On entering the room, Emmeline sat down without speaking.
'How is Adelina, my dearest Miss Mowbray?'
'I know not.'
'You have not, then, been with her?'
'No.'
'Were it not best to enquire after her?'
'Certainly. I will go immediately.'
'But come to me again--I have much to say to you.'
Emmeline then went up stairs. She found that the composing medicine,
which Barret had been directed to keep always by her, had been liberally
administered; and that her lady was got into bed, and was already
asleep. Barret sat by her. Deep sighs and convulsive catchings marked
the extreme agitation of her spirits after she was no longer conscious
of it herself. With this account Emmeline returned, in great uneasiness,
to Godolphin.
'I thank Heaven,' said he, 'that she is at least for some moments
insensible of pain! Now, my Emmeline, for surely I may be allowed to say
_my_ Emmeline, sit down and try to compose yourself. I cannot bear to
see you thus pale and trembling.'
He led her to a seat, and placed himself by her; gazing with extreme
concern on her face, pallid as it was, and expressive only of sorrow and
anxiety.
'Whence is it,' said she, after a pause of some moments, that I see you
here? Did I not come hither on the assurance you gave me that you would
long be detained in or near London by the business of your sister?'
'I certainly did say so. But I could not then foresee what happened on
the Sunday after you left London.'
'Has, then, any thing happened?'
'The return of Lord and Lady Westhaven, with Lord Delamere.'
'Are they all well?'
'Tolerably so. But my brother is very anxious to see Adelina; and
expects _you_ with little less solicitude. He could not think of giving
Lady Westhaven the trouble of such a journey; nor could he now leave her
without being unhappy. I therefore, at his pressing request, came myself
to fetch you both to London.'
'And do you mean that we should begin our journey to-morrow?'
'I _meant_ it, certainly, till the events of this evening made me
doubtful how far my sister herself may be in a situation to bear change
of place and variety of objects; or being able, whether she may chuse to
leave to me the direction of her actions.'
'Ah! impute not to Lady Adelina the meeting with Fitz-Edward; it was
entirely accidental; it's suddenness overcame her, and threw her into
the way in which you saw her.'
'And what has a man to answer for, who thus comes to insult his victim,
and to rob her of the little tranquillity time may have restored to
her?'
'Indeed I think you injure poor Fitz-Edward. Fondly attached to your
sister, he has no other wish or hope than to be allowed to address her
when the time of her mourning for Mr. Trelawny is expired. For this
permission he intended to apply to you: but the severity with which you
ever received his advances discouraged him; and he then, in the hope of
hearing that such an application would not be rendered ineffectual by
her own refusal, and languishing to see his son, came hither; not with
any intention of forcing himself abruptly into the presence of Lady
Adelina, but to see _me_ and induce me to intercede with her for an
interview. Accident threw us in his way; your sister fell senseless on
the ground; and when she did recover, endeavoured to avoid him: but she
was too weak to walk home without other assistance than mine, and I was
compelled to accept for her, that which Fitz-Edward offered. On hearing
from Barret that you was returned, the terror which has ever pursued
her, lest you and Fitz-Edward should meet as enemies, again overcame
her, and occasioned the scene you must, with so much astonishment, have
beheld.'
'Has Adelina had any previous knowledge of the proposals Fitz-Edward
intends to make?'
'None, I believe, in the world.'
'Do you know whether they have ever corresponded?'
'I am convinced they have not.'
'There are objections, in my mind, _insuperable_ objections, to this
alliance. These, however, I must talk over with the Colonel himself.'
'Not _hostilely_, I hope. Surely you have too much regard for the
unhappy Adelina, to give way now to any resentment you may have
conceived against him; or if _that_ does not influence you, think of
what _I_ must suffer.' She knew not what she had said; hardly what she
intended to say.
'Enchanting softness!' exclaimed Godolphin in a transport--'Is then the
safety of Godolphin so dear to that angelic bosom?'
'You know it but too well. But if _my_ quiet is equally dear to _you_,
promise me that if this meeting to-morrow _must_ take place, you will
receive Fitz-Edward with civility, and hear him with patience. Remember
on how many accounts this is necessary. Remember how many expressions
there are which his profession will not allow him to hear without
resentment, that must end in blood. Your's is _no common_ cause of
enmity; none of those trifling quarrels which daily send modern beaux
into the field. Your characters are both high as military men, and as
gentlemen; and your former intimacy must, I know, impress more deeply on
the mind of each the injury or offence that either suppose they receive.
Be careful then, Godolphin; promise me you will be careful!'
'Ah! lovely Emmeline! more lovely from this generous tenderness than
from your other exquisite perfections; can I be insensible of the value
of a life for which _you_ interest yourself? and shall I suffer any
other consideration to come in competition with your peace?'
