CHAPTER XLVIII. "IN GOLD CLASPS LOCKS IN THE GOLDEN STORY."
Love is like a bright river when it springs from the fresh fountainsof the heart. It flows on between fair and ever-widening banks until itreaches the ocean of eternity and happiness.
The days illuminated with the brightest sunshine are those which smileover the heads of a loving pair who have found each other, and withtender confessions and mutual avowals plighted their troth and preparedtheir little bark for sailing together down the changeful stream oftime.
So it had been through the long Indian summer days with Pierre Philibertand Amelie de Repentigny. Since the blessed hour they plighted theirtroth in the evening twilight upon the shore of the little lake ofTilly, they had showed to each other, in the heart's confessional, thetreasures of true human affection, holy in the eyes of God and man.
When Amelie gave her love to Pierre, she gave it utterly and without ascruple of reservation. It was so easy to love Pierre, so impossible notto love him; nay, she remembered not the time it was otherwise, or whenhe had not been first and last in her secret thoughts as he was now inher chaste confessions, although whispered so low that her approvingangel hardly caught the sound as it passed into the ear of PierrePhilibert.
A warm, soft wind blew gently down the little valley of the Lairet,which wound and rippled over its glossy brown pebbles, murmuring a quietsong down in its hollow bed. Tufts of spiry grass clung to its steepbanks, and a few wild flowers peeped out of nooks among the sere fallenleaves that lay upon the still greensward on each shore of the littlerivulet.
Pierre and Amelie had been tempted by the beauty of the Indian summerto dismount and send their horses forward to the city in charge of aservant while they walked home by way of the fields to gather the lastflowers of autumn, which Amelie said lingered longest in the deep swalesof the Lairet.
A walk in the golden sunshine with Amelie alone amid the quiet fields,free to speak his love, and she to hear him and be glad, was a pleasurePierre had dreamt of but never enjoyed since the blessed night when theyplighted their troth to each other by the lake of Tilly.
The betrothal of Pierre and Amelie had been accepted by their friends onboth sides as a most fitting and desirable match, but the manners ofthe age with respect to the unmarried did not admit of that freedom insociety which prevails at the present day.
They had seldom met save in the presence of others, and except for afew chance but blissful moments, Pierre had not been favored with thecompany all to himself of his betrothed.
Amelie was not unmindful of that when she gave a willing consent to-dayto walk with him along the banks of the Lairet, under the shady elms,birches, and old thorns that overhung the path by the little stream.
"Pierre," said she smiling, "our horses are gone and I must now walkhome with you, right or wrong. My old mistress in the Convent wouldshake her head if she heard of it, but I care not who blames me to-day,if you do not, Pierre!"
"Who can blame you, darling? What you do is ever wisest and best in myeyes, except one thing, which I will confess now that you are my own, Icannot account for--"
"I had hoped, Pierre, there was no exception to your admiration; youare taking off my angel's wings already, and leaving me a mere woman!"replied she merrily.
"It is a woman I want you to be, darling, a woman not faultless, buthuman as myself, a wife to hold to me and love me despite my faults, notan angel too bright and too perfect to be my other self."
"Dear Pierre," said she, pressing his arm, "I will be that woman to you,full enough of faults to satisfy you. An angel I am not and cannot be,nor wish to be until we go together to the spirit-land. I am so glad Ihave a fault for which you can blame me, if it makes you love me better.Indeed I own to many, but what is that one fault, Pierre, which youcannot account for?"
"That you should have taken a rough soldier like me, Amelie! That oneso fair and perfect in all the graces of womanhood, with the world tochoose from, should have permitted Pierre Philibert to win her lovingheart of hearts."
Amelie looked at him with a fond expression of reproach. "Does thatsurprise you, Pierre? You rough soldier, you little know, and I will nottell you, the way to a woman's heart; but for one blindfolded by so muchdiffidence to his own merits, you have found the way very easily! Was itfor 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 hadplaced upon her finger. "I have no fear of that, Amelie! The wonderto me is that you could think me worthy of the priceless trust of yourhappiness."
"And the wonder to me," replied she, "is that your dear heart everburdened itself with my happiness. I am weak in myself, and only strongin 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 gainedit; it was always yours, before you formed a thought to win it! You arenow my betrothed, Pierre Philibert, soon to be my husband; I would notexchange my fortune to become the proudest queen that ever sat on thethrone of France."
