The Lady de Tilly received them with many pleasant words. Leading them into the breakfast-room, she congratulated Le Gardeur upon the satisfaction it afforded her to see her dear children, so she called them, once more seated round her board in health and happiness.
Amelie colored slightly, and looked at her aunt as if questioning whether she included Philibert among her children.
The Lady de Tilly guessed her thought, but pretending not to, bade Felix proceed with the breakfast, and turned the conversation to topics more general. "The Iroquois," she said, "had left the Chaudiere and gone further eastward; the news had just been brought in by messengers to the Seigniory, and it was probable, nay, certain that they would not be heard of again. Therefore Le Gardeur and Pierre Philibert were under no necessity of leaving the Manor to search for the savages, but could arrange with Amelie for as much enjoyment as they could crowd into these summer days."
"It is all arranged, aunt!" replied Amelie. "We have held a cour pleniere this morning, and made a code of laws for our Kingdom of Cocagne during the next eight days. It needs only the consent of our suzeraine lady to be at once acted upon."
"And your suzeraine lady gives her consent without further questioning, Amelie! although I confess you have an admirable way of carrying your point, Amelie," said her aunt, laughing; "you resolve first what you will do, and ask my approbation after."
"Yes, aunt, that is our way in the kingdom of pleasure! And we begin this morning: Le Gardeur and Pierre will ride to the village to meet our cousin Heloise, from Lotbiniere."
"But you will accompany us, Amelie!" exclaimed Le Gardeur. "I will not go else,--it was a bargain!"
"Oh, I did not count myself for anything but an embarrassment! of course I shall go with you, Le Gardeur, but our cousin Heloise de Lotbiniere is coming to see you, not me. She lost her heart," remarked she, turning to Pierre, "when she was last here, at the feast of St. John, and is coming to seek it again."
"Ah! how was that, Amelie?" asked Philibert. "I remember the lovely face, the chestnut curls, and bright black eyes of Heloise de Lotbiniere. And has hers really gone the way of all hearts?"
"Of all good hearts, Pierre,--but you shall hear if you will be good and listen. She saw the portraits of you and Le Gardeur, one day, hung in the boudoir of my aunt. Heloise professed that she admired both until she could not tell which she liked best, and left me to decide."
"Ah! and which of us did you give to the fair Heloise?" demanded Philibert with a sudden interest.
"Not the Abelard she wanted, you may be sure, Pierre," exclaimed Le Gardeur; "she gave me, and kept you! It was a case of clear misappropriation."
"No, brother, not so!" replied Amelie, hastily. "Heloise had tried the charm of the three caskets with the three names without result, and at last watched in the church porch, on the eve of St. John, to see the shade of her destined lover pass by, and lo, Heloise vowed she saw me, and no one else, pass into the church!"
"Ah! I suppose it was you? It is no rare thing for you to visit the shrine of our Lady on the eve of St. John. Pierre Philibert, do you recollect? Oh, not as I do, dear friend," continued Le Gardeur with a sudden change of voice, which was now filled with emotion: "it was on the day of St. John you saved my poor worthless life. We are not ungrateful! She has kept the eve of St. John in the church ever since, in commemoration of that event."
"Brother, we have much to thank Heaven for!" replied Amelie, blushing deeply at his words, "and I trust we shall never be ungrateful for its favor and protection."
Amelie shied from a compliment like a young colt at its own shadow.
She avoided further reference to the subject broached by Le Gardeur by saying,--"It was I whom Heloise saw pass into the church. I never explained the mystery to her, and she is not sure yet whether it was my wraith or myself who gave her that fright on St. John's eve. But I claimed her heart as one authorized to take it, and if I could not marry her myself I claimed the right to give her to whomsoever I pleased, and I gave her to you, Le Gardeur, but you would not accept the sweetest girl in New France!"
"Thanks, Amelie," replied he, laughing, yet wincing. "Heloise is indeed all you say, the sweetest girl in New France! But she was too angelic for Le Gardeur de Repentigny. Pshaw! you make me say foolish things, Amelie. But in penance for my slight, I will be doubly attentive to my fair cousin de Lotbiniere to-day. I will at once order the horses and we will ride down to the village to meet her."
Arrayed in a simple riding-dress of dark blue, which became her as did everything else which she wore,--Amelie's very attire seemed instinct with the living graces and charms of its wearer,--she mounted her horse, accepting the aid of Philibert to do so, although when alone she usually sprang to the saddle herself, saluting the Lady de Tilly, who waved her hand to them from the lawn. The three friends slowly cantered down the broad avenue of the park towards the village of Tilly.
Amelie rode well. The exercise and the pure air brought the fresh color to her face, and her eyes sparkled with animation as she conversed gaily with her brother and Philibert.
They speedily reached the village, where they met Heloise de Lotbiniere, who, rushing to Amelie, kissed her with effusion, and as she greeted Le Gardeur looked up as if she would not have refused a warmer salutation than the kind shake of the hand with which he received her. She welcomed Philibert with glad surprise, recognizing him at once, and giving a glance at Amelie which expressed an ocean of unspoken meaning and sympathy.
