Aunt has a vow there,
and to-morrow it must be paid; I too."
He looked up at her with eyes of admiration. "A vow! Let me share
in its payment, Amelie," said he.
"You may, but you shall not ask me what it is. There now, do not
wet yourself 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
to reprove you, but for your penance you shall gather more lilies,
for I fear you need many prayers and offerings to expiate,--"she
hesitated to finish 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 you shall join in my offering, and that will do for both.
Please pull that one bunch of lilies and no more, or Our Lady of
Victory will judge you harder than I do."
Pierre stepped from stone to stone over the gentle brook, gathering
the golden lilies, while Amelie clasped her hands and silently
thanked God for this happy hour of her life.
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