Amelie was very happy to-day. The half-stolen delight of walking by theside of Pierre Philibert was enhanced by the hope that the fatal spellthat bound Le Gardeur to the Palace had been broken, and he would yetreturn home, a new man.
Le Gardeur had only yesterday, in a moment of recollection of himselfand of his sister, addressed a note to Amelie, asking pardon for hisrecent 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'sblessing upon them both, and claimed the privilege of giving away herhand to the noblest man in New France, Pierre Philibert.
Amelie showed the precious note to Pierre. It only needed thatto complete their happiness for the day. The one cloud that hadovershadowed their joy in their approaching nuptials was passing away,and Amelie was prouder in the anticipation that Le Gardeur, restored tohimself, sober, and in his right mind, was to be present at her weddingand give her away, than if the whole Court of France, with thousands ofadmiring spectators, were to pay her royal honors.
They sauntered on towards a turn of the stream where a little pool layembayed like a smooth mirror reflecting the grassy bank. Amelie satdown under a tree while Pierre crossed over the brook to gather on theopposite side some flowers which had caught her eye.
"Tell me which, Amelie!" exclaimed he, "for they are all yours; youare Flora's heiress, with right to enter into possession of her wholekingdom!"
"The water-lilies, Pierre, those, and those, and those; they are todeck the shrine of Notre Dame des Victoires. Aunt has a vow there, andto-morrow it must be paid; I too."
He looked up at her with eyes of admiration. "A vow! Let me share in itspayment, Amelie," said he.
"You may, but you shall not ask me what it is. There now, do not wetyourself 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 toreprove you, but for your penance you shall gather more lilies, for Ifear you need many prayers and offerings to expiate,--" she hesitated tofinish 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 youshall join in my offering, and that will do for both. Please pull thatone bunch of lilies and no more, or Our Lady of Victory will judge youharder than I do."
Pierre stepped from stone to stone over the gentle brook, gathering thegolden lilies, while Amelie clasped her hands and silently thanked Godfor this happy hour of her life.
She hardly dared trust herself to look at Pierre except by furtiveglances of pride and affection; but as his form and features werereflected in a shadow of manly beauty in the still pool, she withdrewnot her loving gaze from his
shadow, and leaning forward towards hisimage,
"A thousand times she kissed him in the brook, Across the flowers with bashful eyelids down!"
Amelie had royally given her love to Pierre Philibert. She had given itwithout stint or measure, and with a depth and strength of devotion ofwhich more facile natures know nothing.
Pierre, with his burden of golden lilies, came back over the brook andseated himself beside her; his arm encircled her, and she held his handfirmly clasped in both of hers.
"Amelie," said he, "I believe now in the power of fate to removemountains of difficulty and cast them into the sea. How often, whilewatching the stars wheel silently over my head as I lay pillowed on astone, while my comrades slumbered round the campfires, have I repeatedmy prayer for Amelie de Repentigny! I had no right to indulge a hope ofwinning your love; I was but a rough soldier, very practical, and notat all imaginative. 'She would see nothing in me,' I said; and still Iwould not have given up my hope for a kingdom."
"It was not so hard, after all, to win what was already yours, Pierre,was it?" said she with a smile and a look of unutterable sweetness;"but it was well you asked, for without asking you would be like onepossessing a treasure of gold in his field without knowing it, althoughit was all the while there and all his own. But not a grain of it wouldyou have found without asking me, Pierre!"
"But having found it I shall never lose it again, darling!" replied he,pressing her to his bosom.
"Never, Pierre, it is yours forever!" replied she, her voice tremblingwith emotion. "Love is, I think, the treasure in heaven which rusts not,and which no thief can steal."
"Amelie," said he after a few minutes' silence, "some say men's livesare counted not by hours but by the succession of ideas and emotions. Ifit be so, I have lived a century of happiness with you this afternoon. Iam old in love, Amelie!"
"Nay, I would not have you old in love, Pierre! Love is the perennialyouth of the soul. Grand'mere St. Pierre, who has been fifty years anUrsuline, and has now the visions which are promised to the old in thelatter days, tells me that in heaven those who love God and one anothergrow ever more youthful; the older the more beautiful! Is not thatbetter than the philosophers teach, Pierre?"
