"He was too good for me!" said Angelique, dropping her eyes. "I
will acknowledge that, if it will do you any good, Amelie! But can
you not believe that there was a sacrifice on my part, as well as on
his or yours?"
"I judge not between you, Angelique! or between the many chances
wasted on you; but I say this Angelique des Meloises, you wickedly
stole the heart of the noblest brother in New France, to trample it
under your feet!"
"'Fore God, I did not, Amelie!" she replied indignantly. "I loved
and do love Le Gardeur de Repentigny, but I never plighted my troth
to him, I never deceived him! I told him I loved him, but I could
not marry him! And by this sacred cross," said she, placing her
hands upon it, "it is true! I never trampled upon the heart of Le
Gardeur; I could kiss his hands, his feet, with true affection as
ever loving woman gave to man; but my duty, my troth, my fate, were
in the hands of another!"
Angelique felt a degree of pleasure in the confession to Amelie of
her love for her brother. It was the next thing to confessing it to
himself, which had been once the joy of her life, but it changed not
one jot her determination to wed only the Intendant, unless--yes,
her busy mind had to-day called up a thousand possible and
impossible contingencies that might spring up out of the unexpected
use of the stiletto by Corriveau.
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