of Philibert's imagined indifference and utter forgetfulness, she
could meet him now, she thought, with equanimity--nay, rather
wished to do so, to make sure that she had not been guilty of
weakness in regard to him. She looked up, but was glad to see her
aunt still engaged in conversation with the Bishop on a topic which
Amelie knew was dear to them both,--the care of the souls and bodies
of the poor, in particular those for whom the Lady de Tilly felt
herself responsible to God and the King.

While Amelie sat thinking over the strange chances of the morning, a
sudden whirl of wheels drew her attention.

A gay caleche, drawn by two spirited horses en fleche, dashed
through the gateway of St. John, and wheeling swiftly towards
Amelie, suddenly halted. A young lady attired in the gayest fashion
of the period, throwing the reins to the groom, sprang out of the
caleche with the ease and elasticity of an antelope. She ran up the
rampart to Amelie with a glad cry of recognition, repeating her name
in a clear, musical voice, which Amelie at once knew belonged to no
other than the gay, beautiful Angelique des Meloises. The newcomer
embraced Amelie and kissed her, with warmest expressions of joy at
meeting her thus unexpectedly in the city. She had learned that
Lady de Tilly had returned to Quebec, she said, and she had,
therefore, taken the earliest opportunity to find out her dear
friend and school-fellow to tell her all the doings in the city.

"It is kind of you, Angelique," replied Amelie, returning her caress
warmly, but without effusion. "We have simply come with our people
to assist in the King's corvee; when that is done, we shall return
to Tilly. I felt sure I should meet you, and thought I should know