The Rivals of Acadia Part 12

But it was too late to recall what he had done; and La Tour again sunk into a train of reflections, though of a more tranquil nature than those which before agitated him. Recent occurrences had revived the recollections of earlier years; and he looked back, with softened feelings, on those peaceful scenes, which he had left in youth to buffet with the storms of life, and the still fiercer storms of pa.s.sion. His thoughts were, at length, exclusively occupied with the appearance of the female whom he so unexpectedly encountered on the first evening of his imprisonment, and whose features he had instantly identified with an image once most dear to him; but which had, long since, been absorbed in the pursuits of interest, and the struggles of ambition. The time had indeed gone by, when a.s.sociations, blended with that image, could deeply agitate him; and, connected as they were, with his aversion to D'Aulney, they tended to excite emotions of anger rather than of tenderness.

But, whatever was the nature of his feelings, they were shortly diverted to another channel by a low sound from without the door, which announced the cautious withdrawing of its bolts. The next instant it was opened by the guard who had before entered; and La Tour, surprised at his appearing so unseasonably,--for it was after midnight--was about to question him, when he pointed significantly to the door, and again hastily retired.

"Antoine!" exclaimed La Tour, suddenly recognizing in him a soldier of his own, who, on some former occasion, had been taken prisoner by D'Aulney, and voluntarily remained in his service. The call was unanswered; but presently the door again opened, and a figure entered, dressed in priestly guise, with a cowl drawn closely over his face. La Tour, at first, thought only of father Gilbert; and, with undefined expectation, rose to meet him; but another glance showed, that this person was low in stature, and altogether different in appearance from the monk. He retreated, with a sensation of keen disappointment; and believing that he saw before him some emissary from D'Aulney, he asked, impatiently,

"Who are you, that steal in upon my solitude at this untimely hour? that garb is your protection, or you might have reason to repent this rash and unwelcome intrusion!"

The object of this interrogation and menace seemed to shrink from the searching gaze of La Tour; and, without returning a word in reply, covered his face with both hands, as if still more effectually to conceal his features.

"What trick of priestcraft is this?" demanded La Tour, angrily; "is it not enough, that I am held in duresse by a villain's power, but must I be denied, even the poor privilege of bearing my confinement unmolested?

What, silent yet!" he added, in a tone of sarcasm; "methinks, thou art a novice in thy cunning trade, or thou wouldst not be so chary of thy ghostly counsel, or so slow to shrive the conscience of a luckless prisoner!"

"St. Etienne!" replied a voice, which thrilled his ear, in well-remembered accents; and, at the same moment, a trembling hand removed the cowl which covered a face glowing with confusion, and confined the light ringlets, that again fell profusely around the neck and brow.

"Adele!" exclaimed La Tour, springing towards her; then suddenly retreating to the utmost limits of the room, while every nerve shook with powerful emotion. He closed his eyes, as if fearing to look upon a face that he had last seen in the brightness of his hopes; and which twelve years had left unchanged, except to mature the loveliness of earliest youth into more womanly beauty and expression, and to deepen the pensiveness, that always marked it, into a shade of habitual melancholy.

"Adele, are _you_ too leagued against me?" resumed La Tour, with recovered firmness, and looking stedfastly on her; "have _you_ entered into the secret counsels of my foe? and are you sent hither to torture me with your presence? to remind me, by it, of past, but never to be forgotten, injuries--of the worse than infernal malice, with which he has ever pursued me, and for which, I exult in the hope of one day calling him to a deadly reckoning!"

"Speak you thus of my husband?" she asked, in an accent of reproof; "and think you such language is meet to be addressed to the ear of a wife?"

"Aye, of your husband, lady," said La Tour, yielding to his chafed and bitter feelings; "he was once my friend, too; the friend who won my confidence, only to abuse it, who basely calumniated me, in absence, who treacherously stole from me the dearest treasure of my heart. Adele," he continued more calmly, "I do not love you _now_; that youthful pa.s.sion, which was once the sun of my existence, has lost its strength in other ties, and sterner duties; but, can I meet your eye again, and not recall the perfidy which drove me forth, from friends and country, an adventurer in the pathless wilderness? can I look upon your face, and not curse the wretch, who won from me its smiles, who burst our love asunder, in all its purity and fervor, while yet unruffled by one shade of doubt, one fear of disappointment?"

"La Tour," said Mad. d'Aulney, striving to conceal her emotion, "why all this bitter invective? now, indeed, most vain and useless! why wound my ear, by accusations which _I_ surely do not merit, and which is a most ungrateful theme, when uttered against one whom I am bound, by every tie of duty and interest, to respect! If you believe me innocent"--

"I do believe you are most innocent!" interrupted La Tour, impetuously; "yours was a heart too guileless to deceive, too firm in virtuous principle to be sullied, even by a union with the vicious and depraved.

