De Valette and Stanhope continued to watch the procession till it stopped before the door of a comfortable house, which was occupied by La Tour and his family.  There, the music ceased, the soldiers filed off to their respective quarters, and the new married pair received the parting benediction of father Gilbert.  That ceremony concluded, the priest retired, as if dreading the contamination of any festive scene, attended only by the two boys who had officiated as torch-bearers,—­a service generally performed in the Catholic church by young persons initiated into the holy office.

“By our lady, my good uncle,” said De Valette to La Tour, who had seen, and lingered behind to speak with him, “our Puritan allies would soon withdraw their aid from us, should they chance to see, what I have witnessed this evening;—­by my faith, they would think the devil was keeping a high holiday here, and that you had become his chief favorite, and prime minister.”

“Your jesting is ill-timed, Eustace,” returned La Tour; “you have, indeed, arrived at an unlucky hour, but we must make the best of it; and, be sure that none of the New-England men leave the ships to-night.  I hope we shall not need their succors long, if you have aimed a true blow at D’Aulney.  Say, where have you left him?”

“We have driven him back to his strong hold.  But more of that hereafter,—­Mr. Stanhope waits to speak with you.”

“Mr. Stanhope is very welcome,” said La Tour, advancing cordially to meet him; “and I trust no apology is necessary for the confusion in which he finds us.”

“None, certainly,” returned Stanhope; “and I trust you will not suffer me to cause any interruption.  I am not quite so superstitious,” he added, smiling, “as to fear contagion from accidentally witnessing forms, which are not altogether agreeable to my conscience.”

“You deserve to be canonized for your liberality,” said De Valette; “for I doubt if there could be another such rare example found, in all the New England colonies.  We Hugonots,” he continued, with affected gravity, “account ourselves less rigid than your self-denying sect, and are sometimes drawn into ceremonies, which our hearts abominate.”

“No more of this, Eustace,” said La Tour; “Mr. Stanhope must know that all of us are, at times, governed by circumstances, which we cannot control; and he has heard enough of my situation, to conceive the address which is necessary to control a garrison, composed of different nations and religions, who are often mutinous, and at all times discordant.  I should scarcely at any other time have been so engaged, but Mad. de la Tour, who is really too sincere a protestant to attend a Catholic service, prevailed on me to be present at the marriage of her favorite maid,—­I might almost say companion,—­with a young soldier, who has long been distinguished by his fidelity in my service.”

Before Stanhope could reply to this plausible explanation, their attention was attracted by the sound of approaching voices, and the sonorous tones of Mr. Broadhead, the Presbyterian minister, were instantly recognized.