'You promise me then?'
'To be calm with Fitz-Edward, I do. And while I remember his offence
(for can I forget while I suffer from it) I will also recollect, that
_you_, who have also suffered on the same account, think him worthy of
compassion; and I will try to conquer, at least to stifle, my
resentment. But what shall we do with Adelina?'
'That must depend on her situation in the morning. I have greatly
apprehended an unhappy turn in her intellects ever since my first
coming. The death of Trelawny, far from appearing to have relieved her
by removing the impediment to her union with Fitz-Edward, seems rather
to have rendered her more wretched. Continually agitated by contending
passions, she was long unhappy, in the supposition that Fitz-Edward had
obeyed her when she desired him to forget her. Since Trelawny's decease,
as she has more fearlessly allowed her thoughts to dwell on him, she has
suffered all the anxiety of expecting to hear from him, and all the
bitterness of disappointment. And I could plainly perceive, that she was
still debating with herself, whether, if he _did_ apply to her, she
should accept him, or by a violent effort of heroism determine to see
him no more. This conflict is yet to come. Judge whether, in the frame
of mind in which you see her, she is equal to it; and whether any
additional terror for you and for him will not quite undo her. Alas! far
from aggravating, by pursuing your resentment, anguish so poignant, try
rather to soothe her sorrows and assist her determination. And whatever
that determination may be, when it is once made she may perhaps be
restored to health and to tranquillity.'
'Indeed I will do all you dictate, my loveliest friend! Surely I should
ill deserve the generosity you have shewn to me, were I incapable of
feeling for others, and particularly for my sister. But wherefore that
air of defiance which Mr. Fitz-Edward thought it necessary to assume? He
seemed to come more disposed to _insult_ than to conciliate the family
of Lady Adelina.'
'Alas! do you make no allowance for the perturbed situation of his mind,
when he saw the woman he adores to all appearance dead, and for the
first time beheld the poor little boy? He looked upon you as one who
desires to tear from him for ever these beloved objects; and forgetting
that he was the aggressor, thought only of the injury which he supposed
you intended.'
'There is, indeed, some apology for the asperity of his manner; and
perhaps I was in some measure to blame. Generous, candid, considerate
Emmeline! how does your excellent heart teach you to excuse those
weaknesses you do not feel, and to pity and to forgive errors which
your own perfect mind makes it impossible for you to commit! Ah! how
heavily is your tenderness perpetually taxed: _here_, it is suffering
from the sight of Adelina--in town, it will have another object in the
unfortunate Delamere.'
'Did you not tell me he was in tolerable health?'
'Alas! what is bodily health when the mind is ill at ease? The anxiety
of Delamere to see you, to hear his destiny from yourself, is uneasy
even to me, who feel my own exquisite happiness in knowing what that
destiny must be. I look with even painful commiseration on this singular
young man. Yet from passions so violent, and obstinacy so invincible, I
must have rejoiced that Miss Mowbray has escaped; even tho' her
preference of the fortunate Godolphin had not rendered his lot the most
happy that a human being can possess.'
'Since you are so good,' said Emmeline faintly, for she was quite
exhausted, 'to compassionate the situation of mind of Delamere, you
will, I think, see the humanity of concealing from him--that--' She
could find no term that she liked, to express her meaning, and stopped.
'That he has a fortunate rival?' said Godolphin. 'No, dearest Emmeline,
I hope I am incapable of such a triumph! 'Till poor Delamere is more at
ease, I am content to enjoy the happiness of knowing your favourable
opinion, without wishing, by an insulting display of it, to convince him
he has for ever
'Thrown a pearl away richer than all his tribe!'
'Yet I am sure you will think it still more cruel to give him hope. I
will tell you all my weakness. While I see you here, all benignity and
goodness to me, I feel for Lord Delamere infinite pity; but were you to
receive him with your usual sweetness, to give him many of those
enchanting smiles, and to look at him with those soft eyes, as if you
tenderly felt his sorrows, I am not sure whether the most unreasonable
jealousy would not possess me, and whether I should not hate him as much
as I now wish him well.'
'That were to be indeed unreasonable, and to act very inconsistently
with your natural candour and humanity. I will not think so ill of you
as to believe you. You know I must of course often see Lord Delamere:
but after the avowal you have extorted from me, surely I need not repeat
that I shall see him only as my friend.'
Godolphin then kissed her hands in rapture; and for a few moments forgot
even his concern for Lady Adelina. Emmeline now wished to break off the
conversation; and he at length allowed her to leave him. After having
enquired of Barret after her mistress, who was happily in a calmer
sleep, she retired to her own room, where she hoped to have a few hours
of repose: but notwithstanding the promises of Godolphin, she felt as
the hour of the morning approached on which he was to meet Fitz-Edward,
that anxiety chased away sleep, and again made her suffer the cruellest
suspense.