No, Adele, I have never cherished one feeling of resentment towards you; you, like myself, was the victim of that baseness, which invented a tale of falsehood to deceive you, of that meanness, which flattered your father's ambitious hopes, by a boast of rank and wealth; while my only offer was a sincere heart, my only wealth, an untarnished name, and a sword, which I hoped would one day gather me renown, in the field of honor."

"Enough of this," said the lady, exerting all her firmness; "it is unwise to recall the past, nor is this a fitting time to indulge in reminiscences of pain or pleasure; the night is fleeting fast, and every moment of delay is attended with danger."

"What mean you?" asked La Tour, a sudden hope of release darting through his mind; "_I_ fear no danger; but _you_ may well dread a tyrant's wrath, should you be seen hovering around a prison, which he would be loath to cheer with one ray of brightness."

"I must first see you depart," she replied; "and then, I trust, the good saints will guide me safely back to the couch of my sick infant, from which I stole, when every eye was closed in sleep, to attempt your liberation."

"My liberation!" said La Tour, in surprise; "may heaven bless you for the kind thought, Adele; but you deceive yourself, if you admit the possibility of effecting it."

"You know not my resources," she answered, with a smile; "but listen to my plan, and you will no longer remain incredulous; I am persuaded the chance of success is much greater than the danger of discovery, and unless we _do_ succeed, I fear you will have much, and long to suffer."

"There is no chance which I would not hazard," said La Tour, "to free myself from this hateful prison, which is more intolerable to me than the most hopeless dungeon ever invented by despotic jealousy. Yet I would endure any sufferings, rather than involve _you_ in difficulty, or for an instant expose you to the suspicion of one, too unrelenting, I well know, to extend forgiveness, even to those who have the strongest claims on his tenderness."

"Pa.s.sion and prejudice render you unjust," said Mad. d'Aulney; "but this hour and place are too dangerous to authorize idle scruples, and what is to be done can admit of no delay. Yet I will first remove your apprehensions on my account, by a.s.suring you, that my husband thinks me ignorant of your situation, and, of course, my interference in your escape cannot be suspected." She blushed deeply as she added, "from whatever cause, he has carefully concealed your imprisonment from me, and induced me to believe, that a lieutenant, only, led on your people to the engagement with him, and that he was the present occupant of this apartment. I need not add, that the transient glimpse I accidentally obtained of you, undeceived me, and that I have confined this discovery entirely to my own breast."

"Dastard!" exclaimed La Tour, indignantly; "this jealous care accords well with the baseness of his heart; and I wonder not that he fears to lose the affection which was so unjustly gained, if, indeed, it were ever truly his."

"Must I again ask you, La Tour," she said, with a displeased air, "to refrain from these invectives, which I may not, cannot listen to, and which render my attempt to serve you, almost criminal?"

"Forgive me this once only, madam," said La Tour, "and I will endeavor not to offend again. And now, will you have the goodness to impart your plan to me; and, if you are excluded from blame and danger, how shall I bless the generous courage which prompted you to appear in my behalf!"

"My confessor has been ill for several days," said Mad. d'Aulney; "and, during his confinement, two missionary priests, attached to the settlement, have frequently attended him, and been permitted to pa.s.s the gates without questioning, whenever they chose. Early this morning, I encountered a priest, of very peculiar appearance, whose person was entirely unknown to me; he was going to the sick man's apartment, and, I have since learned, supplied the place of one who usually attended, but had unexpectedly been called away. There was something in his tall figure, and the expression of his pale and melancholy features, which arrested my attention; I closely remarked him, and perceived that he looked round inquisitively, though he wore an air of calm abstraction, which would scarcely have been suspected by an indifferent observer."

"It must have been father Gilbert," said La Tour; "and, if he is concerned, I would place the utmost confidence in his prudence and fidelity."

"That is his name," said Mad. d'Aulney, "as I was afterwards told by Antoine, the guard, who now waits at the door"--

"Antoine! _he_ cannot be trusted," interrupted La Tour; "he has once deserted my cause, and joined the standard of an enemy, and I cannot again rely on his integrity."

"He was seduced from his duty," returned Mad. d'Aulney; "but, I believe, has sincerely repented of his error, and is now anxious to atone for it.

You shall judge for yourself. A few weeks since, he was so dangerously ill, that very faint hopes were entertained of his recovery; and, hearing that he was a stranger, and in many respects dest.i.tute, I was induced to visit him, and administer such comforts as his state required. What he termed my kindness, excited his warmest grat.i.tude, and he unburthened his conscience to me, of the crime which seemed to lie heavily on it. He considered his disorder a visitation of Providence, inflicted as a punishment for his desertion; and he wished most earnestly to return to your service. I was pleased with the good feelings he displayed, but advised him to rest contented for the present, promising to aid his wishes if any opportunity offered; and, from that time I have seen little of him, till since your arrival."

