A cool salt-water breeze, following the flood tide that was coming
up the broad St. Lawrence, swept their faces as Amelie walked by the
side of Le Gardeur, talking in her quiet way of things familiar, and
of home interests until she saw the fever of his blood abate and his
thoughts return into calmer channels. Her gentle craft subdued his
impetuous mood--if craft it might be called--for more wisely cunning
than all craft is the prompting of true affection, where reason
responds like instinct to the wants of the heart.
They sat down upon a garden seat overlooking the great valley. None
of the guests had sauntered out so far, but Amelie's heart was full;
she had much to say, and wished no interruption.
"I am glad to sit in this pretty spot, Amelie," said he, at last,
for he had listened in silence to the sweet, low voice of his sister
as she kept up her half sad, half glad monologue, because she saw it
pleased him. It brought him into a mood in which she might venture
to talk of the matter that pressed sorely upon her heart.
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