L I E) RAFIY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLI NOIS
 
 
 K.y^Ouu^j^^^yii'^^^^^^^ 
 
 -y^'
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF "EMILIA WYNDHAM," 
 " TWO OLD MEN'S TALES," 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 Queste miei carte in lieta fronte accoglie, 
 Che quasi in voto h. te, sacrate i'porto. 
 
 Tabbo. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, 
 
 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 1850.
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY HARRISON AND SOIT, 
 
 ST. martin's lane.
 
 ^■3.3 
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " The Falls, Jamaica, 183. 
 ■5'c- r? >k -JC- -x- 
 
 S ^]' " It is indeed, dear Anna, a long time 
 
 J ^ since I have written to jou, and it seems 
 
 an age since we parted. Life, scenery, all 
 
 inhere is so different from Boston, that I still 
 
 feel as if I were in a dream, and should 
 
 ^awaken to all the horrors of French gram- 
 
 , mars, use of the globes, epitomes of history, 
 
 processional walks, 'hold up jour head, 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Miss Lindsay/ &c., &c., &c., in kind Mrs. 
 Thomson's ' Establishment.' * * 
 
 " You say that yon want to have a full 
 account of new impressions. But these new 
 impressions — how can I find words to de- 
 scribe them 1 
 
 "This country is like fairyland — fairy- 
 land such as we used to picture it to our- 
 selves when, as children, we imagined scenes 
 more beautiful than I thought this world 
 could ever realize. 
 
 " Bright, unclouded skies — scenery of the 
 most romantic wildness — glen, cliff, and 
 waterfall festooned with garlands of brilliant 
 flowers, looking as if they were decked out 
 for some festival ; you cannot conceive any- 
 thing to exceed this profusion of flowering 
 creepers ! Then the picturesque and giant 
 cotton-tree — the palm and cocoa-nut — the
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 3 
 
 huge ferns, so striking to the eje of a 
 stranger. The groves of graceful bamboos — 
 the banana — the gamboge-tree with its bril- 
 liant golden blossoms — and multitudes of 
 others, rich in luscious, fragrant fruits of 
 every variety, which I will forbear to enu- 
 merate lest jou should think I had taken a 
 leaf from some botanist's encyclopaedia. 
 
 " Then the birds — the bright birds flash- 
 ing like jewels in the sun light — these 
 adorable little humming-birds ! There is a 
 pair of these little creatures at this moment 
 darting about the creeper, which hangs half 
 in at the window where I am writing. 
 They are as unconscious of one's presence 
 as insects. Old Pedro has promised to get 
 me a pair that I may try and tame them. 
 
 " Perhaps you would like me to describe 
 my home to you. My home ! Is not that 
 
 b2
 
 4 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 a delightful word ? Do not you remember 
 we would never call school home? 
 
 " My home then is called The Falls. Is 
 it not a pretty name ? Now do not fancy 
 that we have a fall here like the Falls of 
 Niagara — great, huge, stunning Niagara! 
 Jamaica means 'the land of springs,' and 
 our fall (from which this estate takes its 
 name) is like a silver ribbon, let down from 
 the top of a cliflf by some imprisoned 
 princess, as a ladder for her deliverer. 
 
 " These cliffs form the boundary of the 
 pleas\ire-grounds on one side. They open 
 close to the waterfall, and form a wild, 
 rocky passage leading further into the in- 
 terior of the island ; and beyond them are 
 seen the lofty mountains, so blue, that their 
 soft outline looks as if it were marked upon 
 the sky itself.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 5 
 
 " The house stands facing the ravine, in 
 the midst of plantations and pleasure- 
 grounds. It is a low, rambling building, 
 two stories high. A wide verandah runs 
 all round " it, and is tapestried with white, 
 scarlet, and yellow creepers, which indeed 
 invade most of the upper windows ; each 
 of which is also protected from the sun by 
 green jalousies. 
 
 " My room is on the second story. It is 
 so pretty ! My dear father has spared no 
 pains to adorn it. The windows open 
 upon the floor, and the roof of the verandah 
 being flat, I can step out upon it, and fancy 
 myself in one of the hanging gardens of 
 ancient Babylon, it is so full of vases or 
 shrubs and flowering plants, which would 
 put to the blush the loveliest inhabitants of 
 your European conservatories. A kind of
 
 § ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 canopj-blind is so contrived that I can let 
 it down at pleasure over my aerial garden. 
 The glare of the sun is further softened by 
 the ample folds of white muslin with which, 
 the windows are curtained. You must not 
 imagine that my room is carpeted with 
 velvet-piled Aubusson, that the chairs are 
 rich in damask and fringe — the very idea 
 makes me hot ! No ; the floor is inlaid 
 with the beautiful and variegated woods of 
 the island, with a square of Chinese matting 
 in the centre ; the chairs are of light 
 bamboo, of the prettiest workmanship, the 
 rest of the furniture in correspondence with 
 the floor ; everytliing contrived not only to 
 produce, but to give the idea of coolness ; 
 that is the luxury here. 
 
 " Now for the reverse of the picture. That 
 we may not fancy ourselves quite in Ely-
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 7 
 
 sium, we are tormented with insects of all 
 imaginable and horrible forms. Fat green 
 things drop into one's plate from the ceiling 
 as one sits at table ; centipedes and lizards 
 crawl about in every direction — not that I 
 much mind the last, for it is a pretty active 
 little reptile ; musquitoes sing and sting all 
 day and all night, and the black ant de- 
 vours every thing that is left in its way. 
 Black servants also, are very ugly things to 
 look upon ; but I am getting reconciled to 
 these * ''' '"^ ^" ^ 
 
 " You know how I love and reverence my 
 father, he is so good, so kind, so clever. I 
 need not expatiate upon a character of 
 which I have already told you so much, 
 that I fancy that you must almost feel 
 as if you knew him yourself; and I 
 need only assure you that every day I
 
 8 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 feel more grateful for the possession of such 
 a parent. 
 
 " Of society there is little enough. Most 
 of the neighbouring estates are managed bj 
 agents, the proprietors living in England. 
 Now and then a stray officer makes his ap- 
 pearance ; but their visits are not much en- 
 couraged. Since my mother's death my 
 father has given up all society — his only 
 pleasure is in improving his estate, and 
 devoting himself to his duties, as master of 
 so many dependents. 
 
 " It is one of my father's favourite theo- 
 ries that the negro character is not of a dif- 
 ferent nature from that of the white ; that 
 it is degenerate only, and therefore sus- 
 ceptible of improvement, moral and intel- 
 lectual. He has therefore established upon 
 his estate schools for the adults as well
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 9 
 
 as the children, and the superintendence 
 of these schools affords him the deepest 
 interest. 
 
 " He considers their education as of more 
 importance now, than ever, standing, as thej 
 do, upon the brink of such a vast change in 
 their social condition. 
 
 " His efforts are admirably seconded by 
 dear old Mr. Brown. 
 
 "Mr. Brown was formerly my father's 
 tutor at college. He is in orders, but has 
 resigned his living in England, as his health 
 became so delicate, that a warm climate 
 was recommended as the only chance of pre- 
 serving his life ; he therefore accepted Mr. 
 Lindsay's offer of accompanying him to 
 the West Indies, and has lived here ever 
 since. 
 
 " The company of so accomplished and
 
 10 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 clever a man as Mr. Brown, is no doubt one 
 of the causes which renders mj father so 
 independent of general society. 
 
 " ' But what will Adelaide do V I hear 
 jou ask. 
 
 " To tell JOU the truth, this is a question 
 which I haye already sometimes asked my- 
 self. When the charm of novelty wears 
 quite away, — when habit has deadened my 
 senses to the charms of this enchanting 
 country, shall I find sufficient interest in the 
 monotonous routine of the life which I see 
 before me, to preserve my mind from stag- 
 nation — from ' dying of dulth ' as we used 
 to say. 
 
 " If I become all grey within, what will it 
 avail me that the sky is blue over head, or 
 the scene around me one blaze of dazzling 
 colours 1
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 11 
 
 "At such times I feel such a panting for 
 exertion, — such a longing for sympathy, — 
 such a desire for excitement. Sometimes, 
 once or twice, just lately, though I have 
 been here but ten weeks, the idea has 
 flashed across my mind, that I should even 
 like a misfortune — anything to make me 
 jeel — to make a ruffle as it were, in the still 
 pool of my existence; and then, coward 
 like, I feel terrified, and try to un-wish my 
 wish, lest such ingratitude as this should 
 call down some heavy judgment. 
 
 "For am I not ungrateful^ Surrounded 
 with every luxury and comfort that wealth 
 and tenderness can procure, cradled, as it 
 were, in the love of such a father as mine, 
 still to long for more f 
 
 " No. I will drive away such foolish re- 
 pinings, such aimless aspirations. I will
 
 12 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 endeavour to find an equal interest in mj 
 father's benevolent designs ; to keep up those 
 accomplishments which his liberality has 
 enabled me to acquire ; and to keep the 
 blade polished, though it may never leave 
 its sheath. 
 
 " Now, dear Anna, as I daresay you are 
 already wearied with my lucubrations, I 
 will rein in ' my little ambling palfrey,' and 
 release you, to set about whatever you may 
 have in hand. 
 
 " Your afiectionate 
 
 "Adelaide Lindsay."
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " What, my darling ! Down so early'?" 
 exclaimed Mr. Lindsay, as Adelaide, true 
 to her resolutions, made her appearance in 
 his dressing-room, at five o'clock the next 
 morning, equipped for an early ramble, in 
 a dress of soft white muslin, a large straw 
 hat, shading her white, open forehead with 
 its clustering curls, and eyes sparkling with 
 h-ealth and animation. 
 
 "Yes, papa," she replied, "I intend to
 
 14 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 be an idle Boston young ladj no longer ; 
 and if jou ^vill allow me to help you, will 
 take my share in indoctrinating your sable 
 pupils ; and, also, learn something more of 
 sugar and coffee, than my breakfast-cup 
 teaches me" 
 
 Mr. Lindsay smiled fondly and approv- 
 ingly upon her, and rising from his 
 desk, they both passed through the open 
 window into the verandah, where they were 
 soon joined by Mr. Brown ; and then the 
 three proceeded together through the plan- 
 tations. 
 
 Everywhere Mr. Lindsay was greeted 
 with looks of the greatest affection. There 
 was not an apprentice, man or woman, 
 hardly a child, who would not willingly 
 have laid down their lives for him ; for who 
 is there more grateful than the negro for
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 15 
 
 real kindness "? Mr. Lindsay, the true gen- 
 tleman, — much perverted word ! — was cour- 
 teous and affable to the lowest of his depen- 
 dants ; but this affability never degenerated 
 into familiarity, he never sank himself to 
 the level of his inferiors ; his inferiors rather 
 felt themselves raised to one above their 
 own, whenever they had intercourse with 
 him. So great is the influence of manner ! 
 Under such a master as Mr. Lindsay, ap- 
 proaching freedom itself was scarcely felt 
 as a boon, and would, perhaps, have never 
 been desired, could his life have been 
 insured to them for ever. 
 
 The estate of the Falls, strictly entailed, 
 had been in Mr. Lindsay's family since 
 almost the commencement of the colony, in 
 the middle of the 17th century. He had 
 himself come into possession upon the death
 
 16 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 of his father, an event which had occurred 
 some fifteen years before the opening of this 
 story. At that time, he was bowed to the 
 earth, as it were, by the loss of his wife, a 
 woman gifted in an unusual degree; and 
 whom he had loved with all the force of a 
 strong mind, and most feeling and affec- 
 tionate heart. She left him one little girl, 
 Adelaide, then but four years old. 
 
 The death of his father, and the attention 
 necessary to the arrangement of his affairs, 
 roused the mourner from the apathy under 
 which he had well-nigh sunk ; and his energy 
 once called forth, he did not again relapse 
 into inactivity, but resolved to visit in per- 
 son the West Indian property, from which 
 his whole income was derived. 
 
 He took his little girl with him, from 
 whom he could not bear to be separated
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 17 
 
 a day, and his old friend and tutor, 
 Mr. Brown, for reasons which have already 
 been mentioned, also accompanied him. 
 
 Upon his arrival in Jamaica, he found 
 affairs so mismanaged, by an unprincipled 
 agent, and such tyranny and cruelty exer- 
 cised upon the unhappy negroes, that his 
 whole being recoiled at the idea of owing 
 his wealth to such misery; and, discharging 
 the agent, he took the entire management 
 of the property into his own hands, till he 
 should meet with some one more worthy of 
 the trust than the infamous Mr. Atken. 
 
 In a little while, however, he became so 
 deeply interested in this new employment, that 
 he determined to make the Falls his home, 
 and devoting himself to the improvement of 
 his estate, and the well-being of his slaves, 
 — for such they then were, — return no more 
 
 VOL. L c
 
 18 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 to England, that land of his buried affec- 
 tions. 
 
 His little girl he kept with him till she 
 reached the age of twelve ; when he thought 
 it no longer right to indulge himself with 
 a pleasure that would interfere with her own 
 improvement, and the acquirement of such 
 accomplishments as are considered indis- 
 pensable to a joung lady's education ; and 
 he sent her to one of those rarest of phe- 
 nomena, a really excellent school. There 
 she had remained till the commencement of 
 this storj, being then about nineteen.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 19 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Has the messenger returned with any 
 letters from England, my dear V inquired 
 Mr. Lindsay of his daughter, one morning, as 
 he entered her room, upon his return from 
 an early ride. It was the day after the 
 mail was due at Kingston, which town was 
 about three hours' ride from the Falls. 
 
 " Yes, papa, here is one for you — I wish 
 that I had some correspondent in England. 
 It is terribly dull work, always opening the 
 
 c2
 
 20 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 bag, and never finding anything for myself. 
 I wish I had some cousins or friends ! I 
 think I shall take up grand-mamma, and 
 write to her, for the mere sake of seeing 
 my name upon a letter in return, for I am 
 afraid she has not much to tell me that 
 would interest me." 
 
 So she ran on, not observing the change 
 which came over her father's countenance 
 as he read the letter which she had handed 
 to him. 
 
 At length his silence attracted her atten- 
 tion, and she looked up from her drawing. 
 Mr. Lindsay was leaning back in his chair, 
 the open letter in his hand, which had 
 fallen by his side, his eyes fixed upon the 
 opposite wall with an expression of blank 
 dismay. 
 
 " Papa '.—What is the matter V Adelaide
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAT. 21 
 
 cried, as letting the pencil fall from her 
 hand, she started from her seat, and ap- 
 proached him. 
 
 " Mj dear child, as yet I have had no 
 opportunity of seeing how you can bear 
 misfortune. I have endeavoured to shield 
 my Adelaide from every discomfort — from 
 even the slightest annoyance. I hope that, 
 perhaps, my too anxious care, my too fond 
 indulgence, will not so far have enervated 
 my daughter's character, as to unfit her for 
 .enduring reverses." 
 
 " Dearest papa, what can be the matter ? 
 Do not be afraid to tell me. Indeed, I 
 think you will not find any cause to regret 
 your exceeding kindness." 
 
 " You know, Adelaide, that the savings 
 I have been able to lay by, is all, that at 
 my death, you will have to depend upon ;
 
 22 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 this estate being entailed, and reverting to 
 a distant connexion. I had, mj dear child, 
 •with economy and great exertion, laid by 
 a considerable sum ; and, if Hfe were spared 
 to me, hoped every year to have added to 
 it, that at my death my friendless girl should 
 at least find herself in possession of a com- 
 fortable independence. This letter is to 
 tell me, that the bank in which I had placed 
 my savings from year to year, has failed ; 
 and that the firm scarcely expect to pay two 
 or three shillings in the pound — reducing 
 your fortune, my love, from thousands to a 
 few hundreds.'' 
 
 "Oh! papa, is that all? How you 
 frightened me! My imagination, as you 
 spoke, was conjuring up all imaginable 
 horrors, and I fancied you wandering forth 
 like Belisarius, stafi* in hand, with a
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 23 
 
 daughter, instead of a boj, to support 
 your tottering steps — and it only turns 
 out that I shall not be so rich as your 
 generous kindness intended. My own dear 
 father ! You will liye a great many, many 
 years yet ; will you not V the tears starting 
 to her eyes. " You do not mean to leave 
 your little Adelaide just yet!'' — throwing 
 her arms about his neck, " ' Sufficient unto 
 the day is the evil thereof;' and so, my 
 dearest father, do not vex yourself about this 
 money. Think you never had it — that is 
 my own peculiar receipt for bearing losses, 
 and it is a very good one, I assure you." 
 
 " Ah, my love ! I delight to see such a 
 hopeful, unrepining temper, such wholesome, 
 cheerful spirits. May you ever retain 
 them ! for such a disposition is the only 
 one that can enable us to pass content
 
 24 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 and happily througli' this world of reverses 
 and disappointments/' 
 
 It was indeed true. All the hard-earned 
 
 savings of so many years' self-denial gone, 
 
 almost entirely ! — Mr. Lindsay felt that, 
 
 should he be speedily summoned from this 
 
 world, his daughter would be left with but 
 
 a few hundred pounds which she could 
 
 call her own. Of the next heir to the 
 
 estate he knew nothing personally. They 
 
 had never even met, and their very names 
 
 were different ; for the father of Mr. 
 
 Harrison had changed the family name 
 
 for a small property which his extravagance 
 
 had soon run through. Mr. Lindsay had 
 
 heard him, however, described as a hard, 
 
 worldly man, and he knew him to be the 
 
 father of a large family; and in his 
 
 impoverished circumstances there was no
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 25 
 
 likelihood of his feeliDg inclined to assist 
 Adelaide in any wav. Besides, his whole 
 soul revolted at the idea of his lovely, his 
 accomplished, high-spirited child becoming 
 an object of charity to a perfect stranger, 
 should Mr. Harrison prove, after all, more 
 generously inclined than he had any reason 
 for supposing probable. 
 
 As for Adelaide herself, the loss of her 
 fortune did not cause her one moment's 
 uneasiness. Young people, in general, 
 either from thoughtlessness, or that buoy- 
 ancy of spirit peculiar to their age, seldom 
 trouble themselves about " money matters." 
 They feel so much reliance upon their 
 parents that they never fear actual want ; 
 and to do without this or that luxury 
 seems, to the cheerful and wholesome- 
 minded, but a trifling hardship. They
 
 26 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 haye none of tlie anxious looking forward 
 to increasing difficulties, the harassing 
 anxiety how to provide for even present 
 emergencies, which is so wearing to those 
 who have to bear all the responsibility, 
 and to provide for all the wants of those 
 dependent on them. 
 
 To see her father looking careworn and 
 unhappy grieved Adelaide, indeed, to the 
 heart, and made her feel more regret for 
 the losses which he had incurred than 
 any considerations for her own future 
 welfare. At such times, she would employ 
 every means to cheer him again, and her 
 gay sallies and affectionate caresses gene- 
 rally produced the desired effect, for that 
 depression must be deep indeed which 
 could resist the influence of her bright 
 and cheerful disposition.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 27 
 
 Mr. Lindsay, catching the happy infec- 
 tion, began to hope that all might still 
 tiim out well, and that if life were spared 
 to him yet a few years, he might, by 
 renewed exertion and increased economy, 
 lay the foundation of another little 
 fortune for his daughter, and leave her 
 at his death, if not rich, at least inde- 
 pendent. 
 
 So time passed for several months — Mr. 
 Lindsay, more occupied than ever in 
 attending to the cultivation of his estate, 
 and to the advantageous disposal of its 
 produce : Adelaide, busy and interested 
 in superintending, with Mr. Brown, the 
 execution of those benevolent plans, to 
 which her father had now less leisure to 
 attend, and perfectly adored by the negroes 
 on the property.
 
 28 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 In the earlj morning she would sallj 
 forth, accompanied bj old Mr. Brown, 
 to visit the schools, the sick, and the aged ; 
 her slight but erect figure arrayed in 
 white muslin, the dress par excellence 
 of the Tropics, and a large straw hat, 
 generally adorned with a tastefully-woven 
 wreath of natural flowers, the offering of 
 some negro girl. She was followed by a 
 young negress, her favourite attendant, 
 clothed in a simple garment of blue and 
 white-striped cotton, carrying in a basket 
 whatever might be necessary for the objects 
 of her young mistress's benevolence, 
 and also a large umbrella to shade that 
 mistress from the sun, should its rays have 
 become too powerful before their return to 
 the house. 
 
 The contrast of the three figures would
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 29 
 
 have made a pretty picture as thej walked 
 through the pleasure grounds, gorgeous with 
 flowers, and rich in the varied forms of 
 tropical vegetation ; or through the tall 
 canes, or the rich green of the fragrant 
 coffee plantations. 
 
 Mr. Brown, a man of fervent piety and 
 most accomplished mind, would, on these 
 occasions, spare no pains, by his enlightened 
 conversation and admirable precepts, to 
 cultivate and strengthen the mind and 
 character of his companion ; nor were his 
 efforts thrown away, for Adelaide's intelli- 
 gence responded most encouragingly to his 
 instructions, and to him were confided all 
 the thoughts and aspirations of her young, 
 ardent, and inexperienced mind. 
 
 So time, as has been said, passed on. 
 The estate grew more and more productive,
 
 30 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 thanks to Mr. Lindsay's unwearied in- 
 dustry ; and he had sent the first fresh 
 remittance, the foundation stone, as he 
 fondly hoped, of Adelaide's second fortune 
 to England, when an unexpected event 
 changed the whole face of affairs — a few 
 fatal hours and all was ruin and desolation,, 
 in place of luxuriance and prosperity.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It was the month of August, the weather 
 had been more sultry and oppressive, even 
 than was usual at this period of the year, 
 after the close of the rainy season. Not a 
 breath of wind had stirred for the last 
 week, and it was almost impossible to leave 
 the shelter of the house. 
 
 " The glass is sinking surprisingly. 
 Brown,'' observed Mr. Lindsay to his friend, 
 very early one morning, after consulting
 
 32 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 the barometer at the window. "I have 
 never remarked so sudden a depression 
 since I came to the Island. Heaven grant 
 that we hear of no hurricanes, and that 
 my last exports will reach England in 
 safety, for the vessel sailed this morning !" 
 
 Mr. Brown looked alarmed, and still 
 more so when he had himself examined the 
 glass. 
 
 "Mj dear friend,'' he said, "give up 
 jour journey to Kingston. Should any 
 sudden change take place in the weather, 
 imagine your daughter's anxiety, to say 
 nothing of my own." 
 
 " Impossible, Brown ! I cannot in con- 
 science neglect attending this meeting, 
 whose decision must affect the welfare of 
 so many. I should never forgive myself 
 were our friends to miscarry; and not a
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 33 
 
 TOte can be spared, for the opposite party 
 muster strong. I shall leave Kingston on 
 mj return, about five o'clock this evening, 
 if I can get through the business in time, 
 and hope to see you again early to-morrow 
 morning. Say nothing to Adelaide about 
 the barometer ; it would only alarm her ; 
 and should any change take place in the 
 weather, there is not much greater danger 
 on the road than anywhere else." 
 
 The horses were now brought round ; 
 Adelaide came down stairs to take leave 
 of her father ; he mounted, and, accom- 
 panied by two of his negroes, set forward 
 on his journey. 
 
 Mr. Brown made no remark to Adelaide 
 upon the state of the barometer, as Mr. 
 Lindsay had desired ; and though he could 
 not overcome his own apprehensions, did 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 not allow a hint of them to transpire. He 
 knew it would have been useless to have 
 urged any considerations of his own safety 
 upon his friend, which would have interfered 
 with the discharge of any important duty ; 
 and yet he could not help reproaching him- 
 self for having allowed him to depart 
 without another attempt to prevent him. 
 He felt restless and dissatisfied the whole 
 day, and was continually walking into the 
 verandah and looking at the sky. 
 
 "What do you expect to see, or what 
 do you think is going to happen ? ^' asked 
 Adelaide at last, when he had left his seat 
 in the parlour for the purpose, perhaps, for 
 the twentieth time. 
 
 " Oh, nothing !'^ he said, evasively. 
 
 She went to him. He was holding up 
 his handkerchief, as one does when one
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 35 
 
 wishes to find out from what quarter the 
 wind is blowing. 
 
 Suddenly it was torn from his grasp, as 
 if by the hand of a giant, and whirled aloft 
 in the air. 
 
 Mr. Brown seized Adelaide by the wrist, 
 dragged her into the house, and closed all 
 the windows with frantic haste. 
 
 The hurricane was upon them I 
 
 Adelaide and Mr. Brown remained in a 
 frightful state of anxiety ; they calculated 
 that Mr. Lindsay would, probably, have 
 left Kingston before the commencement of 
 the hurricane, and would, most likely, be 
 ascending the Mountain at the time when 
 it reached the fury with which it was now 
 raging. The road was extremely dangerous ; 
 
 D 2
 
 36 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 at some places passing through steep and 
 narrow gorges, overhung with rocks, which 
 the first blast of wind threatened to send 
 crashing down into the glen below ; at 
 others, winding along the face of a huge 
 cliff, or crossing the precipice by means 
 of a slight aerial bridge ; and now creeping 
 through dense groves of huge timber trees, 
 so many missiles in the arms of the demons 
 of the air, which seemed, to Adelaide's 
 terrified imagination, to be howling and 
 shrieking around, as the blast rose higher 
 and higher ; or wailing with dismal lamenta- 
 tions, as it sank for a moment to a hoarse 
 whisper. The rain meanwhile descended in 
 absolute cataracts, and the terrific peals of 
 thunder rent the heavens, which appeared, 
 at every fresh explosion, to become a sheet 
 of flashing fire — so vivid was the lightning,
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 37 
 
 SO glaring and extended its effect. Every 
 fresh burst of the hurricane threatened to 
 blow the house, not down, but to every 
 quarter of the heavens ; but it was happily 
 well built for resisting these tropical storms, 
 and bent and yielded like a bamboo to the 
 tempest. The two anxious watchers had 
 taken refuge in a room upon the ground 
 floor, surrounded by the panic-stricken 
 household, who added to the horrors of the 
 night by their outcries and dismal prognos- 
 tications. 
 
