During the period Reginald had served in the Austrian armies, his mind had undergone a complete revolution. His proud spirit had been subdued by misfortune. In his professional career he had learned to submit to human control. In the field of danger the daring energies of his nature had been fully excited; and, by the frequency of that very excitation, exhausted, whilst the aspect of death, in its various horrors, led him to serious meditation. Often has he passed from the stunning tumult of the field of battle, to the awful stillness of midnight solitude in his own tent; and here he first acknowledged the justice and mercy of Heaven, whose avenging arm had awakened him from the giddy dream of presumptuous passion, to the dreadful consciousness that he had perverted the best gifts of Providence, intended for the benefit and ornament of society, to be its bane and its disgrace. He had previously thought more of forfeited reputation than of violated virtue; and, though what he might have been rose to his mind in agonizing contrast with what he was, yet he mourned rather for the internal sentiment of degradation than of guilt. But he gradually acquired a more fitting penitence, becoming at last resigned even to the ever present sense of his former misdeeds, and submitting to it as their just punishment; at the same time forming the virtuous resolution of endeavouring to atone, if possible, for the past by the future.

Accusing himself of having deprived his child of her inestimable mother, he felt in justice bound to fulfil towards her more than the common duty of a father, and therefore resolved to give up the profession of arms for her sake, in order to devote his existence to her welfare. He would often, as he pressed the little smiling Adelaide to his heart, put forth a prayer that the virtues of the daughter might plead at the bar of offended Heaven, in mitigation of the vices of the father; and would soothe his grief with the hope of giving her that virtuous firmness of character, the want of which had rendered all the blessings of his early lot of no avail to himself. Summoning religion and reason to his aid, he wisely executed the task he had laudably undertaken, of forming his daughter to emulate the perfections of her mother; whilst of the errors he instructed her to shun, he was too fatally enlightened by his intercourse with Mrs. Montague, on the causes of whose defects he had made many deep and painful reflections. Convinced by these that imagination, which is naturally too ardent in the generality of women, is cultivated to a fatal excess by the usual mode of education, confined, as this almost exclusively is, to the study of music, painting, and poetry; he therefore, after establishing the grand principles of religion and morality in his daughter's mind, directed his attention principally to forming her judgment; limiting her fancy to the subordinate office of attendant on reason, never suffering it to usurp the place of guide. He had also observed, that vanity is still more dangerous to the female mind than even imagination. But it is only a long and steadily pursued course of exertion that can reduce this passion, so natural to the human heart, to exercise in its native kingdom only its just power. Solicitous that no latent vanity of his own should counteract his endeavours to limit its dangerous empire in his daughter's mind, he was sparing in the use of that powerful stimulant praise, which, though a very happy consequence, is too often a dangerous motive. As Adelaide had no domestic companion, her vanity was neither excited nor mortified by comparison; and it is one of those enemies to our peace, that suffer more from neglect than defeat. Nor was the baneful passion of envy introduced to her heart under the specious name of emulation, of which all ought to know it is the illegitimate sister, though the friends of emulation do not acknowledge the relationship. Her mind was endowed with knowledge, extensive enough to enable her to estimate justly the insufficiency of all human science, and to show her how far short of the acmÉ of even that imperfect wisdom her own attainments fell. Being taught never to court display, she was thereby exempted from the torments of envious mortification, and early understood she was educated, not to bring forth her acquirements like a holiday suit, in which to shine occasionally, but to keep them in constant every-day use, to promote her own happiness, and the pleasures of those with whom she associated.

