[figure description] Page 122.[end figure description]

lage band of music under the direction of the
tailor, the pale fellow who plays on the clarionet.
They had all sprigs of hawthorn, or as it is called,
“the May,” in their hats, and had brought
green branches and flowers to decorate the Hall
door and windows. They had come to give notice
that the May-pole was reared on the green,
and to invite the household to witness the sports.
The Hall, according to custom, became a scene
of hurry and delighted confusion. The servants
were all agog with May and music; and there
was no keeping the tongues or the feet of the
maids quiet, who were anticipating the sports of
the green, and the evening dance.

I repaired to the village at an early hour to
enjoy the merry-making. The morning was
pure and sunny, such as a May-morning is always
described. The fields were white with daisies;
the hawthorn was covered with its fragrant blossoms;
the bee hummed about every bank, and
the swallow played high in the air about the village
steeple. It was one of those days when
we seem to draw in pleasure with the very air

[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]

we breathe, and to feel happy we know not why.
Whoever has felt the worth of worthy man, or
has doated on lovely woman, will, on such a day,
call them tenderly to mind, and feel his heart all
alive with long buried recollections.

Before reaching the village I saw the May-pole,
towering above the cottages, with its gay
garlands and streamers, and heard the sound of
music. I found that there had been booths set
up near it, for the reception of company, and a
bower of green branches and flowers for the
Queen of May, a fresh rosy-cheeked girl of the
village.

A band of morrice dancers were capering on
the green in their fantastic dresses, jingling with
hawks' bells, with a boy dressed up as Maid
Marian, and the attendant fool rattling his box
to collect contributions from the bystanders.

I noticed, also, the gipsy women, already
plying their mystery in byecorners of the village,
reading the hands of the simple country
girls, and no doubt promising them all good
husbands and tribes of children.

[figure description] Page 124.[end figure description]

The Squire made his appearance in the
course of the morning, attended by the parson,
and was received with loud acclamations. He
mingled among the country people, throughout
the day, giving and receiving pleasure wherever
he went.

The amusements of the day were under the
management of Slingsby, the schoolmaster;
who is not merely “lord of misrule” in his
school, but likewise master of the revels to the
village. He was bustling about with the perplexed
and anxious air of a man who has the
oppressive burthen of promoting other people's
merriment upon his mind. He had involved
himself in a dozen scrapes, in consequence of
a politic intrigue; which, by the bye, Master
Simon and the Oxonian were at the bottom of,
which had for object the election of the Queen
of May. He had met with violent opposition
from a faction of ale drinkers, who were in favour
of a bouncing bar maid, the daughter of the tavern
keeper; but he had been too strongly backed
not to carry his point; though it shows that

[figure description] Page 125.[end figure description]

these crowns, like all others, are objects of
great ambition and heart burning. I am told
that Master Simon takes great interest, though
in an underhand way, in the election of these
May-day Queens, and that the chaplet is generally
secured for some rustic beauty that has
found favour in his eyes.

In the course of the day there were various
games of strength and agility on the green, at
which a knot of village veterans presided, as
judges of the lists. Among these I perceived
that Ready Money Jack took the lead, looking
with a learned and critical eye on the merits of
the different candidates. His hat was drawn a
little on one side over his brow, which gave
additional effect to his decisions; and though he
was very laconic and sometimes merely expressed
himself by a nod; yet it was evident that his
opinions far outweighed those of the most
loquacious.

Young Jack Tibbets was the hero of the day,
and carried off most of the prizes; though in
some of the feats of agility he was rivalled by the

[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]

prodigal son, who appeared much in his
element on this occasion; but his most formidable
competitor was the notorious gipsy, the redoubtable
Star-light Tom. I was rejoiced at
having an opportunity of seeing this “minion
of the moon” in broad daylight. I found him
to be a tall, swarthy, good-looking fellow, with
a lofty, air something like I have seen in an Indian
chieftain, and with a certain lounging, easy, and
almost graceful carriage, which I have often remarked
in beings of the lazaroni order, that
lead an idle loitering life, and have a gentlemanlike
contempt of labour.

