sionaries had taken possession of the place
at an early period, planted a cross there, and called it by the name of
St. Saviour. But their settlement was soon broken up by a party of
English from Virginia, who claimed it for their own king, on the plea of
first discovery. It was long after neglected by both nations, and the
improvements, which had been commenced, were entirely neglected.

Stanhope's attention was soon arrested by the object of his search. In
the midst of the plain still lay the cross, which the English had
overthrown; and, close beside it, father Gilbert was kneeling, as
motionless, as if life had ceased to animate him. His eyes were fastened
on a crucifix, and his pale and haggard countenance wore the traces of
that mental anguish, which seemed forever to pursue him. His lips were
firmly closed, and every limb and feature appeared so rigid, that Arthur
could scarcely repel the dreadful apprehension, that death had seized
his victim alone in that solitary spot. He approached him, and was
inexpressibly relieved to perceive him start at the sound of his steps,
and look round, though with a vacant air, like one suddenly roused from
deep and heavy sleep.

"Pardon me, if I intrude, father," said Stanhope; "but I feared you were
ill, and came to ask if I could serve you."

"Who are you?" demanded the priest, wildly, and springing from his
knees; "who are you, that seek me here,--here, in this spot, consecrated
to remorse and sorrow?"

"It is but a few hours since I parted from you," returned Stanhope; "and
had I known you purposed coming hither, I would not willingly have left
you to cross the waves alone, in that frail boat."

"I know you now, young man," replied the priest, the unnatural
excitement of his countenance yielding to its usual calm; "and I thank
you for your care; but solitude and gloom are most congenial to me, and
I endure the fellowship of men, only in compliance with the duties of my
holy office. Leave me," he added; "here, at least, I would be alone."

"This is a dreary place, father"--

"Dreary!" interrupted the priest; "and it is therefore that I seek it;
twenty years have passed away, since I first found refuge in its shades,
from the vanities of a world which I had too long trusted; and yearly on
this day, the solitary waste is witness to my remorse and penance. Be
warned by this, my son; and, in thy youth, avoid the crimes and follies
which lead to an old age of sorrow."

"Tru