CHAPTER XXIX. FELICES TER ET AMPLIUS.
Amelie, by accident or by contrivance of her fair companions,--girls areso wily and sympathetic with each other,--had been left seated by theside of Philibert, on the twisted roots of a gigantic oak forming a rudebut simple chair fit to enthrone the king of the forest and his dryadqueen. No sound came to break the quiet of the evening hour savethe monotonous plaint of a whippoorwill in a distant brake, and theceaseless chirm of insects among the leafy boughs and down in the fernsthat clustered on the knolls round about.
Philibert let fall upon his knee the book which he had been reading. Hisvoice faltered, he could not continue without emotion the touching taleof Paolo and Francesca da Rimini. Amelie's eyes were suffused with tearsof pity, for her heart had beat time to the music of Dante's immortalverse as it dropped in measured cadence from the lips of Philibert.
She had read the pathetic story before, but never comprehended untilnow the weakness which is the strength of love. Oh, blessed paradox ofa woman's heart! And how truly the Commedia, which is justly calledDivine, unlocks the secret chambers of the human soul.
"Read no more, Pierre," said she, "that book is too terrible in itsbeauty and in its sadness! I think it was written by a disembodiedspirit who had seen all worlds, knew all hearts, and shared in allsufferings. It sounds to me like the sad voice of a prophet of woe."
"Amelie," replied he, "believe you there are women faithful and trueas Francesca da Rimini? She would not forsake Paolo even in the gloomyregions of despair. Believe you that there are such women?"
Amelie looked at him with a quick, confident glance. A deep flushcovered her cheek, and her breath went and came rapidly; she knew whatto answer, but she thought it might seem overbold to answer such aquestion. A second thought decided her, however. Pierre Philibert wouldask her no question to which she might not answer, she said to herself.
Amelie replied to him slowly, but undoubtingly: "I think there are suchwomen, Pierre," replied she, "women who would never, even in the regionsof despair, forsake the man whom they truly love, no, not for all theterrors recorded in that awful book of Dante!"
"It is a blessed truth, Amelie," replied he, eagerly; and he thought,but did not say it, "Such a woman you are; the man who gets your lovegets that which neither earth nor heaven nor hell can take away."
He continued aloud, "The love of such a woman is truly given away,Amelie; no one can merit it! It is a woman's grace, not man'sdeserving."
"I know not," said she; "it is not hard to give away God's gifts: loveshould be given freely as God gives it to us. It has no value exceptas the bounty of the heart, and looks for no reward but in its ownacceptance."
"Amelie!" exclaimed he, passionately, turning full towards her; but hereyes remained fixed upon the ground. "The gift of such a woman's lovehas been the dream, the ambition of my life! I may never find it, orhaving found it may never be worthy of it; and yet I must find it ordie! I must find it where alone I seek it--there or nowhere! Can youhelp me for friendship's sake--for love's sake, Amelie de Repentigny, tofind that one treasure that is precious as life, which is life itself tothe heart of Pierre Philibert?"
He took hold of her passive hands. They trembled in his, but she offerednot to withdraw them. Indeed, she hardly noticed the act in the tideof emotion which was surging in her bosom. Her heart moved with a wildyearning to tell him that he had found the treasure he sought,--that alove as strong and as devoted as that of Francesca da Rimini was her ownfree gift to him.
She tried to answer him, but could not. Her hand still remained fastlocked in his. He held to it as a drowning man holds to the hand that isstretched to save him.
Philibert knew at that moment that the hour of his fate was come.He would never let go that hand again till he called it his own, orreceived from it a sign to be gone forever from the presence of Ameliede Repentigny.
The soft twilight grew deeper and deeper every moment, changing the rosyhues of the west into a pale ashen gray, over which hung the lamp oflove,--the evening star, which shines so brightly and sets so soon,--andever the sooner as it hastens to become again the morning star of abrighter day.
The shadow of the broad, spreading tree fell darker round the rusticseat where sat these two--as myriads have sat before and since, workingout the problems of their lives, and beginning to comprehend eachother, as they await with a thrill of anticipation the moment of mutualconfidence and fond confession.
Pierre Philibert sat some minutes without speaking. He could have satso forever, gazing with rapture upon her half-averted countenance, whichbeamed with such a divine beauty, all aglow with the happy consciousnessof his ardent admiration, that it seemed the face of a seraph; and inhis heart, if not on his knees, he bent in worship, almost idolatrous,at her feet.