The heart of Godolphin, glowing with the liveliest sense of his own
happiness, yet felt with great keenness the unfortunate situation of his
sister. He began to doubt whether he had any right to perpetuate her
wretchedness; and whether it were not better to leave it to herself to
decide in regard to Fitz-Edward. The delicacy of his honour made him see
an infinity of objections to their marriage, which to common minds might
appear chimerical and romantic. To that part of his own family who were
yet ignorant of her former indiscretion, as he could not urge his
reasons, his opposition of Fitz-Edward must seem capricious and unjust.
Lord Westhaven must therefore either be told that which had hitherto
with so much pains been concealed from him, or he must determine to
refer Fitz-Edward entirely to Lady Adelina herself; and on this, after
long deliberation, he fixed.
Exactly as the clock struck seven, Fitz-Edward was at the door; and was
introduced into Godolphin's study, who was already up and waiting for
him. Emmeline, still full of apprehension, had arisen before six, and
hearing Lady Adelina was still asleep, had gone down stairs, and waited
with a palpitating heart in the breakfast room.
She was glad to distinguish, at their first meeting, the usual
salutations of the morning. She listened; but tho' the rest of the house
was profoundly silent, she could not hear their conversation or even the
tone in which it was carried on. It was not, however, loud, and she drew
from thence a favourable omen. Near two hours passed, during which
breakfast was carried in to them; and as the servant passed backwards
and forwards, she heard parts of sentences which assured her that then,
at least, they were conversing on indifferent subjects.
Now, therefore, the agitation of her spirits began to subside; and she
dared even to hope that this meeting would prove the means of
reconciliation, rather than of producing those fatal effects she had
dreaded.
In about a quarter of an hour, however, after they had finished their
breakfast, they went out and crossed the lawn together. Then again her
heart failed her; and without knowing exactly what she intended, she
took the little boy, whom the maid had just brought to her, and walked
as quickly as possible after them. Before she could overtake them, they
had reached the gate; and in turning to shut it after him, Godolphin saw
her, and both together came hastily back to meet her. At the same
moment, the child putting out his hands to Godolphin, called him papa!
as he had been used to do; and Fitz-Edward, snatching him up, kissed him
tenderly, while his eyes were filled with tears.
Godolphin took the hand of Emmeline. 'Why this terror? why this haste?'
said he, observing her to be almost breathless.
'I thought--I imagined--I was afraid--' answered she, not knowing what
she said.
'Be not alarmed,' said Godolphin--'We go together as friends.'
'And Godolphin,' interrupted Fitz-Edward, 'is again the same noble
minded Godolphin I once knew, and have always loved.'
'Let us say then,' cried Emmeline, 'no more of the past.--Let us look
forward only to the future.'
'And the happiness of that future, at least as far as it relates to me,
depends, dearest Miss Mowbray, on you.'
'On me!'
'Godolphin wishes me not now to see his sister. I have acquiesced. He
wishes me even to refrain from seeing her till she has been six months a
widow. With this, also, I have complied. But as it is not in my power to
remain thus long in a suspence so agonizing as that I now endure, he
allows me to write to her, and refers wholly to herself my hopes and my
despair. Ah! generous, lovely Emmeline! _you_ can influence the mind of
your friend. When she is calm, give her the letter I will send to you;
and if you would save me from a life of lingering anguish to which death
is preferable, procure for me a favourable answer.'
Emmeline could not refuse a request made by Fitz-Edward which Godolphin
seemed not to oppose. She therefore acquiesced; and saw him, after he
had again tenderly caressed the child, depart with Godolphin, who
desired her to return to the house, in order to await Lady Adelina's
rising; where he would soon join her. With an heart lightened of half
the concern she had felt on this melancholy subject, she now went to the
apartment of her poor friend, who was just awakened from the stupor
rather than the sleep into which the soporifics she had taken had thrown
her. With an heavy and reluctant eye she looked round her, as if
hopeless of seeing the image now always present to her imagination.
Emmeline approached her with the child. She seemed happy to see them;
and desiring her to sit down by the bed side, said--'Tell me truly what
has happened? Have I taken any medicine that has confused my head, or
how happens it that I appear to have been in a long and most uneasy
dream? Wild and half formed images still seem to float before my eyes;
and when I attempt to make them distinct, I am but the more bewildered
and uneasy.'
'Think not about it, then, till the heaviness you complain of is gone
off.'
'Tell me, Emmeline, have I really only dreamed, or was a stranger here
yesterday? I thought, that suddenly I saw Fitz-Edward, thin, pale,
emaciated, looking as if he were unhappy; and then, as it has of late
often happened, I lost at once all traces of him; and in his place
Godolphin came, and I know not what else; it is all confusion and
terror!'
