and irritated as he was at the escape of the settler,
his disappointment imparted to his manner a degree of
restraint, and there was less of ardor in his address
than he had latterly been in the habit of exhibiting.
Miss Montgomerie remarked it, and sighed.

"I have been reflecting," she said, "on the little
dependance that is to be placed upon the most flattering
illusions of human existence--and here are you come to
afford me a painful and veritable illustration of my
theory."

"How, dearest Matilda! what mean you?" asked the officer,
again warmed into tenderness by the presence of the
fascinating being.

"Can you ask, Gerald?" and her voice assumed a tone of
melancholy reproach--"recal but your manner--your language
--your devotedness of soul, not an hour since--compare
these with your present coldness, and then wonder that
I should have reason for regret."

"Nay, Matilda, that coldness arose not from any change
in my feelings towards yourself--I was piqued, disappointed,
even angry, at the extraordinary escape of my prisoner,
and could not sufficiently play the hypocrite to disguise
my annoyance."

"Yet, what had I to do with the man's escape, that his
offence should be visited upon me?" she demanded, quickly.