Chapter XII

They found Lady Adelina in better spirits in the evening than they had hoped for--She seemed to have been arguing herself into the composure necessary to go on with her story.

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'As you have some acquaintance with George Fitz-Edward, I need not describe his person or his manner; nor how decided a contrast they must form with those of such a man as him to whom I was unhappily united. This contrast, in spite of all my endeavours, was perpetually before my eyes--I thought Fitz-Edward, who was agreeable as his brother, had a heart as good; and _my_ heart involuntarily made the comparison between what I was, and what I might have been, if my fate had reserved me for Fitz-Edward.

'We embarked--It was about the autumnal equinox; and before we had sailed two leagues, the wind suddenly changing, blew from the opposite quarter, and then from every quarter by turns. As I was always subject to sickness in the cabin, I had lain down on the deck, on a piece of sail-cloth, and wrapped in my _pelisse_; and Fitz-Edward sat by me. But when the wind grew so violent that it was necessary every moment to shift the sails, I, who was totally insensible, was in the way of the sailors. Fitz-Edward carried me down in his arms; and having often heard me express an abhorrence to the close beds in the cabin, by the help of my own maid he accommodated me with one on the floor; where he continued to watch over me, without attending to his own danger, tho' he heard the master of the pacquet express his apprehensions that we should be driven back on the bar, and beat to pieces.

'Trelawny, in whom self-preservation was generally alive, whatever became of his other feelings, had passed so jovial an evening before he departed, that he was perfectly unconscious of his own danger. After struggling some hours to return into the bay, it was with difficulty accomplished about five in the morning. Fitz-Edward, with the tenderest solicitude, saw me safe on shore, whither Trelawny was also brought. But far from being rejoiced at our narrow escape, he cursed his ill luck, which he said had raised this confounded storm only to prevent his returning in time to see Clytemnestra got into proper order for the October meeting.

'I was so ill the next day, thro' the fear and fatigue I had undergone, that I was absolutely unable to go on board. But nothing that related to me could detain Trelawny, who embarked again as soon as the pacquet was refitted, and after some grumbling at my being too ill to go, left me to follow him by the next conveyance, and recommended me with great coolness to the care of Fitz-Edward.

'We staid only two days after him. Fitz-Edward, as well during the passage as on our journey to London, behaved to me with the tenderness of a brother; and I fancied my partiality concealed from him, because I tried to conceal it. If he saw it, he shewed no disposition to take advantage of it, and I therefore thought I might fearlessly indulge it.

'When I arrived at my house in town, I found that Trelawny was absent, and had left a letter for me desiring me to go down to a house he had not long before purchased in Hampshire, as a hunting seat. Without enquiring his reasons, I obeyed him. I took a melancholy leave of Fitz-Edward, and went into Hampshire; where, as Trelawny was not there, I betook myself to my books, and I fear to thinking too much of Fitz-Edward.

'After I had been there about a fortnight, I was surprized by a visit from the object of my indiscreet contemplations. He looked distressed and unhappy; and his first conversation seemed to be preparing me for some ill news. I was dreadfully alarmed, and enquired eagerly for my sister?--her husband?--her children?--

'"I hope, and believe they are well," answered he. "I have letters of a very late date from my brother."

'"Oh God!" cried I, in an agony (for his countenance still assured me something very bad had happened) "Lord Westhaven--my brother, my dear brother!"--

'"Is well too, I hope--at least I assure you I know nothing to the contrary."

'"Is it news from Jamaica then? Has there been an engagement. There has, I know, and my brother William is killed."

'"No, upon my honour," replied Fitz-Edward, "had Godolphin been killed, I, who love him better than any man breathing, could not have brought the intelligence--But my dear Lady Adelina, are there then no other misfortunes but those which arise from the death of friends?"

'"None," answered I, "but what I could very well bear. Tell me, therefore, I conjure you tell me, and keep me no longer in suspence--I can hear any thing since I have nothing to apprehend for the lives of those I love."

'"Well then," answered he, "I will tell you.--I fear things are very bad with Mr. Trelawny. It is said that all the estate not entailed, is already gone; and that he has even sold his life interest in the rest. All his effects at the town house are seized; and I am afraid the same thing will in a few hours happen here. I came therefore, lovely Lady Adelina, to intreat you to put yourself under my protection, and to quit this house, where it will soon be so improper for you to remain."

'I enquired after the unhappy Trelawny? He told me he had left him intoxicated at a gaming house in St. James's street; that he had told him he was coming down to me, to which he had consented, tho' Fitz-Edward said he much doubted whether he knew what he was saying.

