"I cannot pretend to control your movements, Mr. St. John, but it will be well that you absent yourself until after my daughter's marriage. Where you to come in contact with the Baron, much unpleasantness might ensue."
"He is not here. Therefore at present that question cannot arise."
"I have no wish that our friendship should terminate: I may add that I do not wish it even to be interrupted, if you will but be reasonable. You must be aware"--and for a moment the Signor relapsed into a tone of warm cordiality--"that we have all liked you very much, Mr. St. John, and have enjoyed your society in an unusual degree. Indeed it is this very feeling for you which has thrown difficulties in the way: but for that, the house would have been closed to you on your first rejection. You may stay where you are, and welcome; you may come still and see us, and welcome; provided you will exercise common sense, and allow matters to take their proper course."
Mr. St. John made no reply whatever. He said good morning, and left the cabinet, nearly running against Father Marc, who was waiting to enter it.
After that there ensued what might be called a lull in the storm. St. John came occasionally to Beaufoy, sometimes met Adeline, by chance as it seemed, out of doors; but nothing more was heard of his pretensions. Meanwhile active preparations for the wedding went on: and the two young lady visitors prolonged their stay, having obtained leave from home and from Madame de Nino to do so.
And now we have to approach a phase of the history upon which it is not pleasant to touch. Mr. St. John made one final effort to shake the resolve of Signor de Castella; or, rather, attempted to make it, but was met by a peremptory command never to introduce the subject again. After that, it appeared to him that there was only one alternative, and he cautiously ventured to break it to Adeline--that of flying with him. It was received with terror and reproach--as was only natural; she felt indeed inexpressibly shocked, not only at the proposition itself, but that he should make it. But Mr. St. John persevered. He attempted reason first: if she did not take this step, how would she avoid the marriage with de la Chasse? He brought forth arguments of the most persuasive eloquence: and reasoning eloquence is convincing, when it comes from beloved lips.
Let us give St. John his due. He truly thought, in all honour, that he was acting for the best, for Adeline's welfare. It could scarcely be called an elopement that he was urging, since he took measures for it to be countenanced and assisted by his family. He told them the whole case, the entire truth; he implored them, for Adeline's sake, to save her. To follow the progress of the matter day by day, step by step, would be useless: it is sufficient to say that he at length wrung a tardy and most reluctant consent from Adeline.
It wanted but three days to that fixed for the grand wedding, when she stood with him in the shrubbery in the twilight of the hot evening. There was indeed little time to lose, if she was to be saved. He put into her hand a letter addressed to her by his mother.
"My Dear Mademoiselle De Castella,
"Frederick writes me word that you demurred to the arguments of my last letter, as being used only out of courtesy to you. You judge perfectly right in believing that I look upon elopements with a severe eye; every gentlewoman does so, if she be conscientious. But your case appears to be a most peculiar one. Your whole future happiness, perhaps life, is at stake; and I really do think Frederick is right in saying that it is a duty before Heaven to save you from this obnoxious marriage that is being forced upon you. It is a cruel thing to sacrifice you merely to the pledging of a word--and that is so, if I understand the matter rightly. Signor de Castella has stated (in his letter to my stepson, Mr. Isaac St. John) that were it not for this unlucky previous contract to which he is plighted, he should be proud of the alliance with Frederick; that to him personally he has no sort of objection. To tell you the truth, it appeared to me, from the wording of this letter (which my stepson sent up for my perusal) that your father would be glad of a pretext for breaking the contract, but that it seemed to him a simple impossibility that any such pretext could be found. It is this fact--though it may be better to call it opinion--which was my chief inducement to countenance the step now contemplated by Frederick. And if it must take place (and, as I say, I see no other way of escape for you), it is better that it should be done with my sanction; which will absolve you afterwards in the judgment of the world.