by Ellen Wood
He opened the door, and stood with it in his hand, glancing hesitatingly at Adeline. Her feelings were wrought to a high pitch of excitement, control forsook her, and darting forward she clung to the arm of Mr. St. John, sobbing out hysterically.
“You will return — you will not desert me — you will not leave me to him?”
He laid his hand tenderly on her shoulder, just as though they had been alone. “It is only compulsion that takes me from you, Adeline,” he answered. “Be assured I will not let the grass grow under my feet. When three days shall have passed, look every minute for my return: and then, my darling, we shall part no more.”
Lower yet he bent his head, and kissed her fervently. Then resigned her, turned, and was gone. He was a bold man.
Adeline flung her hands over her crimsoned face. To describe the astonished consternation of the spectators, would be a difficult task: a kiss upon a young lady’s lips in France is worse than the seven cardinal sins. Madame de Castella escorted Adeline at once to her chamber, and Miss de Beaufoy’s grey hair stood on end.
“Bah!” said the dear old lady. “He is a good and honourable man, Ferdinand,” turning to her son-in-law— “and he means no harm. It is nothing, in English manners. I’ve had a kiss myself in my young days, and was none the worse for it.”
CHAPTER XXIV.
FOILED
A MOST uncomfortable night; a still more uncomfortable morning. Adeline lay in bed with headache; and the Baron departed for Paris at mid-day. He believed, with Signor de Castella — though it may be questioned if the latter did believe it, except in speech — that Mr. St. John had taken himself to England for good. He did not cast blame on Adeline: his rage was vented on St. John. As to any affection Adeline might be suspected of entertaining for Mr. St. John, the Baron neither thought of it nor would have understood it.
The banns of the marriage were put up at the Mairie, and would shortly be published in the newspapers, according to the custom of the country, “Alphonse Jean Hippolite, Baron de la Chasse, and Adeline Luisa de Castella.” The wedding plan was already sketched out: and there is no doubt that this trouble regarding Mr. St. John was hastening matters on. The religious ceremony was to take place at the neighbouring chapel, the civil one at the Mairie at Odesque. A banquet would be given at Beaufoy in the evening, and on the following morning the bride and bridegroom would leave the château for Paris. In the course of a few days, Signor and Madame de Castella would join them there, and all four would proceed to the South together.
Rose was gratuitously free in her remarks on the programme.
“I’d have seen them further, Adeline, with their French ideas, before they should have made such arrangements for me!” Three days passed, and no Mr. St. John. Adeline was in a sad state of excitement. Good Father Marc, who had loved her since she was a little child, and had her interest warmly at heart, looked at her with deep concern whenever they met. On the evening of this third day he spoke.
“My child, I am grieved to see you unhappy. This young Englishman was attractive, and it is natural, perhaps, that you should regret him: but his departure renders your course of duty all the more easy.”
The priest thought he had gone for good, then! Adeline was silent: but she could have thrown herself on the good priest’s breast and wept out her sorrow.
“It is well that he should thus have terminated it, my poor child. Nothing but fruitless dissatisfaction could have attended his remaining. Never, under any circumstances, could you have allowed yourself to espouse one of the heretical faith. Best as it is, my child! May the care of all the saints be given to you!”
When the fourth morning arose and did not bring St. John, Adeline’s state grew distressing. To what compare her restless anxiety? You are all familiar with the old tale of Bluebeard. “Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you see anybody coming?”
“Alas, my sister, I see only the dust from a flock of sheep.”
“Sister Anne, Sister Anne, can you see anybody coming?” Thus it was with Adeline. When her eyes ached with looking out, and she retired momentarily to ease them, it would be, “Rose, Rose, do you see him coming?”
“No, I don’t see a soul.”
And then, “Mary! go to the window. Can you see him coming?”
And the day passed like the others, and he never came. It was, indeed, an anxious time with her. Left to herself, the marriage would inevitably take place, for, unsupported by St. John, she should not dare to oppose her father. But, on the fifth morning — ah, what relief! — he returned. Adeline, dear girl, look at him: what do you read? A self-possessed step of triumph, a conscious smile on his fine features, a glance of assured satisfaction in his truthful eye. He comes, indeed, as St. John of Castle Wafer.