Master Simon and the general reconnoitred
the ground together, indulging a vast deal of
harmless raking among the buxom country girls.
Master Simon would give some of them a kiss
on meeting with them, and would ask after their
sisters, for he is acquainted with most of the farmers'
families. Sometimes he would whisper
and affect to talk mischievously with them, and
if bantered on the subject, would turn it off with
a laugh; though it was evident he liked to be

[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]

suspected of being a gay Lothario amongst
them.

He had much to say to the farmers about their
farms, and seemed to know all their horses by
name. There was an old fellow with a round
ruddy face and a night cap under his hat, who
is the wit of the village, and who took several
occasions to crack a joke with Master Simon in
the hearing of his companions, to whom he
would turn and wink hard when Master Simon
had passed.

The harmony of the day, however, had nearly
at one time been interrupted by the appearance
of the radical on the ground with two or three
of his disciples. He soon got engaged in argument
in the very thick of the throng, above
which I could hear his voice, and now and then
see his meagre hand, half a mile out of the
sleeve, elevated in the air in violent gesticulation,
and flourishing a pamphlet by way of truncheon.
He was decrying these idle nonsensical amusements
in times of public distress, when it was
every one's business to think of other matters,

[figure description] Page 128.[end figure description]

and to be miserable. The honest village logicians
could make no stand against him, especially
as he was seconded by his proselytes, when, to
their great joy, Master Simon and the general
got embroiled in the discussion. I saw that the
former rather entered into it with an ill grace,
from which I was persuaded that he must before
this have had a brush with the radical; but the
general was too loyal to suffer such talk in his
hearing, and thought, no doubt, that a look and
a word from a gentleman would be sufficient to
shut up so shabby an orator. The latter, however,
was no respecter of persons, but rather
seemed to exult in having such important antagonists.
He talked with greater volubility than
ever, and soon drowned them in declamation on
the subject of taxes, poor's rates, and the national
debt. Master Simon endeavoured to
brush along in his usual excursive manner, which
had always answered amazingly well with the
villagers; but the radical was one of those pestilent
fellows that pin a man down to facts, and,
indeed, he had two or three pamphlets in his

[figure description] Page 129.[end figure description]

pocket to support every thing he advanced by
printed documents. In a word, the two worthies
from the Hall were completely dumb-founded,
and this too in the presence of several of Master
Simon's staunch admirers; who had always
looked up to him as infallible. I do not know
how he and the general would have managed to
draw their forces decently from the field, had
there not been a match of grinning through a
horse-collar announced; whereupon the radical
retired with great expression of contempt; and as
soon as his back was turned, the argument was
carried against him all hollow.

In the latter part of the day the ladies from
the Hall paid a visit to the green. The fair
Julia made her appearance, leaning on her lover's
arm; and looking extremely pale and
interesting. As she is a great favourite in
the village, where she has been known from
childhood, and as her late accident had been
much talked about, the sight of her caused very
manifest delight, and some of the old women of
the village blessed her sweet face as she passed.

[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]

While they were walking about I noticed the
little schoolmaster in earnest conversation with
the young girl that represented the Queen of
May, evidently endeavouring to spirit her up to
some formidable undertaking. At length, as the
party from the Hall approached her bower, she
came forth, faltering at every step, until she
reached the spot where the fair Julia stood between
her lover and Lady Lillycraft. The little
queen then took the chaplet of flowers from
her head, and attempted to put it on that of the
bride elect; but the confusion of both was so
great that the wreath would have fallen to the
ground, had not the officer caught it, and,
laughing, placed it upon the blushing brows of
his mistress. There was something charming
in the very embarrassment of these two young
creatures, both so beautiful, yet so different in
their kinds of beauty. Master Simon told me
afterwards, that the Queen of May was to have
spoken a few verses which the schoolmaster had
written for her; but that she had neither wit to
understand, nor memory to recollect them.

