Adeline Mowbray; or, The Mother and Daughter. Amelia Opie

virtue which alone was the end of her actions! Would the approbation of her own mind be sufficient to support her under such a trial, though she had with such sweet earnestness talked to him of its efficacy! These reflections had for some time past been continually occurring to him, and now they came across his mind blighting the triumphs of successful passion:—nay, but from the dread of incurring yet more ridicule, on account of the opposition of his practice to his theory, and perhaps the indignant contempt of Adeline, he could have thrown himself at her feet, conjuring her to submit to the degradation of being a wife.

      But, unknown to Glenmurray, perhaps, another reason prompted him to desire this concession from Adeline. We are never more likely to be in reality the slaves of selfishness, than when we fancy ourselves acting with most heroic disinterestedness.—Egotism loves a becoming dress, and is always on the watch to hide her ugliness by the robe of benevolence. Glenmurray thought that he was willing to marry Adeline merely for her sake! but I suspect it was chiefly for his. The true and delicate lover is always a monopolizer, always desirous of calling the woman of his affections his own: it is not only because he considers marriage as a holy institution that the lover leads his mistress to the altar; but because it gives him a right to appropriate the fair treasure to himself—because it sanctions and perpetuates the dearest of all monopolies, and erects a sacred barrier to guard his rights—around which, all that is respectable in society, all that is most powerful and effectual in its organization, is proud and eager to rally.

      But while Glenmurray, in spite of his happiness, was sensible to an alloy of it, and Adeline was tenderly imputing to the pain of his wound the occasionally mournful expression of his countenance, Adeline took occasion to declare that she would live with Glenmurray only on condition that such a step met with her mother's approbation.

      'Then are my hopes for ever at an end,' said Glenmurray:—'or—or' (and spite of himself his eyes sparkled as he spoke)—'or we must submit to the absurd ceremony of marriage.'

      'Marriage!' replied the astonished Adeline: 'can you think so meanly of my mother, as to suppose her practice so totally opposite to her principles, that she would require her daughter to submit to a ceremony which she herself regards with contempt?—Impossible. I am sure, when I solicit her consent to my being yours, she will be pleased to find that her sentiments and observations have not been thrown away on me.'

      Glenmurray thought otherwise: however, he bowed and was silent; and Adeline declared that, to put an end to all doubt on the subject, she would instantly go in search of Mrs. Mowbray and propose the question to her: and Glenmurray, feeling himself more weak and indisposed than he chose to own to her, allowed her, though reluctantly, to depart.

CHAPTER VII

       Table of Contents

      Mrs. Mowbray was but just returned from her charitable visit when Adeline entered the room. 'And pray, Miss Mowbray, where have you been?' she exclaimed, seeing Adeline with her hat and cloak on.

      'I have been visiting poor Mr. Glenmurray,' she replied.

      'Indeed!' cried Mrs. Mowbray: 'and without my leave! and pray who went with you?'

      'Nobody, ma'am.'

      'Nobody!—What! visit a man alone at his lodgings, after the education which you have received!'

      'Indeed, madam,' replied Adeline meekly, 'my education never taught me that such conduct was improper; nor, as you did the same this afternoon, could I have dared to think it so.'

      'You are mistaken, Miss Mowbray,' replied her mother: 'I did not do the same; for the terms which I am upon with Sir Patrick made my visiting him no impropriety at all.'

      'If you think I have acted wrong,' replied Adeline timidly, 'no doubt I have done so; though you were quite right in visiting Sir Patrick, as the respectability of your age and character, and Sir Patrick's youth, warranted the propriety of the visit:—but, surely the terms which I am upon with Mr. Glenmurray—'

      'The terms which you are upon with Mr. Glenmurray! and my age and character! what can you mean?' angrily exclaimed Mrs. Mowbray.

      'I hope, my dear mother,' said Adeline tenderly, 'that you had long ere this guessed the attachment which subsists between Mr. Glenmurray and me;—an attachment cherished by your high opinion of him and his writings; but which respect has till now made me hesitate to mention to you.'

      'Would to heaven!' replied Mrs. Mowbray, 'that respect had made you for ever silent on the subject! Do you suppose that I would marry my daughter to a man of small fortune—but more especially to one who, as Sir Patrick informs me, is shunned for his principles and profligacy by all the world?'

      'To what Sir Patrick says of Mr. Glenmurray I pay no attention,' answered Adeline; 'nor are you, my dear mother, capable, I am sure, of being influenced by the prejudices of the world.—But you are quite mistaken in supposing me so lost to consistency, and so regardless of your liberal opinions and the books which we have studied, as to think of marrying Mr. Glenmurray.'

      'Grant me patience!' cried Mrs. Mowbray; 'why, to be sure you do not think of living with him without being married?'

      'Certainly, madam; that you may have the pleasure of beholding one union founded on rational grounds and cemented by rational ties.'

      'How!' cried Mrs. Mowbray, turning pale. 'I!—I have pleasure in seeing my daughter a kept mistress!—You are mad, quite mad.—I approve such unhallowed connexions!'

      'My dearest mother,' replied Adeline, 'your agitation terrifies me—but indeed what I say is strictly true; and see here, in Mr. Glenmurray's book, the very passage which I so often have heard you admire.' As she said this, Adeline pointed to the passage; but in an instant Mrs. Mowbray seized the book and threw it on the fire.

      Before Adeline had recovered her consternation Mrs. Mowbray fell into a violent hysteric; and long was it before she was restored to composure. When she recovered she was so exhausted that Adeline dared not renew the conversation; but leaving her to rest, she made up a bed on the floor in her mother's room, and passed a night of wretchedness and watchfulness—the first of the kind which she had ever known.—Would it had been the last!

      In the morning Mrs. Mowbray awoke, refreshed and calm; and, affected at seeing the pale cheek and sunk eye of Adeline, indicative of a sleepless and unhappy night, she held out her hand to her with a look of kindness; Adeline pressed it to her lips, as she knelt by the bed-side, and moistened it with tears of regret for the past and alarm for the future.

      'Adeline, my dear child,' said Mrs. Mowbray in a faint voice, 'I hope you will no longer think of putting a design in execution so fraught with mischief to you, and horror to me. Little did I think that you were so romantic as to see no difference between amusing one's imagination with new theories and new systems, and acting upon them in defiance of common custom, and the received usages of society. I admire the convenient trousers and graceful dress of the Turkish women; but I would not wear them myself, lest it should expose me to derision.'

      'Is there no difference,' thought Adeline, 'between the importance of a dress and an opinion!—Is the one to be taken up, and laid down again, with the same indifference as the other!' But she continued silent, and Mrs. Mowbray went on.

      'The poetical philosophy which I have so much delighted to study, has served me to ornament my conversation, and make persons less enlightened than myself wonder at the superior boldness of my fancy, and the acuteness of my reasoning powers;—but I should as soon have thought of making this little gold chain round my neck fasten the hall-door, as act upon the precepts laid down in those delightful books. No; though I think all they say is true, I believe the purity they inculcate too much for this world.'

      Adeline listened in silent astonishment and consternation. Conscience, and the conviction of what is right, she then for the first time learned, were not to be the rule of action; and though filial tenderness made her resolve never to be the mistress of Glenmurray, she also resolved never