 About three o'clock in the morning, the 
 hurricane began to abate ; but still no 
 tidings of Mr. Lindsay. The mind gets 
 wearied with anxiety, and the watchers 
 began to hope that after all, he might not 
 have left Kingston, but had judged it more 
 prudent to remain the night there ; or that
 
 BB ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 he, and his attendants, had found some 
 shelter, where thej might wait in safety 
 till the storm had subsided. 
 
 At five o'clock the hurricane was entirely 
 spent. The sky looked as calm and placid 
 as if nothing had happened. What a 
 contrast to the earth ! — to the scene which 
 met Adelaide's sight as she opened the 
 jalousies, and looked from her window. As 
 far as she could see, almost everything was 
 level with the ground. Nothing but the 
 bamboos and a few of the largest timber 
 trees remained standing : lawn and soil 
 were washed undistinguishably together by 
 the torrents of rain. All the bright flowers, 
 all the luxuriant vegetation, which had de- 
 lighted the eye but a few hours before, 
 vanished as if it had never been. 
 
 Here and there groups of negroes were
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 39 
 
 assembled, uttering dismal cries as they 
 looked upon the surrounding devastation. 
 Thej came crowding round the verandah 
 when they perceived Adelaide upon her 
 balcony, loudly and incoherently recounting 
 the escapes and horrors of the night. Few 
 lives had been lost ; for the negro, upon 
 the first approach of a hurricane, rushes 
 from his hut, throws himself prostrate upon 
 the ground, and remains thus till the 
 tempest is over. Dismal were their la- 
 mentations when they learned from Ade- 
 laide's anxious inquiries, that "the massa" 
 had not returned, and they hurried ofi" in 
 troops along the road by which he was 
 expected. 
 
 Mr. Brown would not hear of Adelaide's 
 accompanying them ; for he knew that she 
 could be of no use, and was oppressed by
 
 40 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 a melancholy presentiment, which he found 
 it impossible to shake off, and dreaded 
 that some sight of horror might meet 
 her eye. It was with great difficulty 
 that he succeeded in prevailing upon 
 her to remain at home, by representing 
 to her how much more usefully she 
 might be employed in preparing a com- 
 fortable breakfast for their return, &c., &c., 
 charges which, if left to the women, in 
 their present state of disturbance and 
 excitement, would run every chance of 
 being neglected. 
 
 To have something to do for her father 
 satisfied the daughter's heart, for how un- 
 bearable is inaction in moments such as 
 these ! Mr. Brown himself, started in search 
 of his friend, accompanied by a band of 
 chosen men.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 41 
 
 Two more long hours of weary suspense, 
 and then was heard the tramp of many 
 feet approaching the house. 
 
 " They are coming back ! they are 
 coming back!" cried Zarah, whom her 
 mistress had placed on the watch to give 
 her the first intelligence of their return. 
 
 At this exclamation, Adelaide rushed 
 from the house to meet the group which 
 was slowly advancing. Mr. Brown came 
 hastily towards her, and in answer to her 
 eager and breathless inquiries, bade her " not 
 to be alarmed — her father had met with a 
 serious accident, but — " 
 
 She would hear no more — " Where was 
 he ? where was he V 
 
 In vain Mr. Brown attempted to detain 
 her ; she pushed her way through the 
 crowd, and there, in the midst, stretched
 
 42 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 upon a litter hastily constructed of green 
 branches, lay the form of her father. 
 
 At her cry of anguish the bearers 
 stopped ; her father recognized her voice, 
 and languidly opening his eyes, gave her 
 one of his own sweet smiles, and then 
 closed them again. Adelaide, after the 
 first shock, immediately recovered her pre- 
 sence of mind, and in a low, but firm voice, 
 bade the negroes proceed to the house ; she 
 followed, supported by Mr. Brown, and they 
 were soon within the hall. 
 
 Mr. Lindsay, almost unconscious through 
 excess of pain, though he uttered not a 
 groan, was borne up stairs to his own room; 
 and when they had undressed and laid him 
 on his bed, Adelaide began anxiously to 
 inquire of Mr. Brown how the accident had 
 occurred 1 — Whether medical aid had been
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. '43 
 
 sent for 1 — At last, in a Yoice so low and 
 hoarse that it was with difficulty her 
 question could be heard — whether he would 
 die'? 
 
 Mr. Brown told her that a messenger 
 had been already dispatched for Dr. C. 
 That they had discovered her father about 
 eight miles from the Falls, lying upon the 
 ground perfectly insensible, the surviving 
 negro watching by his side, for the other 
 had been killed, and the body was lying in 
 the hollow beneath. 
 
 It appeared, from Caleb's account, that 
 they had set out upon their return home 
 some time before the commencement of the 
 hurricane ; that Mr. Lindsay insisted upon 
 continuing his journey, in spite of the 
 darkness and increasing tempest, for fear of 
 alarming his daughter, and believing that
 
 44 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 the J were much nearer home than they 
 really were. Indeed, there being no shelter 
 at hand, to stop would have been of little 
 use. The horses, in the meanwhile, became 
 very much terrified, and whilst passing 
 through a ravine a flash of lightning, more 
 vivid than any of the former, for an instant 
 lighted up the whole scene ; it was suc- 
 ceeded by darkness which, from the con- 
 trast, seemed more than ever appalling, 
 whilst the thunder split and cracked over 
 their heads "as if," as Caleb said, "the 
 whole world was coming to pieces." 
 
 His horse now became so unruly, that 
 his whole attention was engaged in endea- 
 vouring to manage it, and he at length suc- 
 ceeded in dismounting, and in holding the 
 animal quiet by the bridle. 
 
 He was surprised at hearing no sound
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 45 
 
 from his companions, though he repeatedly 
 called to them, and supposed that they 
 must have gallopped on, till the darkness 
 beginning to disperse, he was able to dis- 
 cern the dim outlines of the objects around 
 him. 
 
 What was his horror at seeing Mr. Lind- 
 say lying apparently lifeless under the dead 
 body of his horse, which had fallen back- 
 ward over him ; and Carlos, stretched on his 
 face, a little farther on, his horse no where 
 to be seen ! 
 
 Caleb's first care was to extricate his 
 master from the burthen which oppressed 
 him, and he found, to his delight, that he 
 still breathed. Carlos was quite dead ; he 
 had evidently been thrown from his horse, 
 and killed on the spot, for his neck was 
 broken. Mr. Lindsay's horse, Mr. Brown
 
 46 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 proceeded to saj, had been struck bj 
 lightning; whether his friend had been 
 injured bj the same cause, or merely by 
 his fall, and the weight of the animal which 
 had fallen upon him, it was impossible for him 
 to saj, but he had evidentlj received some 
 serious internal injury, and his left thigh 
 was fractured. He, however, bade poor 
 Adelaide not to despair, though he thought 
 it unwise to encourage her hopes too much, 
 apprehending as he did the most melan- 
 choly consequences. 
 
 At length Dr. — — arrived. Adelaide 
 was sent from the room, and after having 
 examined the injuries sustained, he told Mr. 
 Brown that the case was hopeless, nothing 
 could be done, but that the sufferer would 
 probably return to consciousness, before his 
 release. So saying, the doctor took his
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 47 
 
 leave ; and Mr. Brown must prepare the 
 daughter for the worst. 
 
 He had not long to wait. There was a 
 gentle tap at the door, and, " May I come 
 inr^ 
 
 " Yes, mj dear," in a grave and solemn 
 voice. 
 
 She entered, looking very pale. One 
 penetrating glance at Mr. Brown. He was 
 saved the painful preparation he had so 
 much dreaded. She divined the truth in 
 an instant, and sank into a chair, her face 
 buried in her hands, whilst the tears forced 
 their way through her fingers, and her bosom 
 heaved with the sobs she endeavoured in 
 vain to suppress. 
 
 Mr. Brown went up to her. " My dear 
 Adelaide will, I know, endeavour to bear 
 with fortitude whatever trial her Heavenly
 
 48 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Father may think fit to send. It is true, 
 my love, you have divined the truth. 
 Your beloved father will speedily inherit 
 the reward of his righteous and pious life. 
 Remember, dear child, his gain far, far 
 outweighs even your loss.'^ 
 
 After a little pause, he continued, 
 
 " Dr. encourages us to hope that 
 
 he will recover his consciousness, and re- 
 cognise his Adelaide, before he leaves her 
 for — but a little while ! " 
 
 At these words, her tears fell faster than 
 ever, but more softly, less agonized. She 
 lifted up her head, and gave Mr. Brown a 
 faint and grateful smile, — speak, she could 
 not. 
 
 Thus they remained, till they were 
 aroused by a faint low voice from the bed, 
 inquiring for Adelaide.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 49 
 
 In a moment slie was in her father's 
 arms. 
 
 "Mj child, be strong!" said the dying 
 man, " I must leave you ! " 
 
 " Ah, papa, my own papa ! I know it, I 
 know it !" The tears rained from her eyes, 
 as she buried her face in her father's 
 breast. 
 
 They were silent a little ; and then Mr. 
 Lindsay, with the most tender and impres- 
 sive earnestness, exhorted his daughter to 
 bear his loss with that perfect resignation, 
 which is every Christian's duty ; the carry- 
 ing out of those principles which we all 
 profess to believe, and to trust in Him who 
 is the Father of the fatherless. 
 
 His voice now grew very weak, and he 
 desired that she would leave the room for 
 a short time, as he wished to speak a few 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 words in priyate to Mr. Brown. When she 
 was gone, he took that kind and faithful 
 friend bj the hand, and in the most affect- 
 ing terms, recommended his daughter to 
 his care. 
 
 " For she has no friends, Brown,'^ he said. 
 " Perhaps I did foolishly in losing sight so 
 completely of all mj family connexions ; but 
 I never contemplated this sudden end to 
 life and fortune, for I suppose everything 
 was destroyed last night, and you will not 
 be able to realise anything from the sale of 
 the machinery and stores." 
 
 " It was too true,'' Mr. Brown replied. 
 " Everything had been swept away.'' 
 
 " My last remittances to England, added 
 to the trifle rescued from the bankruptcy, 
 will afford Adelaide an income of barely 
 fifty pound ! I do not hope — I have no
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. M 
 
 reason to expect — that Mr. Harrison will 
 do anything for her: jou must write, my 
 good friend, to my wife's step-mother, and 
 tell her what has happened. She will take 
 charge of Adelaide ; but she is far from rich 
 herself, and I fear my poor child will be a 
 burthen to her J' 
 
 He could say no more; his strength was 
 -^apidly failing. Adelaide was quickly sum- 
 moned to his bed-side. 
 
 At sunset she was an orphan! 
 
 We will not linger upon her suffering. 
 Only those who have experienced it can 
 miderstand the grief of losing the nearest 
 and dearest. When the mourner feels the 
 strength of life itself withdrawn — mind and 
 body prostrate to the ground; oneself too 
 heavy, too weary, as it were, even for that 
 ground to support. The sinking to sleep, 
 
 E 2
 
 52 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 exhausted with excess of sorrow ; the awak- 
 ening in the morning with a dim percep- 
 tion that something has happened; till con- 
 sciousness quite returned, one lives to weep 
 again ! 
 
 But even in times like these, there is 
 mingled a holj and soothing consolation. 
 The mourner feels brought within the con- 
 fines of the spiritual world, and as if he 
 were more immediately the object of his 
 Saviour's tender care. The things of this 
 life show themselves the unrealities thej are. 
 Of how little importance appear all its 
 interests, joys and sorrows, now that we 
 have caught a glimpse of eternity through 
 the portals which have opened to receive 
 our beloved one !
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 53 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Mr. Brown wrote immediatelj to inform 
 Mr. Harrison, the heir to The Falls, and 
 Mrs. Melton, Adelaide's grandmother, of the 
 fatal event which would bring an inheritance 
 to the one, a daughter to the other. The 
 next mail brought Mr. Harrison in person, 
 to take charge of his property, and a letter 
 from Mrs. Melton, to the effect that she 
 wished that her grand-daughter should come 
 to her as soon as possible.
 
 54 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Mr. Brown only awaited the answer to 
 his two letters to commence arrangements 
 for leaving Jamaica, as he was anxious to 
 remove Adelaide from the scenes of her 
 former happiness; scenes which could only 
 keep alive regret. 
 
 Four months had now elapsed since Mr. 
 Lindsay's death : the spring of life was be- 
 ginning to recover its elasticity ; that elas- 
 ticity which, in a healthy and youthful mind, 
 time ever restores, — time, " the enemy,'' as 
 some call it. Is it not rather our greatest 
 friend? 
 
 Adelaide was as desirous as Mr. Brown 
 to set off on the voyage to England, though 
 at the same time half dreading what might 
 be the future awaiting her there. Of Mrs. 
 Melton she knew very little ; she had been in 
 the habit of writing a formal letter to her
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. S^^ 
 
 from school every quarter, and of receiving 
 a periodical answer. But what could she 
 know of her character from communications 
 such as these 1 The old lady's letters to 
 Mr. Lindsay in general contained little but 
 thanks for West Indian preserves, curiosities, 
 or anything of the kind, — presents which he 
 was constantly sending home to her, as 
 marks of attention to his late wife's only 
 remaining relations ; as he had told Mr. 
 Brown, there were none of his own alive. 
 
 The next packet for England sailed in a 
 week. Mr. Brown and Adelaide embarked, 
 and, in due time, set foot on their native 
 land. Writing to give Mrs. Melton notice 
 of their arrival, they waited in town a day 
 before they continued their journey, that 
 the old lady might not be taken by sur- 
 prise.
 
 56 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Mrs. Melton lived in a small county town, 
 about seventy miles from London, and here 
 our travellers arrived the day after the 
 despatch of their letter. 
 
 How anxiously did Adelaide reconnoitre 
 the scene of her future life, and how dull 
 and monotonous did it appear to eyes 
 accustomed to all the beauty of the 
 tropics ! 
 
 The town of G consisted of a wide, 
 
 substantially built High Street, with very 
 good shops; "where you really may get 
 anything you want," as all the neighbour- 
 hood said. It possessed besides a rather 
 dingy, shabby-looking town-hall and a hand- 
 some church ; but even this was lately built ; 
 not a particle to charm the imagination even 
 here. The rest of the town consisted of a 
 few branch streets, right and left, and be-
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 57 
 
 jond it were a few comfortable houses, 
 each standing in its pretty garden. 
 
 Poor Adelaide ! How did she hope that 
 the driver would stop at one of these, as 
 
 thej approached G ; but no, he droYe 
 
 pitilessly on to nearly the end of the High 
 Street; then took a turning to the left, and 
 stopped before a small two-storied, red- 
 brick house. There was not a bush, not 
 even a bit of grass before it, for the door 
 opened immediately upon the street ; there 
 were drab-coloured moreen curtains, and 
 ttle green Venetian blinds to the windows. 
 
 The rain, which had been falling gently 
 all day, with that peculiarly depressing 
 effect upon the spirits, now turned into 
 a downright pour, and Adelaide, who had 
 had time to make all these observations 
 whilst they were waiting to be admitted,
 
 58 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 could hardlj maintain her cheerfulnes s, so 
 dull, so very dull did it all appear. 
 
 The door was opened by a tidy-looking, 
 middle-aged woman. She looked very much 
 pleased to see them, and ushered them 
 into the parlour. This parlour looked much 
 more pleasant than Adelaide had expected. 
 There was a bright fire in the well-swept 
 grate, a comfortable tea set out upon the 
 snow-white cloth on a round table in the 
 centre of the room, and though the furni- 
 ture was made in the angular and emaciated 
 form of sixty or seventy years ago, it looked 
 so clean and neat that it was impossible to 
 be displeased with it. 
 
 In an arm-chair by the fire-side sat old 
 Mrs. Melton. She was dressed in black, 
 and under her old-fashioned widow's cap 
 were ranged the stifi" curls of her artificial
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 59 
 
 '^ front" as the thing is called. Her com- 
 plexion was florid, and her whole "ex- 
 pression good-humoured, but perfectly 
 common-place. She received Adelaide 
 most affectionately, repeatedly kissing 
 her. 
 
 " My dear child 1 — And so here you are 
 at last !" she said» " Well, to be sure ! — I 
 did not think I should ever see you ; so far 
 away as you were in the West Indies, and I 
 so old ; — for I am getting old, my dear, — I 
 don't feel so young as I did, though I en- 
 joyed life as much as any when I was your 
 age. However, I am thankful to say I can 
 see, and hear, and talk, very well still. — 
 Reach me my spectacles, my dear. — Now 
 let me look at you and see who you are 
 like.'' 
 
 Here the old lady put on her spectacles,
 
 60 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 and examined Adelaide very carefully, and 
 then continued : — 
 
 "How like you are to your poor dear 
 mother ! — The very image ! — I don't know, 
 though — I think you are most like your 
 poor dear father. Don't you think so, Mr. 
 Brown 1 — Ah ! well, to be sure ! — Poor 
 thing !" as the tears gathered in Adelaide's 
 eyes, " How silly I am to talk about them ! 
 — Never mind, my dear, don't think any 
 more about it ; — never mind, dear ! — I 
 daresay you are both very tired and 
 hungry, and all that. May T trouble you 
 to ring, sir V — to Mr. Brown. " Now, 
 Sarah," as the servant came in, "make 
 haste ! and let us have the kettle directly. 
 But first, my dear, perhaps you would like 
 to take ofi* your bonnet and shawl. — Sarahs 
 show Miss Lindsay her room. — I am so
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 61 
 
 sorry, Mr. Brown, that I cannot offer jou a 
 bed, but mj house is so small. — But there is 
 a comfortable Inn in the town, and the beds 
 well aired." 
 
 Mr. Brown begged the garrulous old lady 
 to make no apologies ; and said that he 
 would walk out now and engage a room, 
 and be back by the time the tea was made, 
 which Mrs. Melton begged he would take 
 with her. 
 
 Sarah, in the meanwhile, showed Ade- 
 laide to her room, and as soon as she had 
 left her again, our young lady took off her 
 bonnet and shawl, and made a tour of in- 
 spection round her new domain. It was 
 very small ; and contained a little tent-bed, 
 hung with white dimity, and window-cur- 
 tains to match ; a square of red and green 
 carpet was spread in the centre of the floor;
 
 62 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 the chairs, chest of drawers, etcetera, were 
 of stained wood, all neat and clean, but of 
 the most ordinary description. 
 
 Adelaide threw herself upon a chair, 
 tired, and out of spirits, and her thoughts 
 wandered back to the Falls. How different 
 was this little room to her charming apart- 
 ment at her last dear home ! The contrast 
 she could not but feel. — Despondency, how- 
 ever, was a failing to which her wholesome 
 and lively nature never long remained a 
 prey. She raised her eyes from the floor, 
 and they rested upon a little hanging book- 
 shelf over the chest of drawers, destitute of 
 books, it is true, but this little trifle gave her 
 pleasure ; and she immediately began imagin- 
 ing how well her own small but well se- 
 lected library would look in it. Then, she 
 thought, she would have flowers in the win-
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 63 
 
 doxv, and her toilet table should be robed in 
 wMte muslin ; it would not be so very ugly 
 after all. 
 
 "Whilst in the midst of such castle- 
 building, Sarah returned to tell her that 
 tea was ready, and rising, she followed 
 her down-stairs. Mr. Brown had returned, 
 and the little party sat down to that 
 greatest of luxuries after a long day's 
 journey. 
 
 Old Mrs. Melton chatted away. She was 
 one of those people who seem to loye talking 
 for the sake of the mere exercise it gives to 
 the tongue ; and to consider silence a high 
 crime and misdemeanor against the rights 
 of society ; so she told them about her 
 neighbours, and where were the best shops, 
 ajid that Miss Sharp, the principal grocer's 
 daughter, was to be married to the apothe-
 
 64 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 carj ; but that she did not believe it for her 
 part : " Those girls were always going to be 
 married! — Oh, by the way, Mr. Brown, do 
 you remember her poor mother's," nodding 
 at Adelaide, "great friend, Mrs. Wil- 
 longhby r 
 
 " Perfectly," replied he. " What has 
 become of her ? Her children must 
 be growing up now. She was married, 
 if I remember, some years before her 
 friend." 
 
 " Just four years, though so much younger! 
 I remember, as if it was yesterday, think- 
 ing Eleanor never would go off, because, 
 you know, all her friends married first — and 
 I used to talk to her quite seriously about 
 it — quite seriously! But she always stop- 
 ped me, and said, — ' Dear madam, do not 
 trouble yourself! If it is to happen some
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 65 
 
 daj, it will be quite soon enough when it 
 comes ; and if not, are jou in such a great 
 hurry to get rid of me? — so what more 
 could I saj ? — And jou see she was quite 
 right, for it did come at last. — But I was 
 telling JOU about Sophia Willoughbj. — 
 Well, Mr. Willoughbj has got on wonder- 
 fullj ! He has the most flourishing bank in 
 
 D , and lives in great stjle. As for 
 
 children, thej are not wanting ; though the j 
 came so late, everjbodj thought there 
 would not be anj. I do not remember 
 how manj there are, and it does not 
 signifj, for there is plentj for all. I 
 have never seen anj of them, but I am 
 sure, at least I should not be surprised, 
 if Mrs. Willoughbj were to ask jou, 
 Adelaide, down to Burj Hill, when 
 she knows that jou have arrived in the 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 country. — I am sure she can't have for- 
 gotten jour poor mother.'^ 
 
 " Oh, dear grandmama ! really I shall 
 be quite happy with you , I do not want 
 to make any visits," exclaimed Adelaide, 
 already alarmed at the idea of a large 
 house, full of strangers, and she to have 
 to make her entree among them quite 
 alone. 
 
 " Now, Adelaide, my dear, don't be so 
 foolish ; it will be a great advantage to you 
 to go a little into society, — now won't it, 
 Mr. Brown V said Mrs. Melton, appealing 
 to that gentleman. 
 
 " I do not think we need trouble ourselves 
 much about this matter just yet," answered 
 he smiling ; " time enough when the invita- 
 tion arrives. But, Adelaide, you need not 
 be afraid of Mrs. Willoughby, who is a
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. ^7 
 
 very kind and goodnatured person, at 
 least she was so as a young woman ; 
 ■and as your mother's great friend, I 
 think it is an acquaintance you should by 
 no means neglect to form, should the 
 opportunity offer." 
 
 " That is just what I have been saying all 
 this time !" interrupted Mrs. Melton. " So 
 foolish, my dear child! to neglect to cul- 
 tivate such an advantageous acquaintance. 
 And who knows what it may lead to"? for 
 they see a great deal of company no doubt, 
 and, " 
 
 " Well, madam, I must say good night 
 now, it is getting late," said Mr. Brown, 
 looking at his watch and rising, — " I shall 
 see you again to-morrow before I go, Ade- 
 laide," and he left the room. 
 
 Mrs. Melton always went to bed at half- 
 
 E 2
 
 68 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 past eight, Sarah coming to summon her 
 punctually at that hour. Adelaide, wearied 
 with her long day's journey, was not sorry 
 to follow her example : and thus ended her 
 second day in England.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 69 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Brown came to 
 take leave of Adelaide. It was rather a 
 melancholy parting on both sides, for he 
 loved her as a daughter, while on her side 
 she felt she was losing for the time her only 
 friend; and life in a strange country, and 
 amongst stangers, looked anything but in- 
 viting. 
 
 Mr. Brown resumed the subject of the 
 invitation to Bury Hill.
 
 W'' ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 "If Mrs. Willouglibj should invite 
 jou I would advise jou, bj all means, 
 my dear child, to go. You have, I 
 might almost saj, not an acquaintance 
 in this country ; and to make acquaint- 
 ance with the family of an old and 
 valued friend of your mother's, would be 
 an advantage, and also, I am persuaded, 
 a subject of happiness to you, which 
 I would not have you on any account 
 neglect." 
 
 " Indeed, dear Mr. Brown," replied Ade- 
 laide, " I will do whatever you think best : 
 but to face a whole houseful of strangers, 
 quite, quite alone, is so very awful an idea ! 
 If you could go with me, it would be so 
 different ! I am so entirely ignorant, I feel 
 so perfectly inexperienced, in all the ways 
 of what is called society, that I am quite
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 71 
 
 afraid, beforeliand, of all the mistakes I 
 may make/' 
 
 "Confide in your own good sense and 
 riglit feeling, mj dear, and I will answer 
 for your avoiding any very terrible mistakes. 
 However, this much discussed invitation 
 may never arrive after all, in which case 
 you will continue to live on quietly with 
 your grandmother." 
 
 " But, Mr. Brown, I do not think it will 
 be right to live on quietly with my grand- 
 mother, who, after all, is only my step- 
 grandmother, and I feel that my claims 
 upon her are but small. My own little 
 income, were I to give it all up to her, 
 would barely remunerate her for the ex- 
 penses she must incur upon my account ; 
 and I must reserve some trifle, even for my 
 necessary clothing. I wish to be indepen-
 
 72 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 dent, I wish to gain mj own living. Will 
 jou inquire for some situation for me, as a 
 governess '? I am sure I could teach French, 
 German, and Italian ; music, you know, I 
 am rather a proficient at, and I have taken 
 great pains with my drawing." 
 
