of time a letter must
be sent to Rome, backed by strong interest, so as to make it appear
that the ceremony at Montpipeau, irregular, and between a Huguenot and
Catholic, had been a defiance of the Papal decree, and must therefore
be nullified. This would probably be attainable, though he did not feel
absolutely secure of it. Pending this, Eustacie must be secluded in a
convent; and, while still believing herself a widow, must immediately on
the arrival of the decree and dispensation, be forced into the marriage
with Narcisse before she heard of Berenger's being still alive. And then
Berenger would have no longer any excuse for holding out. His claims
would be disposed of, and he might be either sent to England, or he
might be won upon by Madame de Selinville's constancy.

And this, as the Chevalier believed, was the only chance of saving a
life that he was unwilling to sacrifice, for his captive's patience and
courtesy had gained so much upon his heart that he was resolved to
do all that shuffling and temporizing could do to save the lad from
Narcisse's hatred and to secure him Diane's love.

As to telling the truth and arranging his escape, that scarcely ever
crossed the old man's mind. It would have been to resign the lands of
Nid de Merle, to return to the makeshift life he knew but too well, and,
what was worse, to ruin and degrade his son, and incur his resentment.
It would probably be easy to obtain a promise from Berenger, in his
first joy and gratitude, of yielding up all pretensions of his own or
his wife's; but, however honourably meant, such a promise would be worth
very little, and would be utterly scorned by Narcisse. Besides, how
could he thwart the love of his daughter and the ambition of his son
both at once?

No; the only security for the possession of Nid de Merle lay in either
the death of the young baron and his child or else in his acquiescence
in the invalidity of his marriage, and therefore in the illegitimacy of
the child.

And it was within the bounds of possibility that, in his seclusion, he
might at length learn to believe in the story of the destruction at
La Sablerie, and, wearying of captivity, might yield at length to the
persuasions of Diane and her father, and become so far involved with
them as to be unable to draw back, or else be so stung by Eustacie's
desertion as to accept her rival willingly.

It was a forlorn hope, but it was the only medium that lay between
either the deat