'And how shall we employ ourselves?' said Glenmurray smiling.
'You shall continue to write for the instruction of your fellow-creatures; while my mother and I shall be employed in endeavouring to improve the situation of the poor around us, and perhaps in educating our children.'
Adeline, when animated by any prospect of happiness, was irresistible: she was really Hope herself, as described by Collins—
| 'But thou, oh Hope, with eyes so fair, |
| What was thy delighted measure!' |
and Glenmurray, as he listened to her, forgot his illness; forgot every thing, but what Adeline chose to imagine. The place of their retreat was fixed upon. It was to be a little village near Falmouth, the scene of their first happiness. The garden was laid out; Mrs Mowbray's library planned; and so completely were they lost in their charming prospects for the future, that every turnpike-man had to wait a longer time than he was accustomed to for his money; and the postillion had driven into London in the way to the hotel, before Adeline recollected that she was, for the first time, in a city which she had long wished most ardently to see.
They had scarcely taken up their abode at the hotel recommended to them by Dr Norberry, when he knocked at the door. Adeline from the window had seen him coming; and sure as she thought herself to be of her mother's forgiveness, she turned sick and faint when the decisive moment was at hand; and, hurrying out of the room, she begged Glenmurray to receive the doctor, and apologize for her absence.
Glenmurray awaited him with a beating heart. He listened to his step on the stairs: it was slow and heavy; unlike that of a benevolent man coming to communicate good news. Glenmurray began immediately to tremble for the peace of Adeline; and, hastily pouring out a glass of wine, was on the point of drinking it when Dr Norberry entered.
'Give me a glass,' cried he: 'I want one, I am sure, to recruit my spirits.' Glenmurray in silence complied with his desire. 'Come, I'll give you a toast,' cried the doctor: 'Here is—'
At this moment Adeline entered. She had heard the doctor's last words, and she thought he was going to drink to the reconciliation of her mother and herself; and hastily opening the door she came to receive the good news which awaited her. But, at sight of her, the toast died unfinished on her old friend's lips; he swallowed down the wine in silence, and then taking her hand led her to the sofa.
Adeline's heart began to die within her; and before the doctor, after having taken a pinch of snuff and blowed his nose full three times, was prepared to speak, she was convinced that she had nothing but unwelcome intelligence to receive; and she awaited in trembling expectation an answer to a 'Well, sir,' from Glenmurray, spoken in a tone of fearful emotion.