 " I cannot but admire your honest spirit, 
 my dear Adelaide ; but, I confess, I dread 
 your undertaking such a task. You little 
 know the mortification, the fatigue, the 
 harass, the exhaustion of mind, the thou- 
 sand annoyances, attendant upon the life 
 of a governess, to which you will subject 
 yourself." 
 
 "As for mortifications, my good, kind 
 Mr. Brown," answered Adelaide, " to me 
 nothing can be more mortifying than to 
 feel myself a burthen upon my friends ; as 
 for fatigue, if I dreaded that, I should little
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 73 
 
 deserve to be mj father's daughter ; for the 
 rest, I shall make up mind to meet with 
 various little unpleasantnesses, and endea- 
 vour not to make them worse, bj worrying 
 myself about them. I may be so fortunate 
 as to get into a family where I shall be 
 most kindly treated, — indeed, I will not 
 stay if I am not. There are plenty of kind 
 people in the world, as I know by expe- 
 rience,'' added she, smiling affectionately in 
 his face ; " therefore, pray assist me in my 
 search for a situation. I always longed for 
 something to do, and if I am so fortunate 
 as to engage myself in a nice, kind family, 
 with a set of engaging, teachable children 
 for my pupils, I shall be as happy as pos- 
 sible." 
 
 " Very well, I believe you are right — I 
 am sure you are right ; and I will make
 
 fi ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 every inquiry, and do all that is in my 
 power to assist you, of that you may be 
 very sure. But do not let us be in a hurry. 
 It is most desirable that, if go you will, and 
 go you must, you should at once settle into 
 a suitable family ; and I will not hear of 
 your accepting any situation, of which I 
 cannot obtain the most satisfactory ac- 
 counts, and where your talents will not be 
 well remunerated. You shall be subjected 
 to no trials, my dear, which it is possible 
 for the most diligent exertions and inquiry 
 to spare you ; and so, I repeat, — wait !" 
 
 " Thank you again, and again, my best 
 Mr. Brown, for all your kindness, if you 
 only knew how deeply I feel it ! — You need 
 not fear but that I will be guided by your 
 advice in this, as in all things ; and so I 
 will patiently wait ; only remember, that
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 75 
 
 the sooner I find employment, the sooner 
 I shall be happy. Have I not often heard 
 yourself say, that there is nothing so wear- 
 ing to the spirits, nothing so bad for the 
 disposition as idleness ?" 
 
 Mr. Brown shook his head, half smiling, 
 half sadly. He had flattered himself that 
 his much-loved Adelaide would have been 
 destined to a far different, and far more 
 voluntary expenditure of her time, than 
 now appeared probable. 
 
 The coach at this moment stopped at the 
 door, and he hurried away, desiring Ade- 
 laide to write to him repeatedly. 
 
 He had determined to return to Cam- 
 bridge, where he was in possession of a fel- 
 lowship, from which his small income was 
 mainly derived, there to spend the remainder 
 of his days, which his delicate and feeble
 
 76 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 frame seemed to presage would not be 
 manj. Were it not on Adelaide's account, 
 this foreboding would have been any thing 
 but a melancholy one, for with her exception, 
 there was nothing left for the solitary old 
 man to live for. Fifteen years had made 
 sad havock amongst his friends ; and at his 
 return from his long exile, he found him- 
 self almost as friendless as his orphan 
 charge. 
 
 It is difficult to describe the feeling of 
 loneliness which his departure occasioned to 
 Adelaide. The last tie which connected 
 her with her former existence appeared now 
 to be severed ; her life must be commenced 
 afresh. " I am too old to begin life again,^' 
 is a phrase one continually hears. The 
 young do not feel the impossibility less 
 acutely, though perhaps with not quite as
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 77 
 
 much reason. Certainly the materials in 
 Adelaide's hands were not yerj inviting to 
 the construction. 
 
 Mrs. Melton did not come down to the 
 little sitting-room till late in the morning, 
 as she always took her breakfast in bed ; 
 and Adelaide employed herself in the mean- 
 while by taking a survey of the means of 
 amusement or improvement which the par- 
 lour afforded. On a little table by the side 
 of her grandmother's arm-chair were laid 
 the old lady's Bible, her Prayer Book, and 
 the " Whole Duty of Man," bound in time- 
 worn calf. Adelaide could not help sus- 
 pecting that the outside of this venerable- 
 looking book had seen more service than 
 the pages within ; for these looked compa- 
 ratively fresh, nay, many of them even were 
 uncut. "The Whole Duty of Man" was
 
 78 ADELAIDE LINDSAY, 
 
 f ' 
 
 the standing dish of good Mrs. Melton's 
 piety, and Adelaide soon discovered that so 
 much sanctity did she suppose it to possess, 
 that she seemed perfectly satisfied with 
 having performed her " whole duty '' if it 
 remained upon her lap, as frequently closed 
 as open ; while with spectacles upon her nose 
 she would give orders to Sarah, chat with 
 visitors, coax her cat, or, in short, give her 
 attention to any trifle that might attract it. 
 There was upon this little polished dark 
 mahogany table, besides, Mrs. Melton's spec- 
 tacles, and her knitting, which consisted of 
 a coarse stocking. This stocking, as far as 
 Adelaide could perceive, always remained 
 in the same state of advance. There was 
 always some difficulty in turning the heel, 
 which Mrs. Melton never could surmount: 
 1 believe it would have made her quite un-
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 7^ 
 
 happj to have had it set right, such a 
 convenient subject of conversation did it 
 make whenever she was at a loss for an 
 idea. 
 
 From the work-table Adelaide turned to 
 the bookcase. It stood in- one corner of the 
 room as if in disgrace, and was not of very 
 capacious dimensions, nor were its contents 
 very inviting. There was a numerous col- 
 lection of " Court Journals " and " Lad/s 
 Magazines," all neatly bound ; several odd 
 volumes of Sermons, by authors unknown to 
 fame, which appeared to have been picked 
 up at different sales and old book stalls, 
 and intended like the articles in the famous 
 apothecary's shop, " to make up a show ;" 
 two or three volumes of " Old Plays ;" 
 sundry cookery books, next door to Dr. 
 some one's "Domestic Medicine," and a
 
 80 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 small book of poetry, bound in skj-blue and 
 gold, entitled "The Casket of Cabinet 
 Gems,'' and purporting to be written bj 
 " Fidelia/' Adelaide took down this gay 
 little volume, and opened it ; but finding its 
 merits were decidedly external, she replaced 
 it in the nook, which, to judge from the 
 dust which dimmed its gilt edges, it had 
 occupied for so many years undisturbed. 
 
 There was still, however, something in 
 store for our explorer. On the top shelf of 
 all were some of Miss Burney's pretty 
 novels, though, alas ! the second volume of 
 " Cecilia," and the fourth of " Camilla" were 
 missing ; and several numbers of the " Spec- 
 tator." 
 
 Adelaide still standing upon the chair 
 which she had mounted to reach the top of 
 the bookcase, was dipping into the first vo-
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 81 
 
 lume of " Camilla/' her back to the door, as 
 she read; when it opened, and Mrs. Melton 
 came in, accompanied by Sarah, who carried 
 the cat under one arm, and a chintz covered 
 cushion in the other, which she proceeded 
 to shake, and lay in a basket which stood 
 before the fire, for the domestic quadruped's 
 accommodation, when Mrs. Melton began 
 in a tone of alarm — 
 
 " Adelaide, my dear ! What can you be 
 about r' 
 
 Adelaide instantly descended from her 
 eminence ; but before she could give utter- 
 ance to her morning greeting, her grandmo- 
 ther went on — 
 
 " My dear, I am not nervous, am I Sa- 
 rah ? but really I must not have you climb 
 about upon the chairs — we never do so ! — 
 You will break your leg or your arm some 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 day. There was a shocking accident in the 
 paper last autumn. A little child, of four 
 years old, climbed into a pear-tree — a lad- 
 der had been left, or something, and this 
 poor dear child, it appears, got up, most 
 likely to get a pear — children, you know, 
 my dear, are so fond of fruit — and I sup- 
 pose the branch broke, for the poor thing 
 fell from an immense height to the ground 
 ' — immense for a child, you know — and its 
 thigh was fractured, and had to be impu- 
 tatedy I think they call it. Now, my dear, 
 pray take warning ! What could you want 
 upon that chair V 
 
 Adelaide explained that she had only 
 used it to enable her to reach a book. 
 
 " Surely, my dear, you are tall enough to 
 reach them without climbing upon a chair 1" 
 
 " Not the top shelf, grandmama.''
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 83 
 
 " I assure you there is nothing jou would 
 care to read on the top shelf. I had all the 
 rubbish put up there myself out of the way. 
 You will find all the useful and good books, 
 Adelaide, on the lower shelves, if you are 
 fond of reading." 
 
 Adelaide glanced with dismay at the 
 cookery books and " Domestic Medicine.'' 
 
 " But reading is a very idle amusement, 
 my love, in my opinion. Young people only 
 get notions into their heads, nonsense and 
 things — I always find that your readers 
 can't amuse themselves like other people; 
 and I always find they have very little 
 to say. They always seem as if they 
 were thinking of something else than 
 what is about them. Besides, what's the 
 use of trying to make oneself cleverer 
 than one's neighbours ? Only to make you 
 
 g2
 
 84 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 appear stupid to them, and tliej stupid to 
 jou, /think/' 
 
 And the old ladj settled herself in her 
 chair, put on her spectacles, and took the 
 " Whole Duty" upon her lap. 
 
 Adelaide stooped down and stroked the 
 cat. 
 
 " Now this book, my dear, I do not the 
 least object to your reading, because every 
 body ought to know their duty. — I have not 
 read it through myself yet, but you may 
 always take it before I come down stairs, 
 only mind you put it back again." 
 
 Adelaide thanked her, and remained 
 standing before the fire, quite at a loss what 
 she was to do next. None of her boxes had 
 yet arrived. There was nothing for her to 
 arrange. She had no work, no drawing. 
 She felt much incKned to pull to pieces the
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 85 
 
 biincli of flowers she had just finished em- 
 broidering before she arrived in England, 
 and beginning it all over again, a la Pene- 
 lope. 
 
 The spectacles remained fixed upon Je- 
 remy Taylor for a few lines. 
 
 " And so Mr. Brown is gone, my dear," 
 then began the old lady again. 
 
 " Yes, Ma'am. I had just taken leave of 
 him, a short time before you came down. 
 He desired to be remembered to you; and,'' 
 said Adelade, approaching closer to Mrs. 
 Melton's arm chair, " I should like to talk 
 to you about my plans, dear grandmama, 
 when you are at leisure, and have done 
 reading." 
 
 " Oh, my dear, talking never disturbs me 
 — never mind my reading — go on — I can 
 attend all the same."
 
 S^ ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Encouraged by this candid confession, 
 Adelaide began to acquaint her with the 
 substance of her conversation with Mr* 
 Brown. 
 
 " What ! — You go out as a governess ? — 
 Mj grandchild a governess! — What would 
 your poor dear father have said at such a 
 notion ; brought up for a lady as you were, 
 and with your fortune ! — My dear, I am 
 surprised at you !" 
 
 " Dear grandmama ! You know I have 
 no fortune left me." 
 
 " No, to be sure, poor thing ! — that all 
 comes of these entails. I always said it was 
 folly and nonsense — who can reckon upon 
 having a son 1 I call it a tempting of 
 Providence, that I do ! I always told your 
 poor dear mother, and advised her against 
 it ; and she would try and explain, and say
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAT. 87 
 
 it could not be helped. — Helped 1 nonsense ! 
 Just as if one was not at liberty to do wliat 
 one likes with one's own. What's the good 
 of law and justice else 1 I knew I was 
 right ; and this has proved it ; for if it 
 had not been for the entail, those Harrisons 
 — I have no patience with them ! — could 
 never have got the Falls — no, not one inch 
 of them ! But I never could get any one 
 to mind me, all through my life ! — But what 
 were we talking about V 
 
 *M was saying," began Adelaide again, 
 *^ that if you had no objection — " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I remember. But I have an 
 objection — a very great objection. It's all 
 very well for governesses born and gover- 
 nessses bred, to go out and teach — but a 
 place for every thing, and every thing in its 
 place, and your place is a lady's."
 
 88 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 " But, dear grandmamma, what am I to 
 dor 
 
 " Stay here to be sure." 
 
 Adelaide repeated the objections to this 
 plan which she had made to Mr. Brown, 
 laying great stress upon the pain it would 
 occasion her to feel herself a burden upon 
 her grandmother. 
 
 " It is very pretty of you to think so, I 
 am sure, my dear, and very prettily you say 
 it ; but I can't hear of your being a gover- 
 ness, indeed, I can't. — Besides you are so 
 young, and so nice-looking — I don't like it." 
 and again she repeated her favourite maxim 
 of " a place for every thing, &c." 
 
 "But if I have lost my place, grand- 
 mamma, I must find myself another as soon 
 as I can, must I not V 
 
 " Why, to be sure, there is some sense in
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 89 
 
 that ! — Just as I had to find a new place for 
 all mj old bonnets, when T had to clear the 
 spare room for you/' 
 
 " Yes," said Adelaide, seizing the happy 
 illustration, " you could not have left them 
 tumbling about the passage, you know, in 
 everybody's way/' 
 
 " And quite out of their place. — To be 
 sure, my dear." 
 
 " And so you have no objection to my 
 trying to add to my livelihood, because, you 
 see, I might be in everybody's way, like the 
 bonnets. Mr. Brown will take great pains 
 to settle me in a comfortable family." 
 
 " To be sure, that is a great thing ! — And 
 Mr, Brown will do it all for you ? and you 
 won't be running about, here and there 
 asking everybody to engage you, and all 
 
 that r
 
 90 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 " Oh, no ! said Adelaide, " nothing of the 
 sort ! Mr. Brown will take all that trouble 
 off mj hands/' 
 
 " Ah, that is a great thing ! That is the 
 thing I should object to — I do not think 
 that would be at all correct. So like a 
 servant out of place, mj love. No ! that I 
 must decidedly object to !'' 
 
 Again Adelaide assured her that she did 
 not intend any thing of the kind, and that 
 if her grandmother would allow her, she 
 wished to stay with her, till Mr. Brown 
 heard of some situation which would meet 
 the ideas of herself and her friends. 
 
 "Very well, my dear, I shall be very 
 happy to have you with me, you know, you 
 put me so much in mind of poor dear 
 Eleanor. And perhaps it will all turn out for 
 the best. The little money I have paid me
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 31 
 
 every quarter, will stop when I die. It is 
 very liard, I think, that I shall have nothing 
 to leave to you and Sarah. I don't under- 
 stand how it is, but your poor father ad- 
 vised me to it, and promised he would take 
 care of Sarah. He said I should have so 
 very little if I did not buy this annuity, and 
 he settled it all for me. It seems very hard 
 that people whom I don't care a pin about 
 — whose very names I don't remember, till 
 I look in my memorandum book — should 
 get all the money I have, when I am gone, — 
 for they tell me I must not make a will. I 
 should like so much to leave it to you and 
 Sarah, my dear ! It's very hard ! But as 
 I can't leave you any thing, why, perhaps, 
 it is as well that you should be a governess, 
 and then you won't starve when I am called 
 away, poor child."
 
 92 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 "Dear grandmamma ! It is yerj kind of 
 you to think about me ! I shall do very 
 well, you will see. — And so that is all com- 
 fortably settled.'' 
 
 " Pretty well, as to that, my dear,'' said 
 the old lady, and again her spectacles 
 turned to her book, while she muttered 
 with a sigh something about " entail" and 
 " annuity." 
 
 At one o'clock Hannah appeared and laid 
 the cloth ; and dinner soon followed, in the 
 shape of a dish of mutton-chops, and a rice 
 pudding. After dinner, Mrs. Melton took 
 her afternoon nap, while Adelaide again 
 explored the bookcase. Many a longing 
 glance did she cast at the top shelf, with 
 its prohibited treasures. She hoped in time 
 to imdermine the fortress of her grand- 
 mother's prejudices in their favour, but at
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 93 
 
 present felt too timid to attempt it. She 
 pulled out a volume of the " Old Plajs," 
 but a few moments perusal conyinced her, 
 that if it had been promoted to the place 
 of "Camilla," it would have been more to 
 the purpose ; she hastily put it back again, 
 and went to the window. It was raining 
 pitiouslj — the flags were shining with water, 
 and the gutters ran with a thick muddy 
 fluid. Now and then a passenger hastened 
 past with dripping umbrella, or an untidy- 
 looking maid of all-work would clatter along 
 with pattens on her slip-shod shoes, and 
 apron over her head, to the little shop 
 opposite ; and clatter back again with a loaf 
 or a pound of butter, in a greasy bit of 
 newspaper, or her open hand. Adelaide 
 felt what it was to be dull for the first time 
 in her life.
 
 94 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 " Nothing, no nothing, can be worse than 
 this!'' thought she; and she envied, jes, 
 envied even the maid of all-work. 
 
 She again returned to the fire-place. The 
 cat purred upon the rug, with half-closed 
 eyes. Her grandmother breathed heavily 
 in the great arm chair, with quite closed 
 eyes. The thought crossed Adelaide's 
 mind whether there was any very much 
 greater difference between them ; and then 
 she was filled with remorse at the idea, as 
 she thought, of the kind heart which tran- 
 quilly beat under the black dress, and 
 snowy handkerchief. - Jeremy Taylor lay in 
 its accustomed place. Adelaide took it up, 
 and soon forgot she had been dull. 
 
 At length Mrs. Melton awoke. 
 
 "Dear me, pussy!" said she, "We have 
 been a long time asleep! — Who's there?
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 95 
 
 My dear, I had quite forgotten ! I hope you 
 have been amusing yourself. — Ah ! reading 
 I see. It's a very nice book — I like it very 
 much ! Mind you put it back on my table 
 when you have done. — Is it raining, Ade- 
 laide 1" 
 
 " Yes, grandmamma, quite fast." 
 ' " Oh ! then you won't wish to go out, and 
 we shall have no visitors to-day. I daresay 
 Mrs. Bell, or some of her girls, would have 
 called, if it had been fine. They knew I 
 was expecting you. —Ah, by the way ! The 
 very thing ! — I could not think how I should 
 manage it. The Miss Bell's will let you 
 walk with them, I am sure ; they are nice, 
 kind girls, very good-natured — you will like 
 that, Adelaide." 
 
 " Yes, I shall like very much to go out 
 walking, sometimes," replied Adelaide.
 
 96 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 " To be sure ; and I could not let jou 
 go out alone. What o'clock is it, my 
 dear?" 
 
 " Four o'clock, grandmamma/' 
 
 "Then, my dear, put down your book 
 immediately — you will ruin your eyes 
 reading by this light." 
 
 "Thank you, grandmamma, I can see 
 near the window quite well/' 
 
 "No, no, indeed you cannot. I shall 
 have you blind. There, that's a good girl. 
 Sarah will bring in tea and the candles at 
 fiye." 
 
 The old lady soon dosed off again, and 
 Adelaide was left to her own reflections 
 once more. They were not very cheering. 
 What would become of her, she thought, if 
 doomed for long to such an existence as 
 this 1 Happily, few indeed are those who
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 97 
 
 have not some controul over their destiny, 
 some power of utility or employment. And 
 she blessed her kind father, over and over 
 again, who had furnished her with so many 
 means of happy occupation, and began 
 calculating the time which would probably 
 elapse before the arrival of her property 
 from the Custom-house. 
 
 Five o'clock was told by the old time- 
 piece in the passage, and Sarah appeared 
 with the tea-tray and lights. 
 
 Mrs. Melton awoke. 
 
 "Shall I make tea, grandmamma 1" 
 
 " No, no, — Sarah always makes tea — you 
 would not know how.^^ 
 
 Adelaide felt desperate. She must do 
 something or die. 
 
 " Let me try, if you please, grand- 
 mamma. I always made tea at the Falls : 
 
 YOI. I. H
 
 98 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Sarah can show me how much tea I am 
 to put in." 
 
 " Law, ma'am ! let her do it if she 
 pleases." 
 
 " Very well, — only don't make it too 
 strong or too weak ; and mind the water 
 boils, and don't spill it over the cat ! — Oh, 
 indeed, Sarah, I don't think she can do it," 
 in a voice of alarm, as Adelaide lifted the 
 kettle, which was sputtering and steaming 
 away on the fire, where Sarah had just 
 placed it. 
 
 " Now, ma'am, don't you be afeard, and 
 she'll do it well enough. — There, now ! — no 
 one could do it better !" in a triumphant 
 voice, as Adelaide performed the dangerous 
 feat of filling the tea-pot, and returned the 
 kettle to the hob, where it continued its 
 soliloquy in more placid accents.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 99 
 
 And thus Adelaide was installed in the 
 post of tea-maker in ordinary, and had the 
 satisfaction of thinking that there would be 
 a means of making herself useful at least 
 twice in the twenty-four hours. 
 
 She exerted herself to the best of her 
 powers to amuse her grandmother for the 
 remainder of the evening ; relating to her 
 any little incidents of the voyage which she 
 thought might amuse her, and giving her 
 various descriptions of life in Jamaica. Her 
 grandmother listened to her while she pored 
 over the dropped stitch in the heel of the 
 stocking, occasionally interrupting her grand- 
 daughter with exclamations of surprise and 
 wonder, not at her relation, but as to how 
 the mistake in her knitting could possibly 
 have occurred, and why it would not come 
 right. 
 
 H 2
 
 100 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Nine o'clock came at last, and with it the 
 punctual Sarah. 
 
 " You will not wish to stay up I am sure, 
 my dear," said Mrs. Melton ; " Sarah, give 
 Miss Lindsay her candle, and put out the 
 lights." 
 
 This was accordingly done. Adelaide 
 followed her grandmother up stairs, wished 
 her good night, and soon forgot the weari- 
 some day in pleasant dreams.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 101 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 The sun shone the next morning, and 
 things looked brighter. Adelaide felt in 
 better spirits, and her boxes arrived, which 
 provided her with occupation for the day. 
 She was very busy arranging her books in 
 her own little room ; she had her drawings 
 to look over, and materials for another piece 
 of work, which she began, and a letter to write 
 to Mr. Brown, so the day passed far more plea- 
 santly than the last ; but there was still the
 
 102 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 hours between tea and nine o'clock. Ade- 
 laide determined to make an effort to release 
 the books on the top shelf from their exile. 
 
 " Do jon like being read aloud to, grand- 
 mamma V she began as soon as Sarah had 
 carried away the tea-things. 
 
 " I don't know, my dear, I never tried." 
 
 " Would you like me to begin this even- 
 ing 1 You will be quite tired with talking 
 till bed-time.'' 
 
 " Well, perhaps I shall ; but I can listen 
 to you." 
 
 " But I do not think I could entertain 
 you half so well as an amusing book." 
 
 " Books never are amusing, my dear.'* 
 She made this startling assertion with great 
 decision, and as if there could exist no doubt 
 in any rational person's mind of the fact. 
 
 " Books, my dear," she continued, " are
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 103 
 
 all very well for children and young people, 
 to teach them the kings of England, and 
 geography, and such things, and for grown 
 up people to make them good, but I have 
 done my reading for to-day,'^ and she 
 glanced with a satisfied air at the little 
 round table. 
 
 This was rather a bad beginning, but 
 Adelaide would not give up her attempt 
 so soon. 
 
 " Are you quite sure, grandmamma, that 
 no books are amusing 1 I think you would 
 be quite of a difi'erent opinion if you would 
 let me take down one of those books which 
 I was looking at yesterday, it seemed so 
 very entertaining.'^ 
 
 " You could not reach that shelf without 
 a chair, Adelaide, and you know how danger- 
 ous that is ; besides, I know there is nothing
 
 104 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 there but rubbish. — No, no, sit down again. — 
 Wlij should we make any change 1 — Nobody 
 has ever read aloud to me, and I have 
 done very well.^^ 
 
 " Oh, grandmamma, only fancy how com- 
 fortable we should be ; you at your knitting, 
 just as you always sit, and I on this little 
 stool at your feet, reading a much more en- 
 tertaining story than I could possibly tell 
 you. Besides, if you did not like it we 
 need not try it another evening." She went 
 towards the bookcase. 
 
 " Stay, stay, — call Sarah ! — Let her hold 
 the chair steady l" But before the old 
 lady could finish the sentence, Adelaide was 
 standing safely upon the floor again with 
 the book in her hand. 
 
 " Now, dear grandmamma, if you do not 
 like it when I have read for half an hour,
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 105 
 
 the book shall go back to its place again, 
 and we will have no more readings 
 aloud." 
 
 " Oh, mj dear, m j knitting ! — I shall 
 never be able to count my stitches ! — How 
 can I attend to two things at once 1" 
 
 " Suppose you only do plain knitting by 
 candle-light, grandmamma, it will save your 
 eyes. Look, here are two nice large 
 needles. What do you think of beginning 
 a rug for puss 1 I will have it ready for 
 you in five minutes." 
 
 Adelaide's active fingers were already at 
 work, and Mrs. Melton was delighted with 
 the proposal. In less time than had been 
 promised, the new piece of knitting was put 
 into her hands, and the reading had com- 
 menced. 
 
