These topics formed a source of fruitful comment, as conversation on our friends always does. If the sun shone hot and fierce at noontide in the dog-days, they would enjoy the cool shade of the arbors with books and conversation; they would ride in the forest, or embark in their canoes for a row up the bright little river; there would be dinners and diversions for the day, music and dancing for the night.

The spirits of the inmates of the Manor House could not help but be kept up by these expedients, and Amelie flattered herself that she would quite succeed in dissipating the gloomy thoughts which occupied the mind of Le Gardeur.

They sat on the stone by the brook-side for an hour, conversing pleasantly while they watched the speckled trout dart like silver arrows spotted with blood in the clear pool.

Le Gardeur strove to be gay, and teased Amelie in playfully criticizing her programme, and, half in earnest, half in jest, arguing for the superior attractions of the Palace of the Intendant to those of the Manor House of Tilly. He saw the water standing in her eyes, when a consciousness of what must be her feelings seized him; he drew her to his side, asked her forgiveness, and wished fire were set to the Palace and himself in the midst of it! He deserved it for wounding, even in jest, the heart of the best and noblest sister in the world.

"I am not wounded, dear Le Gardeur," replied she, softly; "I knew you were only in jest. My foolish heart is so sensitive to all mention of the Palace and its occupants in connection with you, that I could not even take in jest what was so like truth."

"Forgive me, I will never mention the Palace to you again, Amelie, except to repeat the malediction I have bestowed upon it a thousand times an hour since I returned to Tilly."

"My own brave brother!" exclaimed she, embracing him, "now I am happy!"

The shrill notes of a bugle were heard sounding a military call to breakfast. It was the special privilege of an old servitor of the family, who had been a trumpeter in the troop of the Seigneur of Tilly, to summon the family of the Manor House in that manner to breakfast only. The old trumpeter had solicited long to be allowed to sound the reveille at break of day, but the good Lady de Tilly had too much regard for the repose of the inmates of her house to consent to any such untimely waking of them from their morning slumbers.

The old, familiar call was recognized by Philibert, who reminded Amelie of a day when Aeolus (the ancient trumpeter bore that windy sobriquet) had accompanied them on a long ramble in the forest,--how, the day being warm, the old man fell asleep under a comfortable shade, while the three children straggled off into the depths of the woods, where they were speedily lost.

"I remember it like yesterday, Pierre," exclaimed Amelie, sparkling at the reminiscence; "I recollect how I wept and wrung my hands, tired out, hungry, and forlorn, with my dress in tatters, and one shoe left in a miry place! I recollect, moreover, that my protectors were in almost as bad a plight as myself, yet they chivalrously carried the little maiden by turns, or together made a queen's chair for me with their locked hands, until we all broke down together and sat crying at the foot of a tree, reminding one another of the babes in the wood, and recounting stories of bears which had devoured lost naughty children in the forest.

I remember how we all knelt down at last and recited our prayers until suddenly we heard the bugle-call of Aeolus sounding close by us. The poor old man, wild with rapture at having found us, kissed and shook us so violently that we almost wished ourselves lost in the forest again."

The recollection of this adventure was very pleasing to Pierre. He recalled every incident of it perfectly, and all three of them seemed for a while transported back into the fairy-land of their happy childhood.

The bugle-call of old Aeolus again sounded, and the three friends rose and proceeded towards the house.

The little brook--it had never looked so bright before to Amelie--sparkled with joy like her own eyes. The orioles and blackbirds warbled in the bushes, and the insects which love warmth and sunshine chirmed and chirruped among the ferns and branches as Amelie, Pierre, and Le Gardeur walked home along the green footpath under the avenue of elms that led to the chateau.

The Lady de Tilly received them with many pleasant words. Leading them into the breakfast-room, she congratulated Le Gardeur upon the satisfaction it afforded her to see her dear children, so she called them, once more seated round her board in health and happiness. Amelie colored slightly, and looked at her aunt as if questioning whether she included Philibert among her children.

The Lady de Tilly guessed her thought, but pretending not to, bade Felix proceed with the breakfast, and turned the conversation to topics more general. "The Iroquois," she said, "had left the Chaudiere and gone further eastward; the news had just been brought in by messengers to the Seigniory, and it was probable, nay, certain that they would not be heard of again. Therefore Le Gardeur and Pierre Philibert were under no necessity of leaving the Manor to search for the savages, but could arrange with Amelie for as much enjoyment as they could crowd into these summer days."

"It is all arranged, aunt!" replied Amelie. "We have held a cour pleniere this morning, and made a code of laws for our Kingdom of Cocagne during the next eight days. It needs only the consent of our suzeraine lady to be at once acted upon."