Adelaide's docility, rather than her talents, enabled her to be every thing her father desired (for she was not, in truth, more highly endowed by nature than the generality of well-organized children); and he returned her enthusiastic love and veneration, by an affection little short of idolatry. But a father's too ardent love was beginning to wither in its bloom the plant it had so successfully reared; for Adelaide, when grown up, insensibly acquired an influence dangerous to a young female to possess over the mind of any man, and which is never so unlimited as over that of a father's in the decline of life. The virtues of the parent and child were alike dangerous to the future peace and well-being of the latter. He was too reasonable to subject her to those occasional acts of injustice, or fits of caprice, which every woman in her intercourse with mankind must expect and submit to, as inseparable from her condition. She, from the most laudable motives, was unceasingly occupied in the embellishment of her mind, which, though far preferable to an equally constant attention to externals, will, by a very different route, terminate one part of their course in the same end—selfishness. And as woman owes every thing that is admirable in her nature to a constant sacrifice of self, no acquirements can compensate for the perfection of character she can alone derive from this source. But in truth, the very best education a man alone can bestow on a woman must be defective. He may adorn her with the virtues of his own sex, but he cannot teach her the charities, the decencies, the proprieties of life, which it is the peculiar lot of hers to exercise. A female mind adorned with greater virtues only, without their connecting links, resembles a beautiful country, where the traveller passes from one bright region to another, over deep chasms, where, perhaps, he may fall to inevitable destruction. With all the generous virtues of her heart, with all the high endowments of her mind, Adelaide had yet one more necessary lesson to learn, which was painfully taught her when she lost her father; namely that, however imperative her welfare was to his happiness, she was of small consequence to the world in general, which would go on nearly as well whether she was living or dead, happy or miserable; and that she must thenceforward derive her felicity rather from her attention to the feelings of others, than from theirs to her own.

Until Adelaide was seventeen, Baron Wildenheim resided principally at Vienna: here associating with the most distinguished characters of the day, to whom his talents and his various knowledge made him an acceptable companion; a select number were admitted to his own house, in order to promote the improvement of his daughter by such intercourse. Profiting by the facility which his German rank afforded for the purpose, he visited, in the short intervals of peace which Gallic ambition permitted, Italy, France, and most of the other Continental states; occasional change of scene being almost as necessary for the amusement of his mind, as advantageous for the improvement of his daughter's. But though for this latter purpose it was successful beyond his hopes, yet the slow but constant progress of disease was not thus to be warded off; and a residence in a mild and equable climate being pronounced by the physicians of Vienna absolutely necessary for the preservation of his life, about two years before Adelaide's arrival in England they removed to Sicily, where he made choice of Catania for his residence.

Here for the first time in her life Adelaide enjoyed the pleasures and advantages of female society. The Catanese are amongst the most elegant women in Europe; and the attractive graces of their manners appearing to her with all the force of novelty, she quickly and involuntarily made them her own. Her youthful beauty—her artless elegance, and her cultivation of mind, caused her to be admired to an excess, which gave her father as much pain as pleasure, as he trembled lest it should call forth that vanity and inordinate desire of pleasing, which he had so earnestly laboured to repress, too well aware of its having been the cause of Mrs. Montague's destruction.

"La bella Adelina" was the object, to which the young Catanian nobility paid the most flattering attention, the most exaggerated compliments. Luckily for her she felt so little awe of her father, that she told him without reserve all the feelings this new scene excited in her mind. And he, appealing to her good sense, pointed out to her notice the hyperbole of the praises she received, thus rendering them in a short time more tiresome than agreeable. The Baron had early suffered his daughter to know she was handsome. She had hitherto been as much accustomed and as indifferent to the beauty of the robe in which her soul was enveloped, as she was to the habitual elegance of her every-day apparel.

He now went still further; and as piety was the main spring of all her thoughts and feelings, he taught her to be religiously thankful for a gift, which pre-disposed her fellow creatures in her favour; representing also that it ought to make her still more desirous to retain an approbation thus gratuitously bestowed. By this means her very beauty made her humble; as, in her estimate of her own character, she always attributed the praises she received but to a premature and therefore exaggerated opinion of her merit, which she consequently endeavoured to make in intrinsic worth equal to its received value.

About this period in the formation of Adelaide's character, Frederick Elton arrived at Catania. Though he was perhaps the most ardent of her admirers, his peculiar ideas regarding women in general led him rather to call forth the powers of her mind by rational conversation, than to weaken it by flattery. He was luckily not able, like his Sicilian rivals, to write sonnets, or make improviso stanzas by the hour "to her eye-brow;" and therefore had the less inducement to emulate the laudable endeavours of his competitors, to make her frivolous and silly solely to display their own abilities.

Oh! that her guardian angel would sometimes whisper in exulting beauty's ear, that man is often only enraptured with his own genius, when he seems most to adulate her charms!

