“I promised a religious observance to her commands, and she expired in about an hour after I quitted her. Mournful were the tasks she enjoined me. I attended her remains to the grave, and then conveyed her child to Dublin.
“Startled, amazed, distressed, her father too late regretted his rigor, and received her infant to his arms with floods of repentant tears.
“I now procured my recommendatory letters, and sailed for England, having first written farewell ones to my father and Mrs. Marlowe, in which I informed both I was about quitting the kingdom. As soon as I had procured cheap lodgings in London, I repaired to the gentleman to whom I was recommended; but conceive my consternation when I heard he was himself gone to the West Indies. I turned into a coffee-house, with an intention of communicating this intelligence to my friend. While the waiter was getting me materials for writing, I took up a newspaper, and cast my eyes carelessly over it. Oh! my Amanda, what was the shock of that moment, when I read my father’s death: grief for him, anxiety for you, both assailed my heart too powerfully for its feelings. My heart grew giddy, my sight failed me, and I fell back with a deep groan. When recovered, by the assistance of some gentlemen, I requested a carriage might be sent for, but I was too weak to walk to it. On returning to my lodgings, I was compelled to go to bed, from which I never rose for a fortnight. During my illness all the little money I had brought along with me was expended, and I was besides considerably in debt with the people of the house for procuring me necessaries. When able to sit up they furnished their accounts, and I candidly told my inability to discharge them. In consequence of this I was arrested, and suffered to take of my clothes but a change or two of linen. The horrors of what I imagined would be a lasting captivity were heightened by reflecting on your unprotected situation. A thousand times was I on the point of writing to inquire into that situation, but still checked myself by reflecting that, as I could not aid you, I should only add to any griefs you might be oppressed with by acquainting you of mine. The company of Captain Rushbrook alleviated in some degree the dreariness of my time. I knew I should sustain an irreparable loss in losing him, but I should have detested myself if any selfish motives had prevented my rejoicing at his enlargement. Oh! little did I think his liberation was leading the way to mine. Early this morning he returned, and introduced Sir Charles Bingley to me. Gently, and by degrees, they broke the joyful intelligence they had to communicate. With truth I can aver that the announcement of a splendid fortune was not so pleasing to my heart as the mention of my sister’s safety. Of my poor Adela I know nothing since my confinement; but I shudder to think of what she may have suffered from being left solely in the power of such a man as Belgrave, for the good old general died soon after I left Enniskillen.
“‘Regret not too bitterly, my dear Oscar,’ said Mrs. Marlowe, in one of her letters, ‘the good man’s death; rather rejoice he was removed ere his last hours were embittered by the knowledge of his darling child’s unhappiness.’
“Oh! my sister!” continued Oscar, with a heavy sigh, while tears fell from him, and mingled with those Amanda was shedding, “in this world we must have still something to wish and sigh for.”
Oscar here concluded his narrative with such an expression of melancholy as gave to Amanda the sad idea of his passion for Adela being incurable. This was indeed the case; neither reason, time, nor absence could remove or lessen it, and the acquisition of liberty or fortune lost half their value by brooding over her loss.
When their friends returned to the drawing-room and again offered their congratulations, Oscar’s dejection would not permit him to reply to them. When Mr. and Mrs. Rushbrook spoke of the happiness he might now enjoy, he listened to their recapitulation of it as to a fulsome tale, to which his heart in secret gave the lie. An innate sense of piety, however, recalled him to a proper recollection of the blessings so unexpectedly declared to be his. He accused himself of ingratitude to Heaven in yielding to murmurs, after so astonishing a reverse in his situation. Perfect happiness he had been early taught—and daily experience confirmed the truth of the remark—was rarely to be met with; how presumptuous in him, therefore, to repine at the common lot of humanity: to be independent, to have the means of returning the obligations Sir Charles Bingley had conferred upon him; to be able to comfort and provide for his lovely and long-afflicted sister; and to distribute relief amongst the children of indigence, were all blessings which would shortly be his—blessings which demanded his warmest gratitude, and for which he now raised his heart with thankfulness to their divine Dispenser. His feelings grew composed: a kind of soft and serene melancholy stole over his mind. He still thought of Adela, but not with that kind of distracting anguish he had so recently experienced; it was with that kind of tender regret which a soul of sensibility feels when reflecting on a departed friend, and to him Adela was as much lost, as if already shrouded in her native clay. “Yes, my love,” he said, as if her gentle spirit had already forsaken its earthly mansion, “in that happy world we shall be reunited, which only can reward thy goodness and thy sufferings.”
He could now enter into conversation with his friends about the measures which should be taken to forward his pretensions. It was the opinion of Captain Rushbrook and Sir Charles, that to make known his claim to the Marquis of Roslin was all that was necessary; a claim which they did not imagine he would or could dispute, when such proofs of its validity as the testimony of Lady Dunreath, and the will, could be produced. Was it disputed, it was then time enough to apply elsewhere for justice.
Sir Charles knew the Marquis personally, and was also well acquainted in his neighborhood, and declared he would accompany Oscar to Scotland. Oscar thanked him for his intention. The support of a person so well known, and universally esteemed he was convinced, would essentially serve him. Sir Charles said, regimental business required his presence in Ireland, which, however, would occasion no great delay, as he should have it transacted in a few days; and as his regiment lay near Donaghadee, they could cross over to Port-Patrick, and, in a few hours after, reach the Marquis of Roslin’s Castle.
The day after the next he had fixed for commencing his journey, and he asked Oscar if it would be agreeable and convenient to accompany him then. Oscar instantly assured him it was both. Amanda’s heart fluttered at the idea of a journey to Ireland. It was probable, she thought, that they would take Wales in their way; and her soul seemed already on the wing to accompany them thither, and be left at the cottage of nurse Edwin, from whence she could again wander through the shades of Tudor Hall, and take a last, a sad farewell of them; for she solemnly determined from the moment she should be apprised of Lord Mortimer’s return to England to visit them no more. In such a farewell she believed she should find a melancholy consolation that would soothe her spirits. She imagined there was no necessity for accompanying her brother into Scotland, and except told there was an absolute one, she determined to decline the journey if she should be asked to undertake it. To go to the very spot where she would hear particulars of Lord Mortimer’s nuptials, she felt would be too much for her fortitude, and might betray to her brother a secret she had resolved carefully to conceal from him, as she well knew the pain he would feel from knowing that the pangs of a hopeless attachment were entailed upon her life, and would defeat whatever flattering hopes he entertained for her. Exclusive of the above-mentioned objections, she could not bear to go to a place where she might perhaps witness the pain which Lord Mortimer must unavoidably feel from having any disgrace befall a family he was so nearly connected with. Oh, how her heart swelled at the idea that ere Oscar reached Scotland, the interest of the Marquis of Roslin and Lord Mortimer would be but one! From her apprehensions of being asked to undertake a journey so truly repugnant to her feelings, she was soon relieved by Oscar’s declaring that, except she wished it, he would not ask her to take so fatiguing a one, particularly as her presence he could not think at all necessary.