 '' Well, grandmamma," said Adelaide, at
 
 106 ADELAIDE LINDSAY, 
 
 the end of the half hour, " shall I put the 
 book back again T 
 
 " No, mj dear, no. Let us see whether 
 the poor child ever gets better of lier fall. 
 I told jou, mj dear, what dangerous things 
 falls are, and jou see I am quite right.'' 
 
 Thus reading aloud was established ; an 
 amusement which was continued every 
 evening. Nay, so interested did Mrs. 
 Melton become in the fates of "Cecilia'^ 
 and "Camilla," that she never rested till 
 she found some one or other of her ac- 
 quaintance who could supply the missing 
 volumes. 
 
 In the meanwhile Mrs. Bell and her 
 daughters called, and the Miss Sharps, 
 and several others. 
 
 Julia Bell, a thin, pale young lady, with 
 long, dank hair hanging about her face.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 107 
 
 which defied the power of tongs or curl- 
 papers to coax into ringlets, declared she 
 had found a "kindred spirit" in Adelaide ; 
 but I am not sure that Adelaide returned 
 the compliment. However, she frequently 
 went out walking with them, for thej were 
 very good-natured in calling for her. 
 
 The Bells liyed in a comfortable red 
 brick house, just outside the town. Mr. 
 Bell had been a solicitor, and had made his 
 fortune and retired from business. His 
 daughters, Julia and Maria, considered 
 themselves quite at the head of the set in 
 the little country town where they had 
 been born, bred, and educated. There was 
 a son, too, James Bell. James was thin, 
 like his sister Julia, his hair was pale and 
 straight, and his eyes of that washy blue 
 which seems as if it must quench all ex-
 
 108 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 pressioii, were those organs ever required 
 to give anj. He looked very much like a 
 rushlight, moved about gently, and always 
 spoke, when he did speak, in a low and 
 indistinct tone, as if he was afraid of 
 putting himself out. He always came with 
 his sisters when they called for Adelaide, 
 a circumstance which did not escape her 
 grandmother's notice, who with the quick 
 sightedness, habitual in such matters as 
 these, with people of shallow and not over- 
 stocked minds, soon suspected that there 
 must be some inducement beyond the 
 pleasure of a morning's walk which caused 
 "young Mr. James," as she called him, to 
 be such a frequent visitor at her house. It 
 did not escape her that his dull and vapid 
 eyes were constantly glancing at Adelaide's 
 face as she conversed with his sisters; while
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 109 
 
 his fingers were busy fidgetting with his 
 gloYes, or smoothing the nap of the hat 
 which he held between his knees. Now 
 and then he would blunder forth some 
 remark about the weather, and then sud- 
 denly stop in the middle of his sentence, 
 and stare at Adelaide, who would good- 
 naturedly endeavour to disentangle his 
 ideas for him. 
 
 Mrs. Melton was delighted at her dis- 
 covery. She had become very fond of her 
 grandchild, and began to think she could 
 not do without her, and that it would be 
 very agreeable to have her settled for life 
 close to her. Besides, Adelaide might now 
 give up all idea of going out as a governess; 
 she would be well provided for, as James 
 was an only son, and report spoke very 
 favourably of the father's means. So Mrs.
 
 110 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Melton settled it all in her own mind, 
 and thought what a fortunate girl Ade- 
 laide was. 
 
 The happiness which was in store for her 
 had, however, never crossed Adelaide's 
 mind for one instant, till about three weeks 
 after her arrival in G . 
 
 There was the usual knock at the door 
 one afternoon, and the three Bells made 
 their appearance. 
 
 After the accustomed greetings, which 
 were always very affectionate on the part of 
 these young ladies, Maria began, "I am 
 very sorry, my dearest Adelaide," the 
 "Miss Lindsay'^ had been dropped very 
 shortly after the first acquaintance, "I am 
 very sorry, my dearest Adelaide, that we 
 could not come for you yesterday, but papa 
 sent James into the country somewhere
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. Ill 
 
 upon business ; we were so sorrj, but it 
 could not be helped." 
 
 Mr. James looked up from his hat, whilst 
 his mouth relaxed into a slow smile. 
 
 " There would hare been no objection to 
 three of us together walking out, would 
 there '? Most of the joung ladies here 
 walk about together without a gentleman. 
 I often think it is a pity your brother 
 should be troubled to escort us every day. 
 
 James stroked his hat, and said, "It's 
 not a trouble.^' 
 
 Maria and Julia laughed. James looked 
 very sheepish, and blushed. 
 
 "You like walking out with us, don't 
 you, James 1'' said Maria, still tittering, 
 "especially when there is some one else 
 with you besides me and Julia V 
 
 " I was asked to go fishing this morniug,''
 
 112 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 James suddenly blurted out, " but I would 
 not/^ 
 
 " Are not jou fond of fishing 1" inquired 
 Adelaide. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I like it pretty well/' 
 
 "Pretty well! Oh, James,'' said Maria, 
 "you know you used to like nothing 
 better !" 
 
 "Well, I said I liked it," said the 
 amiable youth, turning his pale eyes upon 
 her. 
 
 " What a pity you did not go, then," said 
 Adelaide, " Surely your sisters could have 
 spared you for one morning V 
 
 "It's not they" he replied, staring at 
 her with those vague-looking eyes, which it 
 always made her feel uncomfortable to see — 
 almost ill, to feel fixed upon her face. 
 
 "Oh, no," said Maria, laughing again,
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 113 
 
 "Brothers are not so polite, are thej, 
 Jiilia?'' 
 
 " Not as a general rule, I imagine," re- 
 plied Julia. " We ordinarily walked unac- 
 companied, till you, dearest, joined our little 
 excursions/' 
 
 Adelaide felt so great an inclination to 
 say something which they might have con- 
 sidered rude, that she rose from her chair, 
 and saying that she would not keep them 
 waiting any longer, went to put on her 
 walking-things. 
 
 When she returned, with her feelings of 
 annoyance a little abated, she found the two 
 girls talking to Mrs. Melton, while James, in 
 the deepest abstraction, was sitting where 
 she had left him, his eyes fixed upon the 
 floor, and biting one of his gloves. She 
 went to the window where her work was 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 lying, to put it by before she went out : 
 James followed her, and while she was en- 
 gaged folding it up, said, as if the brilliant 
 idea for which he had been struggling had 
 just enlightened his mind, 
 
 " It was because of you, that I wouldn't 
 go out fishing." 
 
 " For 7ne /" exclaimed Adelaide in amaze. 
 '* What could I have had to do with it V 
 
 "Because of disappointing you, you 
 know," he said, with a look which he in- 
 tended to be very meaning; and then, 
 reddening at his own enterprising behaviour, 
 he retreated to the protection of his sisters ; 
 though with a certain air of self-com- 
 placency which provoked Adelaide beyond 
 measure. 
 
 They all set off upon their walk, and 
 Adelaide's attention being now aroused, she
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 115 
 
 noticed the beliayioiir of James Bell more 
 particularly than she had ever thought of 
 doing before. 
 
 She perceived, with a feeling very like 
 disgust, how he would keep close to her side, 
 in spite of all her endeavours to walk on in 
 advance of him with one of his sisters ; or, 
 failing this, to hang back with the other ; 
 — how those vapid eyes fixed themselves 
 upon her countenance whenever she hap- 
 pened accidentally to turn his way — how 
 with hurried awkwardness, though still with 
 that provoking air of self-complacency, he 
 would push forward to offer his assistance 
 when they had to get over the styles which 
 they occasionally met with in their ramble, — 
 the awkwardness being inherent to his per- 
 son, the self-complacency to his mind. Once, 
 even, he succeeded in obtaining hold of her 
 
 I2
 
 116 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 hand, which she unguardedly stretched out to 
 assist herself, and actually had the audacity 
 to squeeze it, smiling inanely in her face at 
 the same time. She snatched it from him, 
 angrily, and felt, almost for the first time in 
 her life, quite out of temper. 
 
 It would be difficult to express, in too 
 strong terms, the feelings of utter loathing 
 and abhorrence which takes possession of a 
 young girl's feelings at any manifestation of 
 forward preference from one she does not 
 like. This dislike, if the obnoxious conduct 
 is persisted in, increases to positive hatred ; 
 and the more gentle the character, perhaps 
 the more intensely this is felt. 
 
 Adelaide was quite startled at the vehem- 
 ence of her sensations ; and when she saw 
 how the unfortunate man slunk back, at the 
 decided expression in her whole bearing,
 
 ADELAIDE LIND3AY. 117 
 
 wliicli even he could not mistake, and how 
 melancholy and dejected he looked, she re- 
 proached herself for the bitterness of her 
 feelings against him, and compelled her- 
 self to make an opportunity for saying 
 something good-natured to reinstate him in 
 his own self-satisfaction. 
 
 If Adelaide had been older and more ex- 
 perienced, she would haye acted differently ; 
 for some natures are so clothed in the Rhi- 
 noceros hyde of self-conceit, that "gentle 
 hints " are as unfelt by them as the falHng 
 of thistle-down. Nothing but a good down- 
 right cudgel-blow has any effect ; and such 
 an one it is sometimes a charity to deal, 
 howeyer painful to the giyer. Adelaide 
 had yielded to a natural impulse, and dealt 
 the cudgel-blow, but she was too gentle and 
 tender-hearted to bear to see the wound
 
 118 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 which she had given, though it might have 
 proved perhaps a healing one, and her 
 conscience was too tenderly alive to an un- 
 charitable feeling, her compassion too ready 
 -with the salve of a kind word. 
 
 When the Bells returned home after 
 leaving Adelaide at Mrs. Melton's door, the 
 sisters laughingly congratulated their brother 
 upon the encouragement which he had met 
 with, and declared that Adelaide must be a 
 ^reat flirt if she did not intend to have him ; 
 while he hung down his head, with a sheep- 
 ishly gratified expression creeping from the 
 corner of his eyes, and said, " that he did 
 not think Miss Adelaide disliked his little 
 attentions/' 
 
 " Dislike ! — I should think not, indeed 1" 
 exclaimed Maria, in answer to this humble 
 speech. " Besides, it will be a very good
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 119 
 
 thing for her. And don't you observe how 
 particularly civil Mrs. Melton is V 
 
 " Oh, yes, she is very civil. — Miss Ade- 
 laide looked cross, though, once, I thought, 
 Maria/' 
 
 " Cross ! — What do you mean, Jemmy V 
 
 " Oh — only, I mean, when I helped her 
 over the style by Longman's farm — don't 
 you know 1 Just so she did." And he tried 
 to imitate the manner which had penetrated 
 his obtusity. 
 
 " What stuff, Jem ! — Why it was just after 
 that that I particularly remarked how 
 very — what shall I say, Julia 1 — her manner 
 was." 
 
 " Interesting V suggested Julia. " Indif- 
 ferent — r 
 
 " No, no, you stupid girl ! neither in- 
 teresting nor indifferent."
 
 120 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 " Peculiar 1" said James. 
 
 " Nonsense ! — Particular — that's the 
 word! — I remarked how particularly j^ar^i- 
 cular her manner was.'' 
 
 "I was thinking, Maria," said James, 
 after a short pause, '' where we should live. 
 There's that nice white house in Hedge- 
 row Lane — only it's let. What a pity it's 
 let!" 
 
 "Well! it's no good thinking of that. 
 The Moneys are going away — their's is 
 not a bad house." 
 
 " No," said he smilingly, biting his glove, 
 as usual. " Only — ^" 
 
 "Only what?' inquired his sister impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "Only the Moneys are in it, you 
 know, — and there's been a broken win- 
 dow in one of the upstairs rooms a long
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 121 
 
 while. Haven't you noticed it, Julia I— 
 1 have." 
 
 "Well, but I tell you the Moneys are 
 going away directly, and there are glaziers 
 in the town, aren't there *? It is the only 
 house to be had that would suit at all,; and 
 you know you must live here, for papa 
 would not hear of your settling at any dis- 
 tance." 
 
 "No." — He paused again after dreamily 
 uttering the monosyllable; and then look- 
 ing up with a gleam of enlightenment 
 said, 
 
 *' Oh ! I saw an advertisement of a house 
 in the paper the other day. — It read very 
 nice. I forget now what it had — but I 
 remember there was a four-stalled stable, 
 and a pigeon-house. I think it was a four- 
 staUed stable, but I quite remember the
 
 122 ADELAIDE LINDSAT. 
 
 pigeon-house. — I wonder whether Adelaide 
 likes pigeons !" 
 
 " Where was it ?" inquired Maria. 
 
 "I forget the name of the town it was 
 near, but I know it was in Lincolnshire. 
 I particularly remember it was in Lincoln- 
 shire, because I wondered whether it was 
 near the Fens." 
 
 " But Lincolnshire would never do ! It 
 is hundreds of miles too far !" 
 
 " To be sure ! What a pitj it is in Lin- 
 colnshire, is it not 1 It would have been so 
 nice to have had pigeons, wouldn't it T
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 123 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Things went on in the same way for 
 some days, except that James Bell became 
 more and more forward in his advances to 
 Adelaide. Adelaide urgently endeavoured 
 to excuse herself from going out any more 
 with the Bells. But her grandmother would 
 not listen to her; she could not disobey 
 her, and had not the courage to tell her 
 the real reason which made the company 
 of these people so intolerable. In fact,
 
 124 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 what had she to tell ? — She could not say, 
 " Grandmamma, I do not like walking with 
 the Miss Bells, because their brother always 
 walks with them," for most probably the 
 answer would be, "What harm does he do 
 you T Then she must give her reason ; 
 and if Mrs. Melton were to ask her what 
 were the foundations for it, all she could 
 answer would be, that he looked at her, and 
 walked by her side ; for he really did little 
 else that could be taken hold of. And yet 
 Adelaide felt convinced that her instincts 
 were not mistaken ; and was as persuaded of 
 the fact of James BelFs most unwelcome 
 partiality, as her grandmother could be 
 herself. How she longed to hear from 
 Mr. Brown that he had succeeded in his 
 endeavours to procure her a maintenance ! 
 " No good news, grandmamma," said she
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 125 
 
 to Mrs. Melton one day, after reading and 
 folding up one of his letters, as unsatis- 
 factory in this respect as usual. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, my dear. In fact 
 I think it is no use troubling Mr. Brown any 
 more.'' 
 
 " Oh, dear grandmama, it is early days 
 to despair! — I have no doubt he will suc- 
 ceed sooner or later. — He is so very par- 
 ticular, you know ; that is the reason it has 
 taken so long a time.'' 
 
 " I tell you, child, I don't think you need 
 trouble Mr. Brown any more. I have my 
 reasons for thinking you will not require a 
 governess's place. I always fancied you 
 would not, somehow, and you see I am 
 right." 
 
 " How, grandmamma? I do not under- 
 stand."
 
 126 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 " Spectacles can see further than young 
 ejes, sometimes, mj dear. — I am not so 
 blind as people take me for; I can see 
 further into a mill-stone than many people, 
 still/' 
 
 If Mrs. Melton had intended to denote 
 Mr. James by this comparison, it would not, 
 certainly, have been inappropriate ; but she 
 was quite guiltless of any such " wicked 
 wit.'' Adelaide again entreated for an ex- 
 planation. 
 
 " My dear, I have my reasons for think- 
 ing that you will settle here,^ said Mrs. 
 Melton, with a decided nod at the last 
 word, as if she would hammer it down well. 
 
 Adelaide shuddered at the idea, and 
 replied that she did think it very likely 
 
 that any one in G would require a 
 
 governess.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 127 
 
 " Some one may require a ivife^ though, 
 my dear." 
 
 Adelaide started, and gazed in amaze- 
 ment at her grandmother. Could it be 
 possible that she had noticed James Bell's 
 disagreeable manner? and still more, was it 
 possible that she would approve his audacity, 
 or countenance and support his wishes? She 
 determined to let the mystery unravel itself, 
 and made no reply, while Mrs. Melton con- 
 tinued — 
 
 " Certainly, my dear, I never hoped 
 things would turn out so nicely, — and so 
 soon, too I But all turns out for the best — 
 and if your poor father had not lost his 
 money, and if you had not left the Falls, 
 and if the estate had not been entailed, 
 why you would never have come here, most 
 likely, and never met with a certain young
 
 128 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 gentleman," nodding and smiling, " and 
 never been settled near me ; perhaps never 
 settled at all." 
 
 "Grandmamma, yon are making some great 
 mistake, I am afraid," said Adelaide, wlio 
 felt it higli time now to speak without 
 reserve, " I never ^" 
 
 " No, my dear, of course you never 
 did. Very proper — very modest and 
 humble." 
 
 " Grandmamma, please listen to me. — If 
 you mean me to understand that you think 
 Mr. Bell has any idea that " 
 
 " Of course, my dear child, I do — I 
 am certain I am not mistaken; don't 
 fear, dear, I am very quick always in 
 these little affairs," and she patted Ade- 
 laide upon the shoulder, and laughed with 
 pleasure.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 129 
 
 " I do not like Mr. Bell, dear grand- 
 mamma; and I am sure if he had any sense 
 he would have perceived it long ago ! '' ex- 
 claimed Adelaide. 
 
 " What!" ejaculated Mrs. Melton. 
 
 " And that is the reason why I do not 
 like walking out with him and his sisters; 
 and now, dear grandmamma, since you 
 have been so clever as to find it all 
 out, I am sure you will not insist upon 
 my seeing any more of him; and the 
 next time he comes, I may thank them 
 for calling for me, and make some excuse, 
 may I not?'' 
 
 "What!'' again exclaimed Mrs. Melton, 
 sitting upright in her chair, taking oiF her 
 spectacles, and gazing at Adelaide in utter 
 amazement. 
 
 " You understand me, do you not, dear 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 grandmamma?'' said Adelaide, taking the 
 withered hand between both her own, and 
 gently stroking it. 
 
 Mrs. Melton sunk back with a heavy 
 sigh, and then in a lamentable voice, 
 replied, 
 
 " And so you won't be Mrs. James Belli 
 and you won't settle near me 1 — It is very 
 unkind of you, Adelaide, to disappoint me 
 so! — It is very hard indeed! — and when 
 I have been building upon it, too, and 
 settling it all in my own mind I — It's very 
 hard!" 
 
 " Dear grandmamma!" kissing the hand 
 she held, " I am very sorry ! but, indeed, I 
 did not think you would have built upon 
 Mr. Bell — he is such a very melancholy 
 foundation ! You would not have liked him 
 for a grandson, I am sure, — now would you 1
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 181 
 
 It is only because jou tliought I sliould 
 have been happier married than as a go- 
 yerness, dear, kind, grandmamma! But now 
 when JOU find I should not like it at all — 
 that I never could think of it for one second 
 — jou will not be sorry any more, I know." 
 
 " Well, my dear, do as you please — as 
 you say, it is your happiness I was thinking 
 of. — It is a great pity! — a great pity that 
 you do not like him. It would have been 
 so nice, wouldn't it, my dearl And what 
 shall I do without you'?'' 
 
 " Of course, grandmamma, if I had liked 
 him, it would have been quite different." 
 
 " To be sure, my dear, quite different." 
 
 " And I need not go out with him any 
 morer 
 
 " Why, no, my dear, if you won't have 
 him, I do not see it is of any use." 
 
 k2
 
 132 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 And so this matter was liappilj settled 
 bj a little adroit management, menage- 
 menty as the French say, on the part of 
 Adelaide. 
 
 How much better than if she had rushed 
 headlong in all the pride of sincenty and 
 proper independence, as abrupt unfeeling- 
 ness is sometimes styled, against her grand- 
 mother's natural defects of stubbornness and 
 prejudice. 
 
 How much better to make the rent 
 the "right way of the stuff," instead of 
 doggedly persisting in making all things 
 bow to one's straightforwardness ; stumbling 
 over those stones which, as long as human 
 nature is imperfect, we must find in our 
 daily course, instead of gently passing round 
 them.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 133 
 
 Lass uns, geliebter Briider, nicht vergessen, 
 Dass von sicli selbst der Menscli nicht scheiden 
 
 kann 
 Und wenn ein Freund, der mit uns wandeln sollte, 
 Sich eiueu Fuss beschadigte, wir wiirden 
 Boch lieber langsam gehn^ und unsre Hand 
 Him gern und willig leihen." — Goethe. 
 
 " Be pitiful, be courteous."
 
 134 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Bells were exceedingly offended when 
 Adelaide's repeated refusals to accompany 
 them any more in their daily walks, when 
 their brother was of the party, enlightened 
 them at last, and forced them to understand 
 that she had no intention of giving any 
 encouragement to his wishes. 
 
 " Conceited little minx ! — Horrid flirt !'* 
 were some of the epithets which, in conver- 
 sation amongst themselves, and even in
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 135 
 
 general society, they freely bestowed upon 
 her. James was jeered whenever he at- 
 tempted to look sentimental, and very little 
 was required to persuade him that he would 
 find twenty as good, and better, than Ade- 
 laide, who would "jump at him," as Maria 
 elegantly expressed it. And he soon trans- 
 ferred his eyes and attentions to one of the 
 Miss Sharps ; the young ladies " who were 
 always going to be married ;" where they 
 were not thrown away. 
 
 Summer was now rapidly approaching, 
 and still no good tidings from Mr. Brown. 
 Adelaide began to think he must be almost 
 too particular. 
 
 Mrs. Melton often spoke of Mrs. Wil- 
 loughby, and was astonished that no notice 
 had been taken of Adelaide in the shape 
 of an invitation to Bury Hill; — was sur-
 
 136 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 prised that old friends could be so neglect- 
 ful; always thought that Mrs. Willoughby 
 was a most cold-hearted creature, in spite 
 of what everybody said, and now this 
 proved that she was right. 
 
 Mrs. Melton was, however, wrong in her 
 appreciation of Mrs. Willoughby's character. 
 The invitation did at length arrive. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby had been tra- 
 velling on the continent ; and it was not un- 
 till their return home after a lengthened ab- 
 sence, that Mr. Willoughby, in looking over 
 the file of newspapers which had been laid 
 aside for his perusal, had seen the announce- 
 ment of Adelaide's arrival, with that of Mr, 
 Brown, by the West India mail. 
 
 Feeling sure that she must be staying 
 with Mrs. Melton, Mrs. Willoughby now 
 wrote to her under cover to that lady, to
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 137 
 
 beg tier to come and pay tliem a long visit. 
 Her brother, Mr. Latimer, would be passing 
 
 through G on a certain day, wliicli she 
 
 named, on his way to Bury Hill; and he 
 would escort her. The letter was written 
 in such affectionate terms, the invitation was 
 so urgent and evidently so sincere ; with a 
 touching allusion to the writer's early friend- 
 ship with the late Mrs. Lindsay, that Ade- 
 laide's fears and timidity melted at once 
 aAvay, and she required no persuasions from 
 Mrs. Melton to at once, and gratefully ac- 
 cept it. 
 
 Good-natured Mrs. Melton was delighted. 
 Mrs. AYilloughby, restored to her favour, 
 was once more every thing that was charm- 
 ing. She knew that she would not forget 
 Adelaide. 
 
 " Did I not tell you so, my dear 1 — So-
 
 138 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 phia Willouglibj was always the most warm- 
 hearted creature in the world! — Let me see 
 the letter again, my dear. Very kindly 
 and prettily written indeed. — But Mr. La- 
 timer ? — Who is he 1 — Oh, I see ! — ^her 
 brother. — What brother can that be *? — Ah ! 
 Now I remember. She had a brother much 
 younger than herself; she was the eldest of 
 the family ; and this little boy came quite 
 at the last. — Little boy to be sure he 
 can^t be now. — I think he went into the 
 Church and liyes at Oxford. I never saw 
 him. 
 
 '* Well, dear,'' she continued, " I shall be 
 very, very sorry to part with you. I don't 
 know what I shall do without you, nor who 
 I shall get to read to me in the evenings 
 now." 
 
 " Dear grandmamma ! I will not send
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 139 
 
 this letter then. — I will write another, and 
 saj that I do not like to leave you." 
 
 But Mrs. Melton would not hear of this. 
 The letter to Mrs. Willoughbj was accord- 
 ingly posted, and on the morning fixed upon 
 Mr. Latimer called for Adelaide, who, with 
 many nervous misgivings, entered the coach 
 
 which was to convey them to D , which 
 
 town was about four miles distant from 
 Bury HiU. 
 
 Charles Latimer was at this time about 
 seven and thirty years old. His figure was 
 considerably above the middle height, and 
 as it was not particularly elegantly built, or 
 well proportioned, he looked still taller than 
 he really was ; neither could much be said 
 in favour of any individual feature of his 
 countenance, for there was not one which 
 could defy criticism ; and yet there was such
 
 140 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 an expression of intellect on his broad bro^7 
 and deep-set, penetrating eve ; such an air 
 of goodness, sweetness, and 23lajfulness, 
 about the mouth ; and, perhaps, above all, 
 such a peculiar charm in the intonation of 
 his voice, that no one could look at him, or 
 hear him speak, without feeling a desire to 
 become better acquainted. Destined, by 
 his own desire, from his earliest boyhood to 
 the Church, he had gone from Eton to 
 Oxford, where he had highly distinguished 
 himself, and where he continued to live 
 after having taken his degree, as tutor at 
 one of the most eminent Colleges, and in 
 the expectation of a College living. It was 
 in order to recruit himself, after a serious 
 illness, that he w^as going to pay a visit to 
 his sister thus early in the season, before 
 the vacation had commenced.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 141 
 
 Adelaide found him a very agreeable 
 companion on tlie journey, and there was 
 that in his manner which was well calculated 
 to set the most timid at ease. No one 
 could be long afraid of Charles Latimer, in 
 spite of his University reputation and digni- 
 ties. Adelaide smiled to herself, when she 
 remembered the feelings of awe with which 
 she had in anticipation regarded her escort. 
 
