But the look of incurable anguish which her features wore; the wild import of her words; and the sight of the unfortunate child, who seemed born only to share her wretchedness; could not long be beheld unmoved by a heart like Godolphin’s, which possessed all that tenderness that distinguishes the truly brave. Again he threw his arms round his sister, and sobbing, said —
‘Hear me, Adelina — hear me and be tranquil! I will promise to be guided by your excellent friends — I will do nothing that shall give pain to them or to you!’
‘Thank God!’ exclaimed Emmeline, ‘that you at last hear reason! Remember this promise is given to us all.’
‘It is,’ answered Godolphin; ‘but try to make poor Adelina sensible of it.’ She no longer understood any thing; but with her eyes shut, and her hands clasped in each other, was at least quiet.
‘I cannot bear it!’ continued Godolphin— ‘I must go for a few moments to recover myself!’ He then left the room, desiring Emmeline to comfort and compose his sister, who soon afterwards asked hastily what was become of him?
Emmeline, pleased to find she had a clear recollection of his having been with her, now told her that he had most solemnly assured them he would think no more of seeking Fitz-Edward on account of this unhappy affair. As she seemed still, in fearful apprehension, to doubt the reality of this promise, Godolphin, who was only in the next room with Mrs. Stafford, returned, and assured her of his pity, his forbearance and his forgiveness.
After some farther efforts on the part of Emmeline, and protestations on that of Godolphin, tears, which had been long denied to Lady Adelina, came to her relief. She wept, caressed her infant, and blessed and thanked her brother and her friends. When capable of recollection, she knew that towards those whom he had once pardoned, he was incapable of reproach or unkindness; and her mind, eased of the fears which had so long harrassed it, seemed to be recovering it’s tone. Still, however, the sense of her own incurable unhappiness, her own irretrievable unworthiness, and the disgrace of having sullied the honour of her family, and given pain to such a brother, overwhelmed her with grief and confusion; while her reason, as it at intervals returned, served only to shew her the abyss into which she had fallen: and she sometimes even regretted those hours of forgetfulness, when she possessed not the power of steady reflection, and when the sad reality was obliterated by wild and imaginary horrors.
CHAPTER VI
Some few days elapsed before there was any great alteration for the better in Lady Adelina. But the incessant attention of her friends, the soothing pity of her brother, and the skill of her physician, slowly conquered the lurking fever which had so long hung about her; and her intellects, tho’ still disordered at times, were more collected, and gave reason to hope that she would soon entirely recover.
In the mean time Captain Godolphin communicated to Mrs. Stafford the resolution he had taken about his sister. He said that she should renounce for ever all claim on the Trelawny estate, except only the stipend settled on her as a consideration for the fortune she was to receive at the death of the dowager Lady Westhaven, and which was only three hundred a year; a sum which he thought made her but a paltry and inadequate compensation for having passed two years in the society of such a man as Trelawny.
He added, that he had a house in the Isle of Wight (almost all the patrimony his father had been able to give him,) where, as his ship was now out of commission, he proposed residing himself; and whither he should insist upon Lady Adelina’s retiring, without any future attempt to see or correspond with Fitz-Edward.
As to the child, he asked if Mrs. Stafford would have the goodness to see that it was taken care of at some cottage in her neighbourhood, ‘till he could adjust matters with the Trelawny family, and put an end to all those fears which might tempt them to enquire into it’s birth; after which he said he would take it to his own house, and call it a son of his own; a precaution that would throw an obscurity over the truth which would hardly ever be removed, when none were particularly interested to remove it.
These designs he desired Mrs. Stafford to communicate to Lady Adelina; and as she was obliged to return home in two days, she took the earliest opportunity of doing so.