"And your suzeraine lady gives her consent without further questioning, Amelie! although I confess you have an admirable way of carrying your point, Amelie," said her aunt, laughing; "you resolve first what you will do, and ask my approbation after."

"Yes, aunt, that is our way in the kingdom of pleasure! And we begin this morning: Le Gardeur and Pierre will ride to the village to meet our cousin Heloise, from Lotbiniere."

"But you will accompany us, Amelie!" exclaimed Le Gardeur. "I will not go else,--it was a bargain!"

"Oh, I did not count myself for anything but an embarrassment! of course I shall go with you, Le Gardeur, but our cousin Heloise de Lotbiniere is coming to see you, not me. She lost her heart," remarked she, turning to Pierre, "when she was last here, at the feast of St. John, and is coming to seek it again."

"Ah! how was that, Amelie?" asked Philibert. "I remember the lovely face, the chestnut curls, and bright black eyes of Heloise de Lotbiniere. And has hers really gone the way of all hearts?"

"Of all good hearts, Pierre,--but you shall hear if you will be good and listen. She saw the portraits of you and Le Gardeur, one day, hung in the boudoir of my aunt. Heloise professed that she admired both until she could not tell which she liked best, and left me to decide."

"Ah! and which of us did you give to the fair Heloise?" demanded Philibert with a sudden interest.

"Not the Abelard she wanted, you may be sure, Pierre," exclaimed Le Gardeur; "she gave me, and kept you! It was a case of clear misappropriation."

"No, brother, not so!" replied Amelie, hastily. "Heloise had tried the charm of the three caskets with the three names without result, and at last watched in the church porch, on the eve of St. John, to see the shade of her destined lover pass by, and lo, Heloise vowed she saw me, and no one else, pass into the church!"

"Ah! I suppose it was you? It is no rare thing for you to visit the shrine of our Lady on the eve of St. John. Pierre Philibert, do you recollect? Oh, not as I do, dear friend," continued Le Gardeur with a sudden change of voice, which was now filled with emotion: "it was on the day of St. John you saved my poor worthless life. We are not ungrateful! She has kept the eve of St. John in the church ever since, in commemoration of that event."

"Brother, we have much to thank Heaven for!" replied Amelie, blushing deeply at his words, "and I trust we shall never be ungrateful for its favor and protection."

Amelie shied from a compliment like a young colt at its own shadow.

She avoided further reference to the subject broached by Le Gardeur by saying,--"It was I whom Heloise saw pass into the church. I never explained the mystery to her, and she is not sure yet whether it was my wraith or myself who gave her that fright on St. John's eve. But I claimed her heart as one authorized to take it, and if I could not marry her myself I claimed the right to give her to whomsoever I pleased, and I gave her to you, Le Gardeur, but you would not accept the sweetest girl in New France!"

"Thanks, Amelie," replied he, laughing, yet wincing. "Heloise is indeed all you say, the sweetest girl in New France! But she was too angelic for Le Gardeur de Repentigny. Pshaw! you make me say foolish things, Amelie. But in penance for my slight, I will be doubly attentive to my fair cousin de Lotbiniere to-day. I will at once order the horses and we will ride down to the village to meet her."

Arrayed in a simple riding-dress of dark blue, which became her as did everything else which she wore,--Amelie's very attire seemed instinct with the living graces and charms of its wearer,--she mounted her horse, accepting the aid of Philibert to do so, although when alone she usually sprang to the saddle herself, saluting the Lady de Tilly, who waved her hand to them from the lawn. The three friends slowly cantered down the broad avenue of the park towards the village of Tilly.

Amelie rode well. The exercise and the pure air brought the fresh color to her face, and her eyes sparkled with animation as she conversed gaily with her brother and Philibert.

They speedily reached the village, where they met Heloise de Lotbiniere, who, rushing to Amelie, kissed her with effusion, and as she greeted Le Gardeur looked up as if she would not have refused a warmer salutation than the kind shake of the hand with which he received her. She welcomed Philibert with glad surprise, recognizing him at once, and giving a glance at Amelie which expressed an ocean of unspoken meaning and sympathy.

Heloise was beautiful, gay, spirited, full of good humor and sensibility. Her heart had long been devoted to Le Gardeur, but never meeting with any response to her shy advances, which were like the wheeling of a dove round and round its wished-for mate, she had long concluded with a sigh that for her the soul of Le Gardeur was insensible to any touch of a warmer regard than sprang from the most sincere friendship.

Amelie saw and understood all this; she loved Heloise, and in her quiet way had tried to awaken a kinder feeling for her in the heart of her brother. As one fights fire with fire in the great conflagrations of the prairies, Amelie hoped also to combat the influence of Angelique des Meloises by raising up a potent rival in the fair Heloise de Lotbiniere but she soon found how futile were her endeavors. The heart of Le Gardeur was wedded to the idol of his fancy, and no woman on earth could win him away from Angelique.

