of the Bourgeois's ambition would be to see Pierre restored to
his ancestral chateau as the Count de Philibert, and Amelie as its noble
chatelaine, dispensing happiness among the faithful old servitors and
vassals of his family, who in all these long years of his exile never
forgot their brave old seigneur who had been banished to New France.

His reflections took a practical turn, and he enumerated in his mind the
friends he could count upon in France to support, and the enemies who
were sure to oppose the attainment of this great object of his ambition.
But the purchase of the chateau and lands of Philibert was in his power.
Its present possessor, a needy courtier, was deeply in debt, and would
be glad, the Bourgeois had ascertained, to sell the estates for such a
price as he could easily offer him.

To sue for simple justice in the restoration of his inheritance would
be useless. It would involve a life-long litigation. The Bourgeois
preferred buying it back at whatever price, so that he could make a gift
of it at once to his son, and he had already instructed his bankers in
Paris to pay the price asked by its owner and forward to him the deeds,
which he was ambitious to present to Pierre and Amelie on the day of
their marriage.

The Bourgeois at last looked up from his reverie. Dame Rochelle closed
her book, waiting for her master's commands.

"Has Pierre returned, dame?" asked he.

"No, master; he bade me say he was going to accompany Mademoiselle
Amelie to Lorette."

"Ah! Amelie had a vow to Our Lady of St. Foye, and Pierre, I warrant,
desired to pay half the debt! What think you, dame, of your godson?
Is he not promising?" The Bourgeois laughed quietly, as was his wont
sometimes.

Dame Rochelle sat a shade more upright in her chair. "Pierre is worthy
of Amelie and Amelie of him," replied she, gravely; "never were two out
of heaven more fitly matched. If they make vows to the Lady of St. Foye
they will pay them as religiously as if they had made them to the Most
High, to whom we are commanded to pay our vows!"

"Well, Dame, some turn to the east and some to the west to pay their
vows, but the holiest shrine is where true love is, and there alone the
oracle speaks in response to young hearts. Amelie, sweet, modest flower
that she is, pays her vows to Our Lady of St. Foye, Pierre his to
Amelie! I will be bound, dame, there is no saint in the calendar so holy
in his eyes as herself!"

"Nor deserves to be,