The former walked on the piazza by Stella's
side for a few turns in moody silence. Her father still sat at his
post of observation. Mrs. Wildmere had been with him part of the time,
but he had not had much to say to her.
"Mr. Arnault," said Stella, satirically, at last, "I will not tax your
remarkable power for entertainment any longer. I will now join papa,
and retire."
"Very well, Stella," was the quiet reply; "but before we part I shall
speak more to the point than if I had talked hours. By this time
another week the question must be decided."
She bowed, and made no other answer.
"Stella," said her father when they were alone and he had regarded for
some moments her averted and half-sullen face, "what do you propose to
do?" There was no answer.
After another pause he continued: "In settling the question, represent
your mother and myself by a cipher. That is all we are, if the logic
of your past action counts for anything. Again I ask, What do you
propose to do? No matter how pretty and flattered a girl may be, she
cannot alter gravitation. There are other facts just as inexorable.
Shutting your eyes to them, or any other phase of folly, will not make
the slightest difference."
"I think it's a horrid fact that I must marry a man that I don't
love.
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