“Your malice has invented this,” said La Tour, glancing his eye indignantly over the contents of the scroll; “but even this shall not avail you; and, cunningly as you have woven your treacherous web around me, I shall yet escape the snare, and triumph over all your machinations!”

“It is vain to boast of deeds, which you may never be at liberty to perform,” replied D’Aulney; “your escape from this prison is impossible, and, of course, your fate is entirely at my disposal.  But, grossly as you have injured me, I am willing to reconcile past differences; not from any hope of personal advantage, but to preserve the peace of the colony, and sustain the honor of the government.”

“That mask of disinterestedness and patriotism,” said La Tour, scornfully, “is well assumed; but, beshrew me! if it does not hide some dark and selfish purpose.  Reconcile!” he added, in a tone of bitterness; “that word can never pass current with us; my hatred to you is so strong, so deeply-rooted, that nothing could ever compel me to serve you, even if, by so doing, I might advance my own fortunes to the height of princely grandeur.”

“Your choice is too limited to admit of dainty scruples,” said D’Aulney, tauntingly; “but, you may be induced to grant from necessity, what you would refuse as a favor.  You must be convinced, that your title and authority in Acadia are now abolished, and you have every reason to apprehend the severity of the law, if you are returned a prisoner to France.  I offer you immediate liberty, with sufficient privileges to render you independent, on condition that you will make a legal transfer of your late government to me, and thus amicably reunite the colony, which was so unhappily divided on the death of Razilly.  Put your signature to this paper, and you are that moment free.”

“Now, by the holy rood!” said La Tour, bursting into a laugh of scorn; “but that I think you are jesting with me, I would trample you beneath my feet, as I do this;” and snatching the offered paper from his hand, he tore it in pieces, and stamped violently on the scattered fragments.

“You reject my proposals, then?” asked D’Aulney, pale with angry emotions.

“Dare you ask me, again, to accept them?” returned La Tour; “think you, I would sanction the slanders you have fabricated, by such a surrender of my rights? that I would thus bring reproach upon my name, and bequeath poverty and disgrace to my children?”

“It is well,” replied D’Aulney; “and the consequences of your folly must fall on your own head; but, when too late, you may repent the perverseness which is driving you to destruction.”

“Were the worst fate which your malevolence could devise, at this moment before me,” said La Tour, “my resolution would remain unalterable.  I am not so poor in spirit, as to shrink before the blast of adversity; nor am I yet destitute of followers, who will fight for my rescue, or bravely avenge my fall.”