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Adèle was very glad of it, for she was anxious to be back home before dusk. Handing her a piece of paper, Adèle's uncle bade her be sure to give it to her father. He enjoined her not to lose it, but to hold it tightly all the way home. "Don't put it in your pocket," he added as the little girl was preparing to leave.
There was a French woman named Annette who came out and showed us things, but the head of the establishment was Mrs. Windsor. And we saw Adele hanging around several times. We also saw Adele's father, very dressy with a flower in his buttonhole and yellow gloves. He smiled sweetly at me in the hall. The fitter told us secretly that Mrs. Windsor spent everything she made on Adele and Mr. Windsor."
Adele's English bringing up, and her avowed liking for things English, were remembered; and the Duc de Carolan, and the other aspirants to Adele's hand, began to scowl angrily at the young Englishman whenever they met him. Upon the other hand, among the ladies Rupert was a general favourite, but he puzzled them altogether.
She shut the door, and then said in a very earnest tone: "Do you see that little bedstead in the corner? I did not notice it until I came in just now, and then, being quite astonished, I said, 'Why here's a child's bed; who sleeps here? 'Oh, says she, 'that's our little Adele's bedstead.
"To me, this case is one of the most incomprehensible aspects of the tender passion. Adele's idea of existence is a steeplechase with nothing but water-jumps, Dicky's to loiter around in a gypsy van, and sit in the sun. During his brief matrimonial experience with her, he nearly died for want of breath or rather the life was nearly shaken out of him. And yet she wants Dicky again.
Having made all this known to the reader, he shall now have the contents of Adele's letter. We must now read Adele's letter. "My dear Valerie, The die is cast, and I have now a most difficult game to play. I have risked all upon it, and the happiness of my future life is at stake. But let me narrate what has passed since I made you my confidante.
They were sitting in the parlor. The golden glory of the September sun gave an intense hue to the crimson furniture, lighted up the face of the Madonna with a new radiance, and touched the ivory keys of the piano with a fresh polish. Adèle's eyes were fixed with eager expectation upon her mother. "You know, ma chère", Mrs. Dubois began, "we once lived in France.
"I love you, de Pignerolles, but none of the fogs and mists of that chilly country for me. His Majesty will forgive you one of these days, and then we will meet at Versailles." "So be it," the marquis said. "When Adele's estates have been bestowed upon one of his favourites, he will have no reason for keeping me in exile; but we shall see."
I know what she would have done. But one thing is clear there was something besides her brother's disappearance between Grandemont's pleadings for her hand and Adèle's "yes." Ten years had passed, and what she had seen during the space of that lightning flash remained an indelible picture.
The haunting words were still ringing in Adele's ears, and made it ten-fold harder for her to tell him that he was not to prevail in the cause dearer than life, as it was to him.
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