Читать книгу Adeline Mowbray; or, The Mother and Daughter - Amelia Opie - Страница 7

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A day or two after, as Adeline was leaning on the arm of a young lady, Glenmurray passed them, and to his respectful bow she returned a most cordial salutation. 'Gracious me! my dear,' said her companion, 'do you know who that man is?'

'Certainly:—it is Mr. Glenmurray.'

'And do you speak to him?'

'Yes:—why should I not?'

'Dear me! Why, I am sure! Why—don't you know what he is?'

'Yes, a celebrated writer, and a man of genius.'

'Oh, that may be, Miss Mowbray: but they say one should not notice him, because he is—'

'He is what?' said Adeline eagerly.

'I do not exactly know what; but I believe it is a French spy, or a Jesuit.'

'Indeed?' replied Adeline laughing. 'But I am used to have better evidence against a person than a they say before I neglect an acknowledged acquaintance: therefore, with your leave, I shall turn back and talk a little to poor Mr. Glenmurray.'

It so happened that poor Mr. Glenmurray heard every word of this conversation; for he had turned round and followed Adeline and her fair companion, to present to the former the glove which she had dropped; and as they were prevented from proceeding by the crowd on the parade, which was assembled to see some unusual sight, he, being immediately behind them, could distinguish all that passed; so that Adeline turned round to go in search of him before the blush of grateful admiration for her kindness had left his cheek.

'Then she seeks me because I am shunned by others!' said Glenmurray to himself. In a moment the world to him seemed to contain only two beings, Adeline Mowbray and Frederic Glenmurray; and that Adeline, starting and blushing with joyful surprise at seeing him so near her, was then coming in search of him!—of him, the neglected Glenmurray! Scarcely could he refrain catching the lovely and ungloved hand next him to his heart; but he contented himself with keeping the glove that he was before so eager to restore, and in a moment it was lodged in his bosom.

Nor could 'I can't think what I have done with my glove,' which every now and then escaped Adeline, prevail on him to own that he had found it. At last, indeed, it became unnecessary; for Adeline, as she glanced her eye towards Glenmurray, discovered it in the hiding-place: but, as delicacy forbade her to declare the discovery which she had made, he was suffered to retain his prize; though a deep and sudden blush which overspread his cheek, and a sudden pause which she made in her conversation, convinced Glenmurray that she had detected his secret. Perhaps he was not sorry—nor Adeline; but certain it is that Adeline was for the remainder of the morning more lost in reverie than ever her mother had been; and that from that day every one, but Adeline and Glenmurray, saw that they were mutually enamoured.

Glenmurray was the first of the two lovers to perceive that they were so; and he made the discovery with a mixture of pain and pleasure. For what could be the result of such an attachment? He was firmly resolved never to marry; and it was very unlikely that Adeline, though she had often expressed to him her approbation of his writings and opinions, should be willing to sacrifice everything to love, and become his mistress. But a circumstance took place which completely removed his doubts on this subject.

Several weeks had elapsed since the first arrival of the Mowbrays at Bath, and in that time almost all their acquaintances had left them one by one; but neither Mrs. Mowbray nor Adeline had paid much attention to this circumstance. Mrs. Mowbray's habits of abstraction, as usual, made her regardless of common occurrences; and to these were added the more delightful reverie occasioned by the attentions of a very handsome and insinuating man, and the influence of a growing passion. Mrs. Mowbray, as we have before observed, married from duty, not inclination; and to the passion of love she had remained a total stranger, till she became acquainted at Bath with Sir Patrick O'Carrol. Yes; Mrs. Mowbray was in love for the first time when she was approaching her fortieth year! and a woman is never so likely to be the fool of love, as when it assails her late in life, especially if a lover be as great a novelty to her as the passion itself. Though not, alas! restored to a second youth, the tender victim certainly enjoys a second childhood, and exhibits but too openly all the little tricks and minaudieres of a love-sick girl, without the youthful appearance that in a degree excuses them. This was the case with Mrs. Mowbray; and while, regardless of her daughter's interest and happiness, she was lost in the pleasing hopes of marrying the agreeable baronet, no wonder the cold neglect of her Bath associates was not seen by her.

