While these conversations were passing at Lisbon, Glenmurray and Adeline
were pursuing their journey to France; and insensibly did the charm of
being together obliterate from the minds of each the rencontre which had
so much disturbed them.
But Adeline began to be uneasy on a subject of much greater importance;
she every day expected an answer from her mother, but no answer arrived;
and they had been stationary at Perpignan some days, to which place they
had desired their letters to be addressed, _poste restante_, and still
none were forwarded thither from Lisbon.
The idea that her mother had utterly renounced her now took possession
of her imagination, and love had no charm to offer her capable of
affording her consolation: the care which she had taken of her infancy,
the affectionate attentions that had preserved her life, and the
uninterrupted kindness which she had shown towards her till her
attachment to Sir Patrick took place,--all these pressed powerfully and
painfully on her memory, till her elopement seemed wholly unjustifiable
in her eyes, and she reprobated her conduct in terms of the most bitter
self-reproach.
At these moments even Glenmurray seemed to become the object of her
aversion. Her mother had forbidden her to think of him; yet, to make her
flight more agonizing to her injured parent, she had eloped with _him_.
But as soon as ever she beheld him he regained his wonted influence over
her heart, and her self-reproaches became less poignant: she became
sensible that Sir Patrick's guilt and her mother's imprudent marriage
were the causes of her own fault, and not Glenmurray; and could she but
receive a letter of pardon from England, she felt that her conscience
would again be at peace.
But soon an idea of a still more harassing nature succeeded and
overwhelmed her. Perhaps her desertion had injured her mother's health;
perhaps she was too ill to write; perhaps she was dead:--and when this
horrible supposition took possession of her mind she used to avoid even
the presence of her lover; and as her spirits commonly sunk towards
evening, when the still renewed expectations of the day had been
deceived, she used to hasten to a neighbouring church when the bell
called to vespers, and, prostrate on the steps of the altar, lift up her
soul to heaven in the silent breathings of penitence and prayer. Having
thus relieved her heart she returned to Glenmurray, pensive but
resigned.
One evening after she had unburthened her feelings in this manner,
Glenmurray prevailed on her to walk with him to a public promenade; and
being tired they sat down on a bench in a shady part of the mall. They
had not sat long before a gentleman and two ladies seated themselves
beside them.
Glenmurray instantly rose up to depart; but the gentleman also rose and
exclaimed, ''Tis he indeed! Glenmurray, have you forgotten your old
friend Willie Douglas?'
Glenmurray, pleased to see a friend whom he had once so highly valued,
returned the salutation with marked cordiality; while the ladies with
great kindness accosted Adeline, and begged she would allow them the
honour of her acquaintance.
Taught by the rencontre at Lisbon, Adeline for a moment felt
embarrassed; but there was something so truly benevolent in the
countenance of both ladies, and she was so struck by the extreme beauty
of the younger one, that she had not resolution to avoid, or even to
receive their advances coldly; and while the gentlemen were commenting
on each other's looks, and in an instant going over the occurrences of
past years, the ladies, pleased with each other, had entered into
conversation.
'But I expected to see you and your lady,' said Major Douglas; 'for
Maynard was writing to me from Lisbon when he laid by his pen and took
the walk in which he met you; and on his return he filled up the rest of
his letter with the praises of Mrs Glenmurray, and expressions of envy
at your happiness.'
Glenmurray and Adeline both blushed deeply. 'So!' said Adeline to
herself, 'here will be another letter to write when we get home;' for,
though ingenuousness was one of her most striking qualities, she had not
resolution enough to tell her new acquaintance that she was not married:
besides, she flattered herself, that, could she once interest these
charming women in her favour, they would not refuse her their society
even when they knew her real situation; for she thought them too amiable
to be prejudiced, as she called it, and was not yet aware how much the
perfection of the female character depends on respect even to what may
be called the prejudices of others.
The day began to close in; but Major Douglas, though Glenmurray was too
uneasy to answer him except by monosyllables, would not hear of going
home, and continued to talk with cheerfulness and interest of the scenes
of his and Glenmurray's early youth. He too was ignorant of his friend's
notoriety as an author: he had lived chiefly at his estates in the
Highlands; nor would he have left them, but because he was advised to
travel for his health: and the lovely creature whom he had married, as
well as his only sister, was anxious on his account to put the advice in
execution. He therefore made no allusions to Glenmurray's opinions that
could give him an opportunity of explaining his real situation; and he
saw with confusion, that every moment increased the intimacy of Adeline
and the wife and sister of his friend.
At length his feelings operated so powerfully on his weak frame, that a
sudden faintness seized him, and supported by Adeline and the major,
and followed by his two kind companions, he returned to the inn: there,
to get rid of the Douglases and avoid the inquiries of Adeline, who
suspected the cause of his illness, he immediately retired to bed.
His friends also returned home, lamenting the apparently declining
health of Glenmurray, and expatiating with delight on the winning graces
of his supposed wife; for these ladies were of a different class of
women to the sisters of Maynard.--Mrs Douglas was so confessedly a
beauty, so rich in acknowledged attractions, that she could afford to do
justice to the attractions of another: and Miss Douglas was so decidedly
devoid of all pretensions to the lovely in person, that the idea of
competition with the beautiful never entered her mind, and she was
always eager to admire what she knew that she was incapable of rivalling.
