They were going out together; but taking an arm of each, she eagerly repeated 'oh! no! no! not together!'
The imagination of Lady Adelina was now totally disordered. She had risen; and carrying the child in her arms, walked towards her brother, who in traversing the apartment with uneasy steps was by this time near the door; while Fitz-Edward was at the other end of the room, where Emmeline was trying to persuade him to quit the house.
Lady Adelina, supported by her maid, and trembling under the weight of the infant she clasped to her bosom, stepped along as quickly as her weakness would allow; and putting her hand on Godolphin's arm, she cried, in a slow and tremulous manner—'Stay, William! I have something to say to you before you go. Lord Westhaven, you know, is coming; and you have promised that he shall not kill me. I may however die; and I rather believe I shall; for since this last sight I am strangely ill. You and Emmeline will take care of my poor boy, will ye not? Had Fitz-Edward lived—nay do not look so angry, for now he cannot offend you—had poor Fitz-Edward lived, he would perhaps have taken him. But now, I must depend on Emmeline, who has promised to be good to him. They say she will have a great fortune too, and therefore I need not fear that you will find my child burthensome.'
'Burthensome!' cried Godolphin. 'Good God, Adelina!'
'Well! well! be not offended. Only you know, when people come to have a family of their own, the child of another may be reckoned an incumbrance. I know that now you love my William dearly; but then, you know, it will be another thing.'
'Gracious heaven!' exclaimed Godolphin, 'what can have made her talk in this manner?'
'Reason in madness!' said Fitz-Edward, advancing towards her. 'Her son, however, shall be an incumbrance to nobody.'
Emmeline now grasping his hand, implored him not to speak to her. Lady Adelina neither heard or noticed him: but again addressing herself to her brother, said, with a mournful sigh—'And now, since I have told you what was upon my mind, I will go put my little boy to bed. Good night to you, dear William! You and Miss Mowbray will remember!—-- ' She then walked out of the room, and calmly took the way to her own, attended by her maid.
Emmeline, not daring to leave together these two ardent spirits irritated against each other, remained, trembling, with them; hoping by her presence to prevent their animosity from blazing forth, and to prevail upon them to part. They both continued for some time to traverse the room in gloomy silence. At length Fitz-Edward stopped, and said—'At what hour to-morrow, Sir, may I have the honour of some conversation with you?'