“You are wilfully ignorant on this subject,” he replied; “and shew little of that submission, which a dutiful wife should feel for her husband’s judgment; but it is enough that I know the justice of my own cause, and that I bear a sword, which has ever been faithful to its trust.  Go you,” he added, tauntingly, “and count your rosary, and mutter to the saints a prayer with every bead; it may be they will protect the traitor, whom your good wishes have already followed.”

So saying, he abruptly left the room; and Madame d’Aulney, with tearful eyes, and an oppressed heart, hastened to the retirement of her own apartment.

CHAPTER XVI.

I cannot love him;
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble.

* * * * *

——­ ——­ but yet I cannot love him,
He might have took his answer long ago.

SHAKSPEARE.

Rumors of M. de la Tour’s defeat and capture, attended with the usual exaggerations, were not slow in reaching fort St. John’s; and they could not fail of producing a strong excitement in the garrison, and of rendering those more closely connected with him, deeply anxious respecting the result.  Madame de la Tour had been attacked by a severe illness, from which she was slowly recovering; and Lucie dreaded to impart to her the tidings, which from her own feelings, she was assured would excite the most painful solicitude.  But her aunt’s penetrating eye soon detected the concealment, and she could no longer withhold a minute detail of the reports which had reached her ears.  They were, however, received by Mad. la Tour with unexpected firmness.  She could not, indeed, suppress her uneasiness, but she felt that exertion was necessary, and, from that moment, the languor of disease yielded to the energy of her mental courage.

Madame de la Tour had experienced many vicissitudes, and, as the wife of a soldier of fortune, she had learned to bear success with moderation, and to meet reverses with fortitude.  She loved her husband, and with a spirit as high and undaunted as his own, and a mind far more noble and generous, she cherished his honor, as the only treasure which violence or injustice could never wrest from him.  Affection is always credulous, and fortunately for her happiness she gave no belief to the high charges which were publicly alleged against him; but placed the most undoubting trust in his assurance, that they were the baseless calumnies of an enemy.  Even the many dark shades in his character, which could not escape her discernment, she was ever ready to palliate; and her bland influence often restrained the violence of his stern and vindictive temper.