These signs of conquest could not be mistaken:  the late haughty possessor had evidently suffered defeat; but what fate had overtaken him, and where had his family found a refuge?  Lucie, the sharer of their fortunes,—­where should he seek her? was the most anxious thought of Stanhope; and painful solicitude checked the tide of joyous expectation which he had so sanguinely indulged.  Hoping to obtain information from some peasant in the neighborhood, he anchored a few miles below the fort, and throwing himself into a small boat, proceeded alone to a well-remembered landing-place.  He steered his bark cautiously along the shores of the bay, which were already darkened by the evening shadows; and, rowing with all his strength, soon reached the destined spot, and sprang eagerly upon the strand.  Ascending an eminence, the country opened widely around him; the smoke curled quietly from the scattered cottages, and the scene was unchanged since he last saw it, except from the variation of the seasons.  The fields, which were then crowned with the riches of autumn, had since been seared by wintry frosts, which now slowly relaxed their rigid grasp.  Faint streaks of verdure began to tinge the sunny valleys, though patches of snow still lingered within their cold recesses.  A thousand silver rills burst from the moistened earth, and leaped down the sloping banks, chiming, in soft concert, with the evening breeze.  Every swelling bud exhaled the perfumed breath of spring; and all nature seemed awake to welcome her bland approach.

The peasantry of the country were evidently unmolested, and probably cared little for the change of masters.  Arthur had, as yet, seen no living being; and he hastened to Annette’s cottage, which stood at a short distance, half hid by the matted foliage of some sheltering pines.  It no longer wore the air of open hospitality, which once distinguished it; the gay voice of its mistress ever carolling at her labour, was silent, and the closed door and casements seemed to portend some sad reverse.  Stanhope paused an instant; and as he leaned against a rude fence which enclosed the garden plat, his eye rested on a slender mound of earth, covered with fresh sods, and surrounded by saplings of willow, newly planted.  It was evidently a grave; and, with a chilled heart, and excited feelings, he leaped the slight enclosure, fearing, he knew not, dared not ask himself, what unknown evil.

At that moment, he heard light approaching footsteps; he turned and saw a female advancing slowly, and too much engrossed by her own thoughts to have yet observed him.  He could not be deceived; he sprang to meet her, repeating the name of “Lucie;” and an eager exclamation of “Stanhope, is it possible!” expressed her joyful recognition.

“Why are you so pale and pensive, dear Lucie,” asked Stanhope, regarding her with solicitude, when the first rapturous emotions had subsided; “and what brings you to this melancholy spot at such a lonely hour?”