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's
blessing upon them both, and claimed the privilege of giving away
her hand to the noblest man in New France, Pierre Philibert.
Amelie showed the precious note to Pierre. It only needed that to
complete their happiness for the day. The one cloud that had
overshadowed their joy in their approaching nuptials was passing
away, and Amelie was prouder in the anticipation that Le Gardeur,
restored to himself, sober, and in his right mind, was to be present
at her wedding and give her away, than if the whole Court of France,
with thousands of admiring spectators, were to pay her royal honors.
They sauntered on towards a turn of the stream where a little pool
lay embayed like a smooth mirror reflecting the grassy bank. Amelie
sat down under a tree while Pierre crossed over the brook to gather
on the opposite side some flowers which had caught her eye.
"Tell me which, Amelie!" exclaimed he, "for they are all yours; you
are Flora's heiress, with right to enter into possession of her
whole kingdom!"
"The water-lilies, Pierre, those, and those, and those; they are to
deck the shrine of Notre Dame des Victoires.
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