The major looked grave, and observed that they would do well to go and consult the women on the subject, and tell them the whole story. So saying, he opened the door of a closet leading to their apartment: but there, to their great surprise, they found Mrs Douglas and Emma, and as well informed of everything as themselves;—for, expecting that a duel might be the consequence of the major's impetuosity, and hearing Mr Glenmurray announced, they resolved to listen to the conversation, and, if it took the turn which they expected, to rush in and endeavour to mollify the disputants.
'So, ladies; this is very pretty indeed! Eaves-droppers, I protest,' cried Major Douglas: but he said no more; for his wife, affected by the recital which she had heard, and delighted to find that there would be no duel, threw her arms round his neck, and burst into tears. Emma, almost equally affected, gave her hand to Glenmurray, and told him nothing on her part should be omitted to prevail on Adeline to sacrifice her opinions to her welfare.
'I said so,' cried the major. 'You will write to her.'
'No; I will see her, and argue with her.'
'And so will I,' cried the wife.
'That you shall not,' bluntly replied the major.
'Why not? I think it my duty to do all I can to save a fellow-creature from ruin; and words spoken from the heart are always more powerful than words written.'
'But what will the world say, if I permit you to converse with a kept mistress?'
'The world here to us, as we associate with none and are known to none, is Mr Glenmurray and Miss Mowbray; and of their good word we are sure.'
'Aye,' cried Emma, 'and sure of succeeding with this interesting Adeline too; for if she likes us, as I think she does—'