Adeline Mowbray Part 12

CHAPTER XIII

While these conversations were pa.s.sing 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 hara.s.sing 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 embarra.s.sed; 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 cla.s.s 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 compet.i.tion 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 compet.i.tions 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 pa.s.sion,--and pa.s.sion 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, a.s.sociated 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 pa.s.sed, 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 G.o.d'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.