[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]

“Besides,” added he, “between you and I, she
murders the king's English abominably; so
she has acted the part of a wise woman, in
holding her tongue and trusting to her pretty
face.”

Among the other characters from the Hall
was Mrs. Hannah, my Lady Lillycraft's gentlewoman;
to my surprise she was escorted by
old Christy, the huntsman, and followed by his
ghost of a grayhound; but I find they are very
old acquaintances, being drawn together by
some sympathy of disposition. Mrs. Hannah
moved about with starched dignity among the
rustics, who drew back from her with more awe
than they did from her mistress. Her mouth
seemed shut as with a clasp; excepting that I
now and then heard the word “fellows,” escape
from between her lips, as she got accidentally
jostled in the crowd.

But there was one other heart present that did
not enter into the merriment of the scene; which
was that of the simple Phoebe Wilkins, the
housekeeper's niece. The poor girl has

[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]

continued to pine and whine for some time past,
in consequence of the obstinate coldness of her
lover; never was a little flirtation more severely
punished. She appeared this day on the green,
gallanted by a smart servant out of livery, and
had evidently resolved to try the hazardous experiment
of awakening the jealousy of her lover.
She was dressed out in her very best; affected
an air of great gayety, talked loud and girlishly,
and laughed when there was nothing to laugh at.
There was, however, an aching heavy heart in
the poor baggage's bosom, under all this levity.
I saw her eye, in the midst of her mirth, turn
with an anxious expression every now and then
in quest of her reckless swain, and her cheek
turned pale, and her fictitious gayety vanished,
on his paying his rustic homage to the little
May-day Queen.

My attention was now diverted by a fresh stir
and bustle. Music was heard at a distance;
a banner was seen advancing up the road, preceded
by a rustic band playing something like
a march, and followed by a sturdy throng, the

[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]

chivalry of a neighbouring and rival village.
No sooner had they reached the green, than they
challenged the heroes of the day to new trials of
strength and activity. Several gymnastic contests
ensued for the honour of the respective
villages. In the course of these exercises young
Tibbets and the champion of the adverse party
had an obstinate match at wrestling. They
tugged, and strained, and panted, without either
getting the mastery, until both came to the
ground, and rolled upon the green.

Just then the disconsolate Phoebe came by.
She saw her recreant lover, in fierce contest, as
she thought, and in danger. In a moment, pride,
pique, and coquetry were forgotten; she darted
into the ring, seized upon the rival champion by
the hair, and was on the point of wreaking on
him her puny vengeance, when a buxom, strapping
country lass, the sweetheart of the prostrate
swain, pounced upon her like a hawk, and would
have stripped her of her fine plumage in an instant,
had she not been seized in her turn.

A complete tumult ensued. The chivalry of

[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]

the two villages became embroiled. Blows
began to be dealt, and sticks to be flourished.
Phoebe was carried off from the field in hysterics.
In vain did the sages of the village interfere.
I saw the sententious apothecary tumbled into
the dirt as he was endeavouring to spread the oil
of wisdom over this tempestuous sea of passion.

Slingsby, who is a great lover of peace, went
into the midst of the throng, as marshal of the
day, to put an end to the commotion, but was
speedily rent in twain, and came out with his
garment hanging in two strips from his shoulders;
while the prodigal son dashed in with fury
to revenge the insult which his patron had sustained.

The tumult thickened. I caught glimpses of
the jockey cap of old Christy, like the helmet of
a chieftain, bobbing about in the midst of the
scuffle; while Mistress Hannah, separated from
her doughty protector, was squalling and striking
at right and left with a faded parasol, being tossed
and tousled about by the crowd, in such wise
as was never maiden gentlewoman before.