Miss de Beaufoy, Adeline, and Mary were alone: the rest had gone over to the farm. He took Adeline’s hands in his: he saw how she had been suffering. “But it is over, over,” he whispered to her; “I shall never leave you more.”
“It was unwise of you to come back, Mr. St. John,” said Aunt Agnes, as she shook hands with him.
“It was wise of me to go,” he cried, a happy flush of triumph on his brow. “Ah, dear Miss Beaufoy, you will soon pay us a visit at Castle Wafer. Where is Monsieur de la Chassé?”
“He has left for Paris.”
“I am sorry for it. He styled me an adventurer — a hunter after Adeline’s fortune. Had he remained until to-day, he might have eaten his words.”
“What is there to hope?” Adeline could not help whispering.
“Hope all, hope everything, my love,” was his reply. “I tell you to do so.”
St. John, like an ambassador, had brought his credentials with him. All that he had so confidently asserted to M. de Castella was realized. His brother had received him with open arms, joying over the reconciliation. Solicitors were at once employed to liquidate Frederick’s remaining debts, and to set free his property. Castle Wafer would be resigned to him on his marriage, and a brilliant income. He had represented Adeline in glowing colours to his brother, not enlarging on her beauty, which he said would speak for itself, but on her numerous endearing qualities of mind and heart. And Isaac, as he listened, became reconciled to the frustration of the marriage with Lady Anne St. John, and wrote to Adeline that he was prepared to love and welcome her as a daughter. His offered settlements for her were the same as those proposed for Lady Anne, and undeniable.
Never had Signor de Castella been so thoroughly put out. We are apt to believe what we wish, and he had been suffering himself to assume that Mr. St. John would really not return. Matters seemed to be becoming serious. With a bad grace he received the letter presented to him from Mr. Isaac St. John. It contained formal proposals for Adeline, with an explanatory detail of what has been stated above, submitting the whole to Signor de Castella’s approval. The letter also preferred a request, which Frederick was to urge in person, that the Signor and his family would at once visit Castle Wafer and become acquainted with the home to which he consigned his child. The marriage could then take place as soon as was convenient, either in England or France, as might be agreed upon; after which, Frederick would take her to a warmer clime for the winter months.
Annoyed as M. de Castella was, he could not but be flattered at the honour done him, for he well knew that Isaac St. John of Castle Wafer might aspire, for his brother, to a higher alliance than this would be. But he showed his vexation.
“You have acted improperly, Mr. St. John, both towards me and towards your brother. Pray, did you tell him that Adeline was all but the wife of another?”
“I told him everything,” said Mr. St. John, firmly; “and he agreed with me, that for Adeline’s own sake, if not for mine, she must be rescued from the unhappiness which threatens her.”
“You are bold, sir,” cried M. de Castella, a flush of anger rising to his brow.
“I am,” returned Mr. St. John, “bold and determined. You must pardon the avowal. It would ill become me to be otherwise, when so
much is at stake.”
M. de Castella wheeled back his easy-chair as he sat, the only diversion from the uncomfortable straight-backed seats which graced his cabinet. “Listen to me,” he said; “I hope finally. Your journey to Castle Wafer, as I warned you it would be, has been worse than profitless: our conversation is the same. No human entreaty or menace — could such be offered me — would alter my determination one iota. Adeline will marry de la Chasse.”
“I have abstained from urging my own feelings,” said Mr. St. John, warmly, “but you must be aware that my happiness is at stake. My whole future, so to speak, is bound up in Adeline.”
“You do well not to urge them; it would make no difference. I am sorry; but it would not. This must end, Mr. St. John. I have already expressed my acknowledgments to you for the honour done me in your wish for an alliance; I shall express them presently to your brother. And I have no objection to confess, that, under other circumstances, I might have been tempted to entertain it, in spite of the difference in our faith. But the barriers between you and Adeline are insuperable.”