'Fitz-Edward then advised me to pack up every thing I wished to preserve, and immediately to depart; for he feared that persons were already on the road to seize the furniture and effects in execution.

'"Gracious heaven!" cried I, "what can I do?--Whither can I go!"

'"Trust yourself with me," cried Fitz-Edward--"dear, injured Lady Adelina."

'"Let me rather," answered I, "go down to Trelawny Park."

'"Alas!" said he, "the same ruin will there overtake you. Be assured Mr. Trelawny's creditors will equally attach his property there. You know too, that by the sale of his boroughs he has lost his seat in parliament, and that therefore his person will not be safe. He must himself go abroad."

'Doubting, and uncertain what I ought to do, I could determine on nothing. Fitz-Edward proposed my going to Mr. Percival's, who had married one of his sisters. They are at Bath, said he; but the house and servants are at my disposal, and it is only five and twenty miles from hence. Hardly knowing what I did, I consented to this proposal; and taking my jewels and some valuable plate with me, I set out in a post chaise with Fitz-Edward, leaving my maid to follow me the next day, and give me an account whether our fears were verified.

'They were but too well founded. Four hours after I had left the house, the sheriff's officers entered it--Information which encreased my uneasiness for the fate of the unfortunate Trelawny; in hopes of alleviating whose miseries I would myself have gone to London, but Fitz-Edward would not suffer me. He said it was more than probable that my husband was already in France; that if he was yet in England, he had no house in which to receive me, and would feel more embarrassed than relieved by my presence. But as I continued to express great uneasiness to know what was become of him, he offered to go to London and bring me some certain intelligence.

'At the end of a week, which appeared insupportably long, he returned, and told me that with some difficulty he had discovered my unhappy husband at the house of one of his friends, where he was concealed, and where he had lost at picquet more than half the ready money he could command. That with some difficulty he had convinced him of the danger as well as folly of remaining in such a place; and had accompanied him to Dover, whence he had seen him sail for France.

'I told Fitz-Edward that I would instantly give up as much of my settlement as would enable Trelawny to live in affluence, till his affairs could be arranged; but he protested that he would not suffer me to take any measure of that sort, till I had the advice of _his_ brother: or, till one of my own returned to England.

'"Do you know," said he, at the end of this conversation--"Do you know, Lady Adelina, that I envy Trelawny his misfortunes, since they excite such generous pity.--Good God! of what tenderness, of what affection would not such a heart be capable, if"----

'Fitz-Edward had seldom hazarded an observation of this sort, tho' his eyes had told me a thousand times that he internally made them. He could convey into half a sentence more than others could express by the most elaborate speeches. Alas! I listened to him with too much pleasure; for my treacherous heart had already said more than his insidious eloquence.

'I wrote to Lord Clancarryl, entreating him to come over. He assured me he would do so, the moment he could leave my sister, who was very near her time; but that in the interim his brother George would obey all my commands, and render me every service he could himself do if present.

'Thrown, therefore, wholly into the power of Fitz-Edward; loving him but too well; and seeing him every hour busied in serving me--I will not accuse him of art; I had myself too little to hide from him the fatal secret of my heart; I could not summon resolution to fly from him, till my error was irretrievable--till I found myself made compleatly miserable by the consciousness of guilt.

'After remaining there about a fortnight, I left the house of Mr. Percival, and took a small lodging in the neighbourhood of Cavendish-square. Fitz-Edward saw me every day.--I met him indeed with tears and confusion; but if any accident prevented his coming, or if he even absented himself at my own request, the anguish I felt till I again saw him convinced me that it was no longer in my power to live without him.

'Trelawny had given me no directions for my conduct; nor had he even written to me, 'till he had occasion for money. He then desired me to send him five hundred guineas--a sum I had no immediate means of raising, but by selling some of my jewels. This I would immediately have done; but Fitz-Edward, who would not hear of it, brought me the money in a few hours, and undertook to remit it, together with a letter from me, to the unfortunate man for whom it was designed.

'He tried too--ah, how vainly!--to persuade me, that in acting thus I had done more than my duty to such an husband. His sophistry, aided by my own wishes to believe him, could not quiet the incessant reproaches with which my conscience pursued me--I remembered my father's dying injunctions, I remembered the inflexible notions of honour inherited by both my brothers, and I trembled at the severe account to which I might be called. I could now no longer flatter myself that my error would be concealed, since of its consequences I could not doubt; and while I suffered all the terrors of remorse and apprehension, Lord Clancarryl came over.

