But to return to Colonel Mordaunt. Though Adeline had said that he
must discontinue his visits, he resolved to disobey her; and the next
morning, as soon as he thought she had breakfasted, he repaired to her
lodgings; where he heard, with mixed sorrow and indignation, that she
had set off in a post-chaise at six o'clock, and was gone no one knew
whither.
'But, surely she has left some note or message for me!' exclaimed
Colonel Mordaunt.
'Neither the one nor the other,' was the answer; and he returned home in
no very enviable state of mind.
Various, indeed, and contradictory were his feelings: yet still
affection was uppermost; and he could not but respect in Adeline the
conduct which drove him to despair. Nor was self-love backward to
suggest to him, that had not Adeline felt his presence and attentions to
be dangerous, she would not so suddenly have withdrawn from them; and
this idea was the only one on which he could at all bear to dwell: for,
when he reflected that day after day might pass without his either
seeing or hearing from her, existence seemed to become suddenly a
burthen, and he wandered from place to place with joyless and unceasing
restlessness.
At one time he resolved to pursue her; but the next, piqued at not
having received from her even a note of farewell, he determined to
endeavour to forget her: and this was certainly the wiser plan of the
two: but the succeeding moment he determined to let a week pass, in
hopes of receiving a letter from her, and, in case he did not, to set
off in search of her, being assured of succeeding in his search of her,
because the singularity of Savanna's appearance, and the traces of the
small-pox visible in the face of Adeline, made them liable to be
observed, and easy for him to describe.
But before the week elapsed, from agitation of mind, and from having
exposed himself unnecessarily to cold, by lying on damp grass at
midnight, after having heated himself by immoderate walking, Colonel
Mordaunt became ill of a fever; and when, after a confinement of several
weeks, he was restored to health, he despaired of being able to learn
tidings of the fugitives; and disappointed and dejected, he sought
in the gayest scenes of the metropolis and its environs to drown the
remembrances, from which in solitude he had vainly endeavoured to fly.
At this time a faded but attractive woman of quality, with whom he had
formerly been intimate, returned from abroad, and, meeting Colonel
Mordaunt at the house of a mutual friend, endeavoured to revive in him
his former attachment: but it was a difficult task for a woman, who had
never been able to touch the heart, to excite an attachment in a man
already sentimentally devoted to another.
Her advances, however, flattered Colonel Mordaunt, and her society
amused him, till, at length, their intimacy was renewed on its former
footing: but soon tired of his mistress, and displeased with himself, he
took an abrupt leave of her, and throwing himself into his post-chaise,
retired to the seat of a relation in Herefordshire.
Near this gentleman's house lived Mr Maynard and his two sisters,
who had taken up their abode there immediately on their return from
Portugal. Major Douglas, his wife, and Emma Douglas, were then on a
visit to them. Mordaunt had known Major Douglas in early life; and as
soon as he found that he was in the neighbourhood, he rode over to renew
his acquaintance with him; and received so cordial a welcome, not only
from the major, but the master of the house and his sisters, that he was
strongly induced to repeat his visits, and not a day passed in which he
was not, during some part of it, a guest at Mr Maynard's.
Mrs Wallington and Miss Maynard, indeed, received him with such pointed
marks of distinction and preference, as to make it visible to every
observer that it was not as a friend only they were desirous of
considering Colonel Mordaunt; while, by spiteful looks and acrimonious
remarks directed to each other, the sisters expressed the jealousy which
rankled in their hearts, whenever he seemed by design or inadvertency to
make one of them the particular object of his attention.
Of Emma Douglas's chance for his favour, they were not at all
fearful:--they thought her too plain, and too unattractive, to be
capable of rivalling them; especially in the favour of an officer, a man
of fashion; and therefore they beheld without emotion the attention
which Colonel Mordaunt paid to her whenever she spoke, and the deference
which he evidently felt for her opinion, as her remarks on whatever
subject she conversed were formed always to interest, and often to
instruct.
One evening, while Major Douglas was amusing himself in looking over
some magazines which had lately been bound up together, and had not yet
been deposited in Mr Maynard's library, he suddenly started, laid down
the book, and turning to the window, with an exclamation of--'Poor
fellow!'--passed his hand across his eyes, as if meaning to disperse an
involuntary tear.
