“Poor Hero!  I did not mean to disturb you,” said Lucie, patting her dumb favorite, and rather embarrassed, that she had unwarily produced so much excitement.

“Father Gilbert!” repeated Mad. de la Tour; “and is he coming hither again?”

“No, I saw him but an instant,” said Lucie; “and he has now disappeared behind the wall.”

She hesitated, and still kept her eyes fixed on her aunt’s face, as if wishing to ask some question, which she yet feared might not be well received.

“What would you say, Lucie?” asked Mad. de la Tour, with a faint smile; “I perceive there is something on your mind, which you would fain unburthen; and why should you hesitate to speak it to me?”

“Perhaps it is an idle curiosity, dear aunt,” she replied; “but you asked if father Gilbert was coming hither again, as though he had already been here; and, I confess, I am anxious to learn if I understood you correctly?”

“You did, Lucie; and you will be more surprised when I assure you, that I held a long conference with him this morning:  one too, in which you are particularly concerned.”

“I concerned! you hold a conference with father Gilbert!” said Lucie, in unfeigned astonishment; “dearest aunt, I entreat you to explain yourself.”

“The explanation must necessarily be long, Lucie,” she replied; “and as I know your feelings will be deeply excited, I fear the agitating events of this day have scarcely left you strength and spirits, to bear the recital.  To-morrow”—­

“Oh, now, dear aunt!” interrupted Lucie; “I am well, indeed, and can bear any thing better than suspense.  I too, have seen the priest to-day, and his look,—­his manner was so changed, yet still so unaccountable, that he has not been since one instant from my mind.”

“Where did you see him, Lucie?” asked Mad. de la Tour; “and why should you conceal the interview from me?”

Lucie, who, till this incidental recurrence to father Gilbert, had avoided mentioning even his name, since she found the subject so embarrassing to her aunt, gladly relieved her mind, by relating the particulars of her rencontre with him in the morning, and described the deep interest with which he seemed to be watching her recovery.  Madame de la Tour listened attentively to her recital, but apparently without surprise; and after a short pause, which was evidently employed in painful reflection, she said,

“It is time that all this mystery should be explained to you, Lucie; for, what I have so long attributed to the influence of your imagination, is now more rationally accounted for, though until a few hours since, I was, myself, ignorant of many facts, which I am about to relate to you.  But I must first beg you to close the window; the air grows cool, and I should also be loath to have our discourse reach the ears of any loiterer.”

Lucie obeyed in silence; and drawing her chair closer to her aunt, she prepared to listen, with almost breathless attention.