[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]

At length I beheld old Ready Money Jack
making his way into the very thickest of the
throng; tearing it, as it were, apart, and enforcing
peace vi et armis. It was surprising to see
the sudden quiet that ensued. The storm settled
down into tranquillity. The parties having no
real grounds of hostility, became readily pacified,
and in fact were a little at a loss to know why
they had got by the ears. The schoolmaster
was pinned together again by his wife; Mrs.
Hannah drew on one side, to plume her rumpled
feathers, and then swept back again to the Hall,
ten times more bitter against mankind than ever.

The Tibbets' family alone seemed slow in recovering
from the agitation of the scene. Young
Jack was evidently very much moved by the heroism
of the unlucky Phoebe. His mother,
who had been summoned to the field of action
by news of the affray, was in a sad panic; and
had need of all her management to keep him
from following his mistress and having a perfect
reconciliation.

[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]

What heightened the alarm and perplexity of
the good managing dame was, that the matter
had aroused the slow apprehension of old
Ready Money himself, who was very much
struck by the intrepid interference of so pretty
and delicate a girl, and was sadly puzzled to understand
the meaning of the violent agitation in
his family.

When all this came to the ears of the Squire,
he was grievously scandalized that his May-day
fête should have been disgraced by such a brawl.
He ordered Phoebe to appear before him, but the
girl was so frightened and distressed that she
appeared sobbing and trembling, and could make
no answer to his questions.

Lady Lillycraft, who had understood there
was an affair of the heart at the bottom of this
distress, immediately took the girl into great
favour and protection, and made her peace with
the Squire.

This was the only thing that disturbed the harmony
of the day, if we except the discomfiture
of Master Simon and the general by the radical.

[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]

Upon the whole, therefore, the Squire had very
fair reason to be satisfied that he had rode his
hobby throughout the day without any other
molestation.

The reader, learned in these matters, will perceive
that all this was but a faint shadow of the
once gay and fanciful rites of May. The peasantry
have lost the proper feeling for these rites,
and have grown almost as strange to them, as the
boors of La Mancha were to the customs of
chivalry in the days of the valorous Don Quixote.
Indeed, I considered it a proof of the discretion
with which the Squire rides his Hobby,
that he had not pushed the thing any farther,
nor attempted to revive many obsolete usages of
the day, which in the present matter-of-fact
times would appear affected and absurd. I must
say, however, though I do it under the rose, that
the general brawl in which this festival had nearly
terminated, has made me doubt whether these
rural customs of the “good old times,” were
always so very loving and innocent as we are
apt to fancy them; and whether the peasantry

[figure description] Page 138.[end figure description]

in those times were really so Arcadian as they
have been fondly represented. I begin to fear


—Those days were never; airy dreams
Sat for the picture; and the poet's hand,
Imparting substance to an empty shade,
Impos'd a gay delirium for a truth.
Grant it; I still must envy them an age
That favoured such a dream.

p215-501 THE MANUSCRIPT.

[figure description] Page 139.[end figure description]

Yesterday was a day of quiet and repose
after the bustle of May-day. During the morning
I joined the ladies in a small sitting room,
the windows of which came down to the floor,
and opened upon a terrace of the garden, which
was set out with delicate shrubs and flowers.
The soft sunshine that fell into the room through
the branches of trees that overhung the windows;
the sweet smell of the flowers; and the
singing of the birds, seemed to produce a pleasing
yet calming effect on the whole party, for
some time elapsed without any one speaking.

Lady Lillycraft and Miss Templeton were
sitting by an elegant work table, near one of the
windows, occupied with some pretty lady-like
work. The captain was on a stool at his mistress'
feet, looking over some music, and poor

[figure description] Page 140.[end figure description]

Phoebe Wilkins, who has always been a kind of
pet among the ladies, but who has risen vastly in
favour with Lady Lillycraft, in consequence of
some tender confessions, sat in one corner, with
swoln eyes; working pensively at some of the
fair Julia's wedding ornaments. The silence
was interrupted by her ladyship, who suddenly
proposed a task to the captain. “I am in your
debt,” said she, “for that tale you read to us the
other day; I will now furnish one in return, if
you'll read it; and it is just suited to this sweet
May morning, for it is all about love!”