 He very entertainingly gave her an 
 account of the family to which she was 
 about to be introduced. 
 
 " My sister, I am sure, you will like. Miss 
 Lindsay. You must not expect to see so 
 young and so handsome a woman, as, from 
 the only specimen of the family you have 
 yet seen, you might be led to expect. She 
 is portly and matronly now, though in days 
 gone by, Sophia was considered quite a
 
 142 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 beauty. But though she may have lost her 
 figure, I can answer for her that her heart 
 is as warm and as afi'ectionate as ever. — Her 
 children are all considerably younger than 
 yourself, for my sister had been married 
 several years before any of my nephews 
 and nieces thought fit to make their appear- 
 ance, a fact the more to be regretted, that 
 I fear your visit will prove rather a dull 
 one for want of some companions of your 
 own age. — Frederic, the eldest, you will find 
 a sad pickle, and I strongly recommend you 
 to impress him with a reverential awe of 
 your person, and to keep him at a proper 
 distance from the first, for he is a spoilt 
 boy, I am afraid, and I have some re- 
 proaches to make to myself on that score. 
 The three girls are, of course, still in the 
 school-room, and will not annoy you ; and
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 143 
 
 rery nice, well brought up little things 
 thej are/' 
 
 "And what is Mr. Willoughbj V asked 
 Adelaide. " You have not told me a word 
 about him ; and why should his portrait be 
 left out of the family gallery V 
 
 "Mr. Willoughby is an honourable, 
 straight-forward man of business ; but there 
 is nothing in his portrait, mental or physi- 
 cal, which is at all picturesque, though a 
 worthier man there does not exist/' 
 
 "And what is Bury Hill itself likel" 
 inquired Adelaide again, amused with her 
 companion's quaint style of description ; 
 " Is it a very fine place 1 and is there a 
 very pretty garden, and plenty of flowers V 
 
 " There spoke the young lady from the 
 tropics ! Yes, to answer the question which 
 I see interests you the most ; there are
 
 144 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 very pretty grounds, and you may bury 
 yourself in roses, should your inclinations 
 lead you to prefer that mode of interment." 
 
 Adelaide laughed. 
 
 " As for the house, it is a handsome, 
 modern affair, with plenty of rooms, from 
 billiard to scullery, plate-glass windows, 
 verandahs, and every possible build of arm- 
 chair, which, to a person of my dimensions 
 and lounging habits, is not the least of its 
 comforts. — Whenever I have a house of my 
 own, one thing I am determined upon — I 
 will have plenty of arm-chairs. Are you 
 fond of society, Miss Lindsay 1 '' 
 
 " I hardly know," replied Adelaide. " I 
 daresay that I should be if I liked the 
 people." 
 
 " Am I to infer that as yet your expe- 
 riences have not been very favourable?"
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 145 
 
 " Not very, I think ; at all events very 
 limited. We never went out at home — I 
 mean at Jamaica ; and Mrs. Melton does 
 not, of course, see much company." 
 
 "I was going to tell you,'* resumed 
 Latimer, " that Bury Hill is only three or 
 
 four miles from the large town of D . 
 
 The neighbourhood is very sociable, and 
 there is no end to the balls, pic-nics, water- 
 parties, and such like gaieties, enough to 
 turn the head of any inexperienced young 
 lady of eighteen.'' 
 
 " I never was at anything of the kind in 
 my life !" exclaimed Adelaide. 
 
 "You do look half frightened," said 
 Latimer, laughing. "But I daresay it will 
 all come quite natural to you, when once 
 you begin, as it does to all other young 
 ladies ;" and he gave a slight sigh. Was 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 it that it involuntarily pained him to think 
 such simplicity should ever be sophisticated, 
 should ever experience the mortifications 
 and disgusts which follow in the train of 
 the hollow masquerade ? For society has 
 its discipline as well as the hermit's ceD, 
 and to those who rightly use it, perhaps 
 it is more useful. 
 
 At length, the coach rattled up the High 
 Street of D , and stopped at the prin- 
 cipal hotel. 
 
 " Here ends the first act of our journey,'' 
 said Latimer. " The remainder of the piece 
 will be performed in the Willoughby's car- 
 riage, which, I see, is there waiting for us." 
 
 Adelaide and Mr. Latimer were soon 
 comfortably seated in the britschka, and 
 about half an hour more brought them to 
 the haU-door of Bury Hill.
 
 ADELAIDE LI2TDSAY. 147 
 
 Mrs. Willoughby hastened forward to 
 meet them, embraced Adelaide with much 
 affection, and led her forward to the draw- 
 ing-room, where she was introduced to Miss 
 Hawkstone, a niece of Mrs. Willoughbj's, a 
 fashionable and rather handsome-looking 
 girl, but displaying a certain air of super- 
 cilious hauteur, which was anything but 
 pleasing. Three pretty little girls, between 
 the ages of thirteen and seven, were also in 
 the room, and came forward at their mo- 
 ther's desire, to shake hands with the young 
 stranger. 
 
 Latimer had hardly done justice to his 
 sister's appearance. Her figure was cer- 
 tainly rather too stout ; but then it seemed 
 so much in character with the matronly and 
 blythe expression of her pretty face, that 
 one could hardly wish it more symmetrical. 
 
 L 2
 
 148 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 This pretty face, for pretty it still was, time 
 haying stepped so softly over its features, 
 that his footsteps were scarcely perceptible, 
 seemed to be rendered transparent, as it 
 were, by the sweet and merry smile which 
 played about it. You might almost have 
 fancied you could have seen through it, the 
 benevolent and kind heart which dictated 
 every thought, and word, and action of her 
 life. Young and old, rich and poor, all 
 adored her, for she possessed the talisman of 
 sympathy, and all hearts opened at its touch. 
 Mrs. Willoughby, after the first intro- 
 ductions had been made, led Adelaide to 
 an ottoman in the window, and with affec- 
 tionate earnestness, assured her how much 
 she had wished to make her acquaintance, 
 the acquaintance of the child of her oldest 
 and dearest friend.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 149 
 
 " You must not look upon me as a 
 stranger, dear Adelaide," said she — " ratlier 
 as an aunt ; for before, and after jou ^^ere 
 born, jour mother and I were sisters in all 
 but name. Her death was the heaviest 
 grief I had ever suffered, before jou, poor 
 child, could even know affliction bj name. 
 I wished your father to leave jou with me, 
 when he decided upon going to the West 
 Indies, for jou were so joung and delicate 
 a child, that I feared jou would never 
 stand the climate ; but this he could not 
 hear of Indeed, I reallj believe another 
 separation would have killed him. You 
 would have been a daughter to me, had he 
 consented to mj entreaties, for I had then 
 no children of mj own, and now jou will 
 not refuse to let me consider jou as in that 
 relation, will jou V She pressed Adelaide's
 
 150 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 hand as she spoke, whose filling, grateful 
 ejes, were the only reply. 
 
 "Your are the living image of your 
 mother,'' continued Mrs. Willoughby, who 
 seemed to wish by every assurance and 
 proof she could give of her hvely recollec- 
 tion and tender attachment to her deceased 
 friend, to give the daughter, as it were, a 
 feeling of right to her friendship. "It 
 makes me feel quite young again to see 
 you. I could almost fancy myself carried 
 back to those early days, when scarcely a 
 day passed that I did not see Eleanor." 
 And then she asked how Mr. Brown was 
 looking, and whether his health was im- 
 proved by his long residence in a hot 
 climate. 
 
 " I wrote to him, when I heard of your 
 arrival, and I had a long letter in return,
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 151 
 
 informing me of all that had befallen you, 
 and of your future plans/' 
 
 Adelaide was very glad to hear this, and 
 to be relieved from all painful explanations. 
 She felt more at ease, when she knew that 
 Mrs. Willoughby was aware of the fall which 
 had taken place in her circumstances, and 
 of the complete alteration in her worldly 
 prospects, which had been the result of 
 that catastrophe which had occasioned her 
 father's death. 
 
 The dressing-bell now rang, and Mrs. 
 Willoughby accompanied Adelaide to her 
 room. 
 
 " We have only two or three gentlemen 
 to dinner, my dear, this evening, two old 
 friends of Mr. Willoughby 's, and Captain 
 Mostyn. — Ring for my maid, when you are 
 ready for her, and you need not hurry
 
 152 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 yourself, for tliere is plenty of time." So 
 saying, she left the room, and went herself 
 to dress. 
 
 The windows of the pretty room in which 
 Adelaide now found herself alone looked 
 out upon a lovely prospect. A lawn em- 
 broidered with parterres of various patterns 
 and many coloured flowers, stretched slop- 
 ingly forwards to the banks of a clear and 
 wide river, overhung on this garden side 
 with clumps of luxuriant rhododendron, now 
 in all their affluence of lilac blossom. The 
 opposite bank was clothed with tangled 
 copse jrhich bathed its branches in the 
 stream, broken here and there by huge stones, 
 round which the water sparkled and mur- 
 mured with never ceasing music. Beyond 
 the copse the eye wandered over a wide 
 extent of sunny hills rich with cornfields and
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 153 
 
 pasture. It was difficult to believe that so 
 lovely a spot could exist so near to a large 
 and populous town, so quiet and peaceful 
 did it look. 
 
 Adelaide liung out of her window, in an 
 ecstasy of delight which can only be ima- 
 gined by those who, like her, passionately 
 fond of the beauty and freedom of country 
 life, have been confined for months to the 
 deck of a vessel or the streets of some dull or 
 noisy town. 
 
 Lost, rather in a reverie of passive enjoy- 
 ment, than in thought, Adelaide still re- 
 mained gazing at the scene before her ; and 
 her toilet ran every chance of being neg- 
 lected, when she was aroused by a knock at 
 the door ; and at her startled, " Come in," 
 the lady's maid entered, and assuring her 
 that there was no time to be lost, speedily
 
 154 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 assisted her to change her dress. Hardly 
 was this completed when that terror to 
 dawdlers, the dinner-bell, sounded through 
 the house, and Mrs. Willoughbj came to 
 escort her guest down stairs. 
 
 Very approvingly she looked upon the 
 pretty creature before her, her black dress 
 relieved by a bunch of white China roses 
 from the bouquet which stood on her toilet 
 table, her head only adorned with its natural 
 crown of rich plaits, and silken, floating 
 curls. 
 
 The party was assembled in the drawing- 
 room waiting for them, when they descended. 
 Mr. Willoughby immediately came forward 
 and led Adelaide to the dining-room, and it 
 was not till the little bustle generally attend- 
 ing the place-taking at a country dinner 
 had subsided, that Adelaide found an oppor-
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 155 
 
 tunitj of looking round upon the company 
 assembled with her at the table. She found 
 herself seated between Mr. Willoughbj and 
 a white-headed sleek old gentleman, whose 
 whole attention seemed devoted to the dis- 
 cussion of a capital dinner. Next to him 
 sat Miss Hawkstone, who was carrying on a 
 lively, and somewhat noisy, conversation with 
 a gentleman on her other hand, whom 
 Adelaide could not see ; then came Mrs. 
 Willoughby at the top of the table, and then 
 Mr. Latimer. Two other rather elderly men 
 completed the party. 
 
 After the first civilities and ordinary re- 
 marks had passed between Adelaide and her 
 host, she found herself left very much at 
 liberty to make her observations upon all 
 that was going on around her at this, her 
 first, dinner-party, for Mr. Willoughby soon
 
 156 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 engaged in conversation with the gentleman 
 next him, and as this conversation was en- 
 tirely confined to matters of business and of 
 local interest, it was any thing but enter- 
 taining to a young lady of nineteen. Dinner 
 parties were very dull things, she thought ; 
 and as she wondered whether they formed 
 part of that programme of festivities to 
 which Mr. Latimer had alluded as bearing 
 such disastrous consequences, she could not 
 forbear casting a despairing look at him 
 across the table. He met her glance with a 
 comically commiserating smile, and Adelaide 
 felt that had he been seated in the sleek 
 gentleman's place, she would not have found 
 the time so heavy upon her hands. 
 
 The first course at last was over, and the 
 second made its appearance. The sleek gen- 
 tleman appeared most anxious to help Ade-
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 157 
 
 laide to some pine-apple cream wliich stood 
 opposite to liim, she could not imagine ^hj, 
 till she perceived that he took the opportu- 
 nity of her accepting, to fill his own plate 
 with that delicious ambrosia. 
 
 " Pine-apples are almost as common with 
 us, as blackberries are with you, I suppose," 
 said Adelaide, timidly, having made the 
 heroic resolution of attempting to enter once 
 more into conversation with her silent 
 neighbour. 
 
 He almost dropped the spoon he was 
 about conveying to his mouth as he turned 
 round upon her, his eyes starting with 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Heigh ?— What V he exclaimed, " Pine- 
 apples as common as blackberries 1 I never 
 heard of such a thing ! Pray, ma'am, how 
 many pineries do you keep V
 
 158 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Adelaide could hardly forbear laughing 
 at the mistake. 
 
 "I was thinking of Jamaica," she said, 
 "I have lived there most of my life, 
 and have but lately returned to this 
 country." 
 
 " Jamaica !" he repeated, looking at her 
 with such respect as a " true believer" might 
 be supposed to regard a pilgrim fresh from 
 Mecca, "Jamaica! Then you have tasted 
 turtle-soup in its native country! Pray, 
 ma^am, can you inform me, whether from 
 your experience you consider the fish to lose 
 much of its fat and flavour in its long voyage 
 to England 1 I have been told that this is the 
 case, but I never before have been fortunate 
 enough to meet with any one who could 
 speak from personal knowledge." 
 
 " It is so common in Jamaica, that we do
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 159 
 
 not think much of it/' answered Adelaide. 
 "I never liked it myself.^' 
 
 " Never liked turtle T' He looked at her 
 half contemptuously, half incredulously, and 
 muttering with a sigh, " So common as to 
 think nothing of it ! Pineapples as plenty 
 as blackberries ! ^' he turned again to his 
 cream, nor did he address another remark 
 to Adelaide during the whole evening. 
 
 "Everything must have an end,'' it is 
 said ; and this " consummation, devoutly to 
 be wished for," is the result of even a 
 tiresome country dinner party, and, much 
 to Adelaide's delight, Mrs. Willoughby at 
 length gave the signal for the retreat of 
 the womankind to the drawing-room.
 
 160 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 In the drawing-room tliej found the 
 three little girls and their brother Frederick 
 assembled, the latter a fine, spirited-looking 
 boy of fom'teen. 
 
 " Come here, Frederick, that I may in- 
 troduce you to Miss Lindsay," said the 
 evidently proud mother. 
 
 The boy came forward with a frank, 
 engaging air, and shook Adelaide by the 
 hand.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 161 
 
 "I shall go into the dining-room now, 
 mother — mayn't 1 1" said he, as soon as 
 this ceremony was oyer. "I want to talk 
 to Captain Mostyn about fishing to- 
 morrow/' 
 
 "Away with you, then. I know it is 
 impossible to keep you from him for a 
 moment.'' 
 
 "How fond Frederick is of Captain 
 Mostyn!" exclaimed Miss Hawkstone, as 
 soon as he had left the room ; " I declare 
 he never gives him a moment's peace ! It 
 is positively absurd ! — The other evening, 
 when I and Captain Mostyn were walking 
 up and down the terrace, Frederick would 
 not be satisfied till he made him come with 
 him to look at his rabbits, or some such 
 pets — Captain Mostyn looked at me as 
 much as to say he thought it rather a bore 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 162 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 but when I mentioned this to Frederick 
 afterwards, he only laughed at me, and said 
 he was sure Captain Mostyn would much 
 rather see his rabbits than talk to me." 
 
 " That was really quite too bad of him, 
 dear Bella," replied Mrs. Willoughby, who 
 could with difficulty restrain a smile ; " but 
 Captain Mostyn is such a general fayourite, 
 that he must pay the penalty, and submit 
 to be occasionally tormented by his ad- 
 mirers. He is really a very charming 
 person," continued she, turning to Adelaide; 
 "and as I had in my earlier years been 
 acquainted with his mother, we asked him 
 to the house when we heard of his arrival 
 
 at D , where he is now quartered ; and 
 
 since then he is constantly here, for he 
 seems to have taken to us rather, and we 
 are all very fond of him."
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 163 
 
 " Oh, he is quite delightful !" exclaimed 
 Miss Hawkstone. "So handsome! so 
 clever! so charming! Quite a dear 
 creature !" 
 
 Adelaide's curiosity was quite excited by 
 these encomiums, and she felt almost im- 
 patient for the entrance of the gentleman, 
 that she might see their object, and judge 
 for herself whether his appearance in any 
 way justified them. The gentleman who 
 sat next to Isabella evidently must have 
 been Captain Mostyn, the only one whom 
 she had not seen. She had rather taken it 
 into her head that her pineapple friend had 
 been the man, and mentioned her supposi- 
 tion to Mrs. Willoughby. Miss Hawkstone 
 was highly amused at the mistake, and 
 laughed so superciliously that Adelaide felt 
 quite put out of countenance, till kind Mrs. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Willouglibj came to her relief with some 
 good-natured remark, and turned the con- 
 versation into another channel.' 
 
 At length the gentlemen came in, and 
 Adelaide's expectations were not disap- 
 pointed. She thought that Captain Mostjn 
 did really look ve7^y charming. 
 
 Mostyn was certainly yery handsome, 
 very attractive. Adelaide could not help 
 being struck by the contrast as he stood 
 talking to Latimer in the window, imme- 
 diately after they came in. It was im- 
 possible for two men to be more different. 
 
 Mostyn's figure was slight, and singularly 
 graceful ; every attitude became him, though 
 all were natural and unstudied. He rode, 
 danced, walked, fenced, better than any one 
 else, and was never known to do an awk- 
 ward thing. His features were regular and
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 165 
 
 delicate; refined, but not effeminate. His 
 ejes large, lustrous, and dark, and of that 
 peculiar texture which can only be com- 
 pared to velvet. But it was not till he 
 spoke that jou became aware of the mar- 
 vellous power of expression which those 
 eyes possessed ; expression which seemed to 
 cast a halo round his countenance, and to 
 give force or sweetness to everything he 
 said, which often deceived his hearers into 
 imagining that those words which, falling 
 from the lips of another, would have passed 
 almost unremarked, contained a meaning, 
 sense, or brilliancy which they hardly in 
 truth possessed. To this was added a 
 fascination of manner which it was almost 
 impossible to resist, and a habit of making 
 "pretty speeches," which bore every ap_ 
 pearance of sincerity, but which were more
 
 166 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 intended to acquire praise than to confer 
 it; for Mostyn was a vain man. Natnrallj 
 amiable, and very affectionate, this defect 
 was the bane of a character which, without 
 it, and properly directed, might have at- 
 tained to much excellence, and threatened 
 to render it as selfish as it was superficial. 
 
 He thought too much of the opinion of 
 all with whom he associated ; he could not 
 resist the gratification of making an impres- 
 sion ; and with women he was a flirt of the 
 most dangerous description ; with men he 
 was simple, manly, and straightforward ; 
 his good qualities were upon the surface, his 
 defects subtle and unsuspected ; and there 
 was no one in his regiment so popular, 
 so generally well spoken of as Mostyn. 
 
 Captain Mostyn now made his way to 
 Miss Hawkstone, and asked whether she
 
 ADELAIDE LINES AT. 167 
 
 did not intend giving them any music that 
 erening. She rose at his request and went 
 to the piano, while he turned to speak to 
 Mrs. Willoughbj. If any one had noticed 
 Isabella they could not but have remarked 
 the peevish air with which she tossed over 
 the music on the desk, and the dark glances 
 she occasionally shot to the spot where 
 Mostyn stood talking to Mrs. Willoughby, 
 with his back towards the piano, as she 
 dashed through a set of waltzes. He used 
 generally to hang over her chair as she 
 played, and turn the pages for her. Per- 
 haps it was owing to her having no one to 
 perform this office that she played so many 
 wrong notes this evening, and that at last 
 down came desk and book clattering upon 
 the keys. Every one looked round at the 
 noise, and Mostyn going up to her, laugh-
 
 168 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 inglj assisted her to replace the music, 
 while he inquired what could have occa- 
 sioned the disaster. 
 
 She made no reply, and when the scat- 
 tered leaves were restored to order again, 
 began to draw on her gloves. 
 
 " You are not going to leave the piano 
 yet!" exclaimed he. "I am sure that sonata 
 was not half finished." 
 
 " It was not a sonata," said she, pettishly; 
 *' it was a waltz. You cannot want to hear 
 any more if you were paying so little at- 
 tention, I am sure!" 
 
 " Indeed I beg your pardon. But your 
 waltzes are so brilliant, and sound so diffi- 
 cult, that I thought what you were playing 
 just now could be nothing less than a 
 sonata, or some such abstruse performance. 
 It is really your fault, Miss Hawkstone, for
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 169 
 
 playing so well, as to mislead an ignorant 
 ear. Pray begin again!" and he looked as 
 entreatingly at her, as if he had really 
 wished her to accede to his request. But 
 she was regularly out of humour. 
 
 *' I shall not play any more to night, I 
 am tired!" She said, "Go and ask Miss 
 Lindsay, I dare say she will oblige you," 
 scornfully. 
 
 " She looks as if she could sing, does she 
 nof?" said he, glancing at Adelaide, who 
 was seated at a small table, turning over a 
 book of prints, and conversing with Mr. 
 Latimer, who stood beside her. 
 
 " Since you are so very obdurate this 
 evening, I think I will ask Mrs. Willoughby 
 to make her — shall I '? " and away he went 
 with ill-concealed alacrity. 
 
 Isabella, looking blacker than ever, drew
 
 170 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 on her other glove, and walked haughtily 
 to quite the opposite end of the room, 
 where she seated herself upon a sofa, took, 
 up a book, and pretended to read ; she felt 
 irritated, uncomfortable, disliking every- 
 thing and everybody, particularly Adelaide, 
 whose engaging and feminine beauty she 
 looked upon with a jealousy she was too 
 proud to own. From her remote seat she 
 watched Mostyn go up to Mrs. Willoughby, 
 and after saying something to her, ajDproach 
 the table where Adelaide and Latimer 
 were conversing, with that charming 
 and fascinating manner which she so well 
 knew. Adelaide's face was towards her. 
 She saw her colour as he addressed her 
 with a gently entreating attitude, as if he 
 was urging some request upon her; she 
 could not quite hear what he said, for he
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 171 
 
 spoke low, as he generally did when speak- 
 ing to women; and Mr. Willoughby and 
 the other gentlemen were talking and 
 laughing loudly at the time. She saw 
 Adelaide look appealingly up at Latimer, 
 but he smiled, and seemed to second the 
 petition; and Adelaide then rise and go 
 timidly to the piano, — so timidly and so 
 prettily, — whilst Mostyn followed her, and 
 with an air of gentle devotion arranged the 
 music-stool, put aside the music, her music, 
 which encumbered the desk, and then take 
 his place behind this fresh object of his 
 admiration. Adelaide was evidently ner- 
 vous, for her hands trembled, and she 
 could hardly play the accompaniment; 
 but her voice, rich and sweet, and 
 the pure and expressive style of her 
 singing, soon attracted general atten-
 
 172 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 tion. Mostjn was enthusiastic in his 
 admiration. 
 
 Miss Hawkstone felt that she hated her. 
 
 Another and another song was asked for, 
 and each one was sung better than the last, 
 as Adelaide's confidence increased with the 
 encouragement she met with. Isabella's 
 irritation became almost insupportable. 
 Jealousj, that cruellest of demons which 
 persecutes our fallen nature, had invaded 
 her soul, and she gave herself up to his 
 suggestions without the slightest attempt at 
 self-control. And Adelaide sang on, per- 
 fectly unconscious of the bitter thoughts 
 which were set to her sweet music; and 
 Mostjn listened enraptured, as unaware of 
 the torturing fruits which his inconsiderate 
 attentions and pretended admiration had 
 produced.
 
 ADELAIDE LIKDSAY. 173 
 
 Adelaide, feeling that slie was quite mo- 
 nopolizing tlie piano, at length made her 
 escape, and retreated to an ottoman, behind 
 Mrs. Willoughbj. 
 
 Mostjn followed her, and began a very 
 interesting conversation upon music in ge- 
 neral. They discussed the respective merits 
 of different celebrated composers, and he 
 related to her many amusing and interest- 
 ing anecdotes connected with the cele- 
 brated performers and singers of the day, 
 with an animation peculiarly his own; for 
 he possessed, amongst his other accomplish- 
 ments, a great talent for narration. He 
 then told her of some adventures which had 
 befallen himself, when abroad; and finally 
 happened to mention Jamaica. This word 
 seemed to bring them at once, as it were, 
 en rapport, and they were soon deep in the
 
 174 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 subject, than which it would have been 
 difficult to hare found a more interesting 
 for our young ladj. 
 
 " Come, come," said Mrs, Willoughbj, 
 " will that animated conversation never come 
 to an end ? — I want to talk to you about 
 the pic-nic. Captain Mostyn. Have you 
 settled whether it shall be at the Castle or 
 the Dingle? There is much dispute here 
 upon the point, and I believe we must refer 
 to you as the general arbitrator." 
 