And yet he trembled, this strong man who had faced death in every formbut this! He trembled by the side of this gentle girl,--but it was forjoy, not for fear. Perfect love casts out fear, and he had no fear nowfor Amelie's love, although she had not yet dared to look at him. Buther little hand lay unreprovingly in his,--nestling like a timid birdwhich loved to be there, and sought not to escape. He pressed it gentlyto his heart; he felt by its magnetic touch, by that dumb alphabet oflove, more eloquent than spoken words, that he had won the heart ofAmelie de Repentigny.
"Pierre," said she,--she wanted to say it was time to rejointheir companions, but the words would not come. Her face was stillhalf-averted, and suffused with an unseen blush, as she felt his strongarm round her; and his breath, how sweet it seemed, fanning her cheek.She had no power, no will to resist him, as he drew her close, stillcloser to his heart.
She trembled, but was happy. No eye saw but God's through the blessedtwilight; and "God will not reprove Pierre Philibert for loving me,"thought she, "and why should I?" She tried, or simulated, an attempt atsoft reproof, as a woman will who fears she may be thought too fond andtoo easily won, at the very moment she is ready to fall down and kissthe feet of the man before her.
"Pierre," said she, "it is time we rejoin our companions; they willremark our absence. We will go."
But she still sat there, and made no effort to go. A gossamer threadcould have held her there forever, and how could she put aside thestrong arm that was mightier than her own will?
Pierre spoke now; the feelings so long pent up burst forth in a torrentthat swept away every bond of restraint but that of love's own laws.
He placed his hand tenderly on her cheek, and turned her glowing facefull towards him. Still she dared not look up. She knew well what he wasgoing to say. She might control her words, but not her tell-tale eyes.She felt a wild joy flashing and leaping in her bosom, which no artcould conceal, should she look up at this moment in the face of PierrePhilibert.
"Amelie," said he, after a pause, "turn those dear eyes, and see andbelieve in the truth of mine! No words can express how much I do loveyou!"
She gave a start of joy,--not of surprise, for she knew he loved her.But the avowal of Pierre Philibert's love lifted at once the veil fromher own feelings. She raised her dark, impassioned eyes to his, andtheir souls met and embraced in one look both of recognition and bliss.She spake not, but unconsciously nestled closer to his breast, falteringout some inarticulate words of tenderness.
"Amelie," continued he, straining her still harder to his heart, "yourlove is all I ask of Heaven and of you. Give me that. I must have it, orlive henceforth a man forlorn in the wide world. Oh, say, darling, canyou, do you care for me?"
"Yes, indeed I do!" replied she, laying her arm over his neck, as ifdrawing him towards her with a timid movement, while he stooped andkissed her sweet mouth and eyes in an ecstasy of passionate joy.She abandoned herself for a moment to her excess of bliss. "Kiss me,darling!" said he; and she kissed him more than once, to express her owngreat love and assure him that it was all his own.
They sat in silence for some minutes; her cheek lay upon his, as shebreathed his name with many fond, faltering expressions of tende
rness.
He felt her tears upon his face. "You weep, Amelie," said he, startingup and looking at her cheeks and eyes suffused with moisture.
"I do," said she, "but it is for joy! Oh, Pierre Philibert, I amso happy! Let me weep now; I will laugh soon. Forgive me if I haveconfessed too readily how much I love you."
"Forgive you! 'tis I need forgiveness; impetuous that I am to haveforced this confession from you to-night. Those blessed words, 'Yes,indeed I do,'--God's finger has written them on my heart forever. Neverwill I forsake the dear lips which spake them, nor fail in all lovingduty and affection to you, my Amelie, to the end of my life."
"Of both our lives, Pierre," replied she; "I can imagine no life, onlydeath, separated from you. In thought you have always been with me fromthe beginning; my life and yours are henceforth one."
He gave a start of joy, "And you loved me before, Amelie!" exclaimed he.
"Ever and always; but irrevocably since that day of terror and joy whenyou saved the life of Le Gardeur, and I vowed to pray for you to the endof my life."
"And during these long years in the Convent, Amelie,--when we seemedutterly forgotten to each other?"
"You were not forgotten by me, Pierre! I prayed for you then,--earnestprayers for your safety and happiness, never hoping for more; least ofall anticipating such a moment of bliss as the present. Oh, my Pierre,do not think me bold! You give me the right to love you without shame bythe avowal of your love to me."
"Amelie!" exclaimed he, kissing her in an ecstasy of joy and admiration,"what have I done--what can I ever do, to merit or recompense suchcondescension as your dear words express?"
