n a strain of gaiety
like a bridal veil which covers the tears of the heart.

Pierre Philibert's eyes involuntarily turned towards her, and his
ears caught much of what she said. He was astonished at the grace and
perfection of her language; it seemed to him like a strain of music
filled with every melody of earth and heaven, surpassing poets in beauty
of diction, philosophers in truth,--and in purity of affection, all the
saints and sweetest women of whom he had ever read.

Her beauty, her vivacity, her modest reticences, and her delicate tact
in addressing the captious spirit of Le Gardeur, filled Pierre
with admiration. He could at that moment have knelt at her feet and
worshipped in her the realization of every image which his imagination
had ever formed of a perfect woman.

Now and then she played on the harp for Le Gardeur the airs which she
knew he liked best. His sombre mood yielded to her fond exertions, and
she had the reward of drawing at last a smile from his eyes as well as
from his lips. The last she knew might be simulated, the former she felt
was real, for the smile of the eye is the flash of the joy kindled in
the glad heart.

Le Gardeur was not dull nor ungrateful; he read clearly enough the
loving purpose of his sister. His brow cleared up under her sunshine.
He smiled, he laughed; and Amelie had the exquisite joy of believing she
had gained a victory over the dark spirit that had taken possession of
his soul, although the hollow laugh struck the ear of Pierre Philibert
with a more uncertain sound than that which fluttered the fond hopes of
Amelie.

Amelie looked towards Pierre, and saw his eyes fixed upon her with
that look which fills every woman with an emotion almost painful in its
excess of pleasure when first she meets it--that unmistakable glance
from the eyes of a man who, she is proud to perceive, has singled her
out from all other women for his love and homage.

Her face became of a deep glow in spite of her efforts to look calm and
cold; she feared Pierre might have misinterpreted her vivacity of
speech and manner. Sudden distrust of herself came over her in his
presence,--the flow of her conversation was embarrassed, and almost
ceased.

To extricate herself from her momentary confusion, which she was very
conscious had not escaped the observation of Pierre,--and the thought of
that confused her still more,--she rose and went to the harpsichord, to
recover her composure by singing