 The rest of the party now gathered round. 
 The little girls and Frederick were all for 
 the Dingle, and were eager to enlist Miss 
 Lindsay. Miss Hawkstone gave her vote 
 for the Castle. There was animated discus- 
 sion on this and on the other side, each one 
 vaunting the different advantages of the 
 site he or she preferred.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 175 
 
 At last Mostjn proposed that Miss Lind- 
 say, as a totally impartial stranger, should 
 give the casting rote, which proposal was 
 unanimously accepted. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Lindsay ; the Dingle, the 
 Dingle f cried Frederick and his sisters at 
 once. " It is such a lovely place ! — Water 
 and rocks, and such charming cool caves! 
 — And we go there in boats, — only fancy, 
 water and boats instead of the horrid dusty 
 roads, and a hot stuffy carriage ! — and we 
 can fish, and have our dinner out of doors. 
 — Oh, I am sure the Dingle is the best !" 
 
 " Now I must hear the other side," said 
 Adelaide, laughingly turning to Miss Hawk- 
 stone, — " What is to be said in favour of 
 the Castle T 
 
 " Oh," said that young lady, " no doubt 
 children would prefer the Dingle. At the
 
 176 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Castle there is a fine house and grounds to 
 be seen, splendid furniture, and, besides, 
 the king was there last week." 
 
 " Oh !" cried Frederick, " that's so like 
 you, Bella ! — The king — what good will his 
 having been there do you ? I suppose you 
 think that the perfume of royalty is not all 
 gone yet, and that some will stick to your 
 pocket-handkerchief !" 
 
 " Hush, hush, Frederick ! you are very 
 rude,'' said his mother, laying her hand 
 reprovingly upon his shoulder ; then turning 
 to Adelaide, — " There are also some magni- 
 ficent pictures there, which are really well 
 worth seeing." 
 
 " Oh, mamma ! the pictures can be seen 
 any day ; and it is such lovely weather 
 now I" cried one of the little girls. 
 
 " I quite agree with you, little Susan,"
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 177 
 
 said Latimer, drawing the child towards 
 liim, and stroking her silken curls. " The 
 pictures can be seen any day ; and, with 
 due deference to Bella's opinion, I think to 
 greater advantage with a quiet party going 
 there for the express purpose, and who 
 would really appreciate them, and enjoy 
 them for their own sakes, than in a large pic- 
 nic, and such rackety children as these four, 
 and I know not how many more besides.'^ 
 
 " Now, Miss Lindsay ! Miss Lindsay ! 
 make haste ! which is it to be 1 — Oh, do 
 speak !" cried Emily, Anne, and Susan, all 
 at once clinging about her dress. 
 
 " AYell, then, I am afraid I am one of 
 the children," said Adelaide. " I believe I 
 ought, like Miss Hawkstone, to prefer the 
 fine pictures, but I am almost ashamed to 
 say, I should enjoy the Dingle most. Pray 
 
 VOL. I. zr
 
 178 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 consider, Miss Hawkstone, that it is a long 
 time since I have been in the country, and 
 forgive mj partiality for living rocks and 
 rivers." 
 
 " Oh," said Miss Hawkstone, contemptu- 
 ously, " Every one to their taste !" 
 
 Captain Mostyn had remained a quiet 
 spectator of this little scene; and Miss 
 Hawkstone secretly flattered herself that he 
 would be of her opinion, and give her credit 
 for possessing an intellectual and refined 
 taste, in her preference for the beauties of 
 art to those of nature. Great therefore was 
 her chagrin, when he expressed himself 
 highly delighted at the decision, and gave 
 his voice also in favour of the boating party. 
 
 *' When is this pic-nic to be V asked 
 Latimer, " and who are going *? and what 
 is to be done V
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 179 
 
 " Friclay week," answered Frederick, who 
 had now recovered his mother's reproof; 
 " and eyerjbodj is going, Uncle Latimer, 
 and we are to dine out of doors, and ramble 
 about, and — Oh, Captain Mostjn ! let us 
 have the band, and we will have dancing 
 out of doors in the cool of the evening. 
 Now, Bella, I am sure jou will like that !" 
 
 " If Miss Hawkstone likes dancing it is 
 quite sufficient," said Mostjn, with the 
 softest courtesy ; " I shall be most happy to 
 bring some of the band, and as we go by 
 water, it will be very easy to convey them." 
 
 Poor Miss Hawkstone, gratified and flat- 
 tered, recovered her good humour, forgot 
 his negligence about her playing, and as 
 she did not really care in the least about 
 pictures or fine grounds, now that she found 
 what was Mostyn's opinion, was really fully 
 
 N 2
 
 180 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 as well pleased with the prospect of enjoj- 
 ment which the expedition to the Dingle 
 held out. 
 
 And now this important matter satis- 
 factorily settled, Captain Mostjn took his 
 departure ; the other guests had already 
 left some time before, and the rest of the 
 party broke up for the night.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 181 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Adelaide awoke tlie next morning with 
 a delightful feeling, as if something very 
 pleasant had happened to her ; though vague 
 and undefined, as the sensations generally 
 are when first aroused from slumber. She 
 looked about her, and then remembered 
 where she was. 
 
 The comfort and elegance of everything 
 surrounding her, the space and airiness 
 formed indeed a contrast to her tiny, incon-
 
 182 ADELAIDE LmDSAY. 
 
 venient room at her grandmotlier^s. She 
 felt restored to her native element as it 
 were, and her spirits rose elastic under its 
 influence. We may be independent of ex- 
 ternal refinements, but it is impossible for 
 any susceptible nature to be insensible to 
 them; and it was the greater merit in Ade- 
 laide that she submitted so cheerfully to the 
 deprivations which her altered circumstances 
 required, that her delicate and imaginative 
 organization rendered her peculiarly alive 
 to vulgarity and want of taste. 
 
 Everything ugly was displeasing to her, for 
 Bhie was an artist; every tiling lovely either 
 in form or colouring gave her peculiar plea- 
 sure. 
 
 If this was the case with inanimate ob- 
 jects, it may be supposed what a feeling 
 of exhilarating refreshment it gave her
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 183 
 
 when she thought over the events of the 
 evening before, and felt that she was once 
 more restored to the society of well-bred, 
 cultivated people ; that she was emancipated 
 from the Bells and the Sharps, and again 
 among her equals. She was too inex- 
 perienced to know that vulgarity of thought 
 may be found behind the most polished 
 manner, and that human nature, however 
 outwardly modified, is the same everywhere. 
 Polish cannot alter the substance how- 
 ever it may improve the outward appear- 
 ance ; yet a polished piece of glass looks 
 better than a rough diamond. Why does 
 the diamond so often forget this fact, and 
 blame the world for its superficiality'? — for 
 polish is a pleasant thing, after all. 
 
 Adelaide was thinking of some of these 
 things when the maid entered to assist her
 
 184 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 in her toilette, and was soon followed bj 
 Emilj, who came to show her the waj to 
 the breakfast-room. 
 
 Here the family party was assembled for 
 morning prayers, with the exception of 
 Miss Hawkstone, who always came down 
 late. 
 
 At breakfast, Adelaide sat between Mrs. 
 "VVilloughby and her brother, and the plans 
 for the day were discussed. 
 
 " Did you ever ride, Miss Lindsay^" asked 
 Latimer. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; it is almost the only means 
 of getting about in Jamaica, at least in the 
 Mountain, and I am very fond of it.'' 
 
 " That is charming. I dare say Mr. 
 Willoughby can mount you ; and if my 
 sister will drive with Bella in the Irish 
 car, I do not know what we can do better
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 185 
 
 than make an expedition to tlie Abbey 
 ruins." 
 
 "But I have no habit with me," said 
 Adelaide, " or I should have liked nothing so 
 much." 
 
 " Oh, Bella will lend you hers," exclaimed 
 Frederick. 
 
 " Will not you, Bella V as that young 
 lady now made her appearance, and took 
 her seat at the table. 
 
 "I am very sorry," replied Isabella 
 haughtily, " but I do not think my habit 
 would fit Miss Lindsay. — Our figures are 
 very diflferent." 
 
 " To be sure," said Frederick," you are a 
 great deal thicker round the waist, but I 
 dare say Miss Lindsay would not mind a 
 loose fit for once in a way." 
 
 Isabella looked very angry, but made no
 
 186 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 reply; while Adelaide felt extremely uncom- 
 fortable at being tbus made tlie innocent 
 cause of her irritation. 
 
 " "Well, then, if this plan cannot be ar- 
 ranged," said Latimer, looking disappointed 
 " jou and I must ride, I suppose, Isabella 
 and Miss Lindsay must drive with my 
 sister." 
 
 " I do not want to ride to-day, it is too 
 windy ; I hate riding in a wind !" she 
 replied ill-humouredly. 
 
 " If that is the case, you had better stay 
 at home, my dear," said her aunt ; " but the 
 wind is very soft and pleasant." 
 
 " I can't stand the dust ; it blows into 
 one's eyes, and makes one wretched." 
 
 " Very well, my dear Bella, please your- 
 self." 
 
 At this moment there was a ring at
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. l87 
 
 the door-bell, succeeded bj a ligbt, quick 
 step, and Captain Mostjn entered the 
 room. 
 
 " I hope jou will forgive me for this early 
 and unceremonious invasion of jour terri- 
 tories, Mrs. Willoughby,^' said he, "but I 
 did not know whether I should find jou 
 at home later in the day, for this en- 
 chanting weather would entice the most 
 inveterate stay-at-home out of doors. — I 
 want to ask you to put off your pic-nic 
 for another day, as the band is engaged 
 on Friday.^' 
 
 "Sit down. Captain Mostyn, and have 
 some breakfast, and we will talk about it,'* 
 replied Mrs. Willoughby, handing him a cup 
 of coffee. 
 
 The matter was discussed and satisfac- 
 torily arranged.
 
 188 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 " We are going to the Abbey ruins this 
 morning. Have you ever been there, 
 Mostyn 1" inquired Latimer. 
 
 " Not yet ; there is always so much to 
 be done or seen, that I have not found 
 time to pay them a visit ; but I shall 
 do so the first opportunity. — I am fond 
 of old ruins.'' 
 
 " Come with us this morning if you have 
 nothing better to do," said Mrs. Wil- 
 loughby. 
 
 "Nothing in the world would give me 
 so much pleasure," exclaimed Mostyn, who 
 was only waiting for an invitation. " We 
 must make up a riding party, Latimer. 
 You ride of course," turning to Ade- 
 laide. 
 
 " No. — I am going in the carriage with 
 Mrs. Willoughby."
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 189 
 
 " Isabella won't lend her her habit/' said 
 the terrible Frederick. 
 
 " I should be very happy to do so, 
 you know, Frederick,'' said Isabella, in 
 an amiable Yoice, "but it always makes 
 me ill, driving, and I am sure Miss 
 Lindsay — " 
 
 " Why, a minute ago, you said it was too 
 windy and dusty to ride ! — I never saw any 
 thing like you, Bella, you are as changeable 
 as a weathercock yourself." 
 
 "Frederick, go and order the jaunting 
 car and riding-horses round at eleven," said 
 his mother. 
 
 The boy left the room. 
 
 Nothing more was said about the^ dust or 
 the wind, and Isabella went to put on her 
 riding-habit, and Mrs. WiUoughby and 
 Adelaide to dress for the drive.
 
 190 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 The horses and carriage came round at 
 the appointed time. 
 
 " Why, Charles/' said Mrs. Willoughby, 
 as the whole party assembled upon the 
 steps, "there is some mistake, there is 
 no horse for you." 
 
 " I am going to drive you and Miss 
 Lindsay, if you will allow me," he replied. 
 
 " That is very good-natured of you ! 
 Now, Adelaide, mount up ! — You are not 
 afraid of this kind of thing, are you, my 
 dear?" 
 
 " Oh, no," said Adelaide. " I suppose the 
 worst thing that can happen to me is, that 
 I shall be thrown forwards on my face, and 
 crush my bonnet to atoms." 
 
 " You must hold fast when first we start, 
 and always when we stop," said Latimer, 
 who was carefully arranging a shawl about
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 191 
 
 her feet, "or jou reallj might be jerked 
 forwards, and damage something of greater 
 consequence than jour bonnet." 
 
 Mostjn was standing on the hall steps 
 all this time, playing with his whip, and 
 looking yerj fidgettj, though Miss Hawk- 
 stone did stand bj his side, talking and 
 smiling at him. 
 
 Mrs. Willoughbj and Emilj placed them- 
 selves on the other seat of the car, and 
 Latimer took his place bj the side of 
 Adelaide. Frederick was already mounted 
 on his spirited little ponj. 
 
 "Come, you people," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Willoughby, "are you ever going to 
 mounts" 
 
 "We shall be at the Abbey and back 
 before you have started," said Latimer,, 
 gaily, touching his horse with the whip. It
 
 192 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 started forwards. Adelaide held on firmlj 
 and laughed. 
 
 " How happy she looks ! " thought 
 Mostjn. "What a sweet creature she is!" 
 
 " Oh, Captain Mostjn ! what are jou 
 thinking about *?" cried Frederick, whose 
 little animal had been pawing up the gravel 
 very impatiently at this delay.'' Do let us 
 be going — !Do put Isabella on her horse ! 
 Pixie is in such a hurry to be off ! — I can't 
 hold her in much longer !" 
 
 " We will overtake them in a moment. 
 Now, Miss Hawkstone, will you allow 
 mer' 
 
 He offered his hand, and she vaulted 
 lightly into the saddle. She rode very 
 well, and she knew it. They set off at a 
 canter, and soon reached the carriage. 
 Mostyn passed round to Adelaide's side,
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. l93 
 
 who was talking with Latimer, the picture 
 of innocent gaiety. 
 
 "Well, Miss Lindsay, how do you like 
 this curious style of carriage V asked he, 
 as he rode on, keeping pace with the car. 
 " I daresay you never saw anything of the 
 kind before. It does you great credit that 
 you are not afraid. — You are quite a 
 heroine ! " 
 
 " I think it is the most delightful carriage 
 I ever saw ; but I am dreadfully afraid ! 
 Oh, Mr. Latimer !'' as the car jolted over a 
 stone, and she was thrown forwards. 
 
 " That was because you were not paying 
 attention,'^ said he. " If young ladies will 
 look about them, and enter into conversa- 
 tion with the passers by, their charioteers 
 cannot be answerable for the consequences. 
 Mostyn, my dear fellow, pray get out of 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 the way ! If jou keejD so close to the 
 wheel, I must inevitably drive over jou/' 
 
 Mostjn fell back, and again joined Miss 
 Hawkstone. But she found him unusually 
 silent ; and once, when she called his atten- 
 tion to a miserable-looking skeleton of a 
 horse, that was picking a scanty subsistence 
 on a breezy common, over which they were 
 passing, he answered — 
 
 " Yes, very pretty indeed ! — lovely V 
 
 He was looking at Adelaide's figure, as 
 she drove on before them, and thinking how 
 gracefully she sat on the Irish car. 
 
 " Lovely — !Do you call that wretched 
 looking object lovely V exclaimed she, 
 laughing afi'ectedly. 
 
 " I meant the view,'' said he. 
 
 They reached the ruins in about an hour, 
 the riders in advance of the carriage, for
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY: WS 
 
 Mostja had proposed to his companions 
 that thej should gallop on, and reach the 
 Abbey before it. He dismounted, gave the 
 reins to the servant, and was in readiness: 
 to help Adelaide to descend from the car, 
 when the rest of the party drove up. 
 
 Isabella noticed, with feelings of bitter' 
 and angry mortification, the almost tender' 
 empressement with which he assisted her' 
 unconscious rival, and the expression of 
 admiration which floated in his beautiful 
 eyes, as he looked upon her. But Adelaide 
 appeared not to observe it, and turned from 
 him to Mrs. Willoughby with the easy un- 
 concern of perfect indifference. Mostynv 
 was unaccustomed to be so treated, and it 
 stung him to the quick. It added excitcr 
 ment to his admiration, and a zest to his 
 insatiable love of conquest. 
 
 02
 
 196 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 The ruins were very picturesque, and 
 situated upon a somewhat precipitous bank, 
 overhanging the river. Adelaide regretted 
 that she had not brought her sketch-book, 
 and made a private resolution never to come 
 without it again, for the whole neighbour- 
 hood of Bury Hill was so beautiful, that it 
 would have been difficult to have gone half 
 a mile, in any direction, without meeting 
 with some natural arrangement of landscape 
 worthy of an artist's attention. Latimer 
 walked between Adelaide and his sister, 
 who called upon him to give them some 
 account of the rise and fall of this Old 
 Abbey. Latimer was full of general in- 
 formation. He was particularly well read 
 in history and old traditions, and so lively 
 and full of imagination were his descrip- 
 tions ; so much couleur locale did they
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 197 
 
 possess, that Adelaide, as she listened, felt 
 almost transported to those bygone days, 
 when Froissart's knights lived and loved, 
 and fought and died ; when Monarchs 
 went about with their crowns upon their 
 heads ; Queens stitched away with their 
 maidens at grim tapestry, and invented 
 new dishes to please their lords ; and 
 these deserted cloisters were peopled with 
 jovial monks, their warlike abbot at their 
 head. 
 
 Mostyn walked behind with Isabella ; but 
 his whole attention appeared engrossed by 
 the conversation of the three before him. 
 At last he proposed that they should all sit 
 down upon an inviting-looking piece of short, 
 fine turf, which lay in the shadow of a pro- 
 jecting buttress. The beautiful oriel win- 
 dow, which was still in good preservation*
 
 tr98 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 .was before them as tliej sat, rich in its 
 fretted work of ancient stone carving, 
 though the jewel-like stained glass which 
 formerly filled the frame-work had long been 
 destroyed, and was now replaced by the 
 ■waving tendrils of the mantling ivy. To 
 their right the wide and shallow river 
 sparkled in the . sun-light ; on the left were 
 .some fine old trees, the outposts of a neigh- 
 ibouring forest. It was indeed a lovely 
 .spot ! 
 
 Mostyn lay at Mrs. Willoughby's feet, 
 Ms arm supporting his head, his other hand 
 lazily playing with a piece of grass;. but 
 his face was turned towards Adelaide, who 
 ,sat next Mrs. Willoughby, and his eyes were 
 frequently fixed upon her countenance, as 
 her's were bent upon the back of a letter 
 which Latimer had found for her to sketch
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 15.9 
 
 upon. And to draw a smile from her, or 
 excite a laugh, was the aim and object of 
 Ihe gaj and whimsical sallies with which he 
 would occasionally diversify Latimer's more 
 serious narrations. 
 
 At last the lengthening shadows warned 
 them that it was time to start upon their ^ 
 way home. 
 
 "I have a great ambition to drive an 
 Irish car !" exclaimed Mostyn, when they 
 all reached the place where the carriage and 
 horses were waiting for them. " I wonder 
 whether you will trust yourself to my jehu- 
 ship, Mrs. Willoughby ? — Besides," he coji- 
 tinued, taking the reins from the hands of the 
 servant who held them, " it is but fair that 
 we should each take our turn in the labours 
 of the day ; and I make no doubt but that 
 Mr. Latimer will prefer riding home for
 
 200 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 a change, in the agreeable company of 
 his niece, Miss Hawkstoue. — Now, Miss 
 Lindsay ! — Let me see whether I can 
 arrange you as comfortably as Mr. 
 Latimer I" 
 
 All this was said with a kind of easy, 
 '• playful determination, which it would have 
 been difficult to oppose, had any one even 
 been so inclined. Latimer, he scarcely 
 knew why, felt disappointed, and a little 
 vexed, as Mostyn coolly took his seat next 
 Adelaide and drove off ; but he said nothing, 
 assisted Isabella to her horse, mounted that 
 of Mostyn, and quietly followed the car- 
 riage. 
 
 Isabella hardly opened her lips during 
 the whole ride. She was again a prey to 
 feelings of the most angry disappointment. 
 She saw how it was. Mostyn was attracted
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 201 
 
 bj a fresh object. " He had cast her aside 
 like an old glove," as she bitterly repeated 
 to herself, " and she had been a fool ever 
 to think about him !" Her only relief was 
 from the thought that Adelaide did not 
 care for him, seemed hardly to notice his 
 attentions, and to be perfectly indifferent 
 to his admiration ; although she talked to 
 him, when he addressed her, with that same 
 gay and artless manner which appeared to 
 be so bewitching to them all. Isabella 
 intensely wished that she might never 
 learn to like him, and that she should 
 be revenged I And yet when she saw 
 them, as they drove before her, she almost 
 ceased to hope it. Who could resist those 
 speaking, feeling, adoring eyes ? those flat- 
 tering tones, that beguiling, fascinating 
 manner 1
 
 g02 ADELAIDE LIl^DSAY. 
 
 Unhappy Isabella ! Shall men, who wan- 
 tonly and recklessly occasion such bitter 
 pain as rankled in her heart, stand 
 guiltless?
 
 , ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The .next ten dajs were spent by Ade- 
 laide in the full enjoyment of the affection 
 she. met with from all the Willoughbys, and 
 ,of the peace and quiet of the beautiful 
 pounds about Bury Hill. She worked and 
 talked with Mrs. Willoughby ; boated on 
 the river with Frederick and his sisters ; or 
 rambled about the lanes and fields in their 
 company. But the thought of her beloved 
 father would often rise to her mind, and
 
 204 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 remembering the time, not twelve months 
 since, when she fancied that nothing in this 
 world could afford her pleasure more, she 
 would reproach herself for what she consi- 
 dered her hard-heartedness, and wonder 
 how she could be so happy ! 
 
 Latimer constantly joined his little nieces 
 and Miss Lindsay in their walks. His con- 
 versation, always original and instructive, 
 added to the pleasure of these excursions, 
 which Miss Hawkstone was far too much of 
 a fine lady to join. Adelaide began to con- 
 sider him almost as much in the light of an 
 uncle as the children did themselves ; and 
 his benevolence and high principle, his culti- 
 vated mind and extreme kindness to herself, 
 could not fail in winning for him her highest 
 regard. 
 
 Captain Mostyn, during these few days,
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 205 
 
 was absent from D on a visit to some 
 
 friends on the other side of the county, and 
 Burj Hill, of course, saw nothing of him. 
 He was to return the day before the 
 pic-nic. 
 
 This anxiously-expected day at length 
 arrived. 
 
 It was a brilliant morning, as Adelaide 
 was awakened at five o'clock by Frederick, 
 to be informed. Soon after breakfast, the 
 hampers of provisions were all packed, and 
 the company began to arrive ; for Bury Hill 
 had been appointed the rendezvous for the 
 whole party. 
 
 Carriage after carriage drove up, full of 
 gaily dressed ladies and children, and after 
 a little delay, again started for the Dingle ; 
 there were not boats enough to convey all 
 by water, and many were obliged to pro-
 
 20^" ADELAIDE LIKDSAY. 
 
 ceed' there by the dusty high-road after 
 all. 
 
 Captain Mostyn, who was one of the first 
 arrivals, made an excellent master of the 
 ceremonies. He smoothed every difficulty^ 
 arranged the different parties, settling with 
 whom and by what conveyance each should' 
 go, and contrived to make every one pleased, 
 not only with themselves, but with every 
 thing, and every one else, a feat, perhaps, 
 never before performed upon a like occa- 
 sion. 
 
 The party for the water talked through 
 the flower-garden to the boat-house, where 
 the boats were in waiting for their freight. 
 
 Mostyn steered the party from Bury 
 Hill, and contrived that Adelaide should be 
 seated next to him. Latimer was obliged, 
 to content himself with some other young*
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 207 
 
 lady, and Miss Ha^kstone went in ano- 
 ther boat, and consoled herself, and, she 
 flattered herself, revenged her wrongs, 
 bj getting up a flirtation with another 
 officer. 
 
 The scenery through which the river 
 flowed was very beautiful. The banks, in 
 some places clothed with fine trees, which 
 feathered down to the water's brink, were in 
 others broken into fairy caves and bays of 
 still, transparent water, in whose dark shades 
 the trout lay undisturbed by the gay laughter' 
 which proceeded from the passing boats. 
 The blue and cloudless sky above, and the 
 pleasant breeze which played upon the sur- 
 face of the stream, wafting onwards the music 
 from the band which followed in the last 
 boat, all contributed to the enjoyment of the 
 hour. It was indeed a perfect day ! One
 
 208 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 of those days with which our much abused 
 climate is occasionally blest in the course of 
 a summer, and all the more valued and 
 enjoyed because so rare ; a day with which 
 one longs to do something ! — to mark with 
 a white stone, as the date of some delightful 
 excursion to which one shall all one's life 
 look back, as to some bright oasis in the even 
 sands of every day life. 
 
 Mostyn outshone himself in the brilliancy 
 of his conversation, and the charming ani- 
 mation of his spirits, and Adelaide, excited 
 by the beauty of the scene, was scarcely 
 behind him in vivacity. How engaging did 
 she look in her simple muslin dress and 
 pretty little straw bonnet, her cheeks bloom- 
 with health, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, 
 gayly talking and laughing, now with 
 Captain Mostyn, now with her faithful and
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 209 
 
 devoted little squire Frederick, who was 
 almost wild with fun and spirits. 
 
