Adeline Mowbray; or, The Mother and Daughter

by Amelia Opie

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 assured 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 shilling.

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.