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

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.

      Soon after Adeline left the room, and Glenmurray bowed and retired; while Sir Patrick, having first repeated his vows of admiration to the mother, returned home to muse on the charms of the daughter, and the necessity of challenging the moral Glenmurray.

      Sir Patrick was a man of courage, and had fought several duels: but as life at this time had a great many charms for him, he resolved to defer at least putting himself in the way of getting rid of it; and after having slept late in the morning, to make up for the loss of sleep in the night, occasioned by his various cogitations, he rose, resolved to go to Mrs. Mowbray's, and if he had an opportunity, indulge himself in some practical comments on the singular declaration made the evening before by her lovely daughter.

      Glenmurray meanwhile had passed the night in equal watchfulness and greater agitation. To fight a duel would be, as Adeline observed, contrary to his principles; and to decline one, irritated as he was against Sir Patrick, was repugnant to his feelings.

      To no purpose did he peruse and re-peruse nearly the whole of his own book against duelling; he had few religious restraints to make him resolve on declining a challenge, and he felt moral ones of little avail: but in vain did he sit at home till the morning was far advanced, expecting a messenger from Sir Patrick;—no messenger came:—he therefore left word with his servant, that, if wanted, he might be found at Mrs. Mowbray's, and went thither, in hopes of enjoying an hour's conversation with Adeline; resolving to hint to her, as delicately as he could, that the opinions which she had expressed were better confined, in the present dark state of the public mind, to a select and discriminating circle.

CHAPTER VI

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      Sir Patrick had reached Mrs. Mowbray's some time before him, and had, to his great satisfaction, found Adeline alone; nor did it escape his penetration that her cheeks glowed, and her eyes sparkled with pleasure, at his approach.

      But he would not have rejoiced in this circumstance, had he known that Adeline was pleased to see him merely because she considered his appearance as a proof of Glenmurray's safety; for, in spite of his having written against duelling, and of her confidence in his firmness and consistency, she was not quite convinced that the reasoning philosopher would triumph over the feeling man.

      'You are welcome, Sir Patrick!' cried Adeline, as he entered, with a most winning smile: 'I am very glad to see you: pray sit down.'

      The baronet, who, audacious as his hopes and intentions were, had not expected so kind a reception, was quite thrown off his guard by it, and catching her suddenly in his arms, endeavoured to obtain a still kinder welcome. Adeline as suddenly disengaged herself from him, and, with the dignity of offended modesty, desired him to quit the room, as, after such an insolent attempt, she could not think herself justified in suffering him to remain with her.

      But her anger was soon changed into pity, when she saw Sir Patrick lay down his hat, seat himself, and burst into a long deliberate laugh.

      'He is certainly mad!' she exclaimed; and, leaning against the chimney-piece, she began to contemplate him with a degree of fearful interest.

      'Upon my soul! now,' cried the baronet, when his laugh was over, 'you do not suppose, my dear creature, that you and I do not understand one another! Telling a young fellow to leave the house on such occasions, means, in the pretty no meaning of your sex, "Stay, and offend again," to be sure.'

      'He is certainly mad!' said Adeline, more confirmed than before in her idea of his insanity, and immediately endeavoured to reach the door: but in so doing she approached Sir Patrick, who, rather roughly seizing her trembling hand, desired her to sit down, and hear what he had to say to her. Adeline, thinking it not right to irritate him, instantly obeyed.

      'Now, then, to open my mind to you,' said the baronet, drawing his chair close to hers: 'From the very first moment I saw you, I felt that we were made for one another; though, being bothered by my debts, I made up to the old duchess, and she nibbled the bait directly—deeming my clean inches (six feet one, without shoes) well worth her dirty acres.'

      'How dreadfully incoherent he is!' thought Adeline, not suspecting for a moment that, by the old duchess, he meant her still blooming mother.

      'But, my lovely dear!' continued Sir Patrick, most ardently pressing her hand, 'so much have your sweet person, and your frank and liberal way of thinking, charmed me, that I here freely offer myself to you, and we will begin the life of honour together as soon as you please.'

      Still Adeline, who was unconscious how much her avowed opinions, had exposed her to insult, continued to believe Sir Patrick insane; a belief which the wildness of his eyes confirmed. 'I really know not—you surprise me, Sir Patrick—I—'

      'Surprise you, my dear soul! How could you expect anything else from a man of my spirit, after your honest declaration last night?—All I feared was, that Glenmurray should get the start of me.'

      Adeline, though alarmed, bewildered, and confounded, had still recollection enough to know that, whether sane or insane, the words and looks of Sir Patrick were full of increasing insult. 'I believe, I think I had better retire', faltered out Adeline.

      'Retire!—No, indeed,' exclaimed the baronet; rudely seizing her.

      This outrage restored Adeline to her usual spirit and self-possession; and bestowing on him the epithet of 'mean-soul'd ruffian!' she had almost freed herself from his grasp, when a quick step was heard on the stairs, and the door was thrown open by Glenmurray. In a moment Adeline, bursting into tears, threw herself into his arms, as if in search of protection.

      Glenmurray required no explanation of the scene before him: the appearance of the actors in it was explanation sufficient; and while with one arm he fondly held Adeline to his bosom, he raised the other in a threatening attitude against Sir Patrick, exclaiming as he did it, 'Base, unmanly villain!'

      'Villain!' echoed Sir Patrick—'but it is very well—very well for the present—Good morning to you, sir!' So saying he hastily withdrew.

      As soon as he was gone, Glenmurray for the first time declared to Adeline the ardent passion with which she had inspired him; and she, with equal frankness, confessed that her heart was irrevocably his.

      From this interesting tête-à-tête Adeline was summoned to attend a person on business to her mother; and during her absence Glenmurray received a challenge from the angry baronet, appointing him to meet him that afternoon at five o'clock, about two miles from Bath. To this note, for fear of alarming the suspicions of Adeline, Glenmurray returned only a verbal message, saying he would answer it in two hours: but as soon as she returned he pleaded indispensable business; and before she could mention any fears respecting the consequences of what had passed between him and Sir Patrick, he had left the room, having, to prevent any alarm, requested leave to wait on her early the next day.

      As soon as Glenmurray reached his lodgings, he again revolved in his mind the propriety of accepting the challenge. 'How can I expect to influence others by my theories to act right, if my practice sets them a bad example?' But then again he exclaimed, 'How can I expect to have any thing I say attended to, when, by refusing to fight, I put it in the power of my enemies to assert I am a poltroon, and worthy only of neglect and contempt? No, no; I must fight:—even Adeline herself, especially as it is on her account, will despise me if I do not:'—and then, without giving himself any more time to deliberate, he sent an answer to Sir Patrick, promising to meet him at the time appointed.

      But after he had sent it he found himself a prey to so much self-reproach, and after he had forfeited his claims to consistency of conduct, he felt himself so strongly aware of the value of it, that, had not the time of the meeting been near at hand, he would certainly have deliberated upon some means of retracting his consent to it.

      Being