Adeline Mowbray Part 18

'She will do now,' cried he exultingly to Mrs Mowbray: 'You need alarm yourself no longer.'

But alarm was perhaps a feeling of enjoyment, to the sensations which then took possession of Mrs Mowbray. The apparent danger of Adeline had awakened her long dormant tenderness: but she had just bound herself by an oath not to give way to it, except under circ.u.mstances the most unwelcome and affecting, and had therefore embittered her future days with remorse and unavailing regret.--For some minutes she stood looking wildly and mournfully on Adeline, longing to clasp her to her bosom, and p.r.o.nounce her pardon, but not daring to violate her oath. At length, 'I cannot bear this torment,' she exclaimed, and rushed out of the room: and when in another apartment, she recollected, and uttered a scream of agony as she did so, that she had seen Adeline probably for the last time; for, voluntarily, she was now to see her no more.

The same recollections occurred to Adeline; and as the door closed on her mother, she raised herself up, and looked eagerly to catch the last glimpse of her gown, as the door shut it from her sight. 'Let us go away directly now,' said she, 'for the air of this room is not good for me.'

The doctor, affected beyond measure at the expression of quiet despair with which she spoke, went out to order a coach; and Adeline instantly rose, and kissed with fond devotion the chair on which her mother had sat. Suddenly she heard a deep sigh--it came from the next room--perhaps it came from her mother; perhaps she could still see her again: and with cautious step she knelt down and looked through the key-hole of the door.

She did see her mother once more. Mrs Mowbray was lying on the bed, beating the ground with her foot, and sighing as if her heart would break.

'O that I dare go in to her!' said Adeline to herself: 'but I can at least bid her farewell here.' She then put her mouth to the aperture, and exclaimed, 'Mother, dearest mother! since we meet now for the last time--' (Mrs Mowbray started from the bed) 'let me thank you for all the affection, all the kindness which you lavished on me during eighteen happy years. I shall never cease to love and pray for you.' (Mrs Mowbray sobbed aloud.) 'Perhaps, you will some day or other think you have been harsh to me, and may wish that you had not taken so cruel a vow.' (Mrs Mowbray beat her breast in agony: the moment of repentance was already come.) 'It may therefore be a comfort to you at such moments to know, that I sincerely, and from the bottom of my heart, forgive this rash action:--and now, my dearest mother, hear my parting prayers for your happiness!'

At this moment a noise in the next room convinced Adeline that her mother had fallen down in a fainting fit, and the doctor entered the room.

'What have I done?' she exclaimed. 'Go to her this instant.'--He obeyed.

Raising up Mrs Mowbray in his arms, he laid her on the bed, while Adeline bent over her in silent anguish, with all the sorrow of filial anxiety. But when the remedies which Dr Norberry administered began to take effect, she exclaimed, 'For the last time! Cruel, but most dear mother!' and pressed her head to her bosom, and kissed her pale lips with almost frantic emotion.

Mrs Mowbray opened her eyes; they met those of Adeline and instantly closed again.

'She has looked at me for the last time,' said Adeline; 'and now this one kiss, my mother, and farewell for ever!' So saying she rushed out of the room, and did not stop till she reached the coach, which Glenmurray had called, and springing into it, was received into the arms of Glenmurray.

'You, are my all now,' said she. 'You have long been mine,' replied he: but respecting the anguish and disappointment depicted on her countenance, he forbore to ask for an explanation; and resting her pale cheek on his bosom, they reached the inn in silence.

Adeline had walked up and down the room a number of times, had as often looked out of the window, before Dr Norberry, whom she had been anxiously expecting and looking for, made his appearance. 'Thank G.o.d, you are come at last!' said she, seizing his hand as he entered.

'I left Mrs Mowbray,' replied he, 'much better both in mind and body.'

'A blessed hearing! replied Adeline.

'And you, my child, how are you?' asked the doctor affectionately.

'I know not yet,' answered Adeline mournfully: 'as yet I am stunned by the blow which I have received; but pray tell me what has pa.s.sed between you and my mother since we left the hotel.'

'What has pa.s.sed?' cried Dr Norberry, starting from his chair, taking two hasty strides across the room, pulling up the cape of his coat, and muttering an oath between his shut teeth--'Why, this pa.s.sed:--The deluded woman renounced her daughter; and her friend, her old and faithful friend, has renounced her.'

'Oh! my poor mother!' exclaimed Adeline.

'Girl! girl! don't be foolish,' replied the doctor; 'keep your pity for more deserving objects; and, as the wisest thing you can do, endeavour to forget your mother.'

'Forget her! Never.'

'Well, well, you will be wiser in time; and now you shall hear all that pa.s.sed. When she recovered entirely, and found that you were gone, she gave way to an agony of sorrow, such as I never before witnessed; for I believe that I never beheld before the agony of remorse.'

'My poor mother!' cried Adeline, again bursting into tears.

