'Oh! how I should like to speak to him!' cried Mrs Mowbray.
'It will be no difficult matter,' replied her informant: 'the gentleman is always quite as much at leisure as you see him now; for all persons have not the same taste as Mrs Mowbray.'
So saying, he bowed and departed, leaving Mrs Mowbray, to whom the sight of a great author was new, so lost in contemplating Glenmurray, that the sarcasm with which he spoke entirely escaped her observation.
Nor was Adeline less abstracted: she too was contemplating Glenmurray, and with mixed but delightful feelings.
'So then he is young and handsome too!' said she mentally: 'it is a pity he looks so ill,' added she sighing: but the sigh was caused rather by his looking so well—though Adeline was not conscious of it.
By this time Glenmurray had observed who were his neighbours, and the newspaper was immediately laid down.
'Is there any news to-day?' said Mrs Mowbray to Glenmurray, resolved to make a bold effort to become acquainted with him. Glenmurray, with a bow and a blush of mingled surprise and pleasure, replied that there was a great deal,—and immediately presented to her the paper which he had relinquished, setting chairs at the same time for her and Adeline.
Mrs Mowbray, however, only slightly glanced her eye over the paper:—her desire was to talk to Glenmurray; and in order to accomplish this point, and prejudice him in her favour, she told him how much she rejoiced in seeing an author whose works were the delight and instruction of her life. 'Speak, Adeline,' cried she, turning to her blushing daughter; 'do we not almost daily read and daily admire Mr Glenmurray's writings?'—'Yes, certainly,' replied Adeline, unable to articulate more, awed no doubt by the presence of so superior a being; while Glenmurray, more proud of being an author than ever, said internally, 'Is it possible that that sweet creature should have read and admired my works?'
But in vain, encouraged by the smiles and even by the blushes of Adeline, did he endeavour to engage her in conversation. Adeline was unusually silent, unusually bashful. But Mrs Mowbray made ample amends for her deficiency; and Mr Glenmurray, flattered and amused, would have continued to converse with her and look at Adeline, had he not observed the impertinent sneers and rude laughter to which conversing so familiarly with him exposed Mrs Mowbray. As soon as he observed this, he arose to depart; for Glenmurray was, according to Rochefoucault's maxim, so exquisitely selfish, that he always considered the welfare of others before his own; and heroically sacrificing his own gratification to save Mrs Mowbray and Adeline from further censure, he bowed with the greatest respect to Mrs Mowbray, sighed as he paid the same compliment to Adeline, and, lamenting his being forced to quit them so soon, with evident reluctance left the room.
'What an elegant bow he makes!' exclaimed Mrs Mowbray. Adeline had observed nothing but the sigh; and on that she did not choose to make any comment.