Soon after his interview with Stanhope, at Mount Desert, father Gilbert obtained permission to visit the confessor at Penobscot, during the absence of a priest who usually attended him; nor did this voluntary act of charity excite any suspicion against one who had gained so high a reputation for zeal and sanctity. Antoine saw, and instantly recognized him; and, suspecting that his visit to the fort was prompted by a wish to learn the situation of La Tour, he, under the seal of confession, imparted his yet immature plan of escape, and, almost beyond his hopes, found in him a very able assistant and adviser.
Father Gilbert was aware that La Tour favored the Hugonot cause; but he, with reason, doubted the sincerity of his motives; for he encouraged the Catholic religion throughout his settlement, and supported the authority of the priests. He knew that Mad. de la Tour was warmly attached to the protestant cause, and that her influence was extensive; the establishment of the true-faith, therefore, seemed to depend on La Tour's support and assistance; and if some measures were not soon adopted to procure his freedom, D'Aulney would probably detain him long in confinement, or perhaps send him to France, to await the slow process of a trial. If any feelings of personal regard towards La Tour influenced the priest, they were unacknowledged even to his own heart; for he carefully excluded every earthly object from his affections, and seemed to endure life, only in the hope that a severe and constant discharge of his sacred duties would, at length, insure him a happy release from its painful bondage.
Towards the close of the day preceding La Tour's escape, De Valette received a message from father Gilbert, requiring him to return, without delay, to the neighbourhood of fort Penobscot. Though he assigned no reason for his request, nor gave any intimation of his plans, the young Frenchman reposed implicit confidence in his discretion; and, moreover, as a good Catholic, he was so habituated to the control of a spiritual guide, that he did not hesitate a moment to comply with this desire. Stanhope was rather surprised at this ready submission on the part of De Valette, which was, by no means, a prominent trait in his character; but, as nothing could be gained by remaining at Pemaquid, he consented to accompany him, on his nocturnal voyage.
The wind favored their passage, but the evening was dark and gloomy; and, with no certain object in view, their progress was tedious in the extreme. The vessels kept close in company, but it was after midnight when they reached the place appointed by father Gilbert; and, presuming that they should hear nothing from him till morning, they anchored near each other, off the shore of Mount Desert. The morning twilight was just breaking on the distant hills, when the watch from De Valette's vessel descried an approaching boat. It was occupied by three persons, two of them labored at the oars, and the third sat in the midst, with folded arms, in a state of perfect immobility.
"That is father Gilbert, but who brings him hither?" exclaimed De Valette, as they drew up to the ship's side, and pulled in their oars. La Tour sprang upon the deck, flinging aside the disguise which he had till then retained; and a shout of joyful recognition was echoed by every voice in either vessel. Antoine was received on board with enthusiasm; and, in answer to the eager inquiries which poured from every lip, La Tour briefly related the circumstances of his escape, though he carefully suppressed any allusion to the assistance of Mad. d'Aulney. It was long before the tumult of gratulation subsided; but father Gilbert, who alone remained cold and unconcerned, retired from it as soon as possible, and resumed the guidance of his little bark, which had safely borne him on many a solitary voyage. The chant of his matin hymn rose, at intervals, on the fitful breeze; and Stanhope watched him till he disappeared behind the point of land round which he had followed him on the preceding day.
La Tour, convinced that all the force which he could at present command was insufficient to contend with D'Aulney, whose strength had been greatly, though perhaps without design, misrepresented to him, ordered the sails to be set for a homeward voyage; and, before sunrise, the shores of Penobscot were left far behind them.
The remainder of the night, which succeeded La Tour's release, was passed by Madame d'Aulney, in a state of morbid excitement. She watched alone by the side of her sleeping infant, and even maternal solicitude was, for a time, suspended by the intense interest, which her own perilous adventure, and the safety of La Tour awakened. She felt that she had done a deed, for which, if by any chance discovered, she could never hope to obtain forgiveness from her incensed husband. Still, her conscience acquitted her of any motive criminal in its nature, or traitorous to his real interest; and the reflection that it had been in her power to confer an essential benefit on the man whom she had once deeply, though most unintentionally, injured, was inexpressibly soothing to her feelings. She counted the moments, which seemed to linger in their flight, and started at the slightest sound, till sufficient time had elapsed to convince her that he must have proceeded far on his way, towards a place of safety.
The dreaded discovery was indeed deferred beyond her utmost expectations. The guard, who was to relieve Antoine, repaired to his post at the appointed time; and, though surprised to find it vacated, yet as the door was perfectly secure, he contented himself with uttering an oath at his comrade's negligence, and in a few moments it was almost forgotten. An hour or more passed away, and no motion was heard within; morning advanced—he thought it strange that his prisoner should enjoy such sound repose, and a suspicion of the truth began to dawn upon his mind. He unbarred the door, and his suspicions were, of course, instantly realized. Repenting the easy faith which had suffered him to delay an examination, he hastened to impart the intelligence, which soon spread dismay and confusion throughout the garrison.
Madame d'Aulney heard the loud voices, and hurried steps of the soldiers without, and the quick note of alarum, whose fearful summons could not be mistaken. These sounds, though long expected, struck heavily on her heart; and she uttered a fervent petition to the Virgin, to speed the wanderer on his doubtful way. She heard various reports of what had taken place, from her attendants; but she prudently waited for the storm of passion to subside, before she ventured into the presence of M. d'Aulney, conscious that the utmost effort of self-command would be necessary to meet his eye with her usual composure.
"Methinks you are tardy this morning, madame!" he said, stopping in his hurried walk, and looking fixedly on her countenance, as she at length entered the room where he was alone.