Unexposed, therefore, to feel those petty jealousies, those paltry
competitions which injure the character of women in general, Emma
Douglas's mind was the seat of benevolence and candour,--as was her
beautiful sister's from a different cause; and they were both warmer
even than the major in praise of Adeline.
But a second letter from Mr Maynard awaited Major Douglas at the inn,
which put a fatal stop to their self-congratulations at having met
Glenmurray and his companion.
Mr Maynard, full of Glenmurray's letter, and still more deeply impressed
than ever with the image of Adeline, could not forbear writing to the
major on the subject; giving as a reason, that he wished to let him know
the true state of affairs, in order that he might avoid Glenmurray.--The
letter came too late.
'And I have seen him, have welcomed him as a friend, and he has had the
impudence to introduce his harlot to my wife and sister!'
So spoke the major in the language of passion,--and passion is never
accurate.--Glenmurray had _not_ introduced Adeline: and this was gently
hinted by the kind and candid Emma Douglas; while the younger and more
inexperienced wife sat silent with consternation, at having pressed with
the utmost kindness the hand of a kept mistress.
Vain were the representations of his sister to sooth the wounded
pride of Major Douglas. Without considering the difficulty of such a
proceeding, he insisted upon it that Glenmurray should have led Adeline
away instantly, as unworthy to breathe the same air with his wife and
sister.
'You find by that letter, brother,' said Miss Douglas, 'that this
unhappy Adeline is still an object of respect in his eyes, and he could
not wound her feelings so publicly, especially as she seems to be more
ill-judging than vicious.'
She spoke in vain.--The major was a soldier, and so delicate in his
ideas of the honour of women, that he thought his wife and sister
polluted from having, though unconsciously, associated with Adeline;
being violently irritated therefore at the supposed insult offered him
by Glenmurray, he left the room, and, having dispatched a challenge to
him, told the ladies he had letters to write to England till bed-time
arrived: then, after having settled his affairs in case he should fall
in the conflict, he sat brooding alone over the insolence of his former
friend.
There was a consciousness too which aggravated his resentment. Calumny
had been busy with his reputation; and, though he deserved it not, had
once branded him with the name of coward. Besides, his elder sister had
been seduced by a man of very high rank, and was then living with him as
his mistress. Made still more susceptible therefore of affront by this
distressing consciousness, he suspected that Glenmurray, from being
acquainted with these circumstances, had presumed on them, and dared to
take a liberty with him, situated as he then was, which in former times
he would not have ventured to offer.
As Adeline and Glenmurray were both retired for the night when the
major's note arrived, it was not delivered till morning,--nor then,
luckily, till Adeline, supposing Glenmurray asleep, was gone to take her
usual walk to the post-office: Glenmurray, little aware of its contents,
opened it, and read as follows:--
'SIR,
'For your conduct in introducing your mistress to my wife and
sister, I demand immediate satisfaction. As you may possibly
not have recovered your indisposition of last night, and I wish
to take no unfair advantages, I do not desire you to meet me
till evening; but at six o'clock, a mile out of the north side
of the town, I shall expect you.--I can lend you pistols if you
have none.'
'There is only one step to be taken,' said Glenmurray mentally, starting
up and dressing himself: and in a few moments he was at Major Douglas's
lodgings.
The major had just finished dressing, when Glenmurray was announced. He
started and turned pale at seeing him; then, dismissing his servant and
taking up his hat and his pistols, he desired Glenmurray to walk out
with him.
'With all my heart,' replied Glenmurray. But recollecting himself, 'No,
no,' said he: 'I come hither now, merely to talk to you; and if, after
what has passed, the ladies should see us go out together, they would be
but too sure of what was going to happen, and might follow us.'
'Well, then sir,' cried the major, 'we had better separate till
evening.'
'I shall not leave you, Major Douglas,' replied Glenmurray solemnly,
'whatever harsh things you may say or do, till I have made you listen to
me.'
'How can I listen to you, when nothing you can say can be a justification
of your conduct?'
'I do not mean to offer any.--I am only come to tell you my story, with
that of my companion, and my resolutions in consequence of my situation;
and I conjure you, by the recollections of our early days, of our past
pleasures and fatigues, those days when fatigue itself was a pleasure,
and I was not the weak emaciated being that I am now, unable to bear
exertion, and overcome even to female weakness by agitation of mind such
as I experienced last night--'
'For God's sake sit down,' cried the major, glancing his eye over the
faded form of Glenmurray.--Glenmurray sat down.
'I say, I conjure you by these recollections,' he continued, 'to hear me
with candour and patience. Weakness will render me brief.' Here he
paused to wipe the damps from his forehead; and Douglas, in a voice of
emotion, desired him to say whatever he chose, but to say it directly.
'I will,' replied Glenmurray; 'for indeed there is one at home who will
be alarmed at my absence.'
The major frowned; and, biting his lip, said, 'Proceed, Mr Glenmurray,'
in his usual tone.
