Adeline Mowbray Part 29

'Well, Savanna, what has happened?--Anything new or extraordinary since my absence?' said Berrendale.

'Me tink not of wat hav appen, but what will happen,' replied Savanna.

'And what is going to happen?' returned Berrendale, seating himself in the parlour, 'and where is your mistress?'

'She dress herself, that dear misses,' replied Savanna, lingering with the door in her hand, 'and I,--ope to have a dear ma.s.sa too.'

'What!' cried Berrendale, starting wildly from his seat, 'what did you say?'

'Why me ope my misses be married soon.'

'Married! to whom?' cried Berrendale, seizing her hand, and almost breathless with alarm.

'Why, to you, sure,' exclaimed Savanna, 'and den me hope you will not turn away poor Savanna?'

'What reason you have, my dear Savanna, for talking thus, I cannot tell; nor dare I give way to the sweet hopes which you excite: but, if it be true that I may hope, depend on it you shall cook my wedding dinner, and then I am sure it will be a good one.'

'Can full joy eat?' asked the mulatto thoughtfully.

'A good dinner is a good thing, Savanna,' replied Berrendale, 'and ought never to be slighted.'

'Me good dinner day I marry, but I not eat it.--O sir, pity people look best in dere wedding clothes, but my William look well all day and every day, and perhaps you will too, sir; and den I ope to cook your wedding dinner, next day dinner, and all your dinners.'

'And so you shall, Savanna,' cried Berrendale, grasping her hand, 'and I--' Here the door opened, and Adeline appeared; who, surprised at Berrendale's familiarity with her servant, looked gravely, and stopped at the door with a look of cold surprise. Berrendale, awed into immediate respect--for what is so timid and respectful as a man truly in love?--bowed low, and lost in an instant all the hopes which had elevated his spirits to such an unusual degree.

Adeline with an air of pique observed, that she feared she interrupted them unpleasantly, as something unusually agreeable and enlivening seemed to occupy them as she came in, over which her entrance seemed to have cast a cloud.

The mulatto had by this time retreated to the door, and was on the point of closing it when Berrendale stammered out, as well as he could, 'Savanna was, indeed, raising my hopes to such an unexpected height, that I felt almost bewildered with joy; but the coldness of your manner, Miss Mowbray, has sobered me again.'

'And what did Savanna say to you?' cried Adeline.

'I--I say,' cried Savanna returning, 'dat is, he say, I should be let cook de wedding dinner.'

Adeline, returning even paler than she was before, desired her coldly to leave the room; and, seating herself at the greatest possible distance from Berrendale, leaned for some time in silence on her hand--he not daring to interrupt her meditations. But at last she said, 'What could give rise to this singular conversation between you and Savanna I am wholly at a loss to imagine: still I--I must own that it is not so ill-timed as it would have been some weeks ago. I will own, that since yesterday I have been considering your generous proposals with the serious attention which they deserve.'

On hearing this, which Adeline uttered with considerable effort, Berrendale in a moment was at her side, and almost at her feet.

'I--I wish you to return to your seat,' said Adeline coldly: but hope had emboldened him, and he chose to stay where he was.

'But, before I require you to renew your promises, or make any on my side, it is proper that I should tell you what pa.s.sed yesterday; and if the additional load of obloquy which I have acquired does not frighten you from continuing your addresses--' Here Adeline paused:--and Berrendale, rather drawing back, then pus.h.i.+ng his chair nearer her as he spoke, gravely answered, that his affection was proof against all trials.

Adeline then briefly related the scene in the church-yard, and her conversation with Mrs Beauclerc, and concluded thus:--'In consequence of this, and of the recollections of HIS advice, and HIS decided opinion, that by becoming the wife of a respectable man I could alone expect to recover my rank in society, and consequently my usefulness, I offer you my hand; and promise, in the course of a few months, to become yours in the sight of G.o.d and man.'

'And from no other reason?--from no preference, no regard for me?'

demanded Berrendale reproachfully.

