We left Adeline preparing to address Mrs Mowbray and recommend her child
to her protection:--but being deeply impressed with the importance of
the task which she was about to undertake, she timidly put it off
from day to day; and having convinced herself that it was her duty to
endeavour to excite her husband to repentance, and make him acknowledge
Editha as his legitimate child, she determined to write to him before
she addressed her mother, and also to bid a last farewell to Colonel
Mordaunt, whose respectful attachment had soothed some of the pangs
which consciousness of her past follies had inflicted, and whose active
friendship deserved her warmest acknowledgment. Little did she think the
fatal effect which one instance of his friendly zeal in her cause had
had on Berrendale; unconscious was she that the husband, whose neglect
she believed to be intentional, great as were his crimes against her,
was not guilty of the additional crime of suffering her to pine in
poverty without making a single inquiry concerning her, but was
convinced that both she and her child were no longer in existence.
In her letter to him, she conjured him by the love which he _always_
bore Glenmurray, by the love he _once_ bore her, and by the remorse
which he would sooner or later feel for his conduct towards her and her
child, to acknowledge Editha to be his lawful heir, but to suffer her to
remain under that protection to which she meant to bequeath her; and on
these conditions she left him her blessing and her pardon.
The letter to Colonel Mordaunt was long, and perhaps diffuse: but
Adeline was jealous of his esteem, though regardless of his love; and as
he had known her while acting under the influence of a fatal error of
opinion, she wished to show him that on conviction she had abandoned
her former way of thinking, and was candid enough to own that she had
been wrong.
'You, no doubt,' she said, 'are well acquainted with the arguments urged
by different writers in favour of marriage. I shall therefore only
mention the argument which carried at length full conviction to _my_
mind, and conquered even my deep and heartfelt reverence for the
opinions of one who long was, and ever will be, the dearest object of my
love and regret. But _he_, had he lived, would I am sure have altered
his sentiments; and had he been a parent, the argument I allude to, as
it is founded on a consideration of the interest of children, would have
found its way to his reason, through his affections.
'It is evident that on the education given to children must depend the
welfare of the community; and, consequently, that whatever is likely
to induce parents to neglect the education of their children must be
_hurtful_ to the welfare of the community. It is also certain, that
though the agency of the _passions_ be necessary to the existence of all
society, it is on the cultivation and influence of the _affections_ that
the happiness and improvement of social life depend.
'Hence it follows that marriage must be more beneficial to society
in its consequences, than connexions capable of being dissolved at
pleasure; because it has a tendency to call forth and exercise the
affections, and control the passions. It has been said, that, were we
free to dissolve at will a connexion formed by love, we should not wish
to do it, as constancy is natural to us, and there is in all of us a
tendency to form an exclusive attachment. But though I believe, from my
own experience, that the few are capable of unforced constancy, and
could love for life one dear and honoured object, still I believe that
the many are given to the love of change;--that, in men especially, a
new object can excite new passion; and, judging from the increasing
depravity of both sexes, in spite of existing laws, and in defiance of
shame,--I am convinced, that if the ties of marriage were dissolved, or
it were no longer to be judged infamous to act in contempt of them,
unbridled licentiousness would soon be in general practice. What, then,
in such a state of society, would be the fate of the children born in
it?--What would their education be? Parents continually engrossed in
the enervating but delightful egotism of a new and happy love, lost in
selfish indulgence, the passions awake, but the affections slumbering,
and the sacred ties of parental feeling not having time nor opportunity
to fasten on the heart,--their offspring would either die the victims
of neglect, and the very existence of the human race be threatened; or,
without morals or instruction, they would grow up to scourge the world
by their vices, till the whole fabric of civilized society was gradually
destroyed.
'On this ground, therefore, this strong ground, I venture to build
my present opinion, that marriage is a wise and ought to be a sacred
institution; and I bitterly regret the hour when, with the hasty and
immature judgment of eighteen, and with a degree of presumption scarcely
pardonable at any time of life, I dared to think and act contrary to
this opinion and the reverend experience of ages, and became in the eyes
of the world an example of vice, when I believed myself the champion of
virtue.'