 There was one of that party who, seated 
 n the stern of the boat, apparently engaged 
 in conversation with the lady next him, was 
 enduring far different feelings. A hurried, 
 anxious glance towards the three in front, a 
 changing colour and uneasy motion of the 
 foot, with now and then a question answered 
 wide astray, might have betrayed to an 
 attentive observer, that all was not well with 
 Latimer. But all were too much occupied 
 with themselves or the scenery, to notice his 
 struggles to maintain a calm exterior while 
 his heart was torn within him. Now, for 
 the first time, his mind seemed awakened to 
 the truth, and jealousy revealed to him his 
 love for Adelaide ; a love that in men of 
 his age, when they are still alive to its 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 influence, is far more deep, more unselfish 
 and enduring, than that of a younger man. 
 The delusions of imagination sobered by the 
 realities, the disposition improved by the 
 discipline of life, such men as Latimer love 
 with their soul and not with their fancy ; 
 with the devotion, the disinterestedness, the 
 tenderness, and, if returned, the gratitude 
 of a more perfected nature. 
 
 Satisfied and gratified by Adelaide's 
 evident pleasure in his society, and the 
 almost affection of her manner towards him, 
 he had asked his heart no questions, and 
 never thought of her till now in a more 
 tender relation than that of friend. But 
 now the truth flashed across him ! He had 
 met with the woman who could make his 
 life one bright passage of happiness ; whom 
 he approved and admired with all the force
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 211 
 
 of his mind, and adored in all the depth of 
 his soul ; seen her but to lose her ; as he 
 thought with all the despair of a nature as 
 diffident as Latimer's. 
 
 What chance could he have, he the plain 
 and homelj-looking scholar, against such a 
 man as Mostyn — young, brilliant, and fas- 
 cinating 1 and with besides so many really 
 sterling and attaching qualities ? For Lati- 
 mer was far too generous to depreciate his 
 rival; he never even thought of contesting 
 the field against him, or of harbouring any 
 feeling of mortification against Adelaide. 
 Mostyn was a man to make her happy ; 
 Mostyn she would marry ; and he would 
 return to his college life, now rendered night 
 by contrast to the radiance which had illu- 
 minated the last few days, nor think of 
 happiness more ! 
 
 p2
 
 212 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 In about an hour thej reached the neigh- 
 bourhood of the spot selected as the object 
 of the day's excursion. The carriages had 
 abeadj arrived, and groups of gentlemen 
 and ladies were standing about, waiting the 
 arrival of the boats, which, as they ap- 
 proached, were hailed with inquiries and 
 reproaches for their delay. 
 
 " What an age you have been ! We began 
 to be afraid you must have suffered ship- 
 wreck V cried one. 
 
 " Or that Mostyn had eloped,'' said 
 another ; "and landing the rest of his party 
 upon some desert island, had made off with 
 one of the young ladies, and what would 
 have been worse, with all the provisions." 
 
 " I have brought all quite safe," replied 
 Mostyn, with a glance at Adelaide, as he 
 bent over her to catch the rope which was
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 213 
 
 DOW thrown to him ; " and jou may think 
 yourselves very lucky that I have so faith- 
 fully discharged my duty. — Come, Bennet !" 
 to a young lieutenant who was apathetically 
 looking on, biting an end of grass, " give 
 'that poor fellow a helping hand with the 
 hamper ! " 
 
 Mr. Bennet, with his delicate, primrose 
 coloured gloves, seemed anything but pleased 
 at the proposal, and looked an amusing 
 picture of perplexity, as before so many 
 ladies he did not like to refuse or object. 
 There was no help for it, and he was obliged, 
 to the great amusement of all observers, to 
 do as he was desired. 
 
 In the meanwliile the boats were landing 
 their passengers, amidst lively sallies of wit 
 and laughter; and when all were on dry 
 land, the party proceeded on foot to the
 
 214 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 scene of action, about ten minutes' walk 
 from the river. Adelaide again found her- 
 self bj the side of Mostjn, who, after he 
 had superintended the disembarkment of 
 the band, and given them their further 
 directions, speedily rejoined her. She was 
 once upon the point of going up to Latimer to 
 inquire if anything was amiss with him that 
 could account for his paleness and abstrac- 
 tion, as he stood a little apart from the rest„ 
 seemingly taking no interest in the scene; 
 but while she was hesitating Mostyn had 
 approached, asking her if she intended to 
 remain behind, as all the rest of the party 
 were upon the move; and soon engaged again 
 in conversation, she forgot the impression 
 which Latimer s appearance had momen- 
 tarily made upon her mind. 
 
 The cliffs through which the river flowed.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 215 
 
 receded at the landing-place some fifty 
 yards from the bank, and then opened into 
 a narrow ravine, through which a small and 
 noisy tributary ran to throw itself into the 
 main stream. The sides of this ravine 
 were clothed with tangled brushwood, wild 
 roses, and honeysuckle, while here and 
 there towered the proud fox- glove; a little 
 farther on it widened into a kind of natural 
 amphitheatre, carpeted with fine grass and 
 moss, upon which the foot sank noiselessly. 
 The little rivulet, tamed by the soft sand 
 which here formed its bed, flowed softly 
 and gently forwards, contrasting with its 
 brawling dance beyond, as infancy with 
 boyhood. The surrounding cliffs were hol- 
 lowed here into small and shady caverns — 
 there ran back into deep recesses, and were 
 everywhere covered with copse-wood and
 
 216 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 vegetation, save where some rock, with its 
 fine bold outline, stood out in strong relief 
 against the soft and tufted forms which sur- 
 rounded it. 
 
 This was the Dingle; and a unanimous 
 exclamation of delight proceeded from the 
 party as thej approached. 
 
 " How lovely Y' cried the ladies. 
 
 " What a snug, cool place !" said the 
 gentlemen. 
 
 " By Jove ! a capital place for the wine !" 
 exclaimed the Lieutenant, pointing to the 
 further end of the stream which lay deep in 
 shadow. 
 
 Frederick ran up to Adelaide. 
 
 " Now, Adelaide ! what do you think of 
 our place, my choice, and the children's 1 
 Is it not a nice place ? I am sure you 
 can't have anything prettier than this even
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 217 
 
 in jour Jamaica, which jou are always 
 talking about. I shall go and ask Bella 
 whether she does not think this a thousand 
 times better than the stupid Castle, where 
 the king was. — I am sure she won't saj so 
 though, for she would rather die than con- 
 fess herself in the wrong !'' and away ran 
 this " enfant terrible!' 
 
 " It does put me a little in mind of 
 Jamaica," said Adelaide to Mostyn ; " but I 
 am afraid that even to please Frederick, I 
 cannot say that it is equal to it." 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Mostyn. " But 
 still it would give a stranger some sort of 
 an idea of the beauty of the island—a kind 
 of wrong-end-of-telescope idea, do not you 
 think so ? What a number of pretty little 
 croquis for an artist, are not there '? I 
 know you draw — I hope you have not
 
 1218 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 forgotten jour sketch-book this time, and 
 then jou can sit down on this broad shady 
 stone, and make a drawing of that cliff 
 yonder, which looks like some old tower, 
 lording it over the fox-gloves — while they 
 are getting the pies and things out, and 
 laying the cloth/' 
 
 " Mr. Latimer has got my sketch-book, I 
 think, and if I am to follow your injunc- 
 tions, I must go and look for him. — Where 
 is he V continued she, looking round ; " I 
 cannot see him." 
 
 " Pray sit down here, Miss Lindsay; I will 
 soon find him out, and bring you your book.'' 
 
 " Oh, thank you. Captain Mostyn," said 
 Adelaide. " I would rather go myself. 
 I do not think he is looking very well, and 
 I want to ask him if any thing is the 
 matter with him/'
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 219 
 
 " He is a very fortunate man to ex- 
 cite so much interest/' said Mostyn, with 
 some degree of pique, and an almost 
 imperceptible shade of sarcasm in his 
 tone. 
 
 Adelaide coloured. 
 
 " You forget," she replied, " that he "was 
 my first acquaintance when I came here — 
 and he is so very kind, and " 
 
 " And in short, he seems to be a great 
 favourite of yours.'' 
 
 "Every one who knows Mr. Latimer 
 must love and respect him, he is so excel- 
 lent and so clever — and I wish, Captain 
 Mostyn, you would be so good as to help 
 me to find him." 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure. — Oh, Fre- 
 derick, there you are again! Just the 
 fellow I wanted. Where is your uncle 1
 
 220 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Can jou tell us where he has hid himself? 
 Miss Lindsay wants her sketch-book." 
 
 " He is helping Mr. Bennet to put the 
 wine to cool in the stream yonder. But 
 mamma wants you so much, Captain Mos- 
 tyn — she has sent me for you. — I will go 
 with Adelaide." 
 
 Unwillingly enough, Mostyn walked away 
 to where Mrs. Willoughby was busily en- 
 gaged superintending the laying out of the 
 refreshments, while Adelaide and Frederick 
 proceeded in search of Latimer.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 They soon found him where Frederick 
 had described. 
 
 " I am come to relieve jou of my sketch- 
 book, at last, Mr. Latimer/' said Adelaide, 
 approaching him. " I am so much obliged 
 you for taking charge of it.'' 
 
 Latimer drew it from his pocket, asking 
 her what she intended drawing. She 
 pointed to the cliff, mentioning that Cap- 
 tain Mostjn had recommended the study.
 
 222 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 An expression of pain darkened for one 
 second his countenance. Adelaide ob- 
 served it. 
 
 " Are jou not well V asked she, with a 
 look of affectionate concern. "I thought 
 JOU seemed ill as jou stood bj the river, 
 when the J were unloading the boats." 
 
 " Did JOU observe me then V he replied 
 with evident gratification. "No, I am 
 quite well, thank jou ; but the sun is so 
 powerful, and I have rather a head-ache.'' 
 
 " If that is the case, come with us out of 
 the heat and bustle — Captain Mostjn has 
 found me such a pleasant seat. You shall 
 have half of it, and I will be so generous as 
 to tear a leaf out of mj sketch-book for 
 jou, and then we will see who can make 
 the best di-awing/' 
 
 But Latimer could not bear the idea of
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 223 
 
 witnessing her the object of those attentions 
 from his rival, which she so artlessly, so 
 gaily received. He made some excuse about 
 his sister requiring his services, and declined 
 to accompany her. 
 
 " Very well r said she, saucily tossing 
 her pretty head ; " see whether any other 
 young lady will make you such a proposal. 
 Come, Frederick, I am longing to begin my 
 sketch. — Good bye, Mr. Latimer;" and 
 away they went to the shady stone, where 
 she was soon engrossed with her drawing, 
 whilst Frederick, lying on the grass at her 
 feet, kept up a continued flow of boyish 
 nonsense. 
 
 In the mean time, the rest of the party 
 were amusing themselves according to their 
 several tastes and inclinations ; some explor- 
 ing the caves and cliffs ; some helping to
 
 224 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 unpack the hampers, and lay out the con- 
 tents upon the tablecloths which were 
 spread upon the turf ; some seated in shadj 
 nooks, in knots of twos and threes ; some 
 noisy, others dull; some affected, and others 
 awkwardly shy ; some amused, and others 
 amusing ; in all that infinite variety which 
 will peep out in spite even of that livery of 
 conventional good manners, which is thrown 
 over society in general, where all originality 
 is considered a crime. 
 
 Mrs. Willoughby and her little girls, were 
 busily engaged with, perhaps, the most im- 
 portant part of the day's business. Cap- 
 tain Mostyn, summoned as has been said, 
 to assist them, was giving his opinion 
 whether the roast-beef or venison pasty 
 should occupy the place of honour, &c., &c., 
 to his infinite annoyance, for he wished
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 225 
 
 himself at some little distance off, near a 
 large flat stone that we are acquainted with. 
 
 At length, all arrangements being com- 
 pleted, and the bugle sounding the com- 
 pany to the attack, he hurried ofi* in quest 
 of Adelaide. She was still engaged with 
 her drawing, as he came behind her, 
 and looked over her shoulder at her per- 
 formance. 
 
 " A very \m-ladylike sketch, indeed. Miss 
 Lindsay. I could hardly have believed a 
 style so bold, and drawing so correct, could 
 have proceeded from any hand but a mas- 
 ter's. — But dinner is ready, and they are all 
 waiting for you." 
 
 "Shall I not have time to finish this 
 tree 1 It will not take me fi-vQ minutes." 
 
 " No, no," cried Frederick, " do come ! 
 We shan't find a place left for us." 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Adelaide closed her book and rose from 
 her seat, and thej proceeded to join the 
 dining party. 
 
 "Too late, too late, Mostjn ! — There's 
 not a place left for you ! — All are engaged,^' 
 exclaimed a young officer as they ap- 
 proached. 
 
 " Here, Adelaide,'' said Mrs. Willoughby 
 from the top of ^the tablecloth, round which 
 the company was seated with less comfort 
 than picturesque effect — " here is a place for 
 you." 
 
 " No, no," cried Mostyn, " Miss Lindsay 
 will not be so treacherous as to abandon her 
 companions in misfortune. Who'll join the 
 exclusionists V^ cried he, seizing upon a pie 
 that stood near him. " Come, Frederick, 
 show what you can do upon a foraging 
 party. We will have an establishment of
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY, 227 
 
 our own, under that oak yonder, and be 
 independent of those inhospitable people/' 
 
 Several now rose, amidst shouts of " Trea- 
 son ! treason !" from the rest, and each seizin^ 
 upon the dish next him, followed Mostjn to 
 the oak-tree ; the merry sounds which soon 
 proceeded from its shade reversing the old 
 adage. 
 
 " What forward manners those young 
 American ladies have T said Miss Hawk- 
 stone to her next neighbour, who happened 
 to be none other than Latimer. " I dare 
 say it may be all ignorance ; but I wonder 
 my aunt does not speak to her, and inform 
 her that it is not considered quite correct 
 for young ladies in tlm country to leave 
 the side of their chaperones. And then, 
 how she can amuse herself with those chil- 
 dren as she does, I cannot for my part ima- 
 
 Q2
 
 228 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 gine, — always roaming about tlie grounds 
 with them, botanising, sketching, or some- 
 thing or another. I only wonder her com- 
 plexion is not ruined ! — but she has too 
 high a colour to my mind." 
 
 " I really cannot agree with you in any of 
 your objections, Bella," replied Latimer, " not 
 even in that to her complexion ; and for the 
 next, do you remember what Fenelon says, 
 " that in our recreations we ought to have a 
 sort of joyousness,that will induce us to please 
 others, and to be pleased with trifles '?" I 
 think I never met any girl at once so free 
 from all affectation or forwardness, and yet 
 so sweetly sprightly as Miss Lindsay ! She 
 never thinks of herself, or of the effect she 
 is producing, or ought to produce, which is 
 the true secret ^of good manners ; and her 
 own sound judgment, and extreme delicacy
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 229 
 
 of perception will prevent her offending the 
 most fastidious taste of the nicest of the 
 nice, I will answer for it." 
 
 " Whj, uncle Latimer, I declare I could 
 almost fancy you had fallen in love with her 
 yourself! — I never heard you so excited in 
 behalf of any young lady in the world be- 
 fore ! — But I am afraid there is no chance 
 for you. Captain Mostyn has hardly lefl^ 
 her side the whole day, and I cannot say 
 she seems to discourage him. — I would 
 warn my protegee if I were you." 
 
 " Mrs. Grant, may I trouble you for some 
 strawberries V said Latimer, holding out his 
 plate across the table. "Shall I get you 
 some, Mrs. Bligh V to the lady at his other 
 hand. " They look so fine, that I fancy 
 they can come from none other than your 
 renowned and early strawberry beds."
 
 230 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Mrs. Bligli confessed that tliej were from 
 her garden ; and thej were soon deep in a 
 discussion upon the relative merits of Keene's 
 Seedlings, and Old Scarlets. 
 
 And now dinner was over, and the com- 
 pany arose and again dispersed in all direc- 
 tions. Adelaide joined Mrs. Willoughbj 
 and her brother, who proposed exploring 
 an inviting-looking path, which Frederick 
 assured them would lead to a very pretty 
 waterfall. Captain Mostyn soon followed 
 them ; for he appeared quite unable to tear 
 himself from Adelaide's side. By the time 
 they returned from their walk the band had 
 begun playing a waltz, and the quiet Dingle 
 was transformed into a ball-room. 
 
 Her father had had some old-fashioned 
 notions regarding this dance, and had for- 
 bidden Adelaide to practise it : she now^
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 231 
 
 therefore, stood looking on, at Mrs. Wil- 
 louglibj's side, Mostjn upon her refusal, 
 engaging another partner. He wished to 
 show her how well he could dance. 
 
 "Well, Adelaide,^' said Mrs. Wil- 
 loughbj, " how have you enjoyed your day '2" 
 
 " Oh, so very much, thank you, dear Mrs. 
 Willoughby ; I think a pic-nic is the most 
 delightful thing in the world ; and when 
 this is over, I am afraid, such is my dissi- 
 pated turn of mind, that I shall only be 
 longing for another." 
 
 Mrs. Willoughby smiled ; she knew how 
 much the pleasure of these parties de- 
 pends upon the person with whom one is 
 thrown. 
 
 "Perhaps, my dear," she replied, "you 
 might not find another so delightful as this. 
 How do you like our favourite, Captain
 
 232 ADELAIDE L^DSAr. 
 
 Mostjn, upon further acquaintance ? — You 
 seem to have become great friends/' 
 
 " I think he is a very charming person , 
 and I do not wonder at his being so gene- 
 rally liked. — Certainly, my acquaintance is 
 not very extensive, but I have never yet 
 met any one so agreeable, I think." 
 
 This was said with such perfect simplicity 
 and self-possession, that Mrs. Willoughby 
 felt almost provoked at her indifference, and 
 disappointed that her admired Captain 
 Mostyn had made so little impression. Per- 
 haps, too, she was conscious how differently 
 she might have felt under similar circum- 
 stances, at Adelaide's age, for certainly it 
 was flattering to be singled out by the 
 " admired of all admirers," as an object of 
 such exclusive attention; and we do not 
 quite like to think that others should prove
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 233 
 
 more sensible than ourselyes, particularly 
 upon such a point as this. 
 
 Latimer at this moment joined them. 
 
 " How tired and pale you look, Charles T 
 said his sister ; " what is the matter with 
 you*? — I am afraid you have not enjoyed 
 the day as much as our little friend 
 here." 
 
 " To tell truth, I have had a wretched 
 head-ache all day, and shall not be sorry to 
 find myself at home, out of all this noise 
 and bustle. — How is it, though, that Ade- 
 laide is not dancing? Do not you waltz 1" 
 turning to her. 
 
 " No, I do not. But the waltz is just 
 finished. Will not you engage me for this 
 quadrille, Mr. Latimer 1 No one has asked 
 me, and it will be so very humiliating to 
 sit out another dance. I am sure it will do
 
 234 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 you more good than any thing. Nothing is 
 so wearying as looking on, and listening to 
 dance-music. — What!'^ as he seemed to he- 
 sitate, " not when I ask you as a particular 
 favour?" 
 
 " I will do any thing that you ask me!" 
 cried he, vehemently, and taking her hand, 
 led her to the quadrille which was just 
 forming. 
 
 His manner had been unobserved by Mrs. 
 Willoughby, who had turned to speak to a 
 lady who was passing, or it might have 
 enlightened her as to her brother's feelings, 
 and saved much unhappiness. 
 
 Adelaide and Latimer were Jooking for a 
 place in the quadrille, when Mostyn hur- 
 ried up. 
 
 " Miss Lindsay," he exclaimed, " I was 
 just searching for you! May I have the
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 235 
 
 honour?" offering to take her haaid from 
 that of Latimer. 
 
 " Surely you are not engaged'?" seeing 
 that she made no motion to accept his arm. 
 
 " Indeed I am ; and to Mr. Latimer." 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon. I was not 
 aware that Mr. Latimer was a dancing 
 man." 
 
 And he stepped back, looking vexed and 
 disappointed ; but, recovering himself, asked 
 her for the next quadrille, which she ac- 
 cepted, and then walked away to engage 
 Miss Hawkstone. He felt more mortified 
 than he cared to acknowledge to himself, 
 as he glanced from time to time at Ade- 
 laide, who seemed in most provokingly good 
 spirits, and quite unconscious of the loss 
 she had sustained in not having himself for 
 a partner.
 
 236 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 " Irritating ! — insensible ! — enchanting ! — 
 lovely little thing ! " was his soliloquy ; " I 
 will be revenged upon you yet." 
 
 Altogether, he was so much annoyed that 
 he could hardly exert himself to be decently 
 polite to his partner, when he observed that 
 all the feigned attempts at animation with 
 which he had begun the dance, on purpose 
 to pique Adelaide, if possible, as much as 
 she had unintentionally piqued him, failed 
 to attract her attention, for she never once 
 looked his way. 
 
 " What do you think of that young 
 American ladyT^ asked Miss Hawkstone, 
 who always would persist in giving her that 
 appellation, though Adelaide was no more 
 of an American than she was herself. "Do 
 not you admire her very much'? — I think 
 she is one of the prettiest girls that I
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 237 
 
 Laye ever seen; though many that I 
 liave asked are quite of a different 
 opinion. Colonel Grey thinks her posi- 
 tively plain." 
 
 Miss Hawkstone rarely made a remark 
 without calculating its effect. She could 
 not conceal from herself that Captain 
 Mostyn admired Miss Lindsay, and thought 
 that she might as well gain credit for dis- 
 interested generosity by this praise, equi- 
 vocal as it was. There was another im- 
 pulse at work, too. She wished to give 
 him to understand how little she valued 
 his attentions to herself, how easily she 
 could resign him to this new attraction; 
 and all the time her heart was gnawed 
 with jealousy. 
 
 " I think her very nice-looking," was the 
 reply to her observation; "and yet there
 
 238 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 is something, too, different about her from 
 other joung ladies.'^ 
 
 " Oh, those are her American manners/' 
 said Isabella, with a little spiteful laugh; 
 " of course we cannot be supposed to admire 
 those. She has seen very little of good 
 society evidently/' 
 
 '' Do you know any thing of her family?'' 
 asked Mostyn. " How came your aunt to 
 be acquainted with herT' 
 
 " I beheve she knew her mother formerly. 
 — Oh, no ! / know nothing of her family. 
 I beheve her father was a Jamaica planter, 
 at least I know they used to have slaves. 
 Only fancy, Captain Mostyn! how cruel to 
 have slaves !" 
 
 " Very shocking, indeed. But how hap- 
 pened she to come to England." 
 
 " The property was destroyed in a hur-
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 239 
 
 ricane, I believe, and lier father was killed 
 in some sudden way. At all events, she 
 has not a penny, and is going out as a 
 governess, as soon as she can hear of a 
 place. — It is very kind of my aunt taking 
 her in, is it not? but she is always so cha- 
 ritable. Some people are so fond of pa- 
 tronizing." 
 
 " Are you quite sure she is going out as 
 a governess T asked Mostyn, in surprise. 
 
 "Oh, yes, certain. She makes no secret 
 of her plans ; I heard her talking them over 
 with my aunt the other day.'^ 
 
 "Poor little thing!" said Mostyn, in a 
 commiserating voice, and almost as if to 
 himself 
 
 "Oh, she is not to be pitied, I assure 
 you. — She is one of your independent, 
 high-spirited young ladies, and likes getting
 
 240 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 her living, I verilj believe, though she does 
 look so gentle and innocent." 
 
 " Gentle and innocent !" said Mostjn, re- 
 peating her last words, though in a very 
 different tone, — "yes, that she certainly 
 does ! — Who does she live with now ? I 
 suppose she has relations ; and are they all 
 so poor as to make this step necessary V 
 
 " From what I heard her saying to my 
 aunt, I should suppose so. From all I 
 gathered, I fancy her only relation in the 
 world is a grandmother, who seems to be 
 living in a very poor way, at some little out- 
 of-the-way place. — I have an idea that it is 
 not altogether love of " noble wzdependence" 
 which decides Adelaide Lindsay to engage 
 herself in that most odious of all de- 
 pendencies — as I call it — a governess's 
 career. I cannot help suspecting that she
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 241 
 
 found the manner of life at her grand- 
 mother's exceedingly dull ; and I am sure 
 she is a young lady who could not do 
 without excitement ; Creoles always require 
 so much, do not they ? Besides, poor thing ! 
 what chance could there be of her settling 
 in a place like G , you know V 
 
 " You think she has a better chance as a 
 governess, perhaps ?' 
 
 "Yes; and no doubt she does, too. — But 
 you are quite forgetting your vis-a-vis, 
 Captain Mostyn. Miss Bligh has been 
 performing a solo all this time." 
 
 Mostyn, more than ever interested in 
 Adelaide, and infinitely disgusted with the 
 malice and jealousy which had dictated 
 every word that had fallen from Isabella's 
 lips, addressed himself to the business of 
 the quadrille, and when it was over, rather 
 
 YOL. I. E
 
 242 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 abruptly abandoned his partner to claim 
 Adelaide's promise ; but no more quadrilles 
 were danced that evening, for all the 
 mothers, aunts, and elders of the party said 
 it was now time to go home. 
 
 " It was getting late — the dew would be 
 falling — it would be cold upon the water/' 
 
 So, in spite of the remonstrances and 
 entreaties of the younger people the band 
 was stopped, and the young ladies and 
 children were ordered to walk forward to 
 the river bank, where the boats and 
 carriages were already in waiting. 
 
 Mothers might now be seen running 
 about with additional coverings for their 
 ungrateful offspring, when such little scenes 
 as the following ensued. 
 
 "Julia, my love, here is your cloak — ^put 
 it on immediately! I shall have you ill
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 243 
 
 "v^ith one of your bad colds! You are 
 heated with dancing/' 
 
 " Oh, mamma ! I don't want it. — I shall 
 be suffocated with heat !" 
 