'Oh! pardon me; from decided preference; there is not another being in the creation whom I could bear to call husband.'

Berrendale, gratified and surprised, attempted to take her hand; but, withdrawing it, she continued thus;--'Still I almost scruple to let you, unblasted as your prospects are, take a wife a beggar, blasted in reputation, broken in spirits, with a heart whose best affections lie buried in the grave, and which can offer you in return for your faithful tenderness nothing but cold respect and esteem; one too who is not only despicable to others, but also self-condemned.'

While Adeline said this, Berrendale, almost shuddering at the picture which she drew, paced the room in great agitation; and even the gratification of his pa.s.sion, used as he was to the indulgence of every wish, seemed, for a moment, a motive not sufficiently powerful to enable him to unite his fate to that of a woman so degraded as Adeline appeared to be; and he would, perhaps, have hesitated to accept the hand she offered, had she not added, as a contrast to the picture which she had drawn--'But if, in spite of all these unwelcome considerations, you persist in your resolution of making me yours, and I have resolution enough to conquer the repugnance that I feel to make a second connexion, you may depend on possessing in me one who will study your happiness and wishes in the minutest particulars;--one who will cherish you in sickness and in sorrow;--' (here a twinge of the gout a.s.sisted Adeline's appeal very powerfully;) 'and who, conscious of the generosity of your attachment, and her own unworthiness, will strive, by every possible effort, not to remain your debtor even in affection.'

Saying this, she put out her hand to Berrendale; and that hand, and the arm belonging to it, were so beautiful, and he had so often envied Glenmurray while he saw them tenderly supporting his head, that while a vision of approaching gout, and Adeline bending over his restless couch, floated before him, all his prudent considerations vanished; and, eagerly pressing the proffered hand to his lips, he thanked her most ardently for her kind promise; and, putting his arm round her waist, would have pressed her to his bosom.

But the familiarity was ill-timed;--Adeline was already surprised, and even shocked, at the lengths to which she had gone; and starting almost with loathing from his embrace, she told him it grew late, and it was time for him to go to his lodgings. She then retired to her own room, and spent half the night at least in weeping over the remembrance of Glenmurray, and in loudly apostrophizing his departed spirit.

The next day Adeline, out of the money which she had earned, discharged her lodgings; and having written a farewell note to Mrs Beauclerc, begging to hear of her now and then, she and the mulatto proceeded to town, with Berrendale, in search of apartments; and having procured them, Adeline began to consider by what means, till she could resolve to marry Berrendale, she should help to maintain herself, and also contrive to increase their income if she became his wife.

The success which she had met with in instructing children, led her to believe that she might succeed in writing little hymns and tales for their benefit; a method of getting money which she looked upon to be more rapid and more lucrative than working plain or fancy works: and, in a short time, a little volume was ready to be offered to a bookseller:--nor was it offered in vain. Glenmurray's bookseller accepted it; and the sum which he gave, though trifling, imparted a balsam to the wounded mind of Adeline: it seemed to open to her the path of independence; and to give her, in spite of her past errors, the means of serving her fellow-creatures.

But month after month elapsed, and Glenmurray had been dead two years, yet still Adeline could not prevail on herself to fix a time for her marriage.

But next to the aversion she felt to marrying at all, was that which she experienced at the idea of having no fortune to bestow on the disinterested Berrendale; and so desirous was she of his acquiring some little property by his union with her, that she resolved to ask counsel's opinion on the possibility of her claiming a sum of money which Glenmurray had bequeathed to her, but without, as Berrendale had a.s.sured her, the customary formalities.

