demanded.

From her first acquaintance with Arthur Stanhope, Luciè had placed,
perhaps, an imprudent value on his society and attentions; and when
compelled during his absence to quit the scenes of their daily and happy
intercourse, in haste and affliction, and without even a parting
expression of kindness and regret, she felt, for a time, that her sun of
happiness was shrouded in perpetual clouds. Romantic as this attachment
seemed, it stood the test of time and absence, lingered in the recesses
of her heart through every change of scene, and brightened the darkest
shades of doubt, and difficulty, and disappointment. Hitherto, her
firmness of mind and principle had enabled her to resist the wishes of
her aunt, and the remonstrances of La Tour; but their importunity had,
of late, increased, and evidently from an apprehension, that the
undisguised partiality of Stanhope might obtain an influence over her,
detrimental to their favorite and long cherished plans. Luciè sincerely
regretted that her choice was so unfortunately opposed to the wishes of
her aunt; and she feared to encounter the anger of La Tour, whose stern
and irritable spirit, when once aroused, was uncontrollable as the
stormy ocean. But time, she sanguinely believed, would remove every
obstacle. Stanhope was soon to leave her, and, in his absence, she might
gradually change the sentiments of Mad. la Tour; and she hoped the pride
and generosity of De Valette would prompt him voluntarily to withdraw a
suit, which was so unfavourably received. Even if these expectations
were disappointed, she would attain her majority in the ensuing spring,
when her hand would be at her own disposal, and she should no longer
hesitate to bestow it, according to the dictates of her heart.

Stanhope had offered his assistance to La Tour, in the projected
expedition to Penobscot; and, as the necessary arrangements were nearly