ars and sobs for the soul of the
Bourgeois and for God's pity and forgiveness upon Le Gardeur.

To Amelie's woes was added the terrible consciousness that, by this deed
of her brother, Pierre Philibert was torn from her forever. She pictured
to herself his grief, his love, his despair, perhaps his vengeance; and
to add to all, she, his betrothed bride, had forsaken him and fled like
a guilty thing, without waiting to see whether he condemned her.

An hour ago Amelie had been the envy and delight of her gay bridesmaids.
Her heart had overflowed like a fountain of wine, intoxicating all
about her with joy at the hope of the speedy coming of her bridegroom.
Suddenly the idols of her life had been shattered as by a thunderbolt,
and lay in fragments around her feet.

The thought came upon her like the rush of angry wings. She knew that
all was over between her and Pierre. The cloister and the veil were all
that were left to Amelie de Repentigny.

"Heloise, dearest sister!" exclaimed she, "my conscience tells me I have
done right, but my heart accuses me of wrong to Pierre, of falseness to
my plighted vows in forsaking him; and yet, not for heaven itself would
I have forsaken Pierre. Would that I were dead! Oh, what have I done,
Heloise, to deserve such a chastisement as this from God?"

Amelie threw her arms around the neck of Heloise, and leaning her head
on her bosom, wept long and without restraint, for none saw them save
God.

"Listen!" said Heloise, as the swelling strain of the organ floated
up from the convent chapel. The soft voices of the nuns mingled in
plaintive harmony as they sang the hymn of the Virgin:

"Pia Mater! Fons amoris!
Me sentire vim doloris
Fac, ut tecum lugeam!"

Again came the soft pleading notes of the sacred hymn:

"Quando corpus morietur,
Fac ut animae donetur
Paradisi gloria! Amen!"

The harmony filled the ears of Amelie and Heloise, like the lap of
the waves of eternity upon the world's shore. It died away, and they
continued praying before Our Lady of Grand Pouvoir.

The silence was suddenly broken. Hasty steps traversed the little
chapel. A rush of garments caused Amelie and Heloise to turn around, and
in an instant they were both clasped in the passionate embrace of the
Lady de Tilly, who had arrived at the Convent.

"My dear children, my poor, stricken daughters," exclaimed she, kissing
them passionately and mingling her tears wit