'What makes you exclaim "Poor fellow?"' asked his lovely wife: 'have you
met with an affecting story in those magazines?'
'No, Louisa,' replied he, 'but I met in the obituary with a confirmation
of the death of an old friend, which I suspected must have happened by
this time, though I never knew it before; I see by this magazine that
poor Glenmurray died a very few months after we saw him at Perpignan.'
'Poor fellow!' exclaimed Mrs Douglas.
'I wish I knew what is become of his interesting companion, Miss
Mowbray,' said Emma Douglas.
'I wish I did too,' secretly sighed Colonel Mordaunt: but his heart
palpitated so violently at this unexpected mention of the woman for whom
he still pined in secret, that he had not resolution to say that he knew
her.
'Become of her!' cried Miss Maynard sneeringly: 'you need not wonder,
I think, what her fate is: no doubt Mr Glenmurray's _interesting
companion_ has not lost her companionable qualities, and is a companion
still.'
'Yes,' observed Mrs Wallington; 'or, rather, I dare say that angel of
purity is gone upon the town.'
It was the dark hour, else Colonel Mordaunt's agitation, on hearing
these gross and unjust remarks, must have betrayed his secret to every
eye; while indignation now impeded his utterance as much as confusion
had done before.
'Surely, surely,' cried the kind and candid Emma Douglas, 'I must
grossly have mistaken Miss Mowbray's character, if she was capable of
the conduct which you attribute to her!'
'My dear creature!' replied Mrs Wallington, 'how should you know
any thing of her character, when it was gone long before you knew
her?--_Character_, indeed! you remind me of my brother--Mr Davenport,'
continued she to a gentleman present, 'did you ever hear the story of
my brother and an angel of purity whom he met with abroad?'
'No--never.'
'Be quiet,' said Maynard; 'I will not be laughed at.'
However, Mrs Wallington and Miss Maynard, who had not yet forgiven
the deep impression which Adeline's graces had made on their brother,
insisted on telling the story; to which Colonel Mordaunt listened with
eager and anxious curiosity. It received all the embellishments which
female malice could give it; and if it amused any one, certainly that
person was neither Mordaunt, nor Emma Douglas, nor her gentle sister.
'But how fortunate it was,' added Miss Maynard, 'that we were not with
my brother! as we should unavoidably have walked and talked with this
angel.'
Mordaunt longed to say, 'I think the good fortune was all on Miss
Mowbray's side.'
But Adeline and her cause were in good hands: Emma Douglas stood forth
as her champion.--'We feel very differently on that subject,' she
replied. 'I shall ever regret, not that I saw and conversed with Miss
Mowbray, but that I did not see and converse with her again and again.'
At this moment Emma was standing by Colonel Mordaunt, who involuntarily
caught her hand and pressed it eagerly; but tried to disguise his
motives by suddenly seating her in a chair behind her, saying, 'You had
better sit down; I am sure you must be tired with standing so long.'
'No; really, Emma,' cried Major Douglas, 'you go too far there; though
to be sure, if by seeing and conversing with Miss Mowbray you could have
convinced her of her errors, I should not have objected to your seeing
her once more or so.'
'Surely,' said Mrs Douglas timidly, 'we ought, my love, to have repeated
our visits till we had made a convert of her.'
'A _convert_ of her!' exclaimed Mr Maynard's sisters, 'a convert of a
kept mistress!' bursting into a violent laugh, which had a most painful
effect on the irritable nerves of Colonel Mordaunt, whose tongue,
parched with emotion, cleaved to the roof of his mouth whenever he
attempted to speak.
'Pray, to what other circumstance, yet untold, do you allude?' said Mr
Davenport.
'Oh, we too had a rencontre with the philosopher and his charming
friend,' said Major Douglas, 'and--but, Emma, do you tell the
story.--'Sdeath!--Poor fellow!--Well, but we parted good friends,' added
the kind-hearted Caledonian, dispersing a tear; while Emma, in simple
but impressive language, related all that passed at Perpignan between
themselves, Adeline, and Glenmurray; and concluded with saying, that,
'from the almost idolatrous respect with which Glenmurray spoke and
apparently thought of Adeline, and from the account of her conduct and
its motives, which he so fully detailed, she was convinced that, so
far from being influenced by depravity in connecting herself with
Glenmurray, Adeline was the victim of a romantic, absurd, and false
conception of virtue; and she should have thought it her duty to have
endeavoured, assisted by her sister, to have prevailed on her to
renounce her opinions, and, by becoming the wife of Glenmurray, to
restore to the society of her own sex, a woman formed to be its ornament
and its example. 'Poor thing!' she added in a faltering voice, 'would
that I knew her fate!'
