Adeline Mowbray Part 11

'Is she tall?'

'Very tall, taller than I am.'

'I hate tall women,' replied Miss Maynard (a little round girl of nineteen).

'Is she fair?'

'Exquisitely fair.'

'I like brown women,' cried the widow: 'fair people always look silly.'

'But Mrs Glenmurray's eyes are hazel, and her eyelashes long and dark.'

'Hazel eyes are always bold-looking,' cried Miss Maynard.

'Not Mrs Glenmurray's; for her expression is the most pure and ingenuous that I ever saw. Some girls, indecent in their dress, and very licentious in their manner, pa.s.sed us as we sat on the walk; and the comments which I made on them provoked from Mrs Glenmurray some remarks on the behaviour and dress of women; and, as she commented on the disgusting expression of vice in women, and the charm of modest dignity both in dress and manners, her own dress, manners, and expression, were such an admirable comment on her words, and she shone so brightly, if I may use the expression, in the graceful awfulness of virtue, that I gazed with delight, and somewhat of apprehension lest this fair perfection should suddenly take flight to her native skies, toward which her fine eyes were occasionally turned.'

'Bless me! if our brother is not quite poetical! This prodigy has inspired him,' replied the widow with a sneer.

'For my part, I hate prodigies,' said Miss Maynard: 'I feel myself unworthy to a.s.sociate with them.'

When one woman calls another a prodigy, and expresses herself as unworthy to a.s.sociate with her, it is very certain that she means to insult rather than compliment her; and in this sense Mr Maynard understood his sister's words: therefore after having listened with tolerable patience to a few more sneers at the unconscious Adeline, he was provoked to say that, ill-disposed as he found they were toward his new acquaintance, he hoped that when they became acquainted with her they would still give him reason to say, as he always had done, that he was proud of his sisters; for, in his opinion, no woman ever looked so lovely as when she was doing justice to the merits and extenuating the faults of a rival.

'A rival!' exclaimed the sisters at once:--'And, pray, what rivals.h.i.+p could there be in this case?'

'My remark was a general one: but since you choose to make it a particular one, I will answer to it as such,' continued Mr Maynard. 'All women are rivals in one sense--rivals for general esteem and admiration; and she only shall have my suffrage in her favour, who can point out a beauty or a merit in another woman without insinuating at the same time a counterbalancing effect.'

'But Mrs Glenmurray, it seems, has no defects!'

'At least I have not known her long enough to find them out; but you, no doubt, will, when you know her, very readily spare me that trouble.'

How injudiciously had Maynard prepared the minds of his sisters to admire Adeline. It was a preparation to make them hate her; and they were very impatient to begin the task of depreciating both her _morale_ and her _physique_, when Glenmurray's note arrived.

'It is not Glenmurray's hand,' said Maynard--(indeed, from agitation of mind the writing was not recognizable). 'It must be hers then,'

continued he, affecting to kiss the address with rapture.

'It is the hand of a sloven,' observed Mrs Wallington, studying the writing.

'But in dress she is as neat as a Quaker,' retorted the brother, eagerly s.n.a.t.c.hing the letter back, 'and her mind seems as pure as her dress.'

He then broke the seal, and read out what follows:--

'DEAR MAYNARD,

'When you receive this, Adeline and I shall be on our road to France, and you,--start not!--are the occasion of our abrupt departure.'

'So, so, jealous indeed,' said Maynard to himself, and more impressed than ever with the charms of Adeline; for he concluded that Glenmurray had discovered in her an answering prepossession.

'You the occasion, brother!' cried both sisters.

'Have patience.'

'You saw Adeline; you admired her; and wished to introduce her to your sisters--this, honour forbad me to allow'--(the sisters started from their seats) 'for Adeline is not my wife, but my companion.'

Here Maynard made a full pause--at once surprised and confounded. His sisters, pleased as well as astonished, looked triumphantly at each other; and Mrs Wallington exclaimed. 'So, then, this angel of purity turns out to be a kept lady!' At this remark Miss Maynard laughed heartily, but Maynard, to hide his confusion, commanded silence, and went on with the letter:

'But spite of her situation, strange as it may seem to you, believe me, no wife was ever more pure than Adeline.'

At this pa.s.sage the sisters could no longer contain themselves, and they gave way to loud bursts of laughter, which Maynard could hardly help joining in; but being angry at the same time he uttered nothing but an oath, which I shall not repeat, and retreated to his chamber to finish the letter alone.

During his absence the laughters redoubled;--but in the midst of it Maynard re-entered, and desired they would allow him to read the letter to the end. The sisters immediately begged that he would proceed, as it was so amusing that they wished to hear more.--Glenmurray continued thus:

'You have no doubt yet to learn that some few years ago I commenced author, and published opinions contrary to the established usage of society: amongst other things I proved the absurdity of the inst.i.tution of marriage; and Adeline, who at an early age read my works, became one of my converts.'

'The man is certainly mad,' cried Maynard, 'and how dreadful it is that this angelic creature should have been his victim.'

'But perhaps this _fallen_ angel, brother, for such you will allow she is, spite of her _purity_, was as wicked as he. I know people in general only blame the seducer, but I always blame the seduced equally.'

'I do not doubt it,' said her brother sneeringly, and going on with the letter.

'No wonder then, that, being forced to fly from her maternal roof, she took refuge in my arms.'

'Lucky dog!'

'But though Adeline was the victim neither of her own weakness nor of my seductions, but was merely urged by circ.u.mstances to act up to the principles which she openly professed, I felt so conscious that she would be degraded in your eyes after you were acquainted with her situation, though in mine she appears as spotless as ever, that I could not bear to expose her even to a glance from you less respectful than those with which you beheld her last night. I therefore prevailed on her to leave Lisbon; nor had I any difficulty in so doing, when she found that your wish of introducing her to your sisters was founded on your supposition of her being my wife, and that all chance of your desiring her acquaintance for them would be over, when you knew the nature of her connexion with me. I shall now bid you farewell. I write in haste and agitation, and have not time to say more than G.o.d bless you!

'F. G.'

'Yes, yes, I see how it is,' muttered Mr Maynard to himself when he had finished the letter, 'he was jealous of me. I wish (raising his voice) that he had not been in such a hurry to go away.'

'Why, brother,' replied Mrs Wallington, 'to be sure you would not have introduced us to this piece of angelic purity a little the worse for the wear!'

'No,' replied he; 'but I might have enjoyed her company myself.'

'And perhaps, brother, you might have rivalled the philosophic author in time,' observed Miss Maynard.

'If I had not, it would have been from no want of good will on my part,'

returned Maynard.

'Well, then I rejoice that the creature is gone,' replied Mrs Wallington, drawing up.

'And I too,' said Miss Maynard disdainfully: 'but I think we had better drop this subject; I have had quite enough of it.'

'And so have I,' cried Mrs Wallington: 'but I must observe, before we drop it entirely, that when next my brother comes home and wearies his sisters by exaggerated praises of another woman, I hope he will take care that his G.o.ddess, or rather his angel of purity, does not turn out to be a kept mistress.'

So saying she left the room, and Miss Maynard, t.i.ttering, followed her; while Maynard, too sore on this subject to bear to be laughed at, took his hat in a pet, and, flinging the door after him with great violence, walked out to muse on the erring but interesting companion of Glenmurray.