Emmeline Part 45

G.o.dolphin approached to take leave. He kissed the hand of Mrs. Stafford, and inarticulately expressed his thanks for her goodness to his sister.

'I know,' continued he, 'I need not recommend to you this poor infant: the same generosity which prompted you to save his mother, will effectually plead for him, and secure for him your protection 'till I can take him to that of his own family. And you, Miss Mowbray,' said he, turning to Emmeline and taking her hand--'most amiable, loveliest of human creatures! where shall I find words to thank you as I ought?'

His emotion was too great for utterance. Emmeline felt it but too sensibly; and hastening into the coach to hide how much she was herself affected, she could only say--

'All happiness attend you, Sir! Remind Lady Adelina of my hopes of soon hearing from her.'

Mrs. Stafford being then seated, and the servant who had been hired to attend the infant following her, the coach drove from the door.

G.o.dolphin pursued it with his eyes to the end of the street; and then, as if deprived of all that made life desirable, he gave himself up to languor and despondence, afraid of examining his own heart, least his reason should condemn an inclination, which, however hopeless, he could not resolve to conquer.

But while he found charms in the indulgence of his unhappy love, he determined never to disturb the peace of it's object. But rather to suffer in silence, than to give pain to a heart so generous and sensible as her's, merely for the melancholy pleasure of knowing that she pitied him.

As soon as Lady Adelina could bear the journey, they departed together to his house in the Isle of Wight; where he left her, and went in search of Mrs. Bancraft, the sister of Trelawny, of whom he enquired where Trelawny himself might be found.

This woman, apprehensive that he meditated a reconciliation between her brother and his wife, which it was so much her interest to prevent, refused for some time to give him the information he desired. Having however at length convinced her that he had no wish to renew a union which had been productive only of misery to his sister, she told him that Mr. Trelawny was returned to England, and lived at a house hired in the name of her husband, a few miles from London.

There G.o.dolphin sought him; and found the unhappy man sunk into a state of perpetual and unconscious intoxication; in which Bancraft, the husband of his sister, encouraged him, foreseeing that it must soon end in his son's being possessed of an income, to which the meanness of his own origin, and former condition, made him look forward with anxious avidity.

It was difficult to make Trelawny, sinking into idiotism, comprehend either who G.o.dolphin was, or the purport of his business. But Bancraft, more alive to his own interest, presently understood, that on condition of his entering into bonds of separation, Lady Adelina would relinquish the greater part of her claim on the Trelawny estate; and he undertook to have the deeds signed as soon as they could be drawn up. In a few days therefore G.o.dolphin saw Trelawny's part of them compleated; and returned to Lady Adelina, satisfied in having released her from an engagement, which, since he had seen Trelawny, had rendered her in his eyes an object of tenderer pity; and in having acquitted himself according to his strict sense of honour, by causing her to relinquish all the advantages Trelawny's fortune offered, except those to which she had an absolute right.

This affair being adjusted, he again resigned himself to the mournful but pleasing contemplations which had occupied him ever since he had heard of Emmeline's engagement. While Lady Adelina, whose intellects were now restored, but who was lost in profound melancholy, saw too evidently the state of her brother's heart; and could not but lament that his tenderness for her had been the means of involving him in a pa.s.sion, which the great merit of it's object, and his own sensibility, convinced her must be incurable.

The letters of Emmeline were the only consolation she was capable of receiving. They gave her favourable accounts of her child, and of the continued affection of her inestimable friends. Whenever one of these letters was brought, G.o.dolphin eagerly watched her while she was reading it; and then, faultering and impatient, asked if all were well; and if Mr. Delamere was yet returned? She sometimes gave him the letters to peruse; after which he generally fell into long absence, broken only by deep drawn and involuntary sighs--symptoms which Lady Adelina knew too well to doubt of the cause.

In the mean time Mrs. Stafford and Emmeline visited every day their innocent charge, who pa.s.sed for the child of one of Emmeline's friends gone to the West Indies. Emmeline insensibly grew so fond of him, that she was uneasy if any accident prevented her daily visit; and her friend sometimes laughingly reproached her with the robbery little William committed on her time.

