“Yes, indeed I do!” replied she, laying her arm over his neck, as if drawing him towards her with a timid movement, while he stooped and kissed her sweet mouth and eyes in an ecstasy of passionate joy. She abandoned herself for a moment to her excess of bliss. “Kiss me, darling!” said he; and she kissed him more than once, to express her own great love and assure him that it was all his own. They sat in silence for some minutes; her cheek lay upon his, as she breathed his name with many fond, faltering expressions of tenderness. He felt her tears upon his face. “You weep, Amélie,” said he, starting up and looking at her cheeks and eyes suffused with moisture. “I do,” said she, “but it is for joy! Oh, Pierre Philibert, I am so happy! Let me weep now; I will laugh soon. Forgive me if I have confessed too readily how much I love you.” “Forgive you! 'tis I need forgiveness; impetuous that I am to have forced this confession from you to-night. Those blessed words, 'Yes, indeed I do,'--God's finger has written them on my heart forever. Never will I forsake the dear lips which spake them, nor fail in all loving duty and affection to you, my Amélie, to the end of my life.” “Of both our lives, Pierre,” replied she; “I can imagine no life, only death, separated from you. In thought you have always been with me from the beginning; my life and yours are henceforth one.” He gave a start of joy, “And you loved me before, Amélie!” exclaimed he. “Ever and always; but irrevocably since that day of terror and joy when you saved the life of Le Gardeur, and I vowed to pray for you to the end of my life.” “And during these long years in the Convent, Amélie,--when we seemed utterly forgotten to each other?” “You were not forgotten by me, Pierre! I prayed for you then,--earnest prayers for your safety and happiness, never hoping for more; least of all anticipating such a moment of bliss as the present. Oh, my Pierre, do not think me bold! You give me the right to love you without shame by the avowal of your love to me.” “Amélie!” exclaimed he, kissing her in an ecstasy of joy and admiration, “what have I done--what can I ever do, to merit or recompense such condescension as your dear words express?” “Love me, Pierre! Always love me! That is my reward. That is all I ask, all my utmost imagination could desire.” “And this little hand, Amélie, will be forever mine?” “Forever, Pierre, and the heart along with it.” He raised her hand reverently to his lips and kissed it. “Let it not be long,” said he. “Life is too short to curtail one hour of happiness from the years full of trouble which are most men's lot.” “But not our lot, Pierre; not ours. With you I forbode no more trouble in this life, and eternal joy in the next.” She looked at him, and her eyes seemed to dilate with joy. Her hand crept timidly up to his thick locks; she fondly brushed them aside from his broad forehead, which she pressed down to her lips and kissed.