted; and while AEolian harps in the windows, and perfumes of all
kinds, added to the enchantment of the scene, the bride only beheld in
the choice of the villa a proof of her husband's desire of making her
happy; and Adeline sighed for virtuous love and Glenmurray, as all that
was wanting to complete her fascination.
Sir Patrick, meanwhile, was not blind to the impressions made on Adeline
by the beauty of the spot which he had chosen, though he was far from
suspecting the companion she had pictured to herself as most fitted
to enjoy and embellish it; and pleased because she was pleased, and
delighted to be regarded by her with such unusual looks of complacency,
he gave himself up to his natural vivacity; and Adeline passed a merry,
if not a happy, evening with the bride and bridegroom.
But the next morning she arose with the painful conviction as fresh as
ever on her mind, that day would succeed to day; and yet she should not
behold Glenmurray: and that day would succeed to day, and still should
she see O'Carrol, still be exposed to his noisy mirth, to his odious
familiarities, which, though she taught herself to believe they
proceeded merely from the customs of his country, and the nearness of
their relationship, it was to her most painful to endure.
Her only resource, therefore, from unpleasant thoughts was reading;
and she eagerly opened the cases of books in the library, which were
unlocked. But, on taking down some of the books, she was disappointed to
find none of the kind to which she had been accustomed. Mrs Mowbray's
peculiar taste had led her, as we have before observed, to the perusal
of nothing but political tracts, systems of philosophy, and Scuderi's
and other romances. Scarcely had the works of our best poets found their
way to her library; and novels, plays, and works of a lighter kind she
was never in the habit of reading herself, and consequently had not put
in the hands of her daughter. Adeline had, therefore, read Rousseau's
_Contrat Social_, but not his _Julie_; Montesquieu's _Esprit des Loix_,
but not his _Lettres Persanes_; and had glowed with republican ardour
over the scenes of Voltaire's _Brutus_, but had never had her mind
polluted by the pages of his romances.
Different had been the circumstances, and consequently the practice,
of the owner of Sir Patrick's new abode. Of all Rousseau's works, he
had in his library only the _New Heloise_ and his _Confessions_; of
Montesquieu, none but the glowing letters above-mentioned; and while
Voltaire's chaste and moral tragedies were excluded, his profligate
tales attracted the eye by the peculiar elegance of their binding, while
dangerous French novels of all descriptions met the view under the downy
pillows of the inviting sofas around, calculated to inflame the fancy
and corrupt the morals.
But Adeline, unprepared by any reading of the kind to receive and
relish the poison contained in them, turned with disgust from pages so
uncongenial to her feelings; nor did her eye dwell delighted on any of
the stores which the shelves contained.
Disappointment in her hopes of finding amusement in reading, Adeline had
recourse to walking; and none of the beautiful scenes around remained
long unexplored by her. In her rambles she but too frequently saw
scenes of poverty and distress, which ill contrasted with the beauty of
the house which she inhabited; scenes, which even a small portion of
the money expended there in useless decoration would have entirely
alleviated: and they were scenes, too, which Adeline had been accustomed
to relieve. The extreme of poverty in the cottage did not disgrace, on
the Mowbray estate, the well-furnished mansion-house; but Adeline, as
we have observed before, was allowed to draw on her mother for money
sufficient to prevent industrious labour from knowing the distress of
want.
'And why should I not draw on her here for money for the same purposes?'
cried Adeline to herself, as she beheld one spectacle of peculiar
hardships.--'Surely my mother is not dependent on her husband? and even
if she were, Sir Patrick has not a hard heart, and will not refuse my
prayer': and therefore, promising the sufferers instant relief, she left
them, saying she should soon reach the Pavilion and be back again; while
the objects of her bounty were silent with surprise at hearing that
their relief was to come from the Pavilion, a place hitherto closed to
the solicitations of poverty, though ever open to the revels and the
votaries of pleasure.
Adeline found her mother alone; and with a beating heart and a flushed
cheek, she described the scene which she had witnessed, and begged to be
restored to her old office of almoner on such occasions.
'A sad scene, indeed, my dear Adeline!' replied the bride in evident
embarrassment, 'and I will speak to Sir Patrick about it.'
'Speak to Sir Patrick, madam! cannot you follow the impulse of humanity
without consulting him?'