Baron Wildenheim directed all his penetration to the investigation of Frederick's character; and, fearing to trust entirely to his own observation on a point of so much importance, resumed his correspondence with Mr. Austin, from whom he received the most satisfactory confirmation of the honourable opinion his judgment had previously led him to form of the lover, on whom his daughter had unconsciously bestowed her affections. He therefore resolved, that whenever Mr. Elton should demand her hand, he would restore her to all her rights, by accomplishing her introduction to her mother's family and his own. His satisfaction at the prospect of securing Adelaide's happiness, by uniting her to a man worthy of his highest approbation, reconciled him to the idea of losing the only solace of that life, which he felt would not be much longer a burthen to him. Not less generous was his daughter—and from the moment she was aware of Frederick's love, she determined to discourage it, for the reasons he related to Sedley. The Baron's indignation at Frederick's abrupt departure was as great, as the satisfaction his love for Adelaide had afforded him. She endeavoured to preserve her usual cheerfulness; but his penetration soon discovered she had feelings, that were not communicated to him. One day, on perceiving her ill suppressed agitation, as the subject of conversation glanced on Elton, he muttered, "Villain! rascal! how he has abused my confidence!" Adelaide, hurt at this undeserved censure, entered warmly into his defence, and her father soon extorted from her, that she had refused his offers, though she still concealed, or thought she concealed, her motives and her regrets. "Adelina!" exclaimed he, with unusual asperity, "is this the reward of an existence devoted to your welfare? I could not have believed that you would have set at naught my authority; nay worse, have deceived me." When she however threw herself into his arms, imploring his forgiveness, all the tenderness of his feelings returned with redoubled force; and penetrating her motives, he pressed her fondly to his heart, making a silent vow that his "too generous child should not sacrifice her happiness to his." The name of Elton was never again articulated by either; but the rapid progress of Baron Wildenheim's complaint warned him he must quickly put his design in execution, or that his lovely daughter would shortly be left in a foreign country, without relation or protector; Sicily being perhaps of all others the most dreadful to leave her in thus situated, from the depravity of its inhabitants, and its corrupt, ill administered government.

When he informed Adelaide of his intention of taking her to England, her joy was extravagant; but on perceiving the mournful expression of her father's countenance, she ceased to display her pleasure, and affectionately embracing him, said, "You know, my beloved father, you are all the world to me; my greatest delight in the prospect of going to England is, that I shall there see you in your native country, with your own friends: I can never be happier than I have been with you; but I often mourn, that all my exertions are insufficient to make you so." "Adelina, I charge you, be silent on that subject," replied the afflicted parent; and, overcome by the torturing reflections she had unconsciously conjured up, retired to compose his mind in solitude.

A few days after this conversation they proceeded to Paris. From whence Baron Wildenheim wrote an earnest request to Mr. Austin and Maurice O'Sullivan to meet him at Dover, for which place he immediately set out when their answers reached him; and there without delay delivered to the former a will, appointing him trustee to all that remained of the wreck of his fortune, for the benefit of Adelaide, with the exception of a small annuity reserved for his own life, but nominating Maurice O'Sullivan her guardian. The unhappy father then went through the distressing task of disclosing to his former friend and fellow soldier the principal events, which had marked his life previous to the commencement of their acquaintance, beseeching him to relate them hereafter to Adelaide as delicately as possible, and also to introduce her to her grandfather and Lord Osselstone. Both these injunctions Maurice willingly promised to fulfil, happy to have any means of serving a man to whom he owed many obligations. The Baron had never told his daughter the history of his early years: he could not in her childhood, and when she was capable of accurately distinguishing right from wrong, he feared it might irreparably injure her character, to have her respect diminished for the person engaged in forming it. Perhaps his reluctance to be his own accuser to his child was not the least powerful motive for silence on this subject: he could not bear to think she should ever in his presence be obliged to appeal to her affection, to silence the censures her judgment must pass on his conduct—such voluntary self-abasement, in a mind of this high tone, was indeed almost more than human nature is equal to. He therefore had contented himself with informing Adelaide, that some disagreeable circumstances had made him prefer residing in the country in which his estates were situated, to that of which he was a native. He would sometimes converse with her of Lord Osselstone, whom he early taught her to love and revere; but never made the most distant allusion to her mother's name or connexions, partly because the subject was too afflicting to himself, partly because he could not in that case account for his having concealed his relationship from the uncle of Rose, with whom he had been so many years associated, and with whom he had subsequently maintained a constant correspondence, having resolved to resign his daughter, in the first instance, to the protection of Maurice, whenever the effects of unextinguishable grief should indicate the probable termination of his own life.

