Chapter XXI

The first question which Adeline asked on her recovery was, Whether any letter had come by the general-post during her illness; and Savanna gave one to her immediately.

It was the letter so ardently desired; for the direction was in her mother's hand-writing! and she opened it full of eager expectation, while her whole existence seemed to depend on the nature of its contents. What then must have been her agony on finding that the _enveloppe_ contained nothing but her own letter returned! For some time she spoke not, she breathed not; while Savanna mixed with expressions of terror, at sight of her mistress's distress, poured execrations on the unnatural parent who had so cruelly occasioned it.

After a few days' incessant struggle to overcome the violence of her sorrow, Adeline recovered the shock, in appearance at least: yet to Savanna's self-congratulations she could not help answering (laying her hand on her heart) 'The blow is here, Savanna, and the wound incurable.'

Soon after she thought herself well enough to see Colonel Mordaunt, and to thank him for the recent proof of his attention to her and her interest. But no obligation, however great, could shut the now vigilant eyes of Adeline to the impropriety of receiving further visits from him, or to the guilt of welcoming to her house a man who made open professions to her of illicit love.

She however thought it her duty to see him once more, in order to try to reconcile him to the necessity of the rule of conduct which she was going to lay down for herself; nor was she without hope that the yet recent traces of the disease, to which she had so nearly fallen a victim, would make her appearance so unpleasing to the eyes of her lover, that he would be very willing to absent himself from the house, for some time at least, and probably give up all thoughts of her.

But she did neither herself nor Colonel Mordaunt justice.--She was formed to inspire a real and lasting passion--a passion that no external change could destroy--since it was founded on the unchanging qualities of the heart and mind: and Colonel Mordaunt felt for her such an attachment in all its force. He had always admired the attractive person and winning graces of Adeline, and felt for her what he denominated love; but that rational though enthusiastic preference, which is deserving of the name of true love, he never felt till he had had an opportunity to appreciate justly the real character of Adeline: still there were times when he felt almost gratified to reflect that she could not legally be his; for, whatever might have been the cause and excuse of her errors, she had erred, and the delicacy of his mind revolted at the idea of marrying the mistress of another.

But when he saw and heard Adeline, this repugnance vanished; and he knew that, could he at those moments lead her to the altar, he should not have hesitated to bind himself to her for ever by the sacred ties which the early errors of her judgment had made her even in his opinion almost unworthy to form.

At length a day was fixed for his interview with Adeline, and with a beating heart he entered the apartment; nor was his emotion diminished when he beheld not only the usual vestiges of her complaint, but symptoms of debility, and a death-like meagreness of aspect, which made him fear that though one malady was conquered, another, even more dangerous, remained. The idea overcame him; and he was forced to turn to the window to hide his emotion: and his manner was so indicative of ardent yet respectful attachment, that Adeline began to feel in spite of herself that her projected task was difficult of execution.

For some minutes neither of them spoke: Mordaunt held the hand which she gave him to his heart, kissed it as she withdrew it, and again turned away his head to conceal a starting tear: while Adeline was not sorry to have a few moments in which to recover herself, before she addressed him on the subject at that time nearest to the heart of both. At length she summoned resolution enough to say:--

'Much as I have been mortified and degraded, Colonel Mordaunt, by the letter which I have received from you, still I rejoice that I did receive it:--in the first place, I rejoice, because I look on all the sufferings and mortifications which I meet with as merciful chastisements, as expiations inflicted on me in mercy by the Being whom I adore, for the sins of which I have been guilty; and, in the second place, because it gives me an opportunity of proving, incontrovertibly, my full conviction of the fallacy of my past opinions, and that I became a wife, after my idle declamations against marriage, from change of principle, on assurance of error, and not from interest, or necessity.'

Here she paused, overcome with the effort which she had made; and Colonel Mordaunt would have interrupted her, but, earnestly conjuring him to give her a patient hearing, she proceeded thus:--

'Had the change in my practice been the result of any thing but rational conviction, I should now, unfortunate as I have been in the choice of a husband, regret that ever I formed so foolish a tie, and perhaps be induced to enter into a less sacred connexion, from an idea that that state which forced me to drag out existence in hopeless misery was contrary to reason, justice, and the benefit of society; and that, the sooner its ties were dissolved, the better it would be for individual happiness and for the world at large.'

'And do you not think so?' cried Colonel Mordaunt; 'cannot your own individual experience convince you of it?'

'Far from it,' replied Adeline: 'and I bless God that it does not: for thence, and thence only, do I begin to be reconciled to myself. I have no doubt that there is a great deal of individual suffering in the marriage state, from a contrariety of temper and other causes; but I believe that the mass of happiness and virtue is certainly increased by it. Individual suffering, therefore, is no argument for the abolition of marriage, than the accidental bursting of a musket would be for the total abolition of fire-arms.'

'But, surely, dear Mrs Berrendale, you would wish divorce to be made easier than it is?'