'I can't give the relief you ask without his assistance,' replied her
mother; 'for, except a guinea or so, I have no loose cash about me for
my own uses.--Sir Patrick's benevolence has long ago emptied his purse,
and I gladly surrendered mine to him.'
'And shall you in future have no money for the purposes of charity but
that you must claim from Sir Patrick?' asked Adeline mournfully.
'O dear! yes,--I have a very handsome allowance settled on me; but then
at present he wants it himself (Adeline involuntarily clasped her hands
together in an agony, and sighed deeply.) But, however, child,' added
the bride, 'as you seem to make such a point of it, take this guinea to
the cottage you mention, _en attendant_!'
Adeline took the guinea: but it was very insufficient to pay for medical
attendance, to discharge the rent due to a clamorous landlord, and to
purchase several things necessary for the relief of the poor sufferers:
therefore she added another guinea to it, and, not liking to relate her
disappointment, sent the money to them, desiring the servant to say that
she would see them the next morning, when she resolved to apply to Sir
Patrick for the relief which her mother could not give; feeling at the
same time the mournful conviction, that she herself, as well as her
mother, would be in future dependent on his bounty.
Though disposed to give way to mournful reflections on her own account,
Adeline roused herself from the melancholy abstraction into which she
was falling, by reflecting that she had still to plead the cause of the
poor cottagers with Sir Patrick; and hearing he was in the house, she
hastened to prefer her petition.
Sir Patrick listened to her tone of voice, and gazed on her expressive
countenance with delight; but when she had concluded her narration a
solitary half-guinea was all he bestowed on her, saying, 'I am never
roused to charity by the descriptions of others; I must always see the
distress which I am solicited to relieve.'
'Then go with me to the cottage,' exclaimed Adeline; but to her great
mortification he only smiled, bowed, and disappeared: and when he
returned to supper, Adeline could scarcely prevail on herself to look at
him without displeasure, and could not endure the unfeeling vivacity of
his manner.
Mortified and unhappy, she next morning went to the cottage, reluctant
to impart to its expecting inhabitants the ill success she had
experienced. But what was her surprise when they came out joyfully to
meet her, and told her that a gentleman had been there that morning
very early, had discharged their debts, and given them a sum of money
for their future wants!
'His name, his name?' eagerly inquired Adeline: but that they said he
refused to give; and as he was in a horseman's large coat, and held a
hankerchief to his face, they were sure they should not know him again.
A pleasing suspicion immediately came across Adeline's mind that this
benevolent unknown might be Glenmurray: and the idea that he was perhaps
unseen hovering round her, gave her one of the most exquisite feelings
which she had ever known. But this agreeable delusion was soon
dissipated by one of the children's giving her a card which the kind
stranger had dropped from his pocket; and this card had on it 'Sir
Patrick O'Carrol.'
At first it was natural for her to be hurt and disappointed at finding
that her hopes concerning Glenmurray had no foundation in truth; but her
benevolence, and indeed regard for her mother's happiness as well as her
own, led her to rejoice in this unexpected proof of excellence in Sir
Patrick.--He had evidently proved that he loved to do good by stealth,
and had withdrawn himself even from her thanks.
In a moment, therefore, she banished from her mind every trace of his
unworthiness. She had done him injustice, and she sought refuge from the
remorse which this consciousness inflicted on her, by going into the
opposite extreme. From that hour, indeed, her complaisance to his
opinions, and her attentions to him, were so unremitting and evident,
that Sir Patrick's passion became stronger than ever, and his hopes of a
return to it seemed to be built on a very strong foundation.
Adeline had given all her former suspicions to the wind; daily instances
of his benevolence came to her knowledge, and threw such a charm over
all he said and did, that even the familiarity in his conduct, look, and
manner towards her, appeared to her now nothing more than the result of
the free manners of his countrymen:--and she sometimes could not help
wishing Sir Patrick to be known to, and intimate with, Glenmurray. But
the moment was now at hand that was to unveil the real character of Sir
Patrick, and determine the destiny of Adeline.
