Adeline had now a companion in her occasional walks;--Glenmurray
insisted on her walking, and insisted on Berrendale's accompanying
her. In these tête-à-têtes Adeline unburthened her heart, by telling
Berrendale of the agony she felt at the idea of losing Glenmurray; and
while drowned in tears she leaned on his arm, she unconsciously suffered
him to press the hand that leaned against him; nor would she have felt
it a freedom to be reproved, had she been conscious that he did so. But
these trifling indulgences were fuel to the flame that she had kindled
in the heart of Berrendale; a flame which he saw no guilt in indulging,
as he looked on Glenmurray's death as certain, and Adeline would then be
free.
But though Adeline was perfectly unconscious of his attachment,
Glenmurray had seen it even before Berrendale himself discovered it; and
he only waited a favourable opportunity to make the discovery known to
the parties. All he had as yet ventured to say was, 'Charles, my Adeline
is an excellent nurse!--You would like such as one during your fits of
the gout;' and Berrendale had blushed deeply while he assented to
Glenmurray's remarks, because he was conscious that, while enumerating
Adeline's perfections, he had figured her to himself warming his
flannels, and leaning tenderly over his gouty couch.
One day, while Adeline was reading to Glenmurray, and Berrendale was
attending not to what she read, but to the beauty of her mouth while
reading, the nurse came in, and said that 'a mulatto woman wished to
speak to Miss Mowbray.'
'Show her up,' immediately cried Glenmurray; 'and if her little boy is
with her, let him come too.'
In vain did Adeline expostulate--Glenmurray wished to enjoy the
mulatto's expressions of gratitude; and, in spite of all she could say,
the mother and child were introduced.
'So!' cried the mulatto, (whose looks were so improved that Adeline
scarcely knew her again,) 'So! me find you at last; and, please God! we
not soon part more.' As she said this, she pressed the hem of Adeline's
gown to her lips with fervent emotion.
'Not part from her again!' cried Glenmurray, 'What do you mean, my good
woman?'
'Oh! when she gave tree guinea for me, me tought she mus be rich lady,
but now dey say she be poor, and me mus work for her.'
'And who told you I was poor?'
'Dat cross man where you live once--he say you could not pay him, and
you go away--and he tell me that your love be ill; and me so sorry, yet
so glad! for my love be well aden, and he have good employ; and now
I can come and serve you, and nurse dis poor gentleman, and all for
nothing but my meat and drink; and I know dat great fat nurse have gold
wages, and eat and drink fat beside,--I knowd her well.'
All this was uttered with volubility, and in a tone between laughing and
crying.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account