flying
locks, like a sprite, through the woods of Tilly. But comparing his
recollection of that slight girl with the tall, lithe, perfect womanhood
of the half-blushing girl before him, he hesitated, although intuitively
aware that it could be no other than the idol of his heart, Amelie de
Repentigny.

Le Gardeur solved the doubt in a moment by exclaiming, in a tone of
exultation, "Pierre Philibert, I bring an old young friend to greet
you--my sister!"

Philibert advanced, and Amelie raised her dark eyes with a momentary
glance that drew into her heart the memory of his face forever. She
held out her hand frankly and courteously. Philibert bent over it as
reverently as he would over the hand of the Madonna.

The greeting of the Lady de Tilly and La Corne St. Luc had been cordial,
nay, affectionate in its kindness. The good lady kissed Pierre as a
mother might have done a long-absent son.

"Colonel Philibert," said Amelie, straining her nerves to the tension of
steel to preserve her composure, "Colonel Philibert is most welcome; he
has never been forgotten in this house." She glanced at her aunt, who
smiled approvingly at Amelie's remark.

"Thanks, Mademoiselle de Repentigny; I am indeed happy to be remembered
here; it fulfils one of my most cherished hopes in returning to my
native land."

"Ay, ay, Pierre," interrupted La Corne St. Luc, who looked on this
little scene very admiringly, "good blood never lies. Look at Colonel
Philibert there, with the King's epaulets on his shoulders. I have a
sharp eye, as you know, Amelie, when I look after my pretty goddaughter,
but I should not have recognized our lively Pierre in him, had Le
Gardeur not introduced him to me, and I think you would not have known
him either."

"Thanks for your looking after me, godfather," replied Amelie, merrily,
very grateful in her heart for his appreciation of Pierre, "but I think
neither aunt nor I should have failed to recognize him."

"Right, my Amelie!" said the Lady de Tilly. "We should not, and we shall
not be afraid, Pierre,--I must call you Pierre or nothing,--we shall not
be afraid, although you do lay in a new stock of acquaintances in the
capital, that old friends will be put aside as unfashionable remnants."

"My whole stock of friendship consists of those remnants, my
Lady,--memories of dear friends I love and honor. They will never be
unfashionable with me: I should be bankrupt indeed, were I to part with
one of them."