At this account, which Adeline feared was a just one, as she had seen no preparations for a wedding going on, and had observed no signs of deeds, or any thing of the kind, she started up in an agony of grief—'Then has my mother given me up, indeed!' she exclaimed, clasping her hands together, 'and the once darling child may soon be a friendless outcast!'
'You want a friend, Miss Adeline!' said the kind girl, bursting into tears.—'Never, while I live, or any of my fellow-servants.' And Adeline, whose heart was bursting with a sense of forlornness and abandonment, felt consoled by the artless sympathy of her attendant; and, giving way to a violent flood of tears, she threw her arms round her neck, and sobbed upon her bosom.
Having thus eased her feelings, she recollected that it was incumbent on her to exert her fortitude; and that it was a duty which she owed her mother not to condemn her conduct openly herself, nor suffer any one else to do it in her presence: still, at that moment, she could not find in her heart to reprove the observations by which, in spite of her sense of propriety, she had been soothed and gratified; but she hastened to dress herself as became a bridal dinner, and dismissed, as soon as she could, the affectionate Evans from her presence. She then walked up and down her chamber, in order to summon courage to enter the drawing-room.—'But how strange, how cruel it was,' said she, 'that my mother did not come to inform me of this important event herself!'
In this respect, however, Mrs Mowbray had acted kindly. Reluctant, even more than she was willing to confess to her own heart, to meet Adeline alone, she had chosen to conclude that she was still asleep, and had desired she might not be disturbed; but soon after her return from church, being assured that she was in a sound slumber, she had stolen to her bed-side and put a note under her pillow, acquainting her with what had passed: but this note Adeline in her restlessness had, with her pillow, pushed on the floor, and there unseen it had remained. But, as Adeline was pacing to and fro, she luckily observed it; and, by proving that her mother had not been so very neglectful of her, it tended to fortify her mind against the succeeding interview. The note began:—
'My dearest child! to spare you, in your present weak state, the emotion which you would necessarily feel in attending me to the altar, I have resolved to let the ceremony be performed unknown to you. But, my beloved Adeline, I trust that your affection for me will make you rejoice in a step, which you may, perhaps, at present disapprove, when convinced that it was absolutely necessary to my happiness, and can, in no way, be the means of diminishing yours.
'I remain
'Your ever affectionate mother.'
'She loves me still then!' cried Adeline, shedding tears of tenderness, 'and I accused her unjustly.—O my dear mother, if this event should indeed increase your happiness, never shall I repine at not having been able to prevent it.' And then, after taking two or three hasty turns round the room, and bathing her eyes to remove in a degree the traces of her tears, she ventured into the drawing-room.
But the sight of her mother seated by Sir Patrick, his arm encircling her waist, in that very room which had so lately witnessed his profligate attempts on herself, deprived her of the little resolution which she had been able to assume, and pale and trembling she sunk speechless with emotion on the first chair near her.
Mrs Mowbray, or, as we must at present call her, Lady O'Carrol, was affected by Adeline's distress, and, hastening to her, received the almost fainting girl in her arms; while even Sir Patrick, feeling compassion for the unhappiness which he could more readily understand than his bride, was eager to hide his confusion by calling for water, drops, and servants.
'I want neither medicine nor assistance now,' said Adeline, gently raising her head from her mother's shoulder: 'the shock is over, and I shall, I trust, behave in future with proper self-command.'
'Better late than never,' muttered Lady O'Carrol, on whom the word shock had not made a pleasant impression; while Sir Patrick, approaching Adeline, exclaimed, 'If you have not self-command, Miss Mowbray, it is the only command which you cannot boast; for your power of commanding others no one can dispute, who has ever had the happiness of beholding you.'