I cannot be
    Mine own, nor any thing to any, if
    I be not thine; to this I am most constant,
    Though destiny say, no.

        SHAKSPEARE.

Arthur Stanhope soon guided his boat into the cove, and leaped on shore, followed more leisurely by father Gilbert, who proceeded alone to the fort.  Stanhope lingered behind, apparently enjoying a profound reverie, while, step by step, he approached the grove where Lucie was still concealed.  Her habitual dread of father Gilbert induced her to remain silent, till he was out of sight; when she bounded lightly from her covert, and stood before her lover.  An exclamation of delighted surprise burst from his lips, as he sprang eagerly towards her; and it was several moments before the joyful excitation of mutual and happy emotions admitted of calm inquiry and explanation.

“You must now tell me, Arthur,” Lucie at length said, “what miracle has brought you here; how you have escaped from storms, and shipwreck, and captivity, and all the evils which we heard, I fear too truly, had befallen you!”

“Report, I perceive, has at least multiplied my misfortunes,” he answered, smiling; “I have been in no danger from the sword or prison, and, though the tempest treated my poor vessel roughly, thanks to its mercy! we all escaped with life, and, therefore, have no reason to complain.”

“That dreadful night and day!” said Lucie, with a shudder; “did I not tell you, Stanhope, that a storm was gathering? and when we stood together on this very spot, and I pointed to the heavy clouds, and sullen waves, you only smiled at my fears, and paid no heed to my predictions!”

“I knew not, then, that you were so skilled in reading the mystery of the clouds,” he answered; “and if I had, dear Lucie, I fear that knowledge would have availed me little; my honor was pledged in the undertaking, and I could not delay it, even to gratify the wishes, which you urged with so sweet a grace, and an interest so flattering.”

“Well, let it pass,” she replied; “you are safe again, and we need not the tempest’s aid to enhance the sunshine of this moment.  And now tell me, where you have left my uncle, and De Valette, and all who went out with you, in such a gallant show? and why you have returned alone, or only with that dreaded priest, who seems to traverse earth and sea, like a spirit, gifted with ubiquity?”

“But this dreaded priest, Lucie, whom you regard with so much fear, appears inclined to use his mysterious influence for benevolent purposes; and Mons. de la Tour is certainly much indebted to his exertions for being so soon freed from imprisonment.”

“My uncle is free and safe, then?” asked Lucie, “though, indeed, your looks before assured me of it; and I ought not to have delayed so long imparting the intelligence to my aunt.  Suffer me to go, Stanhope; you know not her anxiety!”