appearance of her brother.

She gave a sudden start at last, as a couple of officers galloped in to
the square and rode towards the great gate of the Chateau; one of them
she instantly recognized as her brother, the other, a tall martial
figure in full uniform, upon a fiery gray, she did not recognize, but
she knew in her heart it could be no other than Colonel Philibert.

Amelie felt a thrill, almost painful in its pleasure, agitating her
bosom, as she sat watching the gateway they had entered. It was even a
momentary relief to her that they had turned in there instead of riding
directly to the house. It gave her time to collect her thoughts and
summon all her fortitude for the coming interview. Her fingers wandered
down to the rosary in the folds of her dress, and the golden bead, which
had so often prompted her prayer for the happiness of Pierre Philibert,
seemed to burn to the touch. Her cheek crimsoned, for a strange thought
suddenly intruded--the boy Pierre Philibert, whose image and memory
she had so long and innocently cherished, was now a man, a soldier, a
councillor, trained in courts and camps! How unmaidenly she had acted,
forgetting all this in her childish prayers until this moment! "I mean
no harm," was all the defence she could think of. Nor had she time to
think more of herself, for, after remaining ten minutes in the Chateau,
just long enough to see the Governor and deliver the answer of the
Intendant to his message, the gray charger emerged from the gate. His
rider was accompanied by her brother and the well-known figure of her
godfather, La Corne St. Luc, who rode up the hill and in a minute or two
dismounted at the door of the mansion of the Lady de Tilly.

The fabled lynx, whose eye penetrates the very earth to discover hidden
treasure, did not cast a keener and more inquisitive glance than that
which Amelie, shrouded behind the thick curtains, directed from the
window at the tall, manly figure and handsome countenance of him whom
she knew to be Pierre Philibert. Let it not detract from her that she
gave way to an irresistible impulse of womanly curiosity. The Queen of
France would, under the same temptation, have done the same thing, and
perhaps without feeling half the modest shame of it that Amelie did. A
glance sufficed--but a glance that impressed upon her mind forever the
ineffaceable and perfect image of Pierre Philibert the man, who came in
place of Pierre Philibert the boy friend of Le G