 Julia had a pretty figure, and wore a 
 Yery becoming kind of outer garment. She 
 looked any thing but pleased with her 
 mother's kind and thoughtful care, who, in 
 spite of the peevish remonstrance, placed 
 the cloak upon the refractory shoulders, 
 only to be thrown off again at the first 
 opportunity. And yet Julia was a good 
 girl in the main ; good-natured, and at- 
 tached to her mother. She was only in- 
 considerate, a little Yain, and a little spoilt. 
 
 At length, after a great deal of talking, 
 and a great deal of confusion, the whole 
 party were once more started, and upon 
 the way to their respective homes. 
 
 R 2
 
 244 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Adelaide returned with Mrs. Willougliby, 
 Miss Hawkstone, and the three little girls 
 by land ; Captain Mostjn, who had been 
 invited to spend some days at Bury Hill, 
 went there by water with Latimer.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 245 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The weather continued deliglitfuUy fine, 
 and tliese early summer days were spent 
 by the party at Bury Hill almost entirely 
 out of doors. Now they would make ex- 
 cursions to difi'erent places of interest in 
 the neighbourhood, setting out by times and 
 returning by moonlight to a late supper. 
 Another day they would ramble for hours
 
 246 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 in the woods about the house, or boat on 
 the river ; and when it was so hot as to 
 discourage all exercise, the ladies would 
 take their work to the lawn in front of the 
 drawing-room window, while Mostjn would 
 read aloud to them, or, what was still 
 better, entertain them with his amusing 
 conversation. 
 
 Whether they rode or drove, walked, 
 boated, or sat still, Mostjn seemed never 
 happy but at Adelaide's side, and sooner 
 or later always contrived to take his place 
 there. Nothing could be more favourable 
 to tlie indulgence of his favourite propensity 
 than the freedom of this pleasant country- 
 house life, and he made no attempt to 
 throw the slightest veil over a partiaHty 
 which had become a topic of speculation
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 247 
 
 amongst all tlie gossiping acquaintance in 
 the neighbourliood. 
 
 To gratify Adelaide in every way which 
 he could devise, seemed the principal object 
 of the day ; to her were all his feelings dis- 
 closed, as if he would have her acquainted 
 with his whole character. He sought her 
 opinion upon his past life, his present aspi- 
 rations, and his future conduct, and to 
 obtain her approbation appeared to be the 
 summit of his desires. 
 
 How dangerous were such discourses as 
 these, to a young and inexperienced girl of 
 nineteen : raising in her heart so deep an 
 interest for the speaker, and such a speaker 
 as Mostyn ! While, at the same time, his 
 confidences were so insiduously flattering to 
 herself. Had she been aware how fond
 
 248 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Mostjn was of making himself interesting 
 bj sucIl confidences, and how many before 
 her had shared them, she would not prob- 
 ably have regarded them quite in the same 
 light. But this she did not know ; and how 
 was it possible she could long continue to 
 receive with indifierence so many marks of 
 devotion, or bid friendship forbear to claim 
 a dearer name '? Mostyn had no longer 
 occasion to be piqued by the manner with 
 which she received his attentions. 
 
 Latimer, with the penetration of a ge- 
 nuine affection, discovered for x^delaide that 
 which still remained a secret to herself; 
 that she was no longer mistress of her heart, 
 and that Captain Mostyn had succeeded in 
 gaining that which he gave himself so much 
 pains to acquire. Nor did the result sur-
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 249 
 
 prise him. From the day of the pic-nic he 
 had foreseen how it would all end, and for 
 some days bore with the patience of a 
 martyr the fulfilment of his own anticipa- 
 tions. At length he could endure it no 
 longer, and felt convinced that he must take 
 the step which it would have been better for 
 his own peace of mind to have taken long 
 before, and for ever tear himself from her, 
 who, in spite of himself, was becoming every 
 hour more endeared to his heart. 
 
 They were all sitting on the lawn one 
 afternoon under the trees, which cast a 
 flickering light and shade, now upon the 
 dresses of the ladies, as they bent over their 
 embroidery frames, now upon the recum- 
 bent figures of the gentlemen as they lay at 
 the ladies' feet. The drawing-room windows
 
 250 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 were wide open, and shaded by their pro- 
 jecting blinds, from beneath which jou 
 might look into the cool and comfortable 
 drawing-room, from whence proceeded the 
 subdued tones of the piano upon which 
 Emily was practising. It was a very hot 
 day : the insects hummed lazily as they 
 skimmed or darted about in the sunshine ; 
 the distant prospect was veiled by a soft 
 haze, and the atmosphere quivered against 
 the balustrade, which divided the lawn on 
 one side from the park. 
 
 Mostyn, who was seated at Adelaide's 
 feet, as usual on these occasions, held an 
 open book in his hand ; he had been read- 
 ing aloud. 
 
 Latimer, seated a little apart from the 
 rest, was also reading, what, to judge from
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 251 
 
 his apparently deep absorption, interested 
 him deeply; but his thoughts were far 
 away ; he had been finally making up his 
 mind to take leave of Adelaide for ever, and 
 to return to his College, where in severe 
 study he hoped gradually to overcome his 
 hopeless passion. 
 
 There was some plan on foot for an expe- 
 dition to a wood some miles distant, in 
 search of a rare plant which was to be 
 found there, and Mrs. Willoughby was ar- 
 ranging how they should all go. 
 
 "We must take the car and the little 
 pony-chaise,'' said she ; " for old John will 
 never let us take the britschka through the 
 wood. He will threaten me with broken 
 springs and scratched pannels, and all sorts 
 of disasters ; so you must drive one, Cap-
 
 252 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 tain Mostjn, and Charles the other, — will 
 you not, Charles ?" turning round to where 
 he sat. — " Do, pray, put down that tiresome 
 book, and tell us whether we can get with 
 the pony carriages to the spot where this 
 plant grows. — You have often been there, 
 I know, and can show us the way." 
 
 " I am afraid that will be hardly pos- 
 sible," said Latimer, rising and coming to 
 her side, " for, I am sorry to say, I must 
 leave you to-morrow." 
 
 " Leave us, Charles ! — What can you 
 mean 1 — Why, the vacation is hardly begun!" 
 
 " It is not ; but circumstances have arisen 
 which make it imperative for me to return 
 to Oxford." 
 
 '' Oh, nonsense, dear Charles ! — What 
 can have happened 1" said Mrs. Willoughby,
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 253 
 
 looking up from her embroidery, struck by 
 the rather tremulous tone of voice in which 
 he had pronounced the last sentence. 
 
 There was a quiver in the upper lip, 
 which did not escape the affectionate sister. 
 She pushed aside her frame, and rising, put 
 her arm within his, and led him away from 
 the rest. 
 
 " Now tell me, Charles," said she, as 
 they walked slowly on, — " tell me what 
 is the matter 1 I have observed that 
 you have not been in your usual spirits 
 latterly. — Has anything happened to annoy 
 your 
 
 " Oh, nothing,^' said he, slightly colour- 
 ing, and looking down. He felt as timid as 
 a young girl, and as unwilling that his secret 
 should be discovered.
 
 254 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 " I am confident there is something upon 
 your mind. — Do tell me, dearest brother t 
 — Have we not always been friends'? — 
 Have jou ever kept a thought from my 
 knowledge 1 — Why should you now, and for 
 the first time in your life, conceal an anxiety 
 from me V she urged with afi'ectionate 
 entreaty. 
 
 " Ah, Sophia ! I can never tell you, and 
 you will never divine it ! — Tt will never, for 
 one instant, cross your mind that I have 
 been such a fool ! — such an egregious fool ! 
 — At my time of life, — so much older ? — 
 as to suppose it possible ! — But I never did 
 suppose it possible ! — I never thought of it, 
 — till I discovered that it was becoming 
 every day more impossible, — till T saw that 
 he, — that she, '^
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 255 
 
 He stopped. Thej had now readied the 
 balustrade, the limit of the garden ; he sup- 
 ported his arms upon it, and covered his 
 face with his hands, 
 
 Mrs. Willoughby understood his meaning 
 in a moment. These rapid and incoherent 
 sentences explained it all to her, and she 
 wondered at her own want of observation. 
 She was much affected, and laying her hand 
 tenderly upon his arm, said, "I do not 
 know why, my dearest brother, you should 
 think there is any absurdity in your feelings, 
 — or why — " half hesitating, "you should 
 at once despair of meeting with a return — 
 you, so excellent, so highly gifted.'^ 
 
 She had not the courage to tell him what 
 she really thought. 
 
 "Ah, Sophy ! I do not despair, for I never
 
 256 ADELAIDE LmDSAY. 
 
 hoped ! — What hope could I have '? Can I 
 help seeing how it is with her '? that she 
 has given all that affection — which I could 
 die to inspire for one moment, — to another ? 
 that other well deserving of the treasure "i " 
 " Oh, Charles ! why did you not tell me 
 of this before ? If I had had the remotest 
 suspicion, that — that — I mean of your feel- 
 ings, Captain Mostyn should never have 
 interfered with that, which, I am certain, 
 would have ensured your happiness as 
 much as her own, which would have given 
 me such infinite satisfaction. Now, I fear, 
 it is too late ! — But still, there is no know- 
 ing. — She appeared to like you so very 
 much at first. It is you who have avoided 
 her so entirely of late, that it is possible 
 she may imagine you no longer like her.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 257 
 
 Who can fathom the heart secrets of a girl, 
 with so much dignity and self-command, as 
 has Adelaide? — She may not care for 
 Claude Mostyn, after all. — One is so often 
 mistaken in these affairs." 
 
 "Does that look like indifference?'^ said 
 Latimer, glancing towards the spot they 
 had just quitted. 
 
 Miss Hawkstone had gone into the house : 
 Frederick and Susan were in pursuit of a 
 butterfly, and nearly out of sight amongst 
 the borders and shrubberies. Mostyn was 
 bending over Adelaide's chair, as she 
 worked, in an attitude of ineffable tender- 
 ness, talking to her in low and earnest 
 tones, whilst she would every now and then 
 look up to answer him, with an expression 
 of innocent, confiding happiness in her sweet 
 
 VOL. L * s
 
 258 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 ejes, that certainly could not be mistaken 
 for indifference. 
 
 " No, no/' continued Latimer, sadlj ; " I 
 have seen how it must end, from that day 
 at the Dingle. Then first I perceived where 
 the thoughts of my soul had been wander- 
 ing, — too far for me to recall them ! — and 
 then, first, how vainly ! — I should have at 
 once taken the manly and straightforward 
 course of leaving her for ever, but I had 
 not the courage ! and, in spite of my better 
 reason, like a child, kept hoping against 
 hope; — and now," he said, with a forced 
 and painful smile, " I must reap the con- 
 sequences of my own weakness and folly, 
 and must endure the additional pain of 
 breaking away from chains, which every suc- 
 ceeding day has only rivetted more firmly.'^
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 259 
 
 "Alas, Charles! I can say no more. I 
 should deceive you, as well as myself, by 
 holding out hopes which my own judgment 
 tells me can only end in disappointment! 
 I cannot express to you how grieyed I am 
 to have been, as I must ever feel that I 
 have been, the cause of so much pain. — I 
 cannot forgive myself for my want of obser- 
 vation and penetration ! — If I had for one 
 instant foreseen or suspected what were your 
 feelings, all might have turned out accor- 
 ding to our wishes ! But, I confess, I was 
 secretly flattered by the admiration she so 
 evidently excited, for I love her as a child 
 of my own, and I certainly have done every 
 thing in my power to encourage what I 
 hoped would end in a very happy marriage. 
 I dare not ask you to stay any longer, for 
 
 s2
 
 260 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 I am sure it would only be the means of 
 occasioning jou additional pain, and I can 
 only hope, my own dearest Charles, that 
 you will be able to forget, in your numerous 
 pursuits and studies, all that you have felt 
 within these last few weeks/' 
 
 Latimer shook his head, but made no 
 reply, and passed through the drawing- 
 room window into the house. 
 
 The next morning he returned to Oxford. 
 
 Mostyn's visit also drew to a close ; but 
 
 after his return to D , hardly a day 
 
 passed without his riding over to spend 
 hour after hour at Bury Hill. Mrs. Wil- 
 loughby considered Adelaide's destiny de- 
 cided, and was only surprised that Mostyn 
 did not bring the matter to a conclusion.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 261 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Adelaide was sitting in the school-room, 
 drawing a copy for Emily. She generally 
 devoted two or three hours every morning 
 to the children ; hearing them practise, and 
 teaching them drawing and French. Their 
 governess always went to see her friends in 
 Frederick's holidays, and Adelaide was 
 happy to feel herself of some use to them,
 
 262 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 in return for all the kindness she met with 
 from their mother. 
 
 It may be thought surprising that Mrs. 
 Willoughbj, when made acquainted with 
 Adelaide's plans, had not at once offered 
 her the situation of governess in her own 
 family ; but it happened that this post was 
 already admirably filled by an excellent 
 French lady, who had, for several years, 
 been an inmate of the family, had educated 
 Mrs. Willoiighby and her sisters, and to 
 whom they were all much attached. To 
 depose her, therefore, was a plan which 
 could not for one moment be entertained. 
 
 Adelaide was drawing a copy for Emily, 
 who was leaning over her chair watching her 
 progress. Anne was practising, and little 
 Susan playing with her kitten upon the rug.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 263 
 
 The door was flung open, and in came 
 Frederick. 
 
 '* Where have jou been all this time, 
 Fred V cried Emily. " We have been wait- 
 ing for JOU so long, to come and shoot at 
 the new target.^' 
 
 *' I have been at the barracks," answered 
 Frederick. " Captain Mostjn gave me a 
 lesson in mathematics. I never had such 
 a good one before. Old Hicks batters away 
 for an hour together, and I am never a bit 
 the wiser, though I do say, ' yes, yes,' when 
 he asks me if I understand. — Now don't 
 look grave, Adelaide ! — What's the sense of 
 my saying * no, no,' if the more he explains, 
 the more difficult it appears 1 Captain 
 Mostyn makes it all so plain, that I really 
 am beginning to like old Euclid. He says
 
 264 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 I may come wlieneyer I like, and I mean to 
 go very often/^ 
 
 *' Did lie take you into his room V asked 
 Susan, witli a face and tone of alarm; 
 " what was it like *? was it all full of guns 
 and drawn swords V 
 
 "Guns and drawn swords !" said Anne; 
 '' you foolish child ! — The officers live in 
 
 i 
 
 tents, don't they, Fred. ? How nice it must 
 be to live in tents !" 
 
 " Tents !" exclaimed Frederick contemptu- 
 ously; "I declare Anne you are not one whit 
 wiser than Susan ! Captain Mostyn has a 
 very nice room — so prettily furnished ; and 
 mignionette in the windows, and flowers on 
 the table, and such a number of books and 
 pictures ! Oh, Adelaide ! — Guess what I saw 
 over the chimney-piece?"
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 265 
 
 " Mj dear Fred. ! how can I guess ? 
 A drawn sword, perhaps V said she, 
 laudiino^. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Adelaide ! Do guess ! 
 Well, then, it was a picture of a young 
 ladj — such a pretty young lady !" 
 
 Something must have been very much 
 amiss with the drawing, for Adelaide seized 
 a bit of India-rubber, and began rubbing 
 away most vigorously. 
 
 " Oh, who was it like V cried the three 
 children at once. 
 
 "Guess!" said Frederick; "it was like 
 some one you have seen ; some one you 
 know quite well." 
 
 " I know," cried Anne, triumphantly — 
 "Isabella!" 
 
 " Isabella \" exclaimed Frederick and
 
 266 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 Emilj in tones of the most soYereign con- 
 tempt. 
 
 "No, no/' cried Susan, jumping up and 
 clasping her arms round x^delaide's throat, 
 " it was like Adelaide ! There is no one so 
 pretty as Adelaide, no one so good, and 
 no one so clever. And Captain Mostjn 
 would have your picture, I know !'' and she 
 kissed her over and over again. 
 
 "You are quite right, little Sue.," said 
 Frederick; "but don't kill Adelaide! YouVe 
 kissed her cheeks quite red;" pulling her 
 away. It was not the child's kisses alone 
 that called up that mantling colour. 
 
 " It was an engraving, I think," he con- 
 tinued, "it was called 'Miranda;' but I 
 never saw any thing so like Adelaide ! I 
 said so to Captain Mostyn; but I do not
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 267 
 
 think lie heard me, for he turned away just 
 at that moment, and directly after the 
 sergeant came in to speak to him. I like 
 that sergeant! He and I are great friends, 
 and he explains to me all I want to know of 
 the duty, and drill, and all that. He tells 
 me such entertaining stories of the different 
 battles he has been in. — FU be a soldier 
 myself some day, and then I will be just like 
 Captain Mostyn. All his men like him so 
 much! He neyer swears at them, as 
 many of the other officers do ; but speaks 
 to them so kindly and civilly, and looks after 
 them when they are ill. They all say they 
 would die for him! And I am sure he is as 
 brave as a lion, and so clever ! Oh, I love 
 Captain Mostyn! — Don't you, Adelaide ?" 
 " Who, I *? — What nonsense, Frederick !'*
 
 26S ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 But the start, and the crimson which 
 again flushed her cheek, would have betrayed 
 to any one more experienced tlian her young 
 examiner, that, if it was indeed nonsense, 
 like a great deal of other nonsense, it was 
 only too true ! It seemed as if Frederick's 
 unexpected and thoughtless question had 
 dissipated the mist which had hitherto con- 
 cealed from her the state of her feelings, 
 and now they stood distinct and radiant 
 within her. 
 
 Yes, she loved him ! She, too, could die 
 for him ! 
 
 Then she asked herself — was her affection 
 returned ? Scene after scene, speech after 
 speech, rose rapidly to her remembrance at 
 the question ; and she dwelt fondly in fancy 
 upon the sweet expression of those dark
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 269 
 
 and feeling ejes as they rested upon lier 
 countenance, or followed lier from place to 
 place when she moyed ; upon the tones of 
 tenderness in which he would address her ; 
 his anxiety to obtain her approbation — to 
 afford her pleasure ; upon those thousand 
 little indescribable nothings which she could 
 not but flatter herself signified so much — 
 trifles which she had hardly paused to con- 
 sider before. But now that she was awake 
 to the truth — now that she could no longer 
 conceal from herself how far from a matter 
 of indifference were the feelings with which 
 he himself regarded her, how immeasuredly 
 important did they all become ! 
 
 Yes, she felt sure that he loved her ! How 
 could she doubt it '? How dared she for one 
 moment do him the injustice of admitting
 
 270 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 even the possibility of her being deceived 1 
 All, all assured her of his affection ! She 
 seemed bathed in triumphant happiness ; 
 such happiness, as some maintain, can only 
 be felt once in life ; the one Phoenix which 
 rises from the ashes of our fallen nature. 
 
 " Oh, Adelaide ! What are you about?" 
 exclaimed Emily, laughing ; "you have put 
 the chimney to the tree instead of the 
 cottage ! Do look here, Frederick ; and the 
 cow is walking upon the top of the pond ! 
 Am I to copy all that V 
 
 " No, no,'' again using the India-rubber ; 
 " what could I have been thinking about 1 
 I am quite tired of drawing ! —Who will 
 come and help me to gather flowers for my 
 bouquet for the ball to-night V' 
 
 The children all at once volunteered.
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 271 
 
 " Where are you all going ?" asked Mrs. 
 Willouglibj, as they were passing through 
 the drawing-room into the garden. 
 
 " To help Adelaide gather flowers for to- 
 night, mamma/^ said Emily. 
 
 " Very well. — But first, Adelaide, open 
 this little box that has just been left for 
 you. Isabella and I are dying to know 
 what it contains ;" and she put a small deal 
 box into her hands. 
 
 A pair of scissors soon wrenched away 
 the tiny nails that fastened down the lid, 
 and a beautiful bouquet of the choicest hot- 
 house flowers was disclosed to view. 
 
 " Are you sure it is for me?" asked Ade- 
 laide, turning oyer the lid to look at the 
 address, which she had been in too great 
 a hurry to notice before.
 
 272 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 It was plain enough; and in a hand- 
 writing which was not quite unknown to 
 her. The colour again rose to her face, 
 though she would have given worlds to 
 have prevented it. 
 
 Oh, these provoking, tell-tale blushes ! 
 How often has it been wished that thej 
 had never been invented ! 
 
 "Can you at all guess who has sent 
 it V inquired Mrs. Willoughbj, with a 
 look of inquiring ignorance not very sin- 
 cere. 
 
 " Not much difficulty in guessing, I should 
 think !" said Miss Hawkstone, with a spite- 
 ful emphasis on the last word. " It can't 
 be any one but Captain Mostyn, I should 
 fancy. — Just like him ! — He is always 
 sending about bouquets to young ladies !"
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 273 
 
 " Is he really ?" said Mrs. Willouglibj. 
 " Did he ever send you one, Belial" 
 
 " No, indeed !'' with a toss of the head, 
 " I should hope he would know better 
 than to suppose I would accept one. / 
 have never given him so much encourage- 
 ment !" 
 
 Poor Adelaide ! She stood with the 
 bouquet in her hand — the flowers, which 
 a few moments before had given her so 
 much pleasure, turned, as it were, into 
 thorns — looking perplexed, confused, 
 ashamed. 
 
 " I really cannot pretend to say what 
 * encouragement,' as you call it, you may or 
 may not have given him, my dear Bella," 
 replied Mrs. Willoughby; " all I can say is, 
 that you have not shewn any very great 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 dislike to his society, more than I or Ade- 
 laide, or any other lady of my acquaintance. 
 As for not accepting such a trifle as a bou- 
 quet from so intimate an acquaintance and 
 friend of the house like Captain Mostyn, 
 were you to refuse it, I should say you did 
 a very ill-bred and unkind thing indeed — 
 or else — assumed that he would gather 
 hopes from its acceptance which you had no 
 intention of encouraging. And so, my love," 
 to Adelaide, who cast an appealing glance 
 at her face, " take your beautiful nosegay, 
 and wear it to-night with a good con- 
 science.'' 
 
 Adelaide left the room to put her 
 flowers in water, and recognized with 
 delight, as she more particularly examined 
 them, many of her Jamaica favourites,
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 275 
 
 which it had cost Mostjn no little trouble 
 to procure. 
 
 Was not this, she thought, a fresh 
 proof of an attachment which seemed 
 to anticipate every possible wish of its 
 object 1 
 
 After she had carefully placed them in a 
 tumbler, she turned to examine her ball- 
 dress, a present for this occasion from Mrs. 
 Willoughby, which had just been sent home 
 from the dressmaker's, with an interest she 
 had never felt before ; but of course he was 
 to be at the ball, and she wished to do 
 honour to his bouquet. 
 
 She felt so happy ! The house seemed 
 too small to contain her joy, and she longed 
 for the open air. 
 
 Happiness generally makes the most 
 
 T 2
 
 276 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 morose benevolent; Adelaide was overflow- 
 ing with universal love — she longed that 
 every one should be as happy as herself. 
 That indeed she felt was impossible — there 
 was only one Claude Mostyn in the world ! 
 But at least she might contribute to their 
 enjoyment by some little service of active 
 kindness. 
 
 Miss Hawk stone had no bouquet; she 
 would arrange her one, and place it on the 
 toilette- table ready for her when she went 
 to dress. So she asked Mrs. Willoughby's 
 permission, and abandoning the cool shade 
 of the lawn, ventured out in the broiling 
 sun, and heated green-houses, to gather the 
 necessary flowers — no slight act of heroism 
 on the part of a young lady on the eve of a 
 ball
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 277 
 
 When finished, her nosegay was hardly 
 inferior to the one which had been sent her 
 that morning, for in the affluence of flowers 
 at Jamaica, Adelaide had obtained a great 
 proficiency in the tasteful art, and satisfied 
 with the effect of her handiwork, she went 
 to Miss Hawkstone's room, and placed it 
 upon her table. 
 
 Isabella had not even the generosity to 
 be pleased. She felt her innocent rivars 
 good-natured action as a tacit reproach for 
 all the many unamiable and spiteful words 
 which she had cast at her, all the ill humour 
 she had shewn her, all the bitter, cruel 
 thoughts she had harboured against her, 
 ever since her arrival ; and though nothing 
 could be farther from Adelaide's thoughts 
 than any such intention, she disliked her
 
 278 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 
 
 more than ever for placing her under this 
 trifling obligation. Adelaide's " virtues 
 were sanctified and holy traitors to her;" 
 Miss Hawkstone wanted an excuse for 
 hating her, and would actually have been 
 pleased could she have excited Adelaide 
 into returning the sentiment. Her jealous 
 heart would fain have persuaded her that 
 had it not been for the arrival of Ade- 
 laide, Captain Mostyn would long since 
 have made her an offer of his hand. Such 
 an idea had, however, never crossed his 
 mind ; he had merely amused himself by 
 devoting his attentions to her, in order to 
 gratify his own vanity by adding another to 
 his list of " victims." 
 
 Here, then, was another evil fruit of his, 
 in this respect, silly and unprincipled con-
 
 ADELAIDE LINDSAY. 279 
 
 duct. Miss Hawkstone's disposition was 
 anything but improved bj the lesson, and 
 had she been less uoamiable, she would 
 have been more an object of interest than 
 of blame. 
 
 END OP VOL. I.
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY HARRISON AND SON, 
 
 ST. martin's lane.