me upon her. And, although trembling, she was glad and proud to
find she had been remembered by the brave youth, who recognized in the
perfect woman the girl he had so ardently loved as a boy.

Did he love her still? Woman's heart is quicker to apprehend all
possibilities than man's. She had caught a look once or twice in the
eyes of Pierre Philibert which thrilled the inmost fibres of her being;
she had detected his ardent admiration. Was she offended? Far from it!
And although her cheek had flushed deeply red, and her pulses throbbed
hard at the sudden consciousness that Pierre Philibert admired, nay,
more,--she could not conceal it from herself,--she knew that night that
he loved her! She would not have foregone that moment of revelation for
all that the world had to offer.

She would gladly at that moment of discovery have fled to her own
apartment and cried for joy, but she dared not; she trembled lest his
eyes, if she looked up, should discover the secret of her own. She had
an overpowering consciousness that she stood upon the brink of her fate;
that ere long that look of his would be followed by words--blessed,
hoped-for words, from the lips of Pierre Philibert! words which would be
the pledge and assurance to her of that love which was hereafter to be
the joy--it might be the despair, but in any case the all in all of her
life forever.

Amelie had not yet realized the truth that love is the strength, not the
weakness of woman; and that the boldness of the man is rank cowardice
in comparison with the bravery she is capable of, and the sacrifices she
will make for the sake of the man who has won her heart.

God locks up in a golden casket of modesty the yearnings of a woman's
heart; but when the hand in which he has placed the key that opens it
calls forth her glorified affections, they come out like the strong
angels, and hold back the winds that blow from the four corners of the
earth that they may not hurt the man whose forehead is sealed with the
kiss of her acknowledged love.

CHAPTER XXVIII. A DAY AT THE MANOR HOUSE.

Amelie, after a night of wakefulness and wrestling with a tumult of
new thoughts and emotions,--no longer dreams, but realities of
life,--dressed herself in a light morning costume, which, simple as
it was, bore the touch of her graceful hand and perfect taste. With a
broad-brimmed straw hat set upon her dark tresses, which were knotted
with careless care in a blue ribbon, she desc