"And you have now engaged his a.s.sistance?" asked La Tour; "well, be it so; once more in the open air, I fear not even treachery; and, furnished with a trusty weapon, I bid defiance to every obstacle that can oppose my freedom."

"Caution you will find more useful than strength," said Mad. d'Aulney; "and by its aid we have thus far succeeded, even beyond my expectations.

This afternoon, I observed father Gilbert in conversation with Antoine; and, trusting to the sincerity of the latter, I soon after found a pretext for speaking with him, and cautiously introduced the subject of your escape. He was ready, at every risk, to a.s.sist in any measures which could be adopted; and informed me that it had already been discussed between himself and the priest, and that he was, this night, to stand sentinel at your door. Nothing could be more propitious to our views; and, in the course of the day, we have found means to arrange every thing, I hope, with perfect safety."

"This is indeed a kindness, a condescending interest, of which I am wholly unworthy," said La Tour, with energy; "how, Adele, can I ever show you the grat.i.tude, the"--

"Speak not of that, La Tour," she hastily interrupted; "think now of nothing but your safety; trust implicitly to the guidance of Antoine; and, I trust, it will soon be insured."

"And you," said La Tour, "who have generously hazarded so much to aid me--how can I be satisfied that you will escape unharmed? how can I leave you, in uncertainty and peril?"

"Believe me," said Mad. d'Aulney, "I am perfectly secure; Antoine will desert his post to go with you, and suspicion must rest entirely on him, and father Gilbert. The priest waits for you without the fort; and, once with him, pursuit will be unavailing, even if your flight is soon discovered; delay no longer, the morning watch approaches, and you must be far from hence, before another guard appears to relieve Antoine.

These garments will sufficiently disguise you," she added, divesting herself of a loose robe and monkish cloak, which covered her own dress; "the soldier on duty will take you for a priest returning from the confessor's room, and you will probably pa.s.s unquestioned, as the priests, of late, have free access here at all hours."

"And whither do you go, and how elude observation?" asked La Tour.

"I have only to cross the pa.s.sage, and descend a narrow staircase," she replied; "both of which were left to the vigilance of Antoine; and I shall reach my own apartment, without encountering any one."

A low rap was at that moment heard without the door; Mad. d'Aulney, at the sound, turned quickly to La Tour, and offering him her hand, with a melancholy smile, she said,

"It is time for us to part; and may the blessed saints be with you, St.

Etienne, and guide you from hence in safety; we may never meet again, but my prayers will always intercede for your happiness and prosperity."

"G.o.d bless you, Adele," said La Tour, in a subdued voice, taking her hand respectfully, "for this night's kindness; for all that you have ever shewn me, words are too feeble to express my grat.i.tude; may heaven watch over you, and make you as happy as you deserve to be: farewell!"

Mad. d'Aulney turned from him in silence; and Antoine instantly opening the door, in obedience to a signal from her, she addressed a parting word of good will to him, and hastily descended the stairs. La Tour stood with his eyes fixed on her retiring figure, till Antoine ventured to urge his departure, by reminding him, that every moment's delay increased the danger of discovery. He started at the suggestion; and, wrapping the cloak around him, and drawing the cowl closely over his face, they proceeded in perfect silence, leaving the door secured, as before, by bolts and bars, in the hope that it might lull suspicion for a short time, or, at least, r.e.t.a.r.d the moment of certain discovery. They pa.s.sed out into the open air, through a door which Antoine had the means of opening, and thus avoided the sentinels who guarded the usual pa.s.sage.

The continued darkness favored La Tour's disguise; they safely reached the gate, and Antoine informed the guard that he was ordered to conduct the holy father out, and that he had, himself, a commission from his lord, which would detain him several hours. They were immediately permitted to pa.s.s. Every obstacle was then surmounted, and, with feelings of exultation, La Tour again stood upon the ocean's verge, and listened to the rus.h.i.+ng of the wind and waves, beneath the free and ample canopy of heaven. He looked back towards the fort, visible by a few glimmering lights, and the grat.i.tude and tenderness which had so recently subdued his stern and haughty spirit, were strangely blended with revenge and hatred against the man, from whose power he was then escaping.

Antoine uttered a shrill whistle, which was answered by the dash of oars; and a skiff presently shot from a little bay, and drew near the spot where they waited. Father Gilbert was in it; La Tour grasped his hand, in silence; and Antoine, taking the oars, applied all his strength and dexterity, to bear them swiftly over the dark and troubled waters.

CHAPTER XV.

Who is't can read a woman?

SHAKSPEARE.