To the conditions her brother offered, Lady Adelina thought herself most happy to consent. The little boy was immediately baptized by the name of William Godolphin, and his unfortunate mother now began to flatter herself that her disastrous history might be concealed even from her elder brother, Lord Westhaven; of whose indignation and resentment she had ever the most alarming apprehensions. But while the hope of escaping them by her brother William’s generous compassion, gave to her heavy sorrows some alleviation, they were renewed with extreme poignancy, by the approaching separation from her inestimable friends. Mrs. Stafford could no longer delay her return to her family; and Emmeline, who now saw Lady Adelina out of danger and in the protection of her brother, was desirous of accompanying her back to Woodfield.
Lady Adelina ineffectually tried to bear this early departure with some degree of fortitude and resolution. Nor was it her heart alone that felt desolate and unhappy at it’s approach — That of her brother, had received an impression from the mental and personal perfections of Emmeline, which being at first deep, had soon become indelible; and ignorant of her engagement, he had indulged it till he found it no longer possible for him to forbear making her the first object of his life, and that the value of his existence depended wholly on her.
Emmeline was yet quite unconscious of this: but Mrs. Stafford had seen it almost from the first moment of her seeing Godolphin. In their frequent conversation, she observed that the very name of Emmeline had the power of fascination; that he was never weary of hearing her praises; that whenever he thought himself unobserved, his eyes were in pursuit of her; while fondly gazing on her face, he seemed to drink deep draughts of intoxicating passion.
Mrs. Stafford, who knew what ardent and fatal love, such excellence of person and understanding might produce in a heart susceptible of all their power, was alarmed for the happiness of this amiable man; and with regret saw him nourishing an affection which she thought must be entirely hopeless.
These apprehensions, every hour’s observation encreased. Yet Mrs. Stafford determined not to communicate them to Emmeline; but to put an end to the flattering delusion which led on Godolphin to indulge his passion, by telling him, as soon as possible, of the engagement Emmeline had formed with Mr. Delamere.
Accident soon furnished her with an opportunity. While they were all sitting together after dinner, a packet of letters was brought in, and among others which were forwarded to Mrs. Stafford from Woodfield, was one for Emmeline.
Mrs. Stafford gave it to her, saying— ‘From France, by the post mark?’
Emmeline replied that it was. She changed colour as she opened it.
‘From Mr. Delamere?’ enquired Mrs. Stafford.
‘No,’ answered she, ‘it is from Lady Westhaven. Your brother and her Ladyship are well,’ continued she, addressing herself to Mr. Godolphin, ‘and are at Paris; where they propose staying ‘till Lady Montreville and Miss Delamere join them as they come to England.’
‘And when are they expected?’ said Godolphin.
‘In about a month,’ replied Emmeline. ‘But Lord and Lady Westhaven do not propose to return ‘till next spring — they only pass a few days all together at Paris.’
‘And where is Mr. Delamere wandering to?’ significantly and smilingly asked Mrs. Stafford.
‘Lady Westhaven says only,’ answered Emmeline, blushing and casting down her eyes, ‘that he has left Lady Montreville, and is, they believe, gone to Geneva.’
‘However,’ reassumed Mrs. Stafford, ‘we shall undoubtedly see him in England in March.’
Emmeline, in still greater embarrassment, answered two or three other questions which Godolphin asked her about his brother, and soon after left the room.
Godolphin, who saw there was something relative to Delamere with which he was un
acquainted, had a confused idea immediately occur to him of his attachment: and the pain it gave him was so acute, that he wished at once to know whether it was well founded.
‘Why does Mr. Delamere certainly return in March?’ said he, addressing himself to Mrs. Stafford, ‘rather than with his mother?’
‘To fulfil his engagement,’ gravely and coldly replied she.
‘Of what nature is it?’ asked he.
Mrs. Stafford then related the history of Delamere’s long and violent passion for Emmeline; and the reluctant consent he had wrung from Lord and Lady Montreville, together with the promise obtained from Miss Mowbray.
While Mrs. Stafford was making this recital, she saw, by the variations of Godolphin’s countenance, that she had too truly guessed the state of his heart. Expressive as his features were, it was not in his power to conceal what he felt in being convinced that he had irrecoverably fixed his affections on a woman who was the destined wife of another: and awaking from the soft visions which Hope had offered, to certain despondence, he found himself too cruelly hurt to be able to continue the conversation; and after a few faint efforts, which only betrayed his internal anguish, he hurried away.
