She knew it all now: the secret of her father's obstinacy, and why she must give up Mr. St. John and marry de la Chasse. She knew that if her father consented to her heretical marriage, or if she of herself persisted in contracting it, the Curse of the Church was to alight upon her, and upon her father's house. _The Curse of the Church!_ Adeline had been reared in all the belief and doctrines of the Romish faith, and she could no more have dared to act in defiance of that awful curse, than she would have dared to raise her hand against her own life. She leaned her head back on the uncomfortable chair, and moaned aloud in her overwhelming anguish. It might be cruel of Father Marc to have whispered of such a thing, but he had done it in his zealous love. Desperate diseases require desperate remedies. "The alternative of a convent," she gasped, "cannot that be given me?" "No," replied M. de Castella, who was painfully frigid throughout the interview, perhaps as a guard to his own feelings. "You must marry. Your mother and I cannot consent to lose you from our sight, as, in the will of Providence, we lost Maria. You must choose between this Englishman and him to whom you are betrothed. If you marry the Englishman, you--and I, Adeline--will be put beyond the pale of Heaven. Marry him who expects, ere three days, to be your husband, and you will lead a tranquil life here, with sure hope of a Hereafter." "Does my mother know of this?" she asked. "No. She will know it soon enough if your decision be against us." "Oh papa, papa!" she burst forth, in momentary abandonment to the feelings that seemed to be killing her, "can I not live on with you and mamma always, unmarried?" "You cannot, Adeline. The only child that is left to us must fulfil woman's appointed destiny on earth. And not shrink from it," he sternly added. There was little more to be said, nothing more to be understood. She comprehended it all, and the situation she was placed in. She knew that, for her, all of peace and joy on earth was over. A mirror of the future flashed before her mind's eye: she saw herself battling with its waves, and it was one broad sea of never-ending agony. Her heart fluttered violently, as it had never before fluttered: there was a strange sensation within her, as of some mighty weight, some torment rushing to her brain. She tottered as she rose from the chair, and laid hold of the table to steady herself. "There--there is nothing more?" she whispered. "Nothing, Adeline. Save to give your reply to Mr. St. John." She was passing to the door when a word arrested her. She leaned against one of the secretaires as her father spoke. "I do not ask what your decision will be, Adeline. I have laid the case before you, as it exists, without circumlocution and without disguise. I said last night I would not bias your choice by a word of mine, and I will not."