bright face and can see its lover; and he breathes back
upon the kind, willing, breeze-puffs, through all the
summer, sweet-scented love messages, tidings of a matrimony
as delicious as that of the angels." She stood up, and
raised her arms above her head yearningly. The autumn
wind was cooing in her hair, and softly swaying its silken
meshes.

"Fare well, my desolate one: may your poor little heart
be gladder soon. Could I but be a bird, arid you would
have me for a companion, your lamenting should not be
for long. We should journey loitering and love-making
all the long sweet way, from here to the South, and have
no repining."

Turning around, she perceived two men standing close
beside her. She became very confused, and clutched for
the blanket to cover her face, but she had strayed away
among the flowers without it. Very deeply she blushed
that the strangers should have heard her; and she spake
not.

"Bon jour, ma belle fille." It was M. Riel who had
addressed her. He drew closer, and she, in a very low
voice, her olive face stained with a faint flush of
crimson, answered,

"Bon jour, Monsieur."

"Be not abashed. We heard what you were saying to the