Emmeline now considered a moment; and then concluded that it would be
better to relate distinctly to her, since she now seemed capable of
hearing it, all that had really passed the preceding evening, than to
let her fatigue her mind by conjectures, and enfeeble it by fears. She
therefore gave her a concise detail of what had happened; from the
accidental meeting with Fitz-Edward, to the parting she had herself just
had with him in the garden. She carefully watched the countenance of
Lady Adelina while she was speaking; and saw with pleasure, that tho'
excessively agitated, she melted into tears, and heard, with a calmer
joy than she had dared to hope, the certainty of Fitz-Edward's tender
attachment, and the unhoped for reconciliation between him and her
brother. Having indulged her tears some time, she tenderly pressed the
hand of Emmeline, and said, in a faint voice, that she found herself
unable to rise and meet Godolphin till she had recovered a little more
strength of mind, and that she wished to be left alone. Emmeline,
rejoiced to find her so tranquil, left her, and rejoined Godolphin, who
was by this time returned; and who read, in the animated countenance of
Emmeline, that she had favourable news to relate to him of his sister.
While they enjoyed together the prospect of Lady Adelina's return to
health and peace, of which they had both despaired, the natural
chearfulness of Emmeline, which anxiety and affection had so long
obscured, seemed in some degree to return; and feeling that she loved
Godolphin better than ever, for that generous placability of spirit he
had shewn to the repentant Fitz-Edward, she no longer attempted to
conceal her tenderness, or withhold her confidence from her deserving
lover. They breakfasted together; and afterwards, as Lady Adelina still
wished to be alone, they walked over the little estate which lay round
the house, and Emmeline allowed him to talk of the improvements he
meditated when she should become it's mistress. The pleasure, however,
which lightened in her eyes, and glowed in her bosom, was checked and
diminished when the image of Delamere, in jealousy and despair, intruded
itself. And she could look forward to no future happiness for herself,
undashed with sorrow, while he remained in a state of mind so
deplorable. When they returned into the house, Barret brought to
Godolphin the following note.--
'Dearest and most generous Godolphin! I find myself unequal to
the task of _speaking_ on what has passed within these last twenty
four hours. I wish still to see you. But let our conversation turn
wholly on Lord Westhaven, of whom I am anxious to hear; and spare
me, for the present, on the subject which now blinds with tears
your weak but grateful and affectionate
ADELINA.'
Godolphin now assured her, by Emmeline, that he would mention nothing
that should give her a moment's pain, and that she should herself lead
the conversation.
He soon after went up to her and Emmeline, in her dressing room; and
found her still calm, tho' very low and languid. The name of Fitz-Edward
was carefully avoided. But in the short time they were together,
Godolphin observed that the eyes of Lady Adelina seemed, on the entrance
of any one into the room, fearfully and anxiously to examine whether
they brought the letter she had been taught to expect from Fitz-Edward.
It was easy to see that she deeply meditated on the answer which she
must give; and that she felt an internal struggle, which Godolphin
feared might again unsettle her understanding. She was too faint to sit
up long; and desirous of being left entirely alone, Godolphin had for
the rest of the day the happiness of entertaining Emmeline apart. He
failed not to avail himself of it; and drew from her a confession of her
partiality towards him, even from the first day of their acquaintance;
and long before she dared trust her heart to enquire into the nature of
those sentiments with which it was impressed.
Late in the evening, a messenger arrived with the expected letter from
Fitz-Edward. To convince Godolphin of the perfect integrity with which
he acted, he sent him a copy of it; adding, that he was then on his road
to London, where he should await, in painful solicitude, the decision of
Lady Adelina. It was determined that Emmeline should give her the letter
the next morning; and that if after reading it she retained the same
languid composure which she had before shewn, they should go in the
evening to Southampton, and from thence proceed the following day to
London, where Lord and Lady Westhaven so anxiously expected their
arrival.
When Emmeline delivered the letter, Lady Adelina turned pale, and
trembled. She left her to read it; and on returning to her in about half
an hour, Emmeline found her drowned in tears. She seemed altogether
unwilling to speak of the contents of the letter; but assured Emmeline
that she was very well able to undertake the journey her brother
proposed, and she believed it would be rather useful than prejudicial to
her. 'As to the letter,' added she, with a deep sigh, 'it will not for
some days be in my power to answer it.'
Every thing was, by the diligence of Godolphin, soon prepared for their
departure. Lady Adelina, her little boy, Emmeline and Godolphin,
attended by their servants, went the same evening to Southampton; from
whence they began their journey the next day; and resting one night at
Farnham, arrived early on the following at the house Lord Westhaven had
taken in Grosvenor street.