“Tell my aunt and Le Gardeur when we return home,” continued she. “They love you, and will be glad--nay, overjoyed, to know that I am to be your--your--” “My wife!---Amélie, thrice blessed words! Oh, say my wife!” “Yes, your wife, Pierre! Your true and loving wife forever.” “Forever! Yes. Love like ours is imperishable as the essence of the soul itself, and partakes of the immortality of God, being of him and from him. The Lady de Tilly shall find me a worthy son, and Le Gardeur a true and faithful brother.” “And you, Pierre! Oh, say it; that blessed word has not sounded yet in my ear--what shall I call you?” And she looked in his eyes, drawing his soul from its inmost depths by the magnetism of her look. “Your husband,--your true and loving husband, as you are my wife, Amélie.” “God be praised!” murmured she in his ear. “Yes, my HUSBAND! The blessed Virgin has heard my prayers.” And she pressed him in a fond embrace, while tears of joy flowed from her eyes. “I am indeed happy!” The words hardly left her lips when a sudden crash of thunder rolled over their heads and went pealing down the lake and among the islands, while a black cloud suddenly eclipsed the moon, shedding darkness over the landscape, which had just begun to brighten in her silvery rays. Amélie was startled, frightened, clinging hard to the breast of Pierre, as her natural protector. She trembled and shook as the angry reverberations rolled away in the distant forests. “Oh, Pierre!” exclaimed she, “what is that? It is as if a dreadful voice came between us, forbidding our union! But nothing shall ever do that now, shall it? Oh, my love!” “Nothing, Amélie. Be comforted,” replied he. “It is but a thunder-storm coming up. It will send Le Gardeur and all our gay companions quickly back to us, and we shall return home an hour sooner, that is all. Heaven cannot frown on our union, darling.” “I should love you all the same, Pierre,” whispered she. Amélie was not hard to persuade; she was neither weak nor superstitious beyond her age and sex. But she had not much time to indulge in alarms. In a few minutes the sound of voices was heard; the dip and splash of hasty paddles followed, and the fleet of canoes came rushing into shore like a flock of water-fowl seeking shelter in bay or inlet from a storm. There was a hasty preparation on all sides for departure. The camp-fires were trampled out lest they should kindle a conflagration in the forest. The baskets were tossed into one of the large canoes. Philibert and Amélie embarked in that of Le Gardeur, not without many arch smiles and pretended regrets on the part of some of the young ladies for having left them on their last round of the lake. The clouds kept gathering in the south, and there was no time for parley. The canoes were headed down the stream, the paddles were plied vigorously: it was a race to keep ahead of the coming storm, and they did not quite win it.