e, which prevented your alliance with one less valiant,--one, too
gentle to share the fortunes of such a bold adventurer."

"Touch not upon that theme," said La Tour, starting with almost frenzied
violence; "time may wear away every other remembrance, but the treachery
of a friend must remain indelible and unforgiven."

"Solitude, perchance, may calm your moody feelings, and I will leave you
to its soothing influence;" said D'Aulney, in a tone of assumed
indifference, which was contradicted by the angry flash that darted from
his eye. He laid his hand on the door, while he spoke; La Tour returned
no answer, and the next moment he was left to his own reflections; and,
bitter as they were, he felt that to be again alone, was a state of
comparative happiness. But, whatever he endured, not a shadow of fear or
apprehension obtruded on his mind. The shame of defeat, perhaps, most
deeply goaded him; and his interview with D'Aulney had awakened every
dark and stormy passion in his breast. Confinement was, indeed, irksome
to his active spirit; but he would not admit the possibility of its long
continuance; and he had no doubt, that the exertions of De Valette would
soon restore him to freedom. He rightly believed, that both the pride
and affection of his nephew would stimulate him to attempt it, and he
hoped his efforts would be aided by Stanhope, if he had been so
fortunate as to escape the storm.

Stanhope, however, was, as yet, ignorant of these events; and the
morning light, which stole so heavily through the grated window of La
Tour's prison-room, shone brightly on the waters of the Bay, where his
vessel had anchored through the night. He was in motion at an early
hour, anxious to obtain information of La Tour, though totally at a loss
in what direction to seek for him. In the midst of this perplexity, he
observed a boat, at some distance, slowly approaching the eastern
extremity of Mount Desert island. Stanhope waited impatiently to hail
the person who occupied it, believing he might receive some intelligence
from him respecting La Tour. But, instead of making the nearest point of
land, he suddenly tacked his boat, and bore off from the shore,
apparently intending to double a narrow headland, which projected into
the bay.

The little skiff moved slowly on its course, as if guided by an idle or
unskilful hand, and the oars were dipped so lightly and leisurely, that
they scarce dimpled the waves, or moved the boat beyond