'So ends my last hope,' said Montreville, letting his head sink mournfully on his breast; 'De Courcy comes not, and thou must be left alone and unprotected.' 'The protection of so young a man,' said Laura, avoiding to answer to a foreboding which she considered merely as a symptom of her father's disease, 'might not perhaps have appeared advantageous to me in the eyes of those who are unacquainted with Mr De Courcy.' 'It would have given comfort to my dying hour,' said Montreville, 'to consign thee to such a guardian--such a husband.' 'A husband!' cried Laura, starting, and turning pale. 'Heaven be praised, that Mr De Courcy never harboured such a thought!' Montreville looked up in extreme surprise; and inquired the reason of her thankfulness. 'Oh Sir,' she replied, 'we owe so much to Mr De Courcy's friendship, that I should have hated myself for being unable to return his affection;--and pity would it have been that the love of so amiable a being should have been bestowed in vain.' Montreville fixed his eyes upon her, as if to seek for further explanation, and continued to gaze on her face, when his thoughts had wandered from the examination of it. After some minutes of silence, he said--'Laura, you once rejected an alliance, splendid beyond my hopes, almost beyond my wishes, and that with a man formed to be the darling of your sex; and now you speak as if even Montague De Courcy would have failed to gain you. Tell me, then, have you any secret attachment? Speak candidly, Laura;--you will not always have a father to confide in.' Deep crimson dyed the cheeks of Laura; but, with the hesitation of a moment, she replied--'No, Sir, I have no wish to marry. I pretend not to lay open my whole heart to you; but I may with truth assure you, that there is not at this moment a man in being with whom I would unite myself. I know you would not be gratified by extorted confidence.' 'No, Laura,' said Montreville, 'I ask no more than you willingly avow. I confide, as I have always done, in your prudence and integrity. Soon, alas! you will have no other guides. But it was my heart's wish to see you united to a man who could value and protect your worth--of late, more especially, when I feel that I so soon must leave you.' 'My dearest father,' said Laura, throwing her arm affectionately round his neck, 'do not give way to such gloomy forebodings. Your spirits are oppressed by confinement--let us but see Glenalbert again, and all will be well.' 'I shall never see Glenalbert,' said Montreville;--'and left alone in such a place as this, without money, without friends, without a home;--where shall my child find safety or shelter?' 'Indeed, Sir,' said Laura, though a cold shuddering seized her, 'your fears have no foundation. Only yesterday Dr Flint told me that your complaints were without danger, and that a little exercise would make you quite strong again.'