Oh! how did Adelaide now wish she could obtain that separation she had so lately thought worse than death itself! No tear escaped her bewildered eye; no complaint issued from her lacerated bosom; mute and motionless she sat, unconscious of all that passed around, musing on the fearful, fathomless void within! Her constitution could not long support this existence of silent horror; and a violent fever, which for several days endangered her life, and reduced her to a state of extreme weakness, saved her mind from destruction. When she recovered, her grief, though deep, was placid, and her mild dejection won her the love and pity of all whose hearts were not harder than adamant. As soon as she was able to bear the journey, her guardian brought her to Webberly House, and, during the short time he survived her father, endeavoured to soothe her sorrow by the most affectionate kindness. His delay in executing the promise he had given, of presenting her to Mr. O'Sullivan and Lord Osselstone, arose not from any intention of ultimately defrauding her of her rights, but from an anticipation of the mortifications his doing so would probably occasion him to experience in his domestic circle. He knew the respect with which he was treated by the Webberlys was principally owing to the idea that he or his daughter would one day possess a valuable estate; and though in his own person he could, from the manly firmness of his manners, command a sufficient degree of consideration for the common purposes of every day intercourse; yet he was well aware, that when he was not present, his little portionless Caroline would be treated by his wife's children with the utmost contumely; and he was moreover weak enough to dread the first explosion of Mrs. O'Sullivan's violent temper, when her hopes of increased wealth should be disappointed by the establishment of Adelaide's claims. He therefore, from day to day, shunned the expected storm. At night he would sink to sleep, in the firm determination of informing his wife on the morrow of Adelaide's relationship, as a preliminary to his writing to her grandfather on the subject; but when the morrow came, he either thought Mrs. O'Sullivan in such good humour, it was a pity to spoil the short-lived pleasure arising from it, or else that she was so much the reverse, it was impolitic to choose that very time to irritate her further. On other mornings, when convinced she had attained that happy medium most favourable to his important communication, business or company interfered; and in the evening he had too frequent recourse to intoxication, to drown the pains of recollection. Thus, in impotent resolve and fruitless repentance, passed the few months he survived after Adelaide was committed to his care. On his death, Mr. Austin would have done what this spirit of procrastination had prevented; had he not found, on examining the papers put into his hands by Adelaide's father, that, though there was enough to convince willing relatives of their truth, yet the evidence they contained fell far short of legal testimony. Every necessary formality to prove her parentage had been neglected at Hamburgh—a circumstance easily accounted for, by the distraction of her father's mind on leaving that place; and the name of Wildenheim, which she had received at Meurs, made it still more difficult to prove her identity as the child of Rose; for which purpose Mr. Austin then entered into a correspondence with various people resident in different parts of the Continent. From the apparent frigidity of Lord Osselstone's character, he had no hopes of his interesting himself for his orphan niece; whilst from her mother's family he expected open opposition. He therefore enjoined Adelaide to remain unknown to her relations, till the period prescribed by her father for her acting for herself, in case her guardian should fail to fulfil his promise, by which time, if ever, he hoped to obtain every necessary proof in support of her claims; and lest any youthful imprudence should betray her into a premature disclosure, he carefully concealed from her her relationship to the O'Sullivans, though with her affinity to Lord Osselstone he knew she was already acquainted.

The time appointed for terminating Miss Wildenheim's suspense at length arrived, and found her under the roof of her only remaining parent, though as yet totally unconscious of their relationship. On the eve of the day on which her minority expired, she retired to her own apartment in Mr. O'Sullivan's house, sorrowfully reflecting, that in two more she should part most probably for ever from this interesting old man. But this feeling was soon lost in the joy with which she remembered, that on the morrow she should make the first step to claim the love and protection of her uncle, and the rest of her paternal relatives. She fondly anticipated the praises which would delight her ear, as due to her beloved father's virtues and talents; and with heartfelt pleasure recollected, that Augustus Mordaunt was almost her brother. But the happiness of these thoughts was damped by the idea, that he and Lord Osselstone were then abroad; and she reflected with sorrow, that were it not for Mr. and Mrs. Temple, she should, on her return to England, be as desolate as ever. "But God," thought she, "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb;" and her heart dilated with gratitude to earth and Heaven, on the remembrance of what she humbly felt to be unmerited friendship. Her first feelings led her to open the portfolio, which contained the packet of letters Mr. Austin had charged her not to unseal till this period; but at the sight of her father's writing, the agony of the moment in which she had received it, with all the dreadful scenes which immediately followed, rose to her mind in all their first horror; and, completely overcome, she felt the dreadful consciousness, that none now existing on earth could fill that vacuum, which the loss of this beloved father would ever leave in her heart. The vision of happiness, which a few moments before had appeared so vivid, now seemed to have been but a vain illusion, that had mocked her with a dream of bliss. At that instant earth had no consolation to offer for her sorrows; but she turned to Heaven and found it there.

When she rose from her supplications, she hastily returned the packet to her portfolio. "I will not trust myself with it again," thought she; "I have here no friend to soothe, to control my mind.—In a few days I shall be with Mrs. Temple."

There are minds, which are capable of an intensity of regret, that others can scarcely conceive. Long after it has lost the more tumultuous character of grief, it lies deep in the recesses of the heart. The cares, the pleasures of the world, may for a time conceal it, even from self-consciousness; but there it ever endures. The vigour of a strong mind may reduce it to temporary inertness, but it will at times break every bond, and vindicate its empire. Like the Genius of the eastern tale, who, though for ages confined in the casket by the seal of Solomon, rose when the signet of wisdom was broken, in the same awful might he had possessed, before reduced to submission by its coercive power.

Whilst in one room at Ballinamoyle a daughter mourned her father, in another a son defied his mother. Mr. Webberly was at that moment informing Mrs. O'Sullivan, he would, on the morrow, make his long-meditated proposal to Miss Wildenheim: he had fulfilled his promise of waiting till she was of age; and said, that if she was so unreasonable as to require still further delay, he could no longer comply, as the difference of a day might deprive him of Adelaide for ever. The Desmonds were to take their farewell on Caroline's birth-day; Miss Wildenheim would commence her journey to England on the following morning; and it was not at all likely Colonel Desmond would suffer her to depart, without making those offers some people thought would be accepted. This very idea made Mrs. O'Sullivan more eager in her entreaties, more authoritative in her commands to her son, to defer his intentions till their arrival at Webberly House. The conference ended in passion on both sides, he exclaiming, "By Gad, mother, you are never to be satisfied;—be damned if I stand shilly shally any longer!" "Then, Jack, you shan't have my blessing for an opthalmia; and you know that's better worth than the priest's, as the song says."