One day Sir Patrick proposed taking his bride to see a beautiful
_ferme ornee_ at about twelve miles' distance; and if it answered the
expectations which he had formed of it, they were determined to spend
two or three days in the neighbourhood to enjoy the beauty of the
grounds;--in that case he was to return in the evening to the Pavilion,
and drive Adeline over the next morning to partake in their pleasure.
To this scheme both the ladies gladly consented, as it was impossible
for them to suspect the villainous design which it was intended to aid.
The truth was, that Sir Patrick, having, as he fondly imagined, gained
Adeline's affections, resolved to defer no longer the profligate attempt
which he had long meditated; and had contrived this excursion in order
to insure his wife's absence from home, and a tete-a-tete with her
daughter.
At an early hour the curricle was at the door, and Sir Patrick, having
handed his lady in, took leave of Adeline. He told her that he should
probably return early in the evening, pressed her hand more tenderly
than usual, and, springing into the carriage, drove off with a
countenance animated with expected triumph.
Adeline immediately set out on a long walk to the adjoining villages,
visited the cottages near the Pavilion, and, having dined at an early
hour, determined to pass the rest of the day in reading, provided it was
possible for her to find any book in the house proper for her perusal.
With this intention she repaired to an apartment called the library, but
what in these times would be denominated a _boudoir_, and this, even in
Paris, would have been admired for its voluptuous elegance.--On the
table lay several costly volumes, which seemed to have been very lately
perused by Sir Patrick, as some of them were open, some turned down
at particular passages: but as soon as she glanced her eye over their
contents, Adeline indignantly threw them down again; and, while her
cheek glowed with the blush of offended modesty she threw herself on
a sofa, and fell into a long and mournful reverie on the misery which
awaited her mother, in consequence of her having madly dared to unite
herself for life to a young libertine, who could delight in no other
reading but what was offensive to good morals and to delicacy. Nor could
she dwell upon this subject without recurring to her former fears for
herself; and so lost was she in agonizing reflections, that it was some
time before she recollected herself sufficiently to remember that she
was guilty of an indecorum, in staying so long in an apartment which
contained books that she ought not even to be suspected of having had an
opportunity to peruse.
Having once entertained this consciousness, Adeline hastily arose, and
had just reached the door when Sir Patrick himself appeared at it.
She started back in terror when she beheld him, on observing in his
countenance and manner evident marks not only of determined profligacy,
but of intoxication. Her suspicions were indeed just. Bold as he was in
iniquity, he dared not in a cool and sober moment put his guilty purpose
in execution; and he shrunk with temporary horror from an attempt on the
honour of the daughter of his wife, though he believed that she would be
a willing victim. He had therefore stopped on the road to fortify his
courage with wine; and, luckily for Adeline, he had taken more than he
was aware of; for when, after a vehement declaration of the ardour of
his passion, he dared irreverently to approach her, Adeline, strong
in innocence, aware of his intention, and presuming on his situation,
disengaged herself from his grasp with ease; and pushing him with
violence from her, he fell with such force against the brass edge of one
of the sofas, that, stunned and wounded by the fall, he lay bleeding on
the ground. Adeline involuntarily was hastening to his assistance: but
recollecting how mischievous to her such an exertion of humanity might
be, she contented herself with ringing the bell violently to call the
servants to his aid. Then, in almost frantic haste, she rushed out of
the house, ran across the park, and when she recovered her emotion she
found herself, she scarcely knew how, sitting on a turf seat by the road
side.
'What will become of me!' she wildly exclaimed: 'my mother's roof is
no longer a protection to me;--I cannot absent myself from it without
alleging a reason for my conduct, which will ruin her peace of mind
for ever. Wretch that I am! whither can I go, and where can I seek for
refuge?'
At this moment, as she looked around in wild dismay, and raised her
streaming eyes to heaven, she saw a man's face peeping from between the
branches of a tree opposite to her, and observed that he was gazing on
her intently. Alarmed and fluttered, she instantly started from her
seat, and was hastening away, when the man suddenly dropped from his
hiding-place, and, running after her, called her by her name, and
conjured her to stop; while, with an emotion of surprise and delight,
she recognized in him Arthur, the servant of Glenmurray!
Instantly, scarcely knowing what she did, she pressed the astonished
Arthur's rough hand in hers; and by this action confused and confounded
the poor fellow so much, that the speech which he was going to make
faltered on his tongue.