The proposition seemed to delight every one
present. The captain smiled assent. Her ladyship
rang for her page in green, and despatched
him to her room for the manuscript.
“As the captain,” said she, “gave us an account
of the author of his story, it is but right
I should give one of mine. It was written by
the parson of the parish where I reside; a
thin, elderly man, of a delicate constitution, but
positively one of the most charming men that
ever lived. He lost his wife a few years since,

[figure description] Page 141.[end figure description]

one of the sweetest women you ever saw. He
has two sons, whom he educates himself, both
of whom already write delightful poetry. This
parsonage is a lovely place, close by the church;
all overrun with ivy and honeysuckles; with
the sweetest flower garden about it; for you
know our country clergymen are almost always
fond of flowers, and make their parsonages perfect
pictures.

“His living is a very good one; and he is
very much beloved, and does a great deal of
good in the neighbourhood, and among the poor.
And then such sermons as he preaches! Oh, if
you could only hear one taken from a text in
Solomon's Songs, all about love and matrimony—
one of the sweetest things you ever heard.
He preaches it at least once a year, in spring
time, for he knows I am fond of it.

“He always dines with me on Sundays, and
often brings me some of the sweetest pieces of
poetry, all about the pleasures of melancholy,
and such subjects; that make me cry so, you
can't think.”

[figure description] Page 142.[end figure description]

“I wish he would publish; I think he has
some things as sweet as any thing in Moore or
Lord Byron.

“He fell into very ill health some time ago,
and was advised to go to the continent, and I
gave him no peace until he went, and promised
to take care of his two boys until he returned.
“He was gone for above a year, and was quite
restored. When he came back, he sent me the
tale I'm going to show you—oh, here it is,” said
she, as the page put in her hands a beautiful
box of satin wood. She unlocked it, and from
among several parcels of notes on embossed paper
cards of charades, and copies of verses,
she drew out a crimson velvet case, that smelt
very much of perfumes.

From this she took a manuscript daintily written
on gilt-edged vellum paper, and stitched
with a light blue ribband. This she handed to
the captain, who read the following tale, which
I have procured for the satisfaction of the reader.

p215-505 ANNETTE DELARBRE.

[figure description] Page 143.[end figure description]

In the course of a tour that I once made in
Lower Normandy, I remained for a day or two
at the old town of Honfleur, which stands near
the mouth of the Seine. It was the time of a fête,
and all the world was thronging in the evening
to dance at the fair held before the chapel of our
Lady of Grace. As I like all kinds of innocent
merry making I joined the throng.

The chapel is situated on the top of a high
hill, or promontory; from whence its bell may
be heard at a distance by the mariner at night.
It is said to have given the name to the port of

[figure description] Page 144.[end figure description]

of Havre de Grace; which lies directly opposite,
on the other side of the Seine. The road up to
the chapel went in a zig-zag course along the
brow of the steep coast; it was shaded by trees,
from between which I had beautiful peeps at
the ancient towers of Honfleur below; the varied
scenery of the opposite shore; the white
buildings of Havre in the distance; and the
wide sea beyond. The road was enlivened by
groups of peasant girls, in their bright crimson
dresses, and tall caps; and I found all the flower
of the neighbourhood assembled on the green
that crowns the summit of the hill.

The chapel of Notre Dame de Grace is a
favourite resort of the inhabitants of Honfleur
and its vicinity, both for pleasure and devotion.
At this little chapel prayers are put up by the
mariners of the port previous to their voyages,
and by their friends during their absence; and
votive offerings are hung about its walls, in fulfilment
of vows made during times of shipwreck
and disaster. The chapel is surrounded by
trees. Over the portal is an image of the virgin

[figure description] Page 145.[end figure description]

and child, with an inscription which struck me
as being quite poetical:

Etoile de la mer, priez pour nous!
(Star of the sea pray for us.)