Amelie comforted Heloise by the gift of her whole confidence and sympathy. The poor disappointed girl accepted the decree of fate, known to no other but Amelie, while in revenge upon herself--a thing not rare in proud, sensitive natures--she appeared in society more gay, more radiant and full of mirth than ever before. Heloise hid the asp in her bosom, but so long as its bite was unseen she laughed cruelly at the pain of it, and deceived, as she thought, the eyes of the world as to her suffering.

The arrival of Heloise de Lotbiniere was followed by that of a crowd of other visitors, who came to the Manor House to pay their respects to the family on their return home, and especially to greet Le Gardeur and Colonel Philibert, who was well remembered, and whom the busy tongues of gossip already set down as a suitor for the hand of the young chatelaine.

The report of what was said by so many whispering friends was quickly carried to the ear of Amelie by some of her light-hearted companions.

She blushed at the accusation, and gently denied all knowledge of it, laughing as a woman will laugh who carries a hidden joy or a hidden sorrow in her heart, neither of which she cares to reveal to the world's eye. Amelie listened to the pleasant tale with secret complaisance, for, despite her tremor and confusion, it was pleasant to hear that Pierre Philibert loved her, and was considered a suitor for her hand. It was sweet to know that the world believed she was his choice.

She threaded every one of these precious words, like a chaplet of pearls upon the strings of her heart,--contemplating them, counting them over and over in secret, with a joy known only to herself and to God, whom she prayed to guide her right whatever might happen.

That something would happen ere long she felt a premonition, which at times made her grave in the midst of her hopes and anticipations.

The days passed gaily at Tilly. Amelie carried out the elaborate programme which she had arranged for the amusement of Le Gardeur as well as for the pleasures of her guests.

Every day brought a change and a fresh enjoyment. The mornings were devoted by the gentlemen to hunting, fishing, and other sport; by the ladies to reading, music, drawing, needlework, or the arrangements of dress and ornaments. In the afternoons all met together, and the social evening was spent either at the Manor House or some neighboring mansion.

The hospitality of all was alike: a profusion of social feeling formed, at that day, a marked characteristic of the people of New France.

The Lady de Tilly spent an hour or two each day with her trusty land steward, or bailli, Master Cote, in attending to the multifarious business of her Seigniory. The feudal law of New France imposed great duties and much labor upon the lords of the manor, by giving them an interest in every man's estate, and making them participators in every transfer of land throughout a wide district of country. A person who acquired, by purchase or otherwise, the lands of a censitaire, or vassal, was held to perform foi et hommage for the lands so acquired, and to acquit all other feudal dues owing by the original holder to his seigneur.

It was during one of these fair summer days at Tilly that Sieur Tranchelot, having acquired the farm of the Bocage, a strip of land a furlong wide and a league in depth, with a pleasant frontage on the broad St. Lawrence, the new censitaire came as in duty bound to render foi et hommage for the same to the lady of the Manor of Tilly, according to the law and custom of the Seigniory.

At the hour of noon, Lady de Tilly, with Le Gardeur, Amelie, and Pierre Philibert, in full dress, stood on a dais in the great hall; Master Cote sat at a table on the floor in front, with his great clasped book of record open before him. A drawn sword lay upon the table, and a cup of wine stood by the side of it.

When all was arranged, three loud knocks were heard on the great door, and the Sieur Tranchelot, dressed in his holiday costume, but bareheaded and without sword or spurs,--not being gentilhomme he was not entitled to wear them,--entered the door, which was ceremoniously opened for him by the majordomo. He was gravely led up to the dais, where stood the lady of the Manor, by the steward bearing his wand of office.

The worthy censitaire knelt down before the lady, and repeating her name three times, pronounced the formula of foi et hommage prescribed by the law, as owing to the lords of the Manor of Tilly.

"My Lady de Tilly! My Lady de Tilly! My Lady de Tilly! I render you fealty and homage due to you on account of my lands of the Bocage, which belong to me by virtue of the deed executed by the Sieur Marcel before the worthy notary Jean Pothier dit Robin, on the day of Palms, 1748, and I avow my willingness to acquit the seigniorial and feudal cens et rentes, and all other lawful dues, whensoever payable by me; beseeching you to be my good liege lady, and to admit me to the said fealty and homage."

The lady accepted the homage of Sieur Tranchelot, graciously remitted the lods et ventes,--the fines payable to the seigneur,--gave him the cup of wine to drink when he rose to his feet, and ordered him to be generously entertained by her majordomo, and sent back to the Bocage rejoicing.