'Oh! where is your master?' eagerly inquired Adeline.
'My master has sent you this, miss,' replied Arthur, holding out a
letter, which Adeline joyfully received; and, spite of her intended
obedience to her mother's will, Glenmurray himself could not have met
with a more favourable reception, for the moment was a most propitious
one to his love: nor, as it happened, was Glenmurray too far off to
profit by it. On his way from Bath he went a few miles out of his road,
in order, as he said, and perhaps as he thought, to pay a visit to an
old servant of his mother's, who was married to a respectable farmer;
but, fortunately, the farm commanded a view of the Pavilion, and
Glenmurray could from his window gaze on the house that contained the
woman of his affections.
But to return to Adeline, who, while hastily tearing open the letter,
asked Arthur where his master was, and heard with indescribable emotion
that he was in the neighbourhood.
'Here! so providentially!' she exclaimed, and proceeded to read the
letter; but her emotion forbade her to read it entirely. She only saw
that it contained banknotes; that Glenmurray was going abroad for his
health; and, in case he should die there, had sent her the money which
he had meant to leave her in his will,--lest she should be, in the
meanwhile, any way dependent on Sir Patrick.
Numberless conflicting emotions took possession of Adeline's heart while
the new proof of her lover's attentive tenderness met her view: and, as
she contrasted his generous and delicate attachment with the licentious
passion of her mother's libertine husband, a burst of uncontrollable
affection for Glenmurray agitated her bosom; and, rendered superstitious
by her fears, she looked on him as sent by Providence to save her from
the dangers of her home.
'This is the second time,' cried she, 'that Glenmurray, as my guardian
angel, has appeared at the moment when I was exposed to danger from the
same guilty quarter! Ah! surely there is more than accident in this! and
he is ordained to be my guide and my protector!'
When once a woman has associated with an amiable man the idea of
protection, he can never again be indifferent to her: and when the
protector happens to be the chosen object of her love, his power becomes
fixed on a basis never to be shaken.
'It is enough,' said Adeline in a faltering voice, pressing the letter
to her lips, and bursting into tears of grateful tenderness as she
spoke: 'Lead me to your master directly.'
'Bless my heart! will you see him then, miss?' cried Arthur.
'See him?' replied Adeline--'see the only friend I now can boast?--But
let us be gone this moment, lest I should be seen and pursued.'
Instantly, guided by Arthur, Adeline set off full speed for the
farm-house, nor stopped till she found herself in the presence of
Glenmurray!
'O! I am safe now!' exclaimed Adeline, throwing herself into his arms;
while he was so overcome with surprise and joy that he could not speak
the welcome which his heart gave her: and Adeline, happy to behold him
again, was as silent as her lover. At length Glenmurray exclaimed:--
'Do we then meet again, Adeline!'
'Yes,' replied she; 'and we meet to part no more.'
'Do not mock me,' cried Glenmurray starting from his seat, and seizing
her extended hand; 'my feelings must not be trifled with.'
'Nor am I a woman to trifle with them. Glenmurray, I come to you for
safety and protection;--I come to seek shelter in your arms from misery
and dishonour. You are ill, you are going into a foreign country: and
from this moment look on me as your nurse, your companion;--your home
shall be my home, your country my country!'
Glenmurray, too much agitated, too happy to speak, could only press the
agitated girl to his bosom, and fold his arms round her, as if to assure
her of the protection which she claimed.
'But there is not a moment to be lost,' cried Adeline: 'I may be missed
and pursued: let us be gone directly.'
The first word was enough for Glenmurray: eager to secure the recovered
treasure which he had thought for ever lost, his orders were given, and
executed by the faithful Arthur with the utmost dispatch; and even
before Adeline had explained to him the cause of her resolution to elope
with him they were on their road to Cornwall, meaning to embark at
Falmouth for Lisbon.
But Arthur, who was going to marry, and leave Glenmurray's service,
received orders to stay at the farm till he had learned how Sir Patrick
was: and having obtained the necessary information, he was to send it
to Glenmurray at Falmouth. The next morning he saw Sir Patrick himself
driving full speed past the farm; and having written immediately to
his master, Adeline had the satisfaction of knowing that she had not
purchased her own safety by the sufferings or danger of her persecutor,
and the consequent misery of her mother.