Such, however, was the opinion Mrs. Stafford conceived of his honour and his understanding, that she had no apprehension that he would attempt imparting to the heart of Emmeline any portion of that pain with which his own was penetrated; and she hoped that absence and reflection, together with the conviction of it’s being hopeless, would conquer this infant passion before it could gather strength wholly to ruin his repose.
She was glad that their departure was so near; and hastened it as much as possible. The short interval was passed in mournful silence on the part of Godolphin — on that of Lady Adelina, in tears and regret; while Emmeline, who was herself sensible of great pain in the approaching parting, struggled to appear chearful; and Mrs. Stafford attempted, tho’ without much success, to reconcile them all to a separation which was become as necessary as it was inevitable.
At length the hired coach in which they were to return to Woodfield was at the door.
Lady Adelina, unable to speak to either of them, brought her little boy in her arms, and passionately kissing him, gave him into those of Emmeline. Then taking a hand of each of her friends, she pressed them to her throbbing heart, and hastened to conceal the violence of her sorrow in her own room.
Godolphin approached to take leave. He kissed the hand of Mrs. Stafford, and inarticulately expressed his thanks for her goodness to his sister.
‘I know,’ continued he, ‘I need not recommend to you this poor infant: the same generosity which prompted you to save his mother, will effectually plead for him, and secure for him your protection ‘till I can take him to that of his own family. And you, Miss Mowbray,’ said he, turning to Emmeline and taking her hand— ‘most amiable, loveliest of human creatures! where shall I find words to thank you as I ought?’
His emotion was too great for utterance. Emmeline felt it but too sensibly; and hastening into the coach to hide how much she was herself affected, she could only say —
‘All happiness attend you, Sir! Remind Lady Adelina of my hopes of soon hearing from her.’
Mrs. Stafford being then seated, and the servant who had been hired to attend the infant following her, the coach drove from the door. Godolphin pursued it with his eyes to the end of the street; and then, as if deprived of all that made life desirable, he gave himself up to languor and despondence, afraid of examining his own heart, least his reason should condemn an inclination, which, however hopeless, he could not resolve to conquer.
But while he found charms in the indulgence of his unhappy love, he determined never to disturb the peace of it’s object. But rather to suffer in silence, than to give pain to a heart so generous and sensible as her’s, merely for the melancholy pleasure of knowing that she pitied him.
As soon as Lady Adelina could bear the journey, they departed together to his house in the Isle of Wight; where he left her, and went in search of Mrs. Bancraft, the sister of Trelawny, of whom he enquired where Trelawny himself might be found.
This woman, apprehensive that he meditated a reconciliation between her brother and his wife, which it was so much her interest to prevent, refused for some time to give him the information he desired. Having however at length convinced her that he had no wish to renew a union which had been productive only of misery to his sister, she told him that Mr. Trelawny was returned to England, and lived at a house hired in the name of her husband, a few miles from London.
There Godolphin sought him; and found the unhappy man sunk into a state of perpetual and unconscious intoxication; in which Bancraft, the husband of his sister, encouraged him, foreseeing that it must soon end in his son’s being possessed of an income, to which the meanness of his own origin, and former condition, made him look forward with anxious avidity.
It was difficult to make Trelawny, sinking into idiotism, comprehend either who Godolphin was, or the purport of his business. But Bancraft, more alive to his own interest, presently understood, that on condition of his entering into bonds of separation, Lady Adelina would relinquish the greater part of her claim on the Trelawny estate; and he undertook to have the deeds signed as soon as they could be drawn up. In a few days therefore Godolphin saw Trelawny’s part of them compleated; and returned to Lady Adelina, satisfied in having released her from an engagement, which, since he had seen Trelawny, had rendered her in his eyes an object of tenderer pity; and in having acquitted himself according to his strict sense of honour, by causing her to relinquish all the advantages Trelawny’s fortune offered, except those to which she had an absolute right.
