The Golden Dog [279]
you should have taken a rough soldier like me, Amelie! That one so fair and perfect in all the graces of womanhood, with the world to choose from, should have permitted Pierre Philibert to win her loving heart of hearts."
Amelie looked at him with a fond expression of reproach. "Does that surprise you, Pierre? You rough soldier, you little know, and I will not tell you, the way to a woman's heart; but for one blindfolded by so much diffidence to his own merits, you have found the way very easily! Was it for loving you that you blamed me? What if I should recall the fault?" added she, laughing.
Pierre raised her hand to his lips, kissing devotedly the ring he had placed upon her finger. "I have no fear of that, Amelie! The wonder to me is that you could think me worthy of the priceless trust of your happiness."
"And the wonder to me," replied she, "is that your dear heart ever burdened itself with my happiness. I am weak in myself, and only strong in my resolution to be all a loving wife should be to you, my Pierre! You wonder how you gained my love? Shall I tell you? You never gained it; it was always yours, before you formed a thought to win it! You are now my betrothed, Pierre Philibert, soon to be my husband; I would not exchange my fortune to become the proudest queen that ever sat on the throne of France."
Amelie was very happy to-day. The half-stolen delight of walking by the side of Pierre Philibert was enhanced by the hope that the fatal spell that bound Le Gardeur to the Palace had been broken, and he would yet return home, a new man.
Le Gardeur had only yesterday, in a moment of recollection of himself and of his sister, addressed a note to Amelie, asking pardon for his recent neglect of home, and promising to come and see them on St. Martin's day.
He had heard of her betrothal to Pierre. It was the gladdest news, he said, that had ever come to him in his life. He sent a brother's blessing upon them both, and claimed the privilege of giving away her hand to the noblest man in New France, Pierre Philibert.
Amelie showed the precious note to Pierre. It only needed that to complete their happiness for the day. The one cloud that had overshadowed their joy in their approaching nuptials was passing away, and Amelie was prouder in the anticipation that Le Gardeur, restored to himself, sober, and in his right mind, was to be present at her wedding and give her away, than if the whole Court of France, with thousands of admiring spectators, were to pay her royal honors.
They sauntered on towards a turn of the stream where a little pool lay embayed like a smooth mirror reflecting the grassy bank. Amelie sat down under a tree while Pierre crossed over the brook to gather on the opposite side some flowers which had caught her eye.
"Tell me which, Amelie!" exclaimed he, "for they are all yours; you are Flora's heiress, with right to enter into possession of her whole kingdom!"
"The water-lilies, Pierre, those, and those, and those; they are to deck the shrine of Notre Dame des Victoires. Aunt has a vow there, and to-morrow it must be paid; I too."
He looked up at her with eyes of admiration. "A vow! Let me share in its payment, Amelie," said he.
"You may, but you shall not ask me what it is. There now, do not wet yourself further! You have gathered more lilies than we can carry home."
"But I have my own thank-offering to make to Notre Dame des Victoires, for I think I love God even better for your sake, Amelie."
"Fie, Pierre, say not that! and yet I know what you mean. I ought to reprove you, but for your penance you shall gather more lilies, for I fear you need many prayers and offerings to expiate,--"she hesitated to finish the sentence.
"My idolatry, Amelie," said he, completing her meaning.
"I doubt it is little better, Pierre, if you love me as you say. But you shall join in my offering, and that will do for both. Please pull that one bunch of lilies and no more, or Our Lady of Victory will judge you harder than I do."
Pierre stepped from stone to
Amelie looked at him with a fond expression of reproach. "Does that surprise you, Pierre? You rough soldier, you little know, and I will not tell you, the way to a woman's heart; but for one blindfolded by so much diffidence to his own merits, you have found the way very easily! Was it for loving you that you blamed me? What if I should recall the fault?" added she, laughing.
Pierre raised her hand to his lips, kissing devotedly the ring he had placed upon her finger. "I have no fear of that, Amelie! The wonder to me is that you could think me worthy of the priceless trust of your happiness."
"And the wonder to me," replied she, "is that your dear heart ever burdened itself with my happiness. I am weak in myself, and only strong in my resolution to be all a loving wife should be to you, my Pierre! You wonder how you gained my love? Shall I tell you? You never gained it; it was always yours, before you formed a thought to win it! You are now my betrothed, Pierre Philibert, soon to be my husband; I would not exchange my fortune to become the proudest queen that ever sat on the throne of France."
Amelie was very happy to-day. The half-stolen delight of walking by the side of Pierre Philibert was enhanced by the hope that the fatal spell that bound Le Gardeur to the Palace had been broken, and he would yet return home, a new man.
Le Gardeur had only yesterday, in a moment of recollection of himself and of his sister, addressed a note to Amelie, asking pardon for his recent neglect of home, and promising to come and see them on St. Martin's day.
He had heard of her betrothal to Pierre. It was the gladdest news, he said, that had ever come to him in his life. He sent a brother's blessing upon them both, and claimed the privilege of giving away her hand to the noblest man in New France, Pierre Philibert.
Amelie showed the precious note to Pierre. It only needed that to complete their happiness for the day. The one cloud that had overshadowed their joy in their approaching nuptials was passing away, and Amelie was prouder in the anticipation that Le Gardeur, restored to himself, sober, and in his right mind, was to be present at her wedding and give her away, than if the whole Court of France, with thousands of admiring spectators, were to pay her royal honors.
They sauntered on towards a turn of the stream where a little pool lay embayed like a smooth mirror reflecting the grassy bank. Amelie sat down under a tree while Pierre crossed over the brook to gather on the opposite side some flowers which had caught her eye.
"Tell me which, Amelie!" exclaimed he, "for they are all yours; you are Flora's heiress, with right to enter into possession of her whole kingdom!"
"The water-lilies, Pierre, those, and those, and those; they are to deck the shrine of Notre Dame des Victoires. Aunt has a vow there, and to-morrow it must be paid; I too."
He looked up at her with eyes of admiration. "A vow! Let me share in its payment, Amelie," said he.
"You may, but you shall not ask me what it is. There now, do not wet yourself further! You have gathered more lilies than we can carry home."
"But I have my own thank-offering to make to Notre Dame des Victoires, for I think I love God even better for your sake, Amelie."
"Fie, Pierre, say not that! and yet I know what you mean. I ought to reprove you, but for your penance you shall gather more lilies, for I fear you need many prayers and offerings to expiate,--"she hesitated to finish the sentence.
"My idolatry, Amelie," said he, completing her meaning.
"I doubt it is little better, Pierre, if you love me as you say. But you shall join in my offering, and that will do for both. Please pull that one bunch of lilies and no more, or Our Lady of Victory will judge you harder than I do."
Pierre stepped from stone to