The money was near 300; but Berrendale had allowed it to go to Glenmurray's legal heir, because he was sure that the writing which bequeathed it would not hold good in law. Still Adeline was so unwilling to be under so many pecuniary obligations to a man whom she did not love, that she resolved to take advice on the subject, much against the will of Berrendale, who thought the money for fees might as well be saved; but as a chance for saving the fee he resolved to let Adeline go to the lawyer's chambers alone, thinking it likely that no fee would be accepted from so fine a woman. Accordingly, more alive to economy than to delicacy or decorum, Berrendale, when Adeline, desiring a coach to be called, summoned him to accompany her to the Temple, pleaded terror of an impending fit of the gout, and begged her to excuse his attendance; and Adeline, unsuspicious of the real cause of his refusal, kindly expressing her sorrow for the one he feigned, took the counsellor's address, and got into the coach, Berrendale taking care to tell her, as she got in, that the fare was but a s.h.i.+lling.

The gentleman, Mr Langley, to whom Adeline was going, was celebrated for his abilities as a chamber counsellor, and no less remarkable for his gallantries: but Berrendale was not acquainted with this part of his history: else he would not, even to save a lawyer's fee, have exposed his intended wife to a situation of such extreme impropriety; and Adeline was too much a stranger to the rules of general society, to feel any great repugnance to go alone on an errand so interesting to her feelings.

The coach having stopped near the entrance of the court to which she was directed, Adeline, resolving to walk home, discharged the coach, and knocked at the door of Mr Langley's chambers. A very smart servant out of livery answered the knock; and Mr Langley being at home, Adeline was introduced into his apartment.

Mr Langley, though surprised at seeing a lady of a deportment so correct and of so dignified an appearance enter his room unattended, was inspired with so much respect at the sight of Adeline, whose mourning habit added to the interest which her countenance never failed to excite, that he received her with bows down to the ground, and, leading her to a chair, begged she would do him the honour to be seated, and impart her commands.

Adeline, embarra.s.sed, she scarcely knew why, at the novelty of her situation, drew the paper from her pocket, and presented it to him.

'Mr Berrendale recommended me to you, sir,' said Adeline faintly.

'Berrendale, Berrendale, O, aye,--I remember--the cousin of Mr Glenmurray: you know Mr Glenmurray too, ma'am, I presume; pray how is he?'--Adeline, unprepared for this question, could not speak; and the voluble counsellor went on--'Oh!--I ask your pardon, madam, I see;--pray, might I presume so far, how long has that extraordinary clever man been lost to the world?'

'More than two years, sir,' replied Adeline faintly.

'You are,--may I presume so far,--you are his widow?'--Adeline bowed.

There was a something in Mr Langley's manner and look so like Sir Patrick's, that she could not bear to let him know she was only Glenmurray's companion.

'Gone more than two years, and you still in deep mourning!--Amiable susceptibility!--How unlike the wives of the present day! But I beg pardon.--Now to business.' So saying, he perused the paper which Adeline had given him, in which Glenmurray simply stated, that he bequeathed to Adeline Mowbray the sum of 260 in the 5 per cents, but it was signed by only one witness.

'What do you wish to know, Madam?' asked the counsellor.

'Whether this will be valid, as it is not signed by two witnesses, sir?'

'Why,--really not,' replied Langley; 'though the heir-at-law, if we have either equity or gallantry, could certainly not refuse to fulfil what evidently was the intention of the testator:--but then, it is very surprising to me that Mr Glenmurray should have wished to leave any thing from the lady whom I have the honour to behold. Pray, madam,--if I may presume to ask,--Who is Adeline Mowbray?'

'I--I am Adeline Mowbray,' replied Adeline in great confusion.

'You, madam! Bless me, I presumed;--and pray, madam,--if I may make so bold,--what was your relations.h.i.+p to that wonderfully clever man?--his niece,--his cousin,--or,--?'

'I was no relation of his,' said Adeline still more confused; and this confusion confirmed the suspicions which Langley entertained, and also brought to his recollection something which he had heard of Glenmurray's having a very elegant and accomplished mistress.

'Pardon me, dear madam,' said Mr Langley, 'I perceive now my mistake; and I now perceive why Mr Glenmurray was so much the envy of those who had the honour of visiting at his house. 'Pon my soul,' taking her hand, which Adeline indignantly, withdrew, 'I am grieved beyond words at being unable to give you a more favourable opinion.'