She then went on to express the following sentiments. 'You will think,
perhaps, that I ought to struggle against the weakness which is hurrying
me to the grave, and live for the sake of my child.--Alas! it is for her
sake that I most wish to die.
'There are two ways in which a mother can be of use to her daughter: the
one is by instilling into her mind virtuous principles, and by setting
her a virtuous example: the other is, by being to her in her own person
an awful warning, a melancholy proof of the dangers which attend a
deviation from the path of virtue. But, oh! how jealous must a mother be
of her child's esteem and veneration! and how could she bear to humble
herself in the eyes of the beloved object, by avowing that she had
committed crimes against society, however atoned for by penitence and
sorrow! I can never, now, be a correct example for my Editha, nor could
I endure to live to be a warning to her.--Nay, if I lived, I should
be most probably a dangerous example to her; for I should be (on my
death-bed I think I may be allowed the boast) respected and esteemed;
while the society around me would forget my past errors, in the
sincerity of my repentance.
'If then a strong temptation should assail my child, might she not yield
to it from an idea that "one false step may be retrieved," and cite her
mother as an example of this truth? while, unconscious of the many
secret heart-aches of that repentant mother, unconscious of the sorrows
and degradations she had experienced, she regarded nothing but the
present respectability of her mother's life, and contented herself with
hoping one day to resemble her.
'Believe me, that were it possible for me to choose between life and
death, for my child's sake, the choice would be the latter. Now, when
she shall see in my mournful and eventful history, written as it has
been by me in moments of melancholy leisure, that all my sorrows were
consequent on one presumptuous error of judgment in early youth, and
shall see a long and minute detail of the secret agonies which I have
endured, those agonies wearing away my existence, and ultimately
hurrying me to an untimely grave; she will learn that the woman who
feels justly, yet has been led even into the practice of vice, however
she may be forgiven by others, can never forgive herself; and though she
may dare to lift an eye of hope to that Being who promises pardon on
repentance, she will still recollect with anguish the fair and glorious
course which she might have run: and that, instead of humbly imploring
forbearance and forgiveness, she might have demanded universal respect
and esteem.
'True it is, that I did not act in defiance of the world's opinion, from
any depraved feeling, or vicious inclinations: but the world could not
be expected to believe this, since motives are known only to our own
hearts, and the great Searcher of hearts: therefore, as far as example
goes, I was as great a stumbling-block to others as if the life I led
had been owing to the influence of lawless desires; and society was
right in making, and in seeing, no distinction between me and any other
woman living in an unsanctioned connexion.
'But methinks I hear you say, that Editha might never be informed of
my past errors. Alas! wretched must that woman be whose happiness and
respectability depend on the secrecy of others! Besides, did I not think
the concealment of crime in itself a crime, how could I know an hour
of peace while I reflected that a moment's malice, or inadvertency, in
one of Editha's companions might cause her to blush at her mother's
disgrace?--that, while her young cheek was flushed perhaps with the
artless triumphs of beauty, talent, and virtue, the parent who envied
me, or the daughter who envied her might suddenly convert her joy into
anguish and mortification, by artfully informing her, with feigned pity
for my sorrows and admiration of my penitence, that I had once been a
_disgrace_ to that family of which I was now the pride?--No--even if I
were not for ever separated in this world from the only man whom I ever
loved with passionate and well-founded affection, united for life to
the object of my just aversion, and were I not conscious (horrible and
overwhelming thought!) of having by my example led another into the path
of sin,--still, I repeat it, for my child's sake I should wish to die,
and should consider, not early death, but lengthened existence, as a
curse.'
So Adeline reasoned and felt in her moments of reflection: but the heart
had sometimes dominion over her; and as she gazed on Editha, and thought
that Mrs Mowbray might be induced to receive her again to her favour,
she wished even on any terms to have her life prolonged.