EVIL NEWS RIDES POST.
The sunbeams never shone more golden through the casement of a lady's bower than on that same morning of St. Martin's through the window of the chamber of Amelie de Repentigny, as she sat in the midst of a group of young ladies holding earnest council over the dresses and adornments of herself and companions, who were to be her bridesmaids on her marriage with Pierre Philibert.
Amelie had risen from pleasant dreams. The tender flush of yesterday's walk on the banks of the Lairet lingered on her cheek all night long, like the rosy tint of a midsummer's sunset. The loving words of Pierre floated through her memory like a strain of divine music, with the sweet accompaniment of her own modest confessions of love, which she had so frankly expressed.
Amelie's chamber was vocal with gaiety and laughter; for with her to-day were the chosen friends and lifelong companions who had ever shared her love and confidence.
These were, Hortense Beauharnais, happy also in her recent betrothal to Jumonville de Villiers; Heloise de Lotbiniere, so tenderly attached to Amelie, and whom of all her friends Amelie wanted most to call by the name of sister; Agathe, the fair daughter of La Corne St. Luc, so like her father in looks and spirit; and Amelie's cousin, Marguerite de Repentigny, the reflection of herself in feature and manners.
There was rich material in that chamber for the conversation of such a group of happy girls. The bridal trousseau was spread out before them, and upon chairs and couches lay dresses of marvellous fabric and beauty,--muslins and shawls of India and Cashmere, and the finest products of the looms of France and Holland. It was a trousseau fit for a queen, and an evidence at once of the wealth of the Lady de Tilly and of her unbounded love for her niece, Amelie.
The gifts of Pierre were not mingled with the rest, nor as yet had they been shown to her bridesmaids,--Amelie kept them for a pretty surprise upon another day.
Upon the table stood a golden casket of Venetian workmanship, the carvings of which represented the marriage at Cana in Galilee. It was stored with priceless jewels which dazzled the sight and presented a constellation of starry gems, the like of which had never been seen in the New World. It was the gift of the Bourgeois Philibert, who gave this splendid token of his affection and utter contentment with Amelie as the bride of his son and heir.
The girls were startled in the midst of their preparations by the sudden dashing past of a horseman, who rode in a cloud of dust, followed by a wild, strange cry, as of many people shouting together in lamentation and anger.
Amelie and Heloise looked at each other with a strange feeling, but sat still while the rest rushed to the balcony, where they leaned eagerly over to catch sight of the passing horseman and discover the meaning of the loud and still repeated cry.
The rider had disappeared round the angle of the Cape, but the cry from the city waxed still louder, as if more and more voices joined in it.
Presently men on horseback and on foot were seen hurrying towards the Castle of St. Louis, and one or two shot up the long slope of the Place d'Armes, galloping towards the mansion of the Lady de Tilly, talking and gesticulating in the wildest manner.
"In God's name, what is the matter, Monsieur La Force?" exclaimed Hortense as that gentleman rode furiously up and checked his horse violently at the sight of the ladies upon the balcony.
Hortense repeated her question. La Force took off his hat and looked up, puzzled and distressed. "Is the Lady de Tilly at home?" inquired he eagerly.
"Not just now, she has gone out; but what is the matter, in heaven's name?" repeated she, as another wild cry came up from the city.
"Is Mademoiselle Amelie home?" again asked La Force with agitated voice.
"She is home. Heavens! have you some bad news to tell her or the Lady de Tilly?" breathlessly inquired Hortense.
"Bad news for both of them; for all of us, Hortense. But I will not be the bearer of such terrible tidings,--others are following me; ask them. Oh, Hortense, prepare poor Amelie for the worst news that ever came to her."
The Sieur La Force would not wait to be further questioned,--he rode off furiously.
The bridesmaids all turned pale with affright at these ominous words, and stood looking at each other and asking what they could mean.
Amelie and Heloise caught some of the conversation between Hortense and La Force. They sprang up and ran to the balcony just as two of the servants of the house came rushing up with open mouths, staring eyes, and trembling with excitement. They did not wait to be asked what was the matter, but as soon as they saw the ladies they shouted out the terrible news, as the manner of their kind is, without a thought of the consequences: that Le Gardeur had just killed the Bourgeois Philibert in the market-place, and was himself either killed or a prisoner, and the people were going to burn the Friponne and hang the Intendant under the tablet of the Golden Dog, and all the city was going to be destroyed.
The servants, having communicated this piece of wild intelligence, instantly rushed into the house and repeated it to the household, filling the mansion in a few moments with shrieks and confusion.
It was in vain Hortense and Agathe La Corne St. Luc strove to withhold the terrible truth from Amelie. Her friends endeavored with kindly force and eager exhortations to prevent her coming to the balcony, but she would not be stayed; in her excitement she had the strength of one of God's angels. She had caught enough of the speech of the servants to gather up its sense into a connected whole, and in a moment of terrible enlightenment, that came like a thunderbolt driven through her soul, she understood the whole significance of their tidings.
Her hapless brother, maddened with disappointment, drink, and desperation, had killed the father of Pierre, the father of her betrothed husband, his own friend and hers; why or how, was a mystery of amazement.