'In order to take measures towards settling Trelawny's affairs, it was necessary to send for his sister, who had a bond for five thousand pounds, which claim was prior to every other. This woman, whom it was extremely disagreeable to me to meet, lamented with vulgar clamour her brother's misfortunes; which she said could never have happened if he had not been so unlucky as to get quality notions into his head. I know not what at first raised her suspicions; but I saw that she very narrowly observed Fitz-Edward; and sneeringly said that it was _very lucky_ indeed for me to have such a friend, and _quite kind_ in the colonel to take so much trouble. She made herself thoroughly acquainted with all that related to her brother, from the time of our parting in Ireland; and I found that she had attempted to bribe my servant to give her an account of my conduct; in which tho' she had failed of success, she had found that Fitz-Edward had been constantly with me. His attendance was indeed less remarkable when Lord Clancarryl, his brother, was also present; but Mrs. Bancraft, determined to believe ill of me, suffered not this circumstance to have any weight, and hinted her suspicions of our attachment in terms so little guarded, that it was with the utmost difficulty I could prevail on Fitz-Edward not to resent her impertinence.

'Lord Clancarryl despised this vulgar and disgusting woman too much to attend to the inuendos he heard; and far from suspecting my unhappy weakness, he continued to lay me under new obligations to Fitz-Edward by employing him almost incessantly in the arrangement of Trelawny's affairs.

'On looking over the will of that relation, who had bequeathed to Mr. Trelawny the great fortune he had possessed, I discovered the reason of Mrs. Bancraft's attentive curiosity in regard to me--if he died without heirs, above six thousand a year was to descend to her son, who was to take the name. He had been now married above two years, and his bloated and unhealthy appearance (the effect of excessive drinking) indicated short life; and had made her for some time look forward to the succession of the entailed estate as an event almost certain for her son. This sufficiently explained her conduct, and encreased all my apprehensions; for I found that avarice would stimulate malice into that continued watchfulness which I could not now undergo without the loss of my fame and my peace.

'All things being settled by Lord Clancarryl in the best manner he could dispose them for Mr. Trelawny, his Lordship pressed me to go with him to Ireland; but conscious that I should carry only disgrace and sorrow into the happy and respectable family of my sister, I refused, under pretence of waiting to hear again from Trelawny before I took any resolution as to my future residence.

'His Lordship therefore left me, having obtained my promise to go over to Lough Carryl in the spring. Fitz-Edward continued to see me almost every day, attempting by the tenderest assiduity to soothe and tranquillize my mind. But time, which alleviates all other evils, only encreased mine; and they were now become almost insupportable. After long deliberation, I saw no way to escape the disgrace which was about to overwhelm me, but hiding myself from my own family and from all the world. I determined to keep my retreat secret, even from Fitz-Edward himself; and to punish myself for my fatal attachment by tearing myself for ever from it's object. Could I have supported the contempt of the world, to which it was evidently the interest of Mrs. Bancraft to expose me, I could not bear the most distant idea of the danger to which the life of Fitz-Edward would be liable from the resentment of my brothers. That he might perish by the hand of Lord Westhaven or Captain Godolphin, or that one of those dear brothers might fall by his, was a suggestion so horrid, and yet so probable, that it was for ever before me; and I hastened to fly into obscurity, in the hope, that if my error is concealed till I am myself in the grave, my brothers may forgive me, and not attempt to wash out the offence in the blood of the surviving offender.

'To remain, and to die here unknown, is all I now dare to wish for. My servant having formerly known the woman who inhabits this cottage, contrived to have a few necessaries sent hither without observation; I have made it worth the while of the people to be secret; and as they know not my name, I had little apprehension of being discovered.

'I took no leave of Fitz-Edward; nor have I written to him since. I lament the pain my sudden absence must give him; but am determined to see him no more. Should my child live----'

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Lady Adelina was now altogether unable to proceed, and fell into an agony of distress which greatly affected her auditors. Mrs. Stafford and Emmeline said every thing they could think of to console her, and soften the horror she seemed to feel for her unhappy indiscretion. But she listened in listless despondence to their discourse, and answered, that to be reconciled to guilt, and habituated to disgrace, was to be sunk in the last abyss of infamy.

They left her not, however, till they saw her rather more tranquil; and till Mrs. Stafford had prevailed upon her to accept of some books, which she hoped might amuse her mind, and detach it awhile from the sad subject of it's mournful contemplations. These she promised to convey to the cottage in a way that could create no suspicion. And relieved of her own apprehensions, yet full of concern for the fair unhappy mourner (to whom neither she or Emmeline had given the least intimation of Fitz-Edward's frequent residence in that country,) they returned to Woodfield, impressed with the most earnest solicitude to soften the calamities they had just heard related, tho' to cure them was impossible.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME

VOLUME III