Adeline, engrossed also by the pleasing reveries of a first love, was as unconscious of it as herself. Indeed she thought of nothing but love and Glenmurray; else, she could not have failed to see, that, while Sir Patrick's attentions and flatteries were addressed to her mother, his ardent looks and passionate sighs were all directed to herself.

Sir Patrick O'Carrol was a young Irishman, of an old family but an encumbered estate; and it was his wish to set his estate free by marrying a rich wife, and one as little disagreeable as possible. With this view he came to Bath; and in Mrs. Mowbray he not only beheld a woman of large independent fortune, but possessed of great personal beauty, and young enough to be attractive. Still, though much pleased with the wealth and appearance of the mother, he soon became enamoured of the daughter's person; and had he not gone so far in his addresses to Mrs. Mowbray as to make it impossible she should willingly transfer him to Adeline, and give her a fortune at all adequate to his wants, he would have endeavoured honourably to gain her affections, and entered the lists against the favoured Glenmurray.

But, as he wanted the mother's wealth, he resolved to pursue his advantage with her, and trust to some future chance for giving him possession of the daughter. In his dealings with men, Sir Patrick was a man of honour; in his dealings with women, completely the reverse: he considered them as a race of subordinate beings, and that if, like horses, they were well lodged, fed, and kept clean, they had no right to complain.

Constantly therefore did he besiege Mrs. Mowbray with his conversation, and Adeline with his eyes; and the very libertine gaze with which he often beheld her, gave a pang to Glenmurray which was but too soon painfully increased.

Sir Patrick was the only man of fashion who did not object to visit at Mrs. Mowbray's on account of her intimacy with Glenmurray; but he had his own private reasons for going thither, and continued to visit at Mrs. Mowbray's though Glenmurray was generally there, and sometimes he and the latter gentleman were the whole of their company.

One evening they and two ladies were drinking tea at Mrs. Mowbray's lodgings, when Mrs. Mowbray was unusually silent and Adeline unusually talkative. Adeline scarcely ever spoke in her mother's presence, from deference to her abilities; and whatever might be Mrs. Mowbray's defects in other respects, her conversational talents and her uncommon command of words were indisputable. But this evening, as I before observed, Adeline, owing to her mother's tender abstractions, was obliged to exert herself for the entertainment of the guests.

It so happened, also, that something was said by one of the party which led to the subject of marriage, and Adeline was resolved not to let so good an opportunity pass of proving to Glenmurray how sincerely she approved his doctrine on that subject. Immediately, with an unreserve which nothing but her ignorance of the world, and the strange education which she had received, could at all excuse, she began to declaim against marriage, as an institution at once absurd, unjust, and immoral, and to declare that she would never submit to so contemptible a form, or profane the sacred ties of love by so odious and unnecessary a ceremony.

This extraordinary speech, though worded elegantly and delivered gracefully, was not received by any of her hearers, except Sir Patrick, with any thing like admiration. The baronet, indeed, clapped his hands, and cried 'Bravo! a fine spirited girl, upon my word!' in a manner so loud, and so offensive to the feelings of Adeline, that, like the orator of old, she was tempted to exclaim, 'What foolish thing can I have said, that has drawn forth this applause?'

But Mrs. Mowbray, though she could not help admiring the eloquence which she attributed to her example—was shocked at hearing Adeline declare that her practice should be consonant to her theory; while Glenmurray, though Adeline had only expressed his sentiments, and his reason approved what she had uttered, felt his delicacy and his feelings wounded by so open and decided an avowal of her opinions, and intended conduct in consequence of them; and he was still more hurt, when he saw how much it delighted Sir Patrick, and offended the rest of the company; who, after a silence, the result of surprise and disgust, suddenly arose, and, coldly wishing Mrs. Mowbray good night, left the house.

