Two or three days of gloomy weather had confined Madame de la Tour almost entirely to her own apartment; tidings long expected were still delayed; and, in spite of every effort, the disappointment and anxiety evidently depressed her spirits.  On the first return of sunshine, she proposed a walk with Lucie, to the cottage of Jacques and Annette, which stood at a little distance without the fort, and had been presented to them, on their marriage, by La Tour, as a reward of their fidelity.  It was at the close of a balmy day, in the early part of autumn; and, for a time, they walked on in silence, each one engrossed by her own reflections.  Madame de la Tour at length abruptly said,

“This soft and fragrant air brings healing on its wings! my strength and spirits are already renovated by its soothing influence, and even inanimate nature seems rejoicing in this brilliant sunshine, so doubly welcome, after the damp and heavy fogs, which have so long hung round us!”

“It is almost like the mild, transparent evenings of our own bright clime,” said Lucie; “but there we can enjoy, without the fear of perpetual change, while in this land of vapors, the sun which sets with most resplendency often rises shrouded in clouds.”

“It is this contrast, which gives a piquancy to all our pleasures,” said Mad. de la Tour; “no sky is so serene, as that which succeeds a tempest; and a slight alloy of sorrow or disappointment gives a zest to subsequent enjoyment.”

“No one can love variety better than I,” said Lucie, smiling; “provided its shades are all reflected from glowing colors; but I would prefer a calm and settled enjoyment, however monotonous it may seem, to those sudden bursts which borrow half their brightness from the contrasted gloom of a reverse!”

“You will find nothing permanent in this changeful world, Lucie; and, from your exuberant gaiety, wisely reserve a portion of cheerfulness, at least, to support you, in the darker moments of misfortune, which the most favored cannot always escape.  I have had my share of them; and it is not a trifling evil, that my husband is now a prisoner, in the hands of his most deadly enemy; but it is weakness to indulge in useless regrets and apprehensions, and I have only to perform my duty faithfully, and cherish the hope, that his own courage, or the assistance of his friends, will soon effect his rescue.”

“We have but too much reason to believe, that they are all sharers of his captivity,” returned Lucie; “had De Valette, or any of them escaped, they would surely have returned hither, before this time.”

“They would scarcely be welcome here,” said Mad. de la Tour, “if they returned, before they had done all that brave men could do, to recover the liberty of him, whom they have pledged themselves to serve!”

“Their own feelings, I doubt not,” replied Lucie, “would prompt them to use every exertion to effect that object, and Eustace’s courage, we know, is unquestioned.  We have heard, too,” she added, with slight hesitation, “that Mr. Stanhope procured another vessel, after his disaster, to go on and assist my uncle; and if, as is possible, he and De Valette are still at liberty, it would be strange indeed, if their united efforts proved unavailing.”