'What has passed?' cried Dr Norberry, starting from his chair, taking two hasty strides across the room, pulling up the cape of his coat, and muttering an oath between his shut teeth--'Why, this passed:--The deluded woman renounced her daughter; and her friend, her old and faithful friend, has renounced her.' 'Oh! my poor mother!' exclaimed Adeline. 'Girl! girl! don't be foolish,' replied the doctor; 'keep your pity for more deserving objects; and, as the wisest thing you can do, endeavour to forget your mother.' 'Forget her! Never.' 'Well, well, you will be wiser in time; and now you shall hear all that passed. When she recovered entirely, and found that you were gone, she gave way to an agony of sorrow, such as I never before witnessed; for I believe that I never beheld before the agony of remorse.' 'My poor mother!' cried Adeline, again bursting into tears. 'What! again!' exclaimed the doctor. (Adeline motioned to him to go on, and he continued.) 'At sight of this, I was weak enough to pity her; and, with the greatest simplicity, I told her, that I was glad to see that she felt penitent for her conduct, since penitence paved the way to amendment; when, to my great surprise, all the vanished fierceness and haughtiness of her look returned, and she told me, that so far from repenting she approved of her conduct; and that remorse had no share in her sorrow; that she wept from consciousness of misery inflicted by the faults of others, not her own.' 'Oh! Dr Norberry,' cried Adeline reproachfully, 'I doubt, by awakening her pride, you destroyed the tenderness returning towards me.' 'May be so. However, so much the better; for anger is a less painful state of mind to endure than that of remorse: and while she thinks herself only injured and aggrieved, she will be less unhappy.' 'Then,' continued Adeline in a faltering voice, 'I care not how long she hates me.' Dr Norberry looked at Adeline a moment with tears in his eyes, and evidently gulped down a rising sob, 'Good child! good child!' he at length articulated. 'But she'll forget and forgive all in time, I do not doubt.' 'Impossible: remember her oath.' 'And do you really suppose that she will think herself bound to keep so silly and rash an oath; an oath made in the heat of passion?' 'Undoubtedly I do; and I know, that were she to break it, she would never be otherwise than wretched all her life after. Therefore, unless Glenmurray forsakes me (she added, trying to smile archly as she spoke), and this I am not happy enough to expect, I look on our separation in this world to be eternal.' 'You do?--Then, poor devil! how miserable she will be, when her present resentment shall subside! Well; when that time comes I may perhaps see her again,' added the doctor, gulping again. 'Heaven bless you for that intention!' cried Adeline. 'But how could you ever have the heart to renounce her?'