“Oh, M. de Castella, pray reflect. I have been bred with as nice a sense of honour as you: I venture to say it: and I trust I shall never be guilty of aught to tarnish that honour. But I should deem it an unrighteous thing to sacrifice to it a fellow-creature’s happiness, and she an only child.”
“Oh, tush! Sacrifice! — happiness! These chimeras of the imagination are not recognized by us. Adeline may rebel in spirit — may repine for a week or two, but when once she is married to the Baron, she will settle down contentedly enough.”
“You are killing her,” exclaimed St. John, in some excitement. “You may not see it, but what I tell you is true. The painful suspense and agitation she has been exposed to lately, if continued, would kill her.”
“Then if such be your opinion, Mr. St. John,” returned the Signor, sarcastically, “you should put an end to it by withdrawing yourself.”
“I will not withdraw; I will not give up Adeline. I am more worthy of her than he is.”
“You have been highly reprehensible throughout the affair. You knew that Adeline was promised to another, and it was your duty to fly the place, or at least absent yourself from her, when you found an attachment was arising.”
“I don’t know that I was awake to it in time. But if I had been, most likely I should not have flown. Had I been needy, as that man called me, or one whose rank were inferior to hers, then my duty would have been plain; but the heir to Castle Wafer has no need to fly like a craven.”
“Not on that score — not on that score. Had Adeline been but a peasant and engaged to another, you should have respected that engagement, and left her free.”
“I did not set myself out to gain her love. I assure you, Signor, that the passion which grew up between us was unsought on either side. It was the result of companionship, of similar tastes and sympathies; and it was firmly seated, I am convinced, in both our hearts, before I ever uttered a word, or gave way to an action that could be construed into a wooing one. And you will forgive me for reminding you, that had Adeline regarded de la Chasse with the feelings essential to render a marriage with him happy, she must have remained indifferent to me.”
“Our conference is at an end,” observed M. de Castella, rising: “I beg to state that I can never suffer it to be renewed. Finally: I feel obliged, flattered, by the honour you would have done Adeline, but I have no alternative but to decline it.”
“You have an alternative, Signor de Castella.”
“I have none. I have none, on my honour. Will you be the bearer of my despatch to Castle Wafer?”
“No. I shall remain where I am for the present.”
“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 step-son, 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 step-son 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.
“I am not sufficiently recovered to travel to the coast, as Frederick wished, but Lady Anne Saville has offered to supply my place. She leaves with her husband for Folkestone the day after to-morrow, and will receive you there from Frederick’s hands. She will conduct you at once to London, to my house, where you will remain my guest until the marriage, which of course must take place at once; after which, you will leave for Castle Wafer, and pass there a brief sojourn before you start for the South. The settlements are here, waiting for your signature and Frederick’s: Mr. Isaac St. John has already affixed his, and he will be in London before you arrive.
“I am impatient to receive and welcome you. Believe me, my dear child, that I will always endeavour to be to you an affectionate mother.
“SELINA ST. JOHN.”
“You will be in readiness to-morrow night,” he whispered, as she closed the letter.
“When are we to be married?” she asked, after a pause. She might well bend her sweet face downwards as she asked it.
“Adeline, you see what my mother says. I have written to procure a special licence, so that the Protestant ceremony shall be performed on our arrival, securing us from separation. Should the forms of your own religion require any delay, which I do not anticipate, you will remain with my mother until they can be completed. My home in town is at Mivart’s.”
“You — you will be kind to me?” she faltered, bursting into tears. “I am leaving a happy home, my mother, my father, the friends of my childhood, I am leaving all for you; you will be ever kind to me?”
“Adeline,” he interrupted, “how can you ask the question? I am about to make you my dear wife; I will cherish you as you never yet were cherished. Your parents have loved you dearly, but not with such a love as mine. Heaven helping me, your life shall be one dream of happiness. No mother ever watched over her first-born, as I will watch over and cherish you.”