“I meant it not,” he replied; “but I will not meet her again—­no, I dare not look again upon that face.  Has she parents, young man?” he continued, after a brief pause.

“She has been an orphan from infancy,” replied De Valette; “and Mad. de la Tour is almost the only relative whom she claims on earth.”

“She is a protestant?” said father Gilbert, inquiringly.

“She is,” said De Valette; “though her parents, I have heard, were Catholics, and Lucie has herself told me, that in her early childhood she was instructed in that faith.”

“Lucie!” muttered the priest, to himself, as if unconscious of another’s presence; “and that name too! but no,—­she was not left among the enemies of our faith,—­it is a strange—­an idle dream.”

He covered his face with his hands, and remained several moments, apparently in deep musing; and when he again looked up, every trace of emotion was gone, though a shade of melancholy, deeper even than usual, had settled on his features.

“Go!” he said to De Valette, “and betray not the weakness you have witnessed; go in peace, and forget, even to pity me!”

Father Gilbert’s manner was too imposing to be disputed, and De Valette left him with silent reverence,—­perplexed by the mystery of his words, and the singularity of his conduct.  Before he reached the house, however, he had convinced himself, that the priest was not perfectly sane, and that some fancied resemblance had touched the chords of memory, and revived the fading images of early, and perhaps unhappy days.  This appeared to him, the only rational way to account for his eccentricity; and under this impression, as well as from the priest’s injunction, he resolved not to mention the interview and conversation to any person.  He was particularly anxious to conceal it from Lucie, whose apprehensions might be increased by the account; and, in a short time, indeed,—­with the lightness of an unreflecting disposition,—­a circumstance which had, at the moment, so strongly impressed him, was nearly effaced from his remembrance.  Father Gilbert left the fort, and its vicinity, in the course of that day; but as the priests were continually called to visit the scattered and distant settlements, his absence, though prolonged beyond the usual time, was scarcely heeded.

In the mean while, La Tour was informed that M. D’Aulney continued to embrace every opportunity to display his hostility towards him.  Disappointed in the result of his meditated attack on fort St. John’s, he had recourse to various petty means of injury and annoyance.  The English colony, at Pemaquid, were friendly to La Tour, and their vessels frequently visited his fort to trade in the commodities of the country.  A shallop from thence had put in at Penobscot, relying on the good faith of D’Aulney; but, on some slight pretence, he detained it several days, and though, at length permitted to proceed on its voyage to St. John’s, the delay produced much loss and embarrassment.  La Tour resolved to avenge these repeated insults; and, hearing that the fort at Penobscot was at that time weakly defended, he made immediate preparations to commence an attack on it.