'I can guess it, I tell you,' said Mrs Wallington.
'We had better drop the subject, madam,' replied Emma Douglas
indignantly, 'as it is one that we shall never agree upon. If I supposed
Miss Mowbray happy, I should feel for her, and feel interest sufficient
in her fate to make me combat your prejudices concerning her; but now
that she is perhaps afflicted, poor, friendless, and scorned, though
unjustly, by every "virtuous she that knows her story," I cannot command
my feelings when she is named with sarcastic respect, nor can I bear to
hear an unhappy woman supposed to be plunged in the lowest depths of
vice, whom I, on the contrary, believe to be at this moment atoning for
the error of her judgment by a life of lonely penitence, or sunk perhaps
already in the grave, the victim of a broken heart.'
Colonel Mordaunt, affected and delighted, hung on Emma Douglas's words
with breathless attention, resolving when she had ended her narration to
begin his, and clear Adeline from the calumnies of Mrs Wallington and
Miss Maynard: but after articulating with some difficulty--'Ladies,--I
--Miss Douglas,--I--' he found that his feelings would not allow him to
proceed: therefore, suddenly raising Emma's hand to his lips, imprinted
on it a kiss, at once fervent and respectful, and, making a hasty bow,
ran out of the house.
Every one was astonished; but none so much as Emma Douglas.
'Why, Emma!' cried the major, 'who should have thought it? I verily
believe you have turned Mordaunt's head;--I protest that he kissed your
hand:--I suppose he will be here to-morrow, making proposals in form.'
'I wish he may!' exclaimed Mrs Douglas.
'It is not very likely, I think,' cried Miss Maynard.
Mrs Wallington said nothing; but she fanned herself violently.
'How do you know that?' said Maynard. 'He kissed your hand very
tenderly--did he not, Miss Douglas? and took advantage of the dark hour:
that looks very lover-like.'
Emma Douglas, who, in spite of her reason, was both embarrassed and
flattered by Colonel Mordaunt's unexpected mode of taking leave, said
not a word; but Mrs Wallington, in a voice hoarse with angry emotion,
cried:
'It was very free in him, I think, and very unlike Colonel Mordaunt; for
he was not a sort of man to take liberties but where he met with
encouragement.'
'Then I am sure he would be free with you, sister, sometimes,'
sarcastically observed Miss Maynard.
'Nay, with both of you, I think,' replied Maynard, who had not forgiven
the laugh at his expense which they had tried to excite; on which an
angry dialogue took place between the brother and sisters: and the
Douglases, disgusted and provoked, retired to their apartment.
'There was something very strange and uncommon,' said Mrs Douglas,
detaining Emma in her dressing-room, 'in Colonel Mordaunt's behaviour--Do
you not think so, Emma?--If it should have any meaning!'
'Meaning!' cried the major: 'what meaning should it have? Why, my dear,
do you think Mordaunt never kissed a woman's hand before?'
'But it was so _particular_.--Well, Emma, if it should lead to
consequences!'
'Consequences!' cried the major: 'my dear girl, what can you mean?'
'Why, if he should _really love_ our Emma?'
'Why then I hope our Emma will love him.--What say you, Emma?'
'I say?--I--' she replied: 'really I never thought it possible that
Colonel Mordaunt should have any thoughts of me, nor do I now;--but it
is very strange that he should kiss my hand!'
The major could not help laughing at the _naivete_ of this reply, and in
a mutual whisper they agreed how much they wished to see their sister
so happily disposed of; while Emma paced up and down her own apartment
some time before she undressed herself; and after seeming to convince
herself, by recollecting all Colonel Mordaunt's conduct towards her,
that he could not possibly _mean_ any thing by his unusual adieu, she
went to sleep, exclaiming, 'But it is very strange that he should kiss
my hand!'