Glenmurray obeyed. He related his commencing author,--the nature of his
works,--his acquaintance with Adeline,--its consequences,--her mother's
marriage,--Sir Patrick's villany,--Adeline's elopement, her refusal to
marry him, and the grounds on which it was founded. 'And now,' cried
Glenmurray when his narration was ended, 'hear my firm resolve. Let the
consequences to my reputation be what they may, let your insults be what
they may, I will not accept your challenge; I will not expose Adeline
to the risk of being left without a protector in a foreign land, and
probably without one in her own. I fear that, in the natural course of
things, I shall not continue with her long; but while I can watch over
and contribute to her happiness, no dread of shame, no fear for what
others may think of me, no selfish consideration whatever shall induce
me to hazard a life which belongs to her, and on which at present her
happiness depends. I think, Douglas, you are incapable of treating me
with dignity; but even to that I will patiently submit, rather than
expose my life; while consoled by my motive, I will triumphantly
exclaim--'See, Adeline, what I can endure for thy sake!'
Here he paused; and the major, interested and affected, had involuntarily
put out his hand to him; but, drawing it back, he said, 'Then I may be
sure that you meant no affront to me by suffering my wife and sister to
converse with Miss Mowbray?'
Glenmurray having put an end to these suspicions entirely, by a candid
avowal of his feelings, and of his wish to have escaped directly if
possible, the major shook him affectionately by the hand, and told him
that though he firmly believed too much learning had made him mad, yet,
that he was as much his friend as ever. 'But what vexes me is,' said he,
'that you should have turned the head of that sweet girl. The opinion of
the world is every thing to a woman.'
'Aye, it is indeed,' replied Glenmurray; 'and, spite of ridicule, I
would marry Adeline directly, as I said before, to guaranty her against
reproach,--I wish you would try to persuade her to be mine legally.'
'That I will,' eagerly replied the major; 'I am sure I shall prevail
with her. I am sure I shall soon convince her that the opinions she
holds are nothing but nonsense.'
'You will find,' replied Glenmurray, blushing, 'that her arguments are
unanswerable notwithstanding.'
'What, though taken from the cursed books you mentioned?'
'You forget that I wrote these books.'
'So I did; and I wish she could forget it also: and then they would
appear to her, as they must do no doubt to all people of common sense,
and that is, abominable stuff.'
Glenmurray bit his lips,--but the author did not long absorb the lover,
and he urged the major to return with him to his lodgings.
'Aye, that I will,' cried he: 'and what is more, my sister Emma, who
writes admirably, shall write her a letter to convince her that she had
better be married directly.'
'She had better converse with her,' said Glenmurray.
The major looked grave, and observed that they would do well to go and
consult the women on the subject, and tell them the whole story. So
saying, he opened the door of a closet leading to their apartment: but
there, to their great surprise, they found Mrs Douglas and Emma, and as
well informed of everything as themselves;--for, expecting that a duel
might be the consequence of the major's impetuosity, and hearing Mr
Glenmurray announced, they resolved to listen to the conversation, and,
if it took the turn which they expected, to rush in and endeavour to
mollify the disputants.
'So, ladies; this is very pretty indeed! Eaves-droppers, I protest,'
cried Major Douglas: but he said no more; for his wife, affected by the
recital which she had heard, and delighted to find that there would be
no duel, threw her arms round his neck, and burst into tears. Emma,
almost equally affected, gave her hand to Glenmurray, and told him
nothing on her part should be omitted to prevail on Adeline to sacrifice
her opinions to her welfare.
'I said so,' cried the major. 'You will write to her.'
'No; I will see her, and argue with her.'
'And so will I,' cried the wife.
'That you shall not,' bluntly replied the major.
'Why not? I think it my duty to do all I can to save a fellow-creature
from ruin; and words spoken from the heart are always more powerful than
words written.'
'But what will the world say, if I permit you to converse with a kept
mistress?'
'The world here to us, as we associate with none and are known to none,
is Mr Glenmurray and Miss Mowbray; and of their good word we are sure.'
'Aye,' cried Emma, 'and sure of succeeding with this interesting Adeline
too; for if she likes us, as I think she does--'
'She adores you,' replied Glenmurray.
'So much the better:--then, when we shall tell her that we cannot
associate with her, much as we admire her, unless she consents to become
a wife, surely she will hear reason.'
'No doubt,' cried Mrs Douglas; 'and then we will go to church with her,
and you, Emma, shall be bride's maid.'
'I see no necessity for that,' observed the major gravely.
'But I do,' replied Emma. 'She will repeat her vows with more heartfelt
reverence, when two respectable women, deeply impressed themselves with
their importance, shall be there to witness them.'
'But there is no Protestant church here,' exclaimed Glenmurray:
'however, we can go back to Lisbon, and you are already resolved to
return thither.'
This point being settled, it was agreed that Glenmurray should prepare
Adeline for their visit; and with a lightened heart he went to execute
his commission. But when he saw Adeline he forgot his commission and
every thing but her distress; for he found her with an open letter in
her hand, and an unopened one on the floor, in a state of mind almost
bordering on phrensy.