So saying, he stalked about the room; and Mrs Mowbray, as she gazed on his handsome person, thought it would be absurd for her to sacrifice her own happiness to her daughter's, and give up Sir Patrick as her husband in order to make Glenmurray her son. She therefore wrote another letter to Glenmurray, forbidding him any further intercourse with Adeline, on any pretence whatever; and delayed not a moment to send him her final decision. 'That is acting like the sensible woman I took you for,' said Sir Patrick: 'the fellow has now gotten his quietus, I trust, and the dear little Adeline is reserved for happier fate. Sweet soul! you do not know how fond she will be of me! I protest that I shall be so kind to her, it will be difficult for people to decide which I love best, the daughter or the mother.' 'But I hope _I_ shall always know, Sir Patrick,' said Mrs Mowbray gravely. 'You!--O yes, to be sure. But I mean that my fatherly attentions shall be of the warmest kind. But now do me the favour of telling me what hour tomorrow I may appoint the clergyman to bring the license?' The conversation that followed, it were needless and tedious to describe. Suffice, that eight o'clock the next morning was fixed for the marriage; and Mrs Mowbray, either from shame or compassion, resolved that Adeline should not accompany her to church, nor even know of the ceremony till it was over. Nor was this a difficult matter. Adeline remained in her own apartment all the preceding day, endeavouring, but in vain, to reconcile herself to what she justly termed the degradation of her mother. She felt, alas! the most painful of all feelings, next to that of self-abasement, the consciousness of the abasement of one to whom she had all her life looked up with love and veneration. To write to Glenmurray while oppressed by such contending emotions she knew to be impossible; she therefore contented herself with sending a verbal message, importing that he should hear from her the next day: and poor Glenmurray passed the rest of that day and the night in a state little better than her own. The next morning Adeline, who had not closed her eyes till daylight, woke late, and from a sound but unrefreshing sleep. The first object she saw was her maid, smartly dressed, sitting by her bed-side; and she also saw that she had been crying. 'Is my mother ill, Evans?' she exclaimed. 'O! no, Miss Adeline, quite well,' replied the girl, sighing. 'But why are you so much dressed?' demanded Adeline. 'I have been out,' answered the maid. 'Not on unpleasant business?' 'That's as it may be,' she cried, turning away; and Adeline, from delicacy, forebore to press her further. ''Tis very late--is it not?' asked Adeline, 'and time for me to rise!' 'Yes, miss--I believe you had better get up.' Adeline immediately rose.--'Give me the dark gown I wore yesterday,' said she. 'I think, miss, you had better put on your new white one,' returned the maid.