When they were alone, their conversation frequently turned on Lady Adelina and her brother. The subject, tho' melancholy, was ever a favourite with them both; and perhaps the more so because it led them to mournful reflections--for Mrs. Stafford was unhappy, and Emmeline was not gay; nor were her spirits greatly heightened by finding that in spite of herself she thought as much of the brother as the sister, and with a degree of softness and complacency which could not be favourable to her happiness.

When she first discovered in G.o.dolphin those admirable qualities of heart and understanding which he so eminently possessed, she asked herself whether she might indulge the admiration they excited without prejudice to him whom she considered as her husband? And she fancied that she might safely give him that esteem which his tenderness to his unhappy sister, the softness of his manners, the elegance of his mind, and the generosity of his heart, could hardly fail of extorting from the most indifferent observer.

But insensibly his idea obtruded itself more frequently on her imagination; and she determined to attempt to forget him, and no longer to allow any partiality to rob Delamere of that pure and sincere attachment with which he would expect her to meet him at the altar. It was now long since she had heard from him; but she accounted for it by supposing that he was rambling about, and she knew that letters were frequently lost.

It was at this time something more than two years since they had first met at Mowbray Castle, and in a few weeks Delamere would complete his twenty-first year--a period to which Lord Montreville had long looked forward with anxious solicitude. And now he could not but think with bitterness that his son would not be present to animate the joy of his dependants at this period; but was kept in another country, in the vain hope of extinguishing a pa.s.sion which could not be indulged without rendering abortive all the pains his Lordship had taken to restore his family to the eminent rank it had formerly borne in his country.

To Sir Richard Crofts, his sons had communicated the success of those plans, by which they had sown, in the irritable mind of Delamere, jealousy and mistrust of Emmeline; and he failed not to animate and encourage their endeavours, while he used his power over the mind of Lord Montreville to limit the bounty and lessen the affection his Lordship was disposed to shew her as the daughter of his brother.

She received regularly her quarterly payment, but she received no more; and instead of hearing, on those occasions, from Lord Montreville himself, she had twice only a methodical letter from Maddox, the London steward.

This might, however, be merely accidental; and Emmeline was far from supposing that her uncle was estranged from her; nor could she guess that the malice of Mrs. Ashwood, and the artifices of the Crofts', had occasioned that estrangement.

Lord Montreville rather connived at than partic.i.p.ated in their ungenerous proceedings; and as if fearful of trusting his own ideas of integrity with a plan which so evidently militated against them, he was determined to take advantage of their endeavours, without enquiring too minutely into their justice or candour. Sir Richard had a.s.sured him that Mr. Delamere was in a great measure weaned from his attachment; and that Mr. Crofts was almost sure, that if their meeting could be prevented for a few months longer, there would be nothing more to fear from this long and unfortunate prepossession.

Crofts himself, who had at length torn himself from his bride to pave the way for his being received by her family as her husband, soon appeared, and confirmed all this. He told Lord Montreville that Delamere had conceived suspicions of Emmeline's conduct, (tho' he knew not from what cause) that had at first excited the most uneasy jealousy, but which had at length subsided with his love; that he had regained his spirits; and, when he left his mother and sister, seemed resolved to make a vigorous effort to expel from his mind a pa.s.sion he was ashamed of having so long indulged.

In saying all this, Crofts rather attended to what his Lordship wished to hear, than to what was really the truth. He knew that a meeting between Delamere and Emmeline would probably at once explain all the unworthy artifices which had been used to divide them, and render those artifices abortive. He therefore told Lord Montreville, that to prevent all probability of a relapse, it would be advisable to remove Emmeline to some place where Delamere could not meet her: and his Lordship, forgetting at once all the obligations he owed her, thought only of following this advice.

Embarra.s.sed, however, himself with public business, he was unable to give to these domestic politics all the attention which they demanded.

He threw himself more than ever into the power of the Crofts', to whose policy he left it to contrive the means, between the months of November and March, of raising an invincible barrier between his son and his niece.

Tho' Delamere's being of age encreased the difficulties of this undertaking, Crofts having no scruples about the methods he was to pursue, had no doubt of accomplishing his end: and to stimulate his endeavours, he needed only the particular advantages which would accrue to himself from the pardon and reception which he hoped to obtain from Lord Montreville and his family.

Every engine therefore that ambition, avarice, malice and cunning could employ, was now put in motion against the character and the peace of the unprotected and unsuspicious Emmeline.