"Love me, Pierre! Always love me! That is my reward. That is all I ask,all my utmost imagination could desire."
"And this little hand, Amelie, will be forever mine?"
"Forever, Pierre, and the heart along with it."
He raised her hand reverently to his lips and kissed it. "Let it not belong," said he. "Life is too short to curtail one hour of happiness fromthe years full of trouble which are most men's lot."
"But not our lot, Pierre; not ours. With you I forbode no more troublein this life, and eternal joy in the next."
She looked at him, and her eyes seemed to dilate with joy. Her handcrept timidly up to his thick locks; she fondly brushed them aside fromhis broad forehead, which she pressed down to her lips and kissed.
"Tell my aunt and Le Gardeur when we return home," continued she. "Theylove you, and will be glad--nay, overjoyed, to know that I am to beyour--your--"
"My wife!---Amelie, thrice blessed words! Oh, say my wife!"
"Yes, your wife, Pierre! Your true and loving wife forever."
"Forever! Yes. Love like ours is imperishable as the essence of the soulitself, and partakes of the immortality of God, being of him and fromhim. The Lady de Tilly shall find me a worthy son, and Le Gardeur a trueand faithful brother."
"And you, Pierre! Oh, say it; that blessed word has not sounded yet inmy ear--what shall I call you?" And she looked in his eyes, drawing hissoul from its inmost depths by the magnetism of her look.
"Your husband,--your true and loving husband, as you are my wife,Amelie."
"God be praised!" murmured she in his ear. "Yes, my HUSBAND! The blessedVirgin has heard my prayers." And she pressed him in a fond embrace,while tears of joy flowed from her eyes. "I am indeed happy!"
The words hardly left her lips when a sudden crash of thunder rolledover their heads and went pealing down the lake and among the islands,while a black cloud suddenly eclipsed the moon, shedding darkness overthe landscape, which had just begun to brighten in her silvery rays.
Amelie was startled, frightened, clinging hard to the breast ofPierre, as her natural protector. She trembled and shook as the angryreverberations rolled away in the distant forests. "Oh, Pierre!"exclaimed she, "what is that? It is as if a dreadful voice came betweenus, forbidding our union! But nothing shall ever do that now, shall it?Oh, my love!"
"Nothing, Amelie. Be comforted," replied he. "It is but a thunder-stormcoming up. It will send Le Gardeur and all our gay companions quicklyback to us, and we shall return home an hour sooner, that is all. Heavencannot frown on our union, darling."
"I should love you all the same, Pierre," whispered she. Amelie was nothard to persuade; she was neither weak nor superstitious beyond her ageand sex. But she had not much time to indulge in alarms.
In a few minutes the sound of voices was heard; the dip and splash ofhasty paddles followed, and the fleet of canoes came rushing into shorelike a flock of water-fowl seeking shelter in bay or inlet from a storm.
There was a hasty preparation on all sides for departure. The camp-fireswere trampled out lest they should kindle a conflagration in the forest.The baskets were tossed into one of the large canoes. Philibert andAmelie embarked in that of Le Gardeur, not without many arch smiles andpretended regrets on the part of some of the young ladies for havingleft them on their last round of the lake.
The clouds kept gathering in the south, and there was no time forparley. The canoes were headed down the stream, the paddles were pliedvigorously: it was a race to keep ahead of the coming storm, and theydid not quite win it.
The black clouds came rolling over the horizon in still blacker masses,lower and lower, lashing the very earth with their angry skirts, whichwere rent and split with vivid flashes of lightning. The rising windalmost overpowered with its roaring the thunder that pealed momentarilynearer and nearer. The rain came down in broad, heavy splashes, followedby a fierce, pitiless hail, as if Heaven's anger was pursuing them.
Amelie clung to Philibert. She thought of Francesca da Rimini clingingto Paolo amidst the tempest of wind and the moving darkness, and utteredtremblingly the words, "Oh, Pierre! what an omen. Shall it be said of usas of them, 'Amor condusse noi ad una morte'?" ("Love has conducted usinto one death.")
"God grant we may one day say so," replied he, pressing her to hisbosom, "when we have earned it by a long life of mutual love anddevotion. But now cheer up, darling; we are home."
The canoes pushed madly to the bank. The startled holiday party sprangout; servants were there to help them. All ran across the lawn underthe wildly-tossing trees, and in a few moments, before the storm couldovertake them with its greatest fury, they reached the Manor House, andwere safe under the protection of its strong and hospitable roof.