e
Tilly heard the name of the royal mistress with intense disgust, but
her innate loyalty prevented her speaking disparagingly of the King.
"We will not discuss the Court," said she, "nor the friendships of this
Intendant. I can only pray his future may make amends for his past.
I trust New France may not have as much reason as poor lost Acadia to
lament the day of his coming to the Colonies."

The two lady visitors were not obtuse. They saw they had roused the
susceptibilities--prejudices, they called them--of the Lady de Tilly.
They rose, and smothering their disappointment under well-bred phrases,
took most polite leave of the dignified old lady, who was heartily glad
to be rid of them.

"The disagreeable old thing--to talk so of the Intendant!" exclaimed
Madame Couillard, spitefully, "when her own nephew, and heir in the
Seigniory of Tilly, is the Intendant's firmest friend and closest
companion."

"Yes, she forgot about her own house; people always forget to look at
home when they pass judgment upon their neighbors," replied Madame
de Grandmaison. "But I am mistaken if she will be able to impress Le
Gardeur de Repentigny with her uncharitable and unfashionable opinions
of the Intendant. I hope the ball will be the greatest social success
ever seen in the city, just to vex her and her niece, who is as proud
and particular as she is herself."

Amelie de Repentigny had dressed herself to-day in a robe of soft muslin
of Deccan, the gift of a relative in Pondicherry. It enveloped her
exquisite form, without concealing the grace and lissomeness of her
movements. A broad blue ribbon round her waist, and in her dark hair a
blue flower, were all her adornments, except a chain and cross of gold,
which lay upon her bosom, the rich gift of her brother, and often kissed
with a silent prayer for his welfare and happiness. More than once,
under the influence of some indefinable impulse, she rose and went to
the mirror, comparing her features now with a portrait of herself taken
as a young girl in the garb of a shepherdess of Provence. Her father
used to like that picture of her, and to please him she often wore her
hair in the fashion of Provence. She did so to-day. Why? The subtile
thought in many Protean shapes played before her fancy, but she would
not try to catch it--no! rather shyly avoided its examination.

She was quite restless, and sat down again in the deep recess of the
window, watching the Place d'Armes for the