In conscious innocence and unsullied purity, she dreamed not that she had an enemy on earth; for of Mrs. Ashwood, now Mrs. James Crofts, she only remembered that she had once been obliged to her. The little, malicious envy which had given her some pain at the time it was shewn, she now no longer recollected; and tho' she always continued to dislike James Crofts, yet his impertinence she had forgiven, and had written in the usual form to congratulate them both on their marriage.

Of Delamere, she heard nothing; but imputing his silence to his frequent change of place, she conceived no anger against him on that account; and still felt herself bound to keep from her mind, as much as possible, the intrusive image of G.o.dolphin.

CHAPTER VII

Whatever resolution Emmeline might form to drive from her heart those dangerous partialities which would be fatal to her repose, she found it impossible to be accomplished while Lady Adelina's frequent letters spoke only of the generous tenderness and excellent qualities of her brother. Of what else, indeed, could she speak, in a solitude where his goodness made all her consolation and his conversation all her pleasure?

where he dedicated to her all his time, and thought of procuring for her every alleviation to her retirement which books and domestic amus.e.m.e.nts afforded? while he taught her still to respect herself; and by his unwearied friendship convincing her that she had still much to lose, made her life receive in her own eyes a value it would otherwise have lost; and prevented her relapsing into that unhappy state of self-condemnation which makes the sufferer careless of the future. He thought, that situated as she was, solitude was her only choice; but to render it as happy as her circ.u.mstances allowed, was his continual care: and tho' oppressive sorrow still lay heavy on her heart; tho' it still ached with tenderness and regret towards an object whom she had sworn to think of, to speak of no more; her grat.i.tude and affection towards her brother were as lively, as if its acute feelings had never felt the benumbing hand of despair.

In the total sequestration from the world in which she lived, she had no other topic to dwell upon than her brother, and she gave it all its force. Perfectly acquainted, however, with Emmeline's engagements, she never ventured to mention the pa.s.sion which she was too well a.s.sured G.o.dolphin felt; but she still, almost unknown to herself, cherished a lurking hope that her connection with Delamere might be dissolved, and that her lovely friend was destined to bless her beloved brother.

This distant hope was warm enough to animate her pen in his praise; and Emmeline, tho' every letter she received made on her mind a deeper impression of the merit of G.o.dolphin, yet found such painful pleasure in reading them, that she was unhappy if at the usual periods they did not regularly arrive.

She tried to persuade herself, that the satisfaction she felt in reading these letters arose purely from the delight natural to every uncorrupted mind in contemplating a character honourable to human nature. But accustomed to examine narrowly her own heart, she could not long impose upon herself; and notwithstanding all her endeavours to stifle it, she still found the idea of G.o.dolphin mixing itself with all her thoughts, and embittering the prospect of her certain marriage with Delamere.

In the answers Emmeline gave her friend, she related whatever she thought likely to amuse the fair recluse; gave a regular account of her little charge; but avoided punctiliously the least mention of Fitz-Edward.

Fitz-Edward had received from Mrs. Stafford an account of all that had pa.s.sed at Bath, except the pains which had been taken to prevent any meeting between him and G.o.dolphin. But notwithstanding her cautious silence on that head, Fitz-Edward, who knew G.o.dolphin well, could hardly be persuaded not to insist on his taking his chance of depriving him of a life which he said he had deserved to lose, and could little brook being supposed to hold on courtesy. Nothing but his consideration for the unhappy Lady Adelina prevented his pursuing the sanguinary projects that agitated his mind. To her peace he owed it to conquer them; and while he was yet struggling against that sense of honour which impelled him to give G.o.dolphin imaginary reparation, by allowing him an opportunity of putting an end to _his_ existence or losing his own, his brother, Lord Clancarryl, wrote to desire his attendance in Ireland on some family business of importance; a summons, which after some hesitation, Mrs. Stafford and Miss Mowbray prevailed with him to obey.

Before he went, his eager and affecting entreaties prevailed on Mrs.

Stafford to let him see his son, whom he embraced with an ardour of affection of which the fair friends believed so gay and fashionable a man incapable.

