She now saw in him only the messenger of her husband's freedom; and, eager to make more particular inquiries, she hastily approached him, though with a degree of reverence which it was impossible for any one to avoid feeling in his presence.

The priest stopped, on finding his progress thus impeded, and looked coldly on her; but gradually his expression changed, the blood rushed to his face, and a sudden brightness flashed from his piercing eyes.

The lady, engrossed by her own feelings, did not observe the change, but, in a tone of anxious inquiry, said, "Holy father, you are a messenger of good tidings, and I would crave the favor of hearing them confirmed, from your own lips!" With startling energy, the priest seized her hands, and fixing his eyes wildly on her, exclaimed, "Lady, who are you?
speak, I conjure you, while I have reason left to comprehend!" "I am the wife of Mons.

de la Tour," she answered, terrified by his strange conduct, and vainly striving to free herself from his grasp.
"The wife of Mons.

de la Tour!" he repeated; "no, no, you are not;--you would deceive me," he added, vehemently; "but you cannot; those features ever, ever haunt me!" "For whom do you mistake me ?" asked Madame de la Tour, with recovered self-possession, but still deadly pale.
"Mistake you!" he answered, with a shudder; "no, I know you well--I thought you would return to me! you are"-- he lowered his voice, almost to a whisper, and spoke with calm emphasis, "you are Lucie Villiers!" "My God!" exclaimed Mad.