On a level spot near the chapel, under a grove
of noble trees, the populace dance on fine summer
evenings; and here are held frequent fairs
and fêtes, which assemble all the rustic beauty
of the loveliest parts of Lower Normandy. The
present was an occasion of the kind. Booths
and tents were erected among the trees; there
were the usual displays of finery to tempt the
rural coquette; of wonderful shows to entice
the curious; mountebanks were exerting their
eloquence; jugglers and fortune-tellers astonishing
the credulous; while whole rows of grotesque
saints, in wood and wax-work, were offered
for the purchase of the pious.

The fête had assembled in one view all the
picturesque costumes of the Pays D'Ange, and
the Coté de Caux. I beheld tall stately caps and

[figure description] Page 146.[end figure description]

trim boddices, according to fashions which have
been handed down from mother to daughter for
centuries; the exact counterparts of those worn
in the time of the Conqueror, and which surprised
me by their faithful resemblance to those
which I had seen in the old pictures of Froissart's
Chronicles, and in the paintings of illuminated
manuscripts. Any one, also, that has been
in Lower Normandy, must have remarked the
beauty of the peasantry; and that air of native
elegance which prevails among them. It is to
this country, undoubtedly, that the English owe
their good looks. It was from hence that the
bright carnation, the fine blue eye, the light auburn
hair, passed over to England in the train
of the Conqueror, and filled the land with beauty.

The scene before me was perfectly enchanting.
The assemblage of so many fresh and
blooming faces; the gay groups in fanciful
dresses; some dancing on the green; others
strolling about, or seated on the grass; the fine
clumps of trees in the foreground, bordering the

[figure description] Page 147.[end figure description]

brow of this airy height; and the broad green
sea, sleeping in summer tranquillity in the distance.

Whilst I was regarding this animated picture,
I was struck with the appearance of a beautiful
girl, who passed through the crowd, without
seeming to take any interest in their amusements.
She was slender and delicate in her form; she
had not the bloom upon her cheek that is usual
among the peasantry of Normandy; and her
blue eyes had a singular and melancholy expression.
She was accompanied by a venerable
looking man, whom I presumed to be er father.
There was a whisper among the bystanders, and
a wistful look after her as she passed; the young
men touched their hats, and some of the children
followed her at a little distance, watching her
movements. She approached the edge of the
hill, where there is a little platform, from whence
the people of Honfleur look out for the approach
of vessels. Here she stood for some time, gazing
on the sea, and waving her handkerchief, though
there was nothing to be seen but two or three

[figure description] Page 148.[end figure description]

fishing boats, far below, like mere specks on the
bosom of the distant ocean.

These circumstances excited my curiosity, and
I made some inquiries about her, which were
answered with readiness and intelligence by a
priest of the neighbouring chapel. Our conversation
drew together several of the bystanders,
each of whom had something to communicate,
and from them all I gathered the following particulars:

Annette Delarbre was the only daughter of
one of the higher order of farmers, or small proprietors,
as they are called, who lived at Pont
L'Eveque, a pleasant village, not far from Honfleur,
in that rich pastoral part of Lower Normandy
called the Pays D'Ange. Annette was
the pride and delight of her parents, and was
brought up with the fondest indulgence. She
was gay, tender, petulant, and susceptible. All
her feelings were quick and ardent; and having
never experienced contradiction or restraint, she
was little practised in self-control. Nothing but

[figure description] Page 149.[end figure description]

the native goodness of her heart kept her from
running continually into error.