By Mrs. Mowbray the cause of this abrupt departure was unsuspected: but Adeline, who had more observation, was convinced that she was the cause of it; and sighing deeply at the prejudices of the world, she sought to console herself by looking at Glenmurray, expecting to find in his eyes an expression of delight and approbation. To her great disappointment, however, his countenance was sad; while Sir Patrick, on the contrary, had an expression of impudent triumph in his look, which made her turn blushing from his ardent gaze, and indignantly follow her mother, who was then leaving the room.

As she passed him, Sir Patrick caught her hand rapturously to his lips (an action which made Glenmurray start from his chair), and exclaimed, 'Really you are the only honest little woman I ever knew! I always was sure that what you just now said was the opinion of all your sex, though they were so confounded coy they would not own it.'

'Own what Sir?' asked the astonished Adeline.

'That they thought marriage a cursed bore, and preferred leading the life of honour, to be sure.'

'The life of honour! What is that?' demanded Adeline, while Glenmurray paced the room in agitation.

'That life, my dear girl, which you mean to lead;—love and liberty with the man of your heart.'

'Sir Patrick,' cried Glenmurray impatiently, 'this conversation is—'

'Prodigiously amusing to me,' returned the baronet, 'especially as I never could hold it to a modest woman before.'

'Nor shall you now, Sir,' fiercely interrupted Glenmurray.

'Shall not, Sir?' vociferated Sir Patrick.

'Pray, gentlemen, be less violent,' exclaimed the terrified and astonished Adeline. 'I can't think what could offend you, Mr. Glenmurray, in Sir Patrick's original observation: the life of honour appears to me a very excellent name for the pure and honourable union which it is my wish to form; and—'

'There; I told you so;' triumphantly interrupted Sir Patrick: 'and I never was better pleased in life:—sweet creature! at once so lovely, so wise, and so liberal!'

'Sir,' cried Glenmurray, 'this is a mistake: your life of honour and Miss Mowbray's are as different as possible; you are talking of what you are grossly ignorant of.'

'Ignorant! I ignorant! Look you, Mr. Glenmurray, do you pretend to tell me I know not what the life of honour is, when I have led it so many times with so many different women?'

'How, Sir!' replied Adeline: 'many times? and with many different women? My life of honour can be led with one only.'

'Well, my dear soul, I only led it with one at a time.'

'O Sir! you are indeed ignorant of my meaning,' she rejoined: 'It is the individuality of an attachment that constitutes its purity; and—'

'Ba-ba-bu, my lovely girl! which has purity to do in the business?'

'Indeed, Sir Patrick,' meekly returned Adeline, 'I—'

'Miss Mowbray,' angrily interrupted Glenmurray, 'I beg, I conjure you to drop this conversation: your innocence is no match for—'

'For what, Sir?' furiously demanded Sir Patrick.

'Your licentiousness,' replied Glenmurray.

'Sir, I wear a sword,' cried the baronet.—'And I a cane,' said Glenmurray calmly, 'either to defend myself or chastise insolence.'

'Mr. Glenmurray! Sir Patrick!' exclaimed the agitated Adeline: 'for my sake, for pity's sake desist!'

'For the present I will, madam,' faltered out Sir Patrick;—'but I know Mr. Glenmurray's address, and he shall hear from me.'

'Hear from you! Why, you do not mean to challenge him? you can't suppose Mr. Glenmurray would do so absurd a thing as fight a duel? Sir, he has written a volume to prove the absurdity of the custom.—No, no! you threaten his life in vain,' she added, giving her hand to Glenmurray; who, in the tenderness of the action and the tone of her voice, forgot the displeasure which her inadvertency had caused, and pressing her hand to his lips, secretly renewed his vows of unalterable attachment.

'Very well, madam,' exclaimed Sir Patrick in a tone of pique: 'then, so as Mr. Glenmurray's life is safe, you care not what becomes of mine!'

'Sir,' replied Adeline, 'the safety of a fellow-creature is always of importance in my eyes.'

'Then you care for me as a fellow-creature only,' retorted Sir Patrick, 'not as Sir Patrick O'Carrol?—Mighty fine, truly, you dear ungrateful—' seizing her hand; which he relinquished, as well as the rest of his speech, on the entrance of Mrs. Mowbray.