But Glenmurray's heart needed no explanation of the cause of Adeline's
elopement. She was with him--with him, as she said, for ever. True, she
had talked of flying from misery and dishonour; but he knew they could
not reach her in his arms,--not even dishonour according to the ideas of
society,--for he meant to make Adeline legally his as soon as they were
safe from pursuit, and his illness was forgotten in the fond transport
of the present moment.
Adeline's joy was of a much shorter duration. Recollections of a most
painful nature were continually recurring. True it was that it was no
longer possible for her to reside under the roof of her mother: but was
it necessary for her to elope with Glenmurray? the man whom she had
solemnly promised her mother to renounce! Then, on the other side,
she argued that the appearance of love for Glenmurray was an excuse
sufficient to conceal from her deluded parent the real cause of her
elopement.
'It was my sole alternative,' said she mentally:--'my mother must either
suppose me an unworthy child, or know Sir Patrick to be an unworthy
husband; and it will be easier for her to support the knowledge of the
one than the other: then, when she forgives me, as no doubt she will in
time, I shall be happy: but that I could never be, while convinced that
I had made her miserable by revealing to her the wickedness of Sir
Patrick.'
While this was passing in her mind, her countenance was full of such
anxious and mournful expression, that Glenmurray, unable to keep silence
any longer, conjured her to tell him what so evidently weighed upon her
spirits.
'The difficulty that oppressed me is past,' she replied, wiping from
her eyes the tears which the thought of having left her mother so
unexpectedly, and for the first time, produced. 'I have convinced
myself, that to leave home and commit myself to your protection was the
most proper and virtuous step that I could take: I have not obeyed the
dictates of love, but of reason.'
'I am very sorry to hear it,' said Glenmurray mournfully.
'It seems to me so very rational to love you,' returned Adeline tenderly,
shocked at the sad expression of his countenance, 'that what seems to be
the dictates of reason may be those of love only.'
To a reply like this, Glenmurray could only answer by close involvement
not intelligible expressions of fondness to the object of them, which
are so delightful to lovers themselves, and so uninteresting to other
people: nay, so entirely was Glenmurray again engrossed by the sense of
present happiness, that his curiosity was still suspended, and Adeline's
story remained untold. But Adeline's pleasure was damped by painful
recollections, and still more by her not being able to hide from herself
the mournful consciousness that the ravages of sickness were but
too visible in Glenmurray's face and figure, and that the flush of
unexpected delight could but ill conceal the hollow paleness of his
cheek, and the sunk appearance of his eyes.
Meanwhile the chaise rolled on,--post succeeded to post; and though
night was far advanced, Adeline, fearful of being pursued, would not
consent to stop, and they travelled till morning. But Glenmurray,
feeling himself exhausted, prevailed on her, for his sake, to alight at
a small inn on the road side near Marlborough.
There Adeline narrated the occurrences of the past day; but with
difficulty could she prevail on herself to own to Glenmurray that she
had been the object of such an outrage as she had experienced from Sir
Patrick.
A truly delicate woman feels degraded, not flattered, by being the
object of libertine attempts; and, situated as Adeline and Glenmurray
now were, to disclose the insult which had been offered to her was a
still more difficult task: but to conceal it was impossible. She felt
that, even to him, some justification of her precipitate and unsolicited
flight was necessary; and nothing but Sir Patrick's attempt could
justify it. She, therefore, blushing and hesitating, revealed the
disgraceful secret; but such was its effect on the weak spirits and
delicate health of Glenmurray, that the violent emotions which he
underwent brought on a return of his most alarming symptoms; and in a
few hours Adeline, bending over the sick bed of her lover, experienced
for the first time that most dreadful of feelings, fear for the life of
the object of her affections.
Two days, however, restored him to comparative safety, and they reached
a small and obscure village within a short distance from Falmouth, most
conveniently situated. There they took up their abode, and resolved to
remain till the wind should change, and enable them to sail for Lisbon.
In this retreat, situated in air as salubrious as that of the south of
France, Glenmurray was soon restored to health, especially as happy love
was now his, and brought back the health of which hopeless love had
contributed to deprive him. The woman whom he loved was his companion
and his nurse; and so dear had the quiet scene of their happiness
become to them, that, forgetful there was still a danger of their being
discovered, it was with considerable regret that they received a summons
to embark, and saw themselves on their voyage to Portugal.
But before she left England Adeline wrote to her mother.
After a pleasant and short voyage the lovers found themselves at Lisbon;
and Glenmurray, pursuant to his resolution, immediately proposed to
Adeline, to unite himself to her by the indissoluble ties of marriage.
Nothing could exceed Adeline's surprise at this proposal: at first she
could not believe Glenmurray was in earnest; but seeing that he looked
not only grave but anxious, and as if earnestly expecting an answer, she
asked him whether he had convinced himself that what he had written
against marriage was a tissue of mischievous absurdity.
Glenmurray, blushing, with the conceit of an author replied 'that he
still thought his arguments unanswerable.'
'Then, if you still are convinced your theory is good, why let your
practice be bad? It is incumbent on you to act up to the principles that
you profess, in order to give them their proper weight in society--else
you give the lie to your own declarations.'
'But it is better for me to do that, than for you to be the sacrifice to
my reputation.'
'I,' replied Adeline, 'am entirely out of the question: you are to be
governed by no other law but your desire to promote general utility, and
are not to think at all of the interest of an individual.'
'How can I do so, when that individual is dearer to me than all the
world beside?' cried Glenmurray passionately.
'And if you but once recollect that you are dearer to me than all
the world beside, you will cease to suppose that my happiness can be
affected by the opinion entertained of my conduct by others.' As Adeline
said this, she twisted both her hands in his arms so affectionately, and
looked up in his face with so satisfied and tender an expression, that
Glenmurray could not bear to go on with a subject which evidently drew a
cloud across her brow; and hours, days, weeks, and months passed rapidly
over their heads before he had resolution to renew it.
Hours, days, weeks, and months spent in a manner most dear to the heart
and most salutary to the mind of Adeline!--Her taste for books, which
had hitherto been cultivated in a partial manner, and had led her to one
range of study only, was now directed by Glenmurray to the perusal of
general literature; and the historian, the biographer, the poet, and the
novelist, obtained alternately her attention and her praises.
In her knowledge of the French and Italian languages, too, she was now
considerably improved by the instructions of her lover; and while his
occasional illnesses were alleviated by her ever watchful attentions,
their attachment was cemented by one of the strongest of all ties--the
consciousness of mutual benefit and assistance.