'What! again!' exclaimed the doctor. (Adeline motioned to him to go on, and he continued.) 'At sight of this, I was weak enough to pity her; and, with the greatest simplicity, I told her, that I was glad to see that she felt penitent for her conduct, since penitence paved the way to amendment; when, to my great surprise, all the vanished fierceness and haughtiness of her look returned, and she told me, that so far from repenting she approved of her conduct; and that remorse had no share in her sorrow; that she wept from consciousness of misery inflicted by the faults of others, not her own.'

'Oh! Dr Norberry,' cried Adeline reproachfully, 'I doubt, by awakening her pride, you destroyed the tenderness returning towards me.'

'May be so. However, so much the better; for anger is a less painful state of mind to endure than that of remorse: and while she thinks herself only injured and aggrieved, she will be less unhappy.'

'Then,' continued Adeline in a faltering voice, 'I care not how long she hates me.'

Dr Norberry looked at Adeline a moment with tears in his eyes, and evidently gulped down a rising sob, 'Good child! good child!' he at length articulated. 'But she'll forget and forgive all in time, I do not doubt.'

'Impossible: remember her oath.'

'And do you really suppose that she will think herself bound to keep so silly and rash an oath; an oath made in the heat of pa.s.sion?'

'Undoubtedly I do; and I know, that were she to break it, she would never be otherwise than wretched all her life after. Therefore, unless Glenmurray forsakes me (she added, trying to smile archly as she spoke), and this I am not happy enough to expect, I look on our separation in this world to be eternal.'

'You do?--Then, poor devil! how miserable she will be, when her present resentment shall subside! Well; when that time comes I may perhaps see her again,' added the doctor, gulping again.

'Heaven bless you for that intention!' cried Adeline. 'But how could you ever have the heart to renounce her?'

'Girl! you are almost as provoking as your mother. Why, how could I have the heart to do otherwise, when she whitewashed herself and blackened you? To be sure, it did cause me a twinge or two to do it; and had she been an iota less haughty, I should have turned back and said, "Kiss and be friends again." But she seemed so provokingly anxious to get rid of me, and waved me with her hand to the door in such a tragedy queen sort of a manner, that, having told her very civilly to go to the devil her own way, I gulped down a sort of a tender choking in my throat, and made as rapid an exit as possible. And now another trial awaits me. I came to town, at some inconvenience to myself, to try to do you service. I have failed, and I have now no further business here: so we must part, and I know not when we shall meet again. For I rarely leave home, and may not see you again for years.'

'Indeed!' exclaimed Adeline, 'Surely,' looking at Glenmurray, 'we might settle in Dr Norberry's neighbourhood?'

Glenmurray said nothing, but looked at the doctor; who seemed confused, and was silent.

'Look ye, my dear girl,' said he at length: 'the idea of your settling near me occurred to me, but--' here he took two hasty strides across the room--'in short, that's an impossible thing; so I beg you to think no more about it. If, indeed, you mean to marry Mr Glenmurray--'

'Which I shall not do,' replied Adeline coldly.

'There again, now!' cried the doctor pettishly: 'you, in your way, are quite as obstinate and ridiculous as your mother. However, I hope you will know better in time. But it grows late--'tis time I should be in my chaise, and I hear it driving up. Mr Glenmurray,' continued he in an altered tone of voice, 'to your care and your tenderness I leave this poor child; and, zounds, man! if you will but burn your books before her face, and swear they are stuff, why, 'sdeath, I say, I would come to town on purpose to do you homage.--Adeline, my child, G.o.d bless you! I have loved you from your infancy, and I wish, from my soul, that I left you in a better situation. But you will write to me, heh?'

'Undoubtedly.'

'Well, one kiss:--don't be jealous, Glenmurray. Your hand, man.--Woons, what a hand! My dear fellow, take care of yourself, for that poor child's sake: get the advice which I recommended, and good air.' A rising sob interrupted him--he hemmed it off, and ran into his chaise.

CHAPTER XVII

'Now then,' said Adeline, her tears dropping fast as she spoke, 'now, then, we are alone in the world; henceforward we must be all to each other.'

'Is the idea a painful one, Adeline?' replied Glenmurray reproachfully.

'Not so,' returned Adeline, 'Still I can't yet forget that I had a mother, and a kind one too.'

'And may have again.'

'Impossible:--there is a vow in heaven against it. No--My plans for future happiness must be laid unmindful and independent of her. They must have you and your happiness for their sole object; I must live for you alone: and you,' added she in a faltering voice, 'must live for me.'

'I will live as long as I can,' replied Glenmurray sighing, 'and as one step towards it I shall keep early hours: so to rest, dear Adeline, and let us forget our sorrows as soon as possible.'

The next morning Adeline's and Glenmurray's first care was to determine on their future residence. It was desirable that it should be at a sufficient distance from London, to deserve the name and have the conveniences of a country abode, yet sufficiently near it for Glenmurray to have the advice of a London physician if necessary.