I am not so poor in spirit, as to shrink before the blast of adversity; nor am I yet destitute of followers, who will fight for my rescue, or bravely avenge my fall." "We shall soon find other employment for them," D'Aulney coolly replied; "this fortunate expedition of yours has scattered your vaunted force, and left your fort exposed to assaults, which it is too defenceless to repel." "Make the experiment," said La Tour, proudly; "and again you may return, vanquished by a woman's prowess.

Try the valor of men, who burn to redress their master's wrongs; and, if you dare, once more encounter the dauntless courage of a wife, anxious for her husband's safety, and tenacious of her husband's honor." "You are fortunate," said D'Aulney, sarcastically, "to possess so brave a representative; I trust, it has long since reconciled you to the chance, which prevented your alliance with one less valiant,--one, too gentle to share the fortunes of such a bold adventurer." "Touch not upon that theme," said La Tour, starting with almost frenzied violence; "time may wear away every other remembrance, but the treachery of a friend must remain indelible and unforgiven." "Solitude, perchance, may calm your moody feelings, and I will leave you to its soothing influence;" said D'Aulney, in a tone of assumed indifference, which was contradicted by the angry flash that darted from his eye.

He laid his hand on the door, while he spoke; La Tour returned no answer, and the next moment he was left to his own reflections; and, bitter as they were, he felt that to be again alone, was a state of comparative happiness.

But, whatever he endured, not a shadow of fear or apprehension obtruded on his mind.

The shame of defeat, perhaps, most deeply goaded him; and his interview with D'Aulney had awakened every dark and stormy passion in his breast.