'Who could dare to invent so infamous a calumny!' exclaimed Adeline.
'My authority is unquestionable, Miss Mowbray; I speak from Sir Patrick himself.'
'Then he adds falsehood to his other villanies!' returned Adeline, almost inarticulate with rage:—'but what could be expected from a man who could dare to insult a young woman under the roof of her mother with his licentious addresses?'
'What mean you?' cried Mrs Mowbray, turning pale.
'I mean that Sir Patrick yesterday morning insulted me by the grossest familiarities, and—'
'My dear child,' replied Mrs Mowbray laughing, 'that is only the usual freedom of his manner; a manner which your ignorance of the world led you to mistake. He did not mean to insult you, believe me, I am sure that, spite of his ardent passion for me, he never, even when alone with me, hazarded any improper liberty.'
'The ardent passion which he feels for you, madam!' exclaimed Adeline, turning pale in her turn.
'Yes, Miss Mowbray! What, I suppose you think me too old to inspire one!—But, I assure you, there are people who think the mother handsomer than the daughter!'
'No doubt, dear mother, every one ought to think so,—and would to heaven Sir Patrick were one of those! But he, unfortunately—'
'Is of that opinion,' interrupted Mrs Mowbray angrily: 'and to convince you—so tenderly does he love me, and so fondly do I return his passion, that in a few days I shall become his wife.'