An influx of fresh arrivals next poured into the park—the Chevalier de la Corne, with his pretty daughter, Agathe La Corne St. Luc; the Lady de Tilly and Amélie de Repentigny, with the brothers de Villiers. The brothers had overtaken the Chevalier La Corne upon the road, but the custom of the highway in New France forbade any one passing another without politely asking permission to do so.
“Yes, Coulon,” replied the Chevalier; “ride on!” He winked pleasantly at his daughter as he said this. “There is, I suppose, nothing left for an old fellow who dates from the sixteen hundreds but to take the side of the road and let you pass. I should have liked, however, to stir up the fire in my gallant little Norman ponies against your big New England horses. Where did you get them? Can they run?”
“We got them in the sack of Saratoga,” replied Coulon, “and they ran well that day, but we overtook them. Would Mademoiselle La Corne care if we try them now?”
Scarcely a girl in Quebec would have declined the excitement of a race on the highroad of St. Foye, and Agathe would fain have driven herself in the race, but being in full dress to-day, she thought of her wardrobe and the company. She checked the ardor of her father, and entered the park demurely, as one of the gravest of the guests.
“Happy youths! Noble lads, Agathe!” exclaimed the Chevalier, admiringly, as the brothers rode rapidly past them. “New France will be proud of them some day!”
The rest of the company now began to arrive in quick succession. The lawn was crowded with guests. “Ten thousand thanks for coming!” exclaimed Pierre Philibert, as he assisted Amélie de Repentigny and the Lady de Tilly to alight from their carriage.
“We could not choose but come to-day, Pierre,” replied Amélie, feeling without displeasure the momentary lingering of his hand as it touched hers. “Nothing short of an earthquake would have kept aunt at home,” added she, darting a merry glance of sympathy with her aunt's supposed feelings.
“And you, Amélie?” Pierre looked into those dark eyes which shyly turned aside from his gaze.
“I was an obedient niece, and accompanied her. It is so easy to persuade people to go where they wish to go!” She withdrew her hand gently, and took his arm as he conducted the ladies into the house. She felt a flush on her cheek, but it did not prevent her saying in her frank, kindly way,—“I was glad to come to-day, Pierre, to witness this gathering of the best and noblest in the land to honor your fête. Aunt de Tilly has always predicted greatness for you.”
“And you, Amélie, doubted, knowing me a shade better than your aunt?”