In Montreville's darkened apartment, without occupation but in her cares for him, almost without rest, had Laura passed a week, when she was one morning summoned from her melancholy charge, to attend a visitor. She entered the parlour. 'Mr De Courcy!' she exclaimed, springing joyfully to meet him, 'thank Heaven you are come!' But not with equal warmth did De Courcy accost her. The repulsive look she had given him at parting was still fresh in his recollection; and, with a respectful distant bow, he expressed his sorrow for Captain Montreville's illness. 'Oh he is ill, indeed!' said Laura, the faint hectic of pleasure fading suddenly from her cheek. 'Earnestly has he longed for your return; and we feared,' said she, with a violent effort suppressing her tears, 'we feared that you might not have come till--till all was over.' 'Surely Miss Montreville,' said De Courcy, extremely shocked, 'surely you are causelessly alarmed.' 'Oh no,' cried Laura, 'he cannot live!' and no longer able to contain her emotion, she burst into a passion of tears. Forced entirely from his guard by her grief, Montague threw himself on the seat beside her. 'Dearest of human beings,' he exclaimed, 'Oh that I could shield thee from every sorrow!' But absorbed in her distress, Laura heeded him not; and the next moment, sensible of his imprudence, he started from her side, and retreated to a distant part of the room. As soon as she was again able to command herself, she went to inform her father of De Courcy's arrival. Though told with the gentlest caution, Montreville heard the news with extreme emotion. He grasped Laura's hand; and, with tears of joy streaming down his pale cheeks, said,--'Heaven be praised! I shall not leave thee quite desolate.' Laura herself felt less desolate and she rejoiced even for herself, when she once more saw De Courcy seated beside her father.