This affair being adjusted, he again resigned himself to the mournful but pleasing contemplations which had occupied him ever since he had heard of Emmeline’s engagement. While Lady Adelina, whose intellects were now restored, but who was lost in profound melancholy, saw too evidently the state of her brother’s heart; and could not but lament that his tenderness for her had been the means of involving him in a passion, which the great merit of it’s object, and his own sensibility, convinced her must be incurable.
The letters of Emmeline were the only consolation she was capable of receiving. They gave her favourable accounts of her child, and of the continued affection of her inestimable friends. Whenever one of these letters was brought, Godolphin eagerly watched her while she was reading it; and then, faultering and impatient, asked if all were well; and if Mr. Delamere was yet returned? She sometimes gave him the letters to peruse; after which he generally fell into long absence, broken only by deep drawn and involuntary sighs — symptoms which Lady Adelina knew too well to doubt of the cause.
In the mean time Mrs. Stafford and Emmeline visited every day their innocent charge, who passed for the child of one of Emmeline’s friends gone to the West Indies. Emmeline insensibly grew so fond of him, that she was uneasy if any accident prevented her daily visit; and her friend sometimes laughingly reproached her with the robbery little William committed on her time.
When they were alone, their conversation frequently turned on Lady Adelina and her brother. The subject, tho’ melancholy, was ever a favourite with them both; and perhaps the more so because it led them to mournful reflections — for Mrs. Stafford was unhappy, and Emmeline was not gay; nor were her spirits greatly heightened by finding that in spite of herself she thought as much of the brother as the sister, and with a degree of softness and complacency which could not be favourable to her happiness.
When she first discovered in Godolphin those admirable qualities of heart and understanding which he so eminently possessed, she asked herself whether she might indulge the admiration they excited without prejudice to him whom she considered as her husband? And she fancied that she might safely give him that esteem which his tenderness to his unhappy sister, the softness of his manners, the elegance of his mind, and the generosity of his heart, could hardly fail of extorting from the most indiffere
nt observer.
But insensibly his idea obtruded itself more frequently on her imagination; and she determined to attempt to forget him, and no longer to allow any partiality to rob Delamere of that pure and sincere attachment with which he would expect her to meet him at the altar. It was now long since she had heard from him; but she accounted for it by supposing that he was rambling about, and she knew that letters were frequently lost.
It was at this time something more than two years since they had first met at Mowbray Castle, and in a few weeks Delamere would complete his twenty-first year — a period to which Lord Montreville had long looked forward with anxious solicitude. And now he could not but think with bitterness that his son would not be present to animate the joy of his dependants at this period; but was kept in another country, in the vain hope of extinguishing a passion which could not be indulged without rendering abortive all the pains his Lordship had taken to restore his family to the eminent rank it had formerly borne in his country.
To Sir Richard Crofts, his sons had communicated the success of those plans, by which they had sown, in the irritable mind of Delamere, jealousy and mistrust of Emmeline; and he failed not to animate and encourage their endeavours, while he used his power over the mind of Lord Montreville to limit the bounty and lessen the affection his Lordship was disposed to shew her as the daughter of his brother.
She received regularly her quarterly payment, but she received no more; and instead of hearing, on those occasions, from Lord Montreville himself, she had twice only a methodical letter from Maddox, the London steward.
This might, however, be merely accidental; and Emmeline was far from supposing that her uncle was estranged from her; nor could she guess that the malice of Mrs. Ashwood, and the artifices of the Crofts’, had occasioned that estrangement.
Lord Montreville rather connived at than participated in their ungenerous proceedings; and as if fearful of trusting his own ideas of integrity with a plan which so evidently militated against them, he was determined to take advantage of their endeavours, without enquiring too minutely into their justice or candour. Sir Richard had assured him that Mr. Delamere was in a great measure weaned from his attachment; and that Mr. Crofts was almost sure, that if their meeting could be prevented for a few months longer, there would be nothing more to fear from this long and unfortunate prepossession.
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