Mrs Mowbray then re-seated herself; and Mrs Pemberton informed her of Adeline's premature confinement at Richmond; of her distress on Glenmurray's death, and of her having witnessed it.
'Ah! you acted a mother's part—you did what I ought to have done,' cried Mrs Mowbray, bursting into tears,—'but, go on—I will be patient.'
Yet that was impossible; for, when she heard of Adeline's insanity, her emotions became so strong that Mrs Pemberton, alarmed for her life, was obliged to ring for assistance.
When she recovered,—'Thou hast heard the worst now,' said Mrs Pemberton, 'and all I have yet to say of thy child is satisfactory.'
She then related the contents of Adeline's first letter, informing her of her marriage:—and Mrs Mowbray, clasping her hands together, blessed God that Adeline was become a wife. The next letter Mrs Pemberton read informed her that she was the mother of a fine girl.
'A mother!' she exclaimed, 'Oh, how I should like to see her child!'—But at the same moment she recollected how bitterly she had reviled her when she saw her about to become a mother, at their last meeting; and, torn with conflicting emotions, she was again insensible to aught but her self-upbraidings.
'Well—but where is she now? where is the child? and when did you hear from her last?' cried she.
'I have not heard from her since,' hesitatingly replied Mrs Pemberton.
'But can't you write to her?'
'Yes;—but in her last letter she said she was going to change her lodgings, and would write again when settled in a new habitation.'