The errors of Fitz-Edward, however, were not those of the heart. Among the dissipation of fashion and the indulgences of libertinism, his heart was still sensible, and his integrity retrievable. He felt, therefore, with great keenness, the injury he had done Lady Adelina; and desirous of making all the reparation he could to the infant, he again placed in the hands of Emmeline, a will by which he made it his heir, and recommended it to the protection of G.o.dolphin, whom he besought to consider as his nephew, the son of a man whom he had once loved, and who had dearly paid for having forfeited all claim to his friendship. When he was departed, nothing seemed likely to interrupt the tranquillity of Emmeline but her encreasing apprehensions for Mrs. Stafford and her children. The derangement of Stafford's affairs, and his wife's unavailing efforts to ward off the ruin which he seemed obstinately bent on incurring, were every day more visible: while his capricious and unreasonable temper, and a strange opinion of his own sagacity, which would never allow him to own himself in the wrong, made him seek to load his wife with the blame of those misfortunes which he had voluntarily sought, and now as obdurately refused to avoid while it was yet in his power.

Mrs. Stafford, who saw too plainly that the destruction of their fortune which she had so long dreaded was now with hasty strides advancing, yet endeavoured to convince him of his infatuation; but he still improved his house and garden, still schemed away all the money he could raise or gain credit for, and still repaid with rudeness and insult her anxious solicitude to save him.

In Emmeline, she ever found pity and tenderness; but pity and tenderness was all she had to bestow. The affairs of Stafford required interest and money; and Emmeline could command neither. Lord Montreville now took no other notice of her, than to remit her quarterly stipend by the hands of his steward; and tho' he had promised to double it, that promise yet remained unfulfilled.

It was at this time near the end of November, and the mornings were cold and gloomy: but Emmeline, however delicate in her frame, had a const.i.tution which had not, by early and false indulgences, been unfitted for the duties of life; and to personal inconvenience she was always indifferent when the service of those she loved engaged her to brave fatigue or cold. She therefore still continued her morning visit to Woodbury Forest, where she generally past an hour with little William; and in his improving features and interesting smiles, loved to trace his resemblance to his mother. Lady Adelina was very like her brother; and the little boy was not the less tenderly caressed for the similitude she saw to them both.

The appearance of rain had one morning detained her at home later than usual. She went, however, about eleven o'clock; and was busied in playing with the infant, who began now to know her, and was therefore more attractive, when, while she yet held him in her arms, she heard the woman of the house, who was in the outward room, suddenly exclaim--'Indeed Sir you cannot go in--pray--I beg your honour!' There was hardly time for Emmeline to feel surprise at this bustle, before the door opened, and Delamere stood before her! In his countenance was an expression compounded of rage, fierceness and despair, which extorted from Emmeline an involuntary shriek! Unable to arise, she remained motionless in her chair, clasping the baby to her bosom: Delamere seemed trying to stifle his anger in contempt; vengeance, disdain, and pride, were struggling for superiority: while with his eyes sternly turned upon Emmeline, and smiling indignantly, he exclaimed--'Till I _saw_ this----'

inarticulately and tremulously he spoke--'till I _saw_ this, all the evidence they brought me was insufficient to cure my blind attachment.

But now--oh! infamy--madness--d.a.m.nation! It _is_ then possible--It _is_ then true! But what is it to me? Torn--torn for ever from this outraged heart--never, never shall this sight blast me again!--But what?'

continued he, speaking with more quickness, 'what? for Fitz-Edward! for the infamous plunderer of his friend's happiness! However, Madam, on you I intrude no longer. Oh! lost--lost--wretched!'--He could not go on; but in the speechless agony of contending pa.s.sions he leaned his head against the frame of the door near which he stood, and gazed wildly on Emmeline; who, pale as death, and trembling like a leaf, still sat before him unable to recall her scattered spirits.

He waited a moment, gasping for breath, and as if he had still some feeble expectation of hearing her speak. But the child which she held in her arms was like a basilisk to his sight, and made in his opinion all vindication impossible. Again conviction appeared to drive him to desperation; and looking in a frantic manner round the room, as if entirely bereft of reason, he dashed his hands furiously against his head, and running, or rather flying out of the house, he immediately disappeared.

In terror and astonishment, Emmeline remained immovable and speechless.

She almost doubted whether this was any other than a fearful dream, 'till the woman of the house, and the maid who attended on the child, ran into the room frightened--'Lord! Madam,' cried the woman, 'what is the matter with the young gentleman?'

'I know not,' answered Emmeline, faintly--'I know not! Where is he now?'