“Oh, I did not count myself for anything but an embarrassment! of course I shall go with you, Le Gardeur, but our cousin Héloise de Lotbinière 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, Amélie?” asked Philibert. “I remember the lovely face, the chestnut curls, and bright black eyes of Héloise de Lotbinière. 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. Héloise 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 Héloise?” demanded Philibert with a sudden interest.
“Not the Abélard 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 Amélie, hastily. “Héloise 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, Héloise 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 Amélie, blushing deeply at his words, “and I trust we shall never be ungrateful for its favor and protection.”
Amélie 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 Héloise 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, Amélie,” replied he, laughing, yet wincing. “Héloise 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, Amélie. But in penance for my slight, I will be doubly attentive to my fair cousin de Lotbinière to-day. I will at once order the horses and we will ride down to the village to meet her.”