"My loving bridesmaids," said she, "it is now all over with poor Amelie de Repentigny; tell Pierre," and here she sobbed, almost choking in her grief, "tell Pierre not to hate me for this blood that lies on the threshold of our house! Tell him how truly and faithfully I was preparing to devote myself to his happiness as his bride and wife; tell him how I loved him, and I only forsake him because it is the inexorable decree of my sad fate; not my will, but my cruel misfortune. But I know his noble nature; he will pity, not hate me. Tell him it will even rejoice me where I am going to know that Pierre Philibert still loves me. I cannot, dare not ask him to pardon Le Gardeur! I dare not pardon him myself! But I know Pierre will be just and merciful to my poor brother, even in this hour of doom."
"And now," continued she, speaking with a terrible energy, "put away these bridal deceits; they will never be worn by me! I have a garb more becoming the bridal of death; more fitting to wear by the sister of--O God! I was going to say, of a murderer!"
Amelie, with a wild desperation, gathered up the gay robes and garlands and threw them in a heap in the corner of the chamber. "My glory is departed!" said she. "Oh, Hortense, I am punished for the pride I took in them! Yet it was not for myself, but for the sake of him, I took pride in them! Bestow them, I pray you, upon some more happy girl, who is poor in fortune, but rich in love, who will wear them at her bridal, instead of the unhappy Amelie."
The group of girls beheld her, while their eyes were swimming with tears. "I have long, long kept a bridal veil in my closet," she went on, "and knew not it was to be mine!" Opening a wardrobe, she took out a long black veil. It had belonged to her grandaunt, the nun, Madelaine de Repentigny, and was kept as an heirloom in her family.
"This," said she, "shall be mine till death! Embrace me, O my sisters, my bridesmaids and companions. I go now to the Ursulines to kneel at the door and crave admittance to pass a life of penitence for Le Gardeur, and of prayer for my beloved Pierre."
"O Amelie, think what you do!" exclaimed Hortense Beauharnais; "be not hasty, take not a step that cannot be recalled. It will kill Pierre!"
"Alas! I have killed him already!" said she; "but my mind is made up! Dear Hortense, I love Pierre, but oh, I could never look at his face again without shame that would burn like guilt. I give myself henceforth to Christ, not for my own sake, but for his, and for my unhappy brother's! Do not hinder me, dear friends, and do not follow me! May you all be happy in your happiness, and pray for poor Amelie, whom fate has stricken so hard and so cruelly in the very moment of her brightest hopes! And now let me go--alone--and God bless you all! Bid my aunt to come and see me," added she; "I cannot even wait her return."
The girls stood weeping around her, and kissed and embraced her over and over. They would not disobey her request to be allowed to go alone to the Convent, but as she turned to depart, she was clasped around the neck by Heloise de Lotbiniere, exclaiming that she should not go alone, that the light of the world had gone out for her as well as for Amelie, and she would go with her.
"But why, Heloise, would you go with me to the Convent?" asked Amelie, sadly. She knew but too well why.
"Oh, my cousin! I too would pray for Le Gardeur! I too--but no matter! I will go with you, Amelie! If the door of the Ursulines open for you, it shall open for Heloise de Lotbiniere also."
"I have no right to say nay, Heloise, nor will I," replied Amelie, embracing her; "you are of my blood and lineage, and the lamp of Repentigny is always burning in the holy chapel to receive broken- hearted penitents like you and me!"
"Oh, Heloise, do not you also leave us! Stay till to-morrow!" exclaimed the agitated girls, amazed at this new announcement.
"My mind is made up; it has long been made up!" replied Heloise. "I only waited the marriage of Amelie before consummating my resolution to enter the convent. I go now to comfort Amelie, as no other friend in the world can comfort her. We shall be more content in the midst of our sorrows to be together."
It was in vain to plead with or to dissuade them. Amelie and Heloise were inexorable and eager to be gone. They again kissed their companions, with many tears bidding them a last farewell, and the two weeping girls, hiding their heads under their veils, left the bright mansion that was their home, and proceeded with hasty steps towards the Convent of the Ursulines.