'By no means.' interrupted Adeline, understanding what he was going to say: 'to BEAR and FORBEAR I believe to be the grand secret of happiness, and that it ought to be the great study of life: therefore, whatever would enable married persons to separate on the slightest quarrel or disgust, would make it so much the less necessary for us to learn this important lesson; a lesson so needful in order to perfect the human character, that I believe the difficulty of divorce to be one of the greatest blessings of society.'

'What can have so completely changed your opinions on this subject?' replied Colonel Mordaunt.

'Not my own experience,' returned Adeline; 'for the painful situations in which I have been placed, I might attribute, not to the fallacy of the system on which I have acted, but to those existing prejudices in society which I wish to see destroyed.'

'Then, to what else is the change in your sentiments to be attributed?'

'To a more serious, unimpassioned, and unprejudiced view of the subject than I had before taken: at present I am not equal to expatiate on matters so important: however, some time or other, perhaps, I may make known to you my sentiments on them in a more ample manner: but I have, I trust, said enough to lead you to conclude, that though Mr Berrendale's conduct to me has been atrocious, and that you are in many respects entitled to my gratitude and thanks, you and I must henceforward be strangers to each other.'

Colonel Mordaunt, little expecting such a total overthrow to his hopes, was, on receiving it, choked with contending emotions; and his broken sentences and pale cheek were sufficiently expressive of the distress which he endured. But I shall not enter into a detail of all he urged in favour of his passion; nor the calm, dignified, manner in which Adeline replied. Suffice that, at last, from a sort of intuitive knowledge of the human heart, as it were, which persons of quick talent and sensibilities possess however defective their experience, Adeline resolved to try to soothe the self-love which she had wounded, knowing that self-love is scarcely to be distinguished in its effects from love itself; and that the agony of disappointed passion is always greater when it is inflicted by the coldness or falsehood of the beloved object, than when it proceeds from parental prohibition, or the cruel separation enjoined by conscious poverty. She therefore told Colonel Mordaunt that he was once very near being the first choice of her heart: when she first saw him, she said, his person, and manners, and attentions, had so strongly prepossessed her in his favour, that he himself, by ceasing to see and converse with her, could alone have saved her from the pain of a hopeless attachment.

'In pity, spare me,' cried Mordaunt, 'the contemplation of the happiness I might have enjoyed!'

'But you know you were not a marrying-man, as it is called; and forgive me if I say, that men who can on system suppress the best feelings of their nature, and prefer a course of libertine indulgence to a virtuous connexion, at that time of life when they might become happy husbands and fathers, with the reasonable expectation of living to see their children grown up to manhood, and superintending their education themselves--such men, Colonel Mordaunt, deserve, in the decline of life, to feel that regret and that self-condemnation which you this moment anticipate.'

'True--too true!' replied the colonel; 'but, for mercy's sake, torture me no more.'

'I would not probe where I did not intend to make a cure,' replied Adeline.

'A cure!--what mean you!'

'I mean to induce you, ere it be yet too late, to endeavour to form a virtuous attachment, and to unite yourself for life with some amiable young woman who will make you as happy as I would have endeavoured to make you, had it been my fortunate lot to be yours: for, believe me, Colonel Mordaunt,' and her voice faltered as she said it, 'had _he_, whom I still continue to love with unabated tenderness, though years have elapsed since he was taken from me,--had he bequeathed me to you on his death-bed, the reluctance with which I went to the altar would have been more easily overcome.'

Saying this, she suddenly left the room, leaving Colonel Mordaunt surprised, gratified, and his mind struggling between hopes and fears; for Adeline was not conscious that she imparted hope as well as consolation by the method which she pursued; and though she sent Savanna to tell the colonel she could see him no more that evening, he departed in firm expectation that Adeline would not have resolution to forbid him to see her again.

In this, however, he was mistaken; Adeline had learnt the best of all lessons, distrust of her own strength:--and she resolved to put it out of her power to receive visits which a regard to propriety forbade, and which might injure her reputation, if not her peace of mind. Therefore, as soon as Colonel Mordaunt was gone, she summoned Savanna, and desired her to proceed to business.

'What!' cried the delighted mulatto, 'are we going to prosecu massa?'

'No,' replied Adeline, 'we are going into the country: I am come to a determination to take no legal steps in this affair, but leave Mr Berrendale to the reproaches of his own conscience.'

'A fiddle's end!' replied Savanna, 'he have no conscience, or he no leave you: better get him hang, if you can; den you marry de colonel.'

'I had better hang the father of my child, had I, Savanna?'

'Oh! no, no, no, no,--me forget dat.'

'But I do not, nor can I even bear to disgrace the father of Editha: therefore, trusting that I can dispose of her, and secure her interest better than by forcing her father to do her justice, and bastardize the poor innocent whom his wife will soon bring into the world, I am going to bury myself in retirement, and live the short remainder of my days unknowing and unknown.'