not upbraiding him.

That moment of time flashed a new influence upon both their lives: it
was the silent recognition that each was henceforth conscious of the
special regard of the other.

There are moments which contain the whole quintessence of our
lives,--our loves, our hopes, our failures, in one concentrated drop of
happiness or misery. We look behind us and see that our whole past has
led up to that infinitesimal fraction of time which is the consummation
of the past in the present, the end of the old and the beginning of the
new. We look forward from the vantage ground of the present, and the
world of a new revelation lies before us.

Pierre Philibert was conscious from that moment that Amelie de
Repentigny was not indifferent to him,--nay, he had a ground of hope
that in time she would listen to his pleadings, and at last bestow on
him the gift of her priceless love.

His hopes were sure hopes, although he did not dare to give himself the
sweet assurance of it, nor did Amelie herself as yet suspect how far her
heart was irrevocably wedded to Pierre Philibert.

Deep as was the impression of that moment upon both of them, neither
Philibert nor Amelie yielded to its influence more than to lapse into a
momentary silence, which was relieved by Le Gardeur, who, suspecting not
the cause,--nay, thinking it was on his account that his companions
were so unaccountably grave and still, kindly endeavored to force the
conversation upon a number of interesting topics, and directed the
attention of Philibert to various points of the landscape which
suggested reminiscences of his former visits to Tilly.

The equilibrium of conversation was restored, and the three, sitting
down on a long, flat stone, a boulder which had dropped millions of
years before out of an iceberg as it sailed slowly over the glacial
ocean which then covered the place of New France, commenced to talk over
Amelie's programme of the previous night, the amusements she had planned
for the week, the friends in all quarters they were to visit, and the
friends from all quarters they were to receive at the Manor House.
These topics formed a source of fruitful comment, as conversation on our
friends always does. If the sun shone hot and fierce at noontide in the
dog-days, they would enjoy the cool shade of the arbors with books and
conversation; they would ride in the forest, or embark in their canoes
for a row up the bright little river; there would be din