When Mr. Austin met the Baron at Dover, he entreated him to leave England as speedily as possible, lest the friends of Montague, who resided in the neighbourhood of that town, should, by some fortuitous occurrence, make out his identity; a circumstance by no means improbable, as his person must be recognised should he meet the brother of his unfortunate antagonist, who not unfrequently visited the very hotel they inhabited, and which they could not quit without exciting observations that might prove dangerous in their consequences. Though Wildenheim cared not for life on his own account, and would willingly have resigned it to satisfy the laws of his country; yet he trembled in every nerve for his daughter's peace, should he fall a sacrifice to their justice; and therefore fixed the third day after their landing to bid her an eternal adieu!

Though he had sufficient strength of mind to resolve on tearing himself from his child, yet he felt totally unequal to the trial of witnessing her affliction on first hearing the dreadful intelligence. Mr. Austin therefore undertook the task; and on the morning preceding the day appointed, informed Adelaide of the indispensable necessity of their separation, and of the arrangement made with Maurice O'Sullivan, to introduce her to Lord Osselstone, presenting her with a packet of letters her father had written for her benefit, which she was to make use of when she came of age, in case any unforeseen occurrence should prevent her appointed guardian fulfilling his promise; adding, that should her relations refuse to receive her, he was in possession of the necessary testimonials of her birth. Of all these particulars the afflicted girl at the moment only understood she was to be deprived of her father! The thinking faculty within her was almost suspended by the agony of this idea. She offered no remonstrance to Mr. Austin; and making a sign of acquiescence, instantly sought her father, to try those powers of persuasion which never yet had failed in procuring from him every wish of her heart: but on seeing the despair of his countenance, she was wholly overcome; the hope, which had supported, now forsook her, and she sunk senseless in his arms.

When she revived, she implored his pity in the most moving terms; asked how she had merited this dreadful separation; and finding him, though deeply affected, inexorable in his determination, at last departed from her usual docility, saying, "Of what would promote your happiness, my dearest father, there can be no doubt; I am the best judge of my own and will not leave you: to lose you in the course of nature would be sufficiently dreadful; but this living death is tenfold more horrible: oh! can you desert your child, who lives but in you, whose only joy is in your approving smiles?"

Her miserable auditor now did violence to his feelings, by assuming, for the first time in his life, all the sternness of parental command. Adelaide convulsively sobbed on his shoulder. "Pardon me, pardon me; I submit, though my heart will break: that angry look would kill me to think of; smile on me, my father." "Smile! oh, my God! I shall never smile again;" exclaimed the wretched parent: then fondly caressing her, said, "My child, have mercy on your unfortunate father; my own feelings are those of desperation; spare me the sight of yours. By your present affliction I secure your future happiness; but mine—Adelina, I entreat—in a few hours we part: do not speak of what is yet to come." He was obeyed; and that day passed in the sullen calm which precedes expected misery.

Adelaide retired at a late hour to her own apartment, but not to bed; for she had perceived with terror how alarmingly ill her father looked; and fearing the return of a spasmodic complaint he was subject to, sat up, to be able to apply the necessary remedies at a moment's warning.

He in the mean time prepared to set out immediately on his voyage, wishing to spare her a parting he felt his own fortitude unequal to. Her room was inside his, and supposing her to be at rest, he entered it to take a last look of his lovely child!

She was sitting half asleep, overcome by drowsiness and anxiety—the light flashed across her eyes—she started up in wild affright, and forcibly impressed by the feelings of her agitating dreams, clasped him in her arms, saying, "We will never, never part, whilst life remains." His fortitude utterly forsook him; and with a deep groan he sank in the arms of his child.

His countenance in death was impressed with the happy consciousness, that his last look on earth had been blessed with her image; and with the pious hope, that sincere and protracted penitence had made his peace with Heaven.