leading to Annette's
cottage; and Lucie again reminding Stanhope that he must leave her, he
felt compelled, reluctantly, to turn into another direction, and pursue
his lonely way to the fort.

Madame de la Tour, in the mean time, had scarcely heeded Lucie's
protracted absence, as she sat at the cottage door, enjoying the
fragrance and beauty of the evening, which her late confinement rendered
peculiarly grateful. The last glow of twilight faded slowly away, and
the falling dews began to remind her, that she had already lingered
beyond the bounds of prudence. She was surprised that Lucie stayed so
inconsiderately, and at length became seriously uneasy at her delay. But
her anxiety was for a time diverted, by the appearance of Jacques, who
came in haste from the fort, with the intelligence which father Gilbert
had just communicated, that La Tour was at liberty, and then on his
homeward voyage.

Mad. de la Tour immediately left the cottage, persuaded that Lucie must
have returned without her. She had not proceeded far, when she
encountered father Gilbert, walking with his usual slow and measured
steps, and a countenance perfectly abstracted from every surrounding
object. She had never spoken with the priest, for her peculiar tenets
led her to regard his order with aversion; nor had she before
particularly noticed him. She now saw in him only the messenger of her
husband's freedom; and, eager to make more particular inquiries, she
hastily approached him, though with a degree of reverence which it was
impossible for any one to avoid feeling in his presence. The priest
stopped, on finding his progress thus impeded, and looked coldly on her;
but gradually his expression changed, the blood rushed to his face, and
a sudden brightness flashed from his piercing eyes. The lady, engrossed
by her own feelings, did not observe the change, but, in a tone of
anxious inquiry, said,

"Holy father, you are a messenger of good tidings, and I would crave the
favor of hearing them confirmed, from your own lips!"

With startling energy, the priest seized her hands, and fixing his eyes
wildly on her, exclaimed,

"Lady, who are you? speak, I conjure you, while I have reason left to
comprehend!"

"I am the wife of Mons. de la Tour," she answered, terrified by his
strange conduct, and vainly striving to free herself from his grasp.

"The wife of Mons. de la Tour!" he repeated; "no, no, you are not;--you
would deceive me," he added, veheme