He drew her closer, and Amelie permitted him to impress a kiss on eacheyelid as she closed it; suddenly she started up.
"Pierre," said she, "you said you were a soldier and so practical. Ifeel shame to myself for being so imaginative and so silly. I too wouldbe practical if I knew how. This was to be a day of business with us,was it not, Pierre?"
"And is it not a day of business, Amelie? or are we spending it likeholiday children, wholly on pleasure? But after all, love is thebusiness of life, and life is the business of eternity,--we aretransacting it to-day, Amelie! I never was so seriously engaged as atthis moment, nor you either, darling; tell the truth!"
Amelie pressed her hands in his. "Never, Pierre, and yet I cannot seethe old brown woods of Belmont rising yonder upon the slopes of St.Foye without remembering my promise, not two hours old, to talk with youto-day about the dear old mansion."
"That is to be the nest of as happy a pair of lovers as ever wentto housekeeping; and I promised to keep soberly by your side as I amdoing," said he, mischievously twitching a stray lock of her dark hair,"and talk with you on the pretty banks of the Lairet about the oldmansion."
"Yes, Pierre, that was your promise, if I would walk this way with you.Where shall we begin?"
"Here, Amelie," replied he, kissing her fondly; "now the congress isopened! I am your slave of the wonderful lamp, ready to set up and pulldown the world at your bidding. The old mansion is your own. It shallhave no rest until it becomes, within and without, a mirror of theperfect taste and fancy of its lawful mistress."
"Not yet, Pierre. I will not let you divert me from my purpose by yourflatteries. The dear old home is perfect, but I must have the best suiteof rooms in it for your noble father, and the next best for good DameRochelle. I will fit them up on a plan of my own, and none shall say menay; that is all the change I shall make."
"Is that all? and you tried to frighten the slave of the lamp with theweight of your commands. A suite of rooms for my father, and one forgood Dame Rochelle! Really, and what do you devote to me, Amelie?"
"Oh, all the rest, with its mistress included, for the reason that whatis good enough for me is good enough for you, Pierre," said she gaily.
"You little economist! Why, one would say you had studied housekeepingunder Madame Painchaud."
"And so I have. You do not know what a treasure I am, Pierre," said she,laughing merrily. "I graduated under mes tantes in the kitchen of theUrsulines, and received an accessit as bonne menagere which in secret Iprize more than the crown of honor they gave me."
"My fortune is made, and I am a rich man for life," exclaimed Pierre,clapping his hands; "why, I shall have to marry you like the girls ofAcadia, with a silver thimble on your finger and a pair of scissorsat your girdle, emblems of industrious habits and proofs of a goodhousewife!"
"Yes, Pierre, and I will comb your hair to my own liking. Your valetis a rough groom," said she, taking off his hat and passing her fingerthrough his thick, fair locks.
Pierre, although always dressed and trimmed like a gentleman, reallycared little for the petit maitre fashions of the day. Never had he felta thrill of such exquisite pleasure as when Amelie's hands arranged hisrough hair to her fancy.
"My blessed Amelie!" said he with emotion, pressing her finger to hislips, "never since my mother combed my boyish locks has a woman's handtouched my hair until now."
Leaning her head fondly against the shoulder of Pierre, she bade himrepeat to her again, to her who had not forgotten one word or syllableof the tale he had told her before, the story of his love.
She listened with moistened eyelids and heaving bosom as he told heragain of his faithfulness in the past, his joys in the present, and hishopes in the future. She feared to look up lest she should break thecharm, but when he had ended she turned to him passionately and kissedhis lips and his hands, murmuring, "Thanks, my Pierre, I will be a trueand loving wife to you!"
He strained her to his bosom, and held her fast, as if fearful to lether go.
"Her image at that last embrace, Ah! little thought he 'twas the last!"
Dim twilight crept into the valley. It was time to return home. Pierreand Amelie, full of joy in each other, grateful for the happiest dayin their lives, hopeful of to-morrow and many to-morrows after it, andmercifully blinded to what was really before them, rose from their seatunder the great spreading elm. They slowly retraced the path through themeadow leading to the bridge, and reentered the highway which ran to thecity, where Pierre conducted Amelie home.