The warm spring sunshine brought out all sorts of aspiring ideas , tender hopes , and happy thoughts . The lake seemed to wash away the troubles of the past , and the grand old mountains to look benignly down upon them saying , `` Little children , love one another . '' In spite of the new sorrow , it was a very happy time , so happy that Laurie could not bear to disturb it by a word . It took him a little while to recover from his surprise at the cure of his first , and as he had firmly believed , his last and only love . He consoled himself for the seeming disloyalty by the thought that Jo 's sister was almost the same as Jo 's self , and the conviction that it would have been impossible to love any other woman but Amy so soon and so well . His first wooing had been of the tempestuous order , and he looked back upon it as if through a long vista of years with a feeling of compassion blended with regret . He was not ashamed of it , but put it away as one of the bitter-sweet experiences of his life , for which he could be grateful when the pain was over . His second wooing , he resolved , should be as calm and simple as possible . There was no need of having a scene , hardly any need of telling Amy that he loved her , she knew it without words and had given him his answer long ago . It all came about so naturally that no one could complain , and he knew that everybody would be pleased , even Jo . But when our first little passion has been crushed , we are apt to be wary and slow in making a second trial , so Laurie let the days pass , enjoying every hour , and leaving to chance the utterance of the word that would put an end to the first and sweetest part of his new romance . He had rather imagined that the denoument would take place in the chateau garden by moonlight , and in the most graceful and decorous manner , but it turned out exactly the reverse , for the matter was settled on the lake at noonday in a few blunt words . They had been floating about all the morning , from gloomy St. Gingolf to sunny Montreux , with the Alps of Savoy on one side , Mont St. Bernard and the Dent du Midi on the other , pretty Vevay in the valley , and Lausanne upon the hill beyond , a cloudless blue sky overhead , and the bluer lake below , dotted with the picturesque boats that look like white-winged gulls . They had been talking of Bonnivard , as they glided past Chillon , and of Rousseau , as they looked up at Clarens , where he wrote his Heloise . Neither had read it , but they knew it was a love story , and each privately wondered if it was half as interesting as their own . Amy had been dabbling her hand in the water during the little pause that fell between them , and when she looked up , Laurie was leaning on his oars with an expression in his eyes that made her say hastily , merely for the sake of saying something ... `` You must be tired . Rest a little , and let me row . It will do me good , for since you came I have been altogether lazy and luxurious . '' `` I 'm not tired , but you may take an oar , if you like . There 's room enough , though I have to sit nearly in the middle , else the boat wo n't trim , '' returned Laurie , as if he rather liked the arrangement .
Feeling that she had not mended matters much , Amy took the offered third of a seat , shook her hair over her face , and accepted an XXXXX .
Amy Bonnivard Laurie Midi Montreux days denoument first gulls oar