Even while a child, her susceptibility was
evinced in an attachment which she formed to a
playmate, Eugene La Forgue, the only son of a
widow who lived in the neighbourhood. Their
childish love was an epitome of maturer passion;
it had its caprices, and jealousies, and quarrels,
and reconciliations. It was assuming something
of a graver character as Annette entered her fifteenth,
and Eugene his nineteenth year, when
he was suddenly carried off to the army by the
conscription. It was a heavy blow to his widowed
mother, for he was her only pride and comfort;
but it was one of those sudden bereavements
which mothers were perpetually doomed
to feel in France, during the time that continual
and bloody wars were incessantly draining her
youth. It was a temporary affliction also to Annette,
to lose her lover. With tender embraces,
half childish, half womanish, she parted from
him. The tears streamed from her blue eyes as
she bound a long braid of her fair hair round his

[figure description] Page 150.[end figure description]

wrist; but the smiles still broke through; for
she was yet too young to feel how serious a thing
is separation, and how many chances there are,
when parting in this wide world, against our ever
meeting again.

Weeks, months, years flew by. Annette increased
in beauty as she increased in years; and
was the reigning belle of the neighbourhood. Her
time passed innocently and happily. Her father
was a man of some consequence in the rural
community, and his house was the resort of the
gayest of the village. Annette held a kind of rural
court; she was always surrounded by companions
of her own age, among whom she shone
unrivalled. Much of their time was past in
making lace, the prevalent manufacture of the
neighbourhood. As they sat at this delicate and
feminine labour, the merry tale and sprightly
song went round; none laughed with a lighter
heart than Annette; and if she sang, her voice
was perfect melody. Their evenings were enlivened
by the dance, or by those pleasant social
games so prevalent among the French; and

[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]

when she appeared at the village ball on Sunday
evenings, she was the theme of universal admiration.

As she was a rural heiress she did not want
for suitors. Many advantageous offers were
made her, but she refused them all. She laughed
at the pretended pangs of her admirers, and
triumphed over them with the caprice of buoyant
youth and conscious beauty. With all her
apparent levity, however, could any one have
read the story of her heart, they might have traced
in it some fond remembrance of her early
playmate; not so deeply graven as to be painful;
but too deep to be easily obliterated; and they
might have noticed, amidst all her gayety, the
tenderness that marked her manner towards the
mother of Eugene. She would often steal away
from her youthful companions and their amusements,
to pass whole days with the good widow;
listening to her fond talk about her boy; and
blushing with secret pleasure when his letters
were read, at finding herself a constant theme
of recollection and inquiry.

[figure description] Page 152.[end figure description]

At length the sudden return of peace, which
sent many a warrior to his native cottage, brought
back Eugene, a young sunburnt soldier to the
village. I need not say how rapturously his return
was greeted by his mother; who saw in
him the pride and staff of her old age. He had
risen in the service by his merit, but brought
away little from the wars excepting a soldier-like
air, a gallant name, and a scar across the
forehead. He brought back, however, a nature
unspoiled by the camp. He was frank, open,
generous, and ardent. His heart was quick and
kind in its impulses, and was perhaps a little
softer from having suffered; it was full of tenderness
for Annette. He had received frequent
accounts of her from his mother, and the mention
of her kindness to his lonely parent, had
rendered her doubly dear to him. He had been
wounded; he had been a prisoner; he had been
in various troubles; but he had always preserved
the braid of her hair which she had bound round
his arm. It had been a kind of talisman to
him; when wounded and in prison, he had many

[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]

a time looked upon it, as he lay on the hard
ground; and the thought that he might one day
see Annette again, and the fair fields about his
native village, had cheered his heart, and enabled
him to bear up against every hardship.

He had left Annette almost a child; he found
her a blooming woman. If he had loved her
before, he now adored her. Annette was equally
struck with the improvement which time had
made in her lover. She noticed, with secret admiration,
his superiority to the other young men
of the village; the frank, lofty, military air that
distinguished him from all the rest at their rural
gatherings. The more she saw of him, the more
her light playful fondness of former years deepened
into ardent and powerful affection. But
Annette was a rural belle. She had tasted the
sweets of dominion; and had been rendered
wilful and capricious by constant indulgence at
home and admiration abroad. She was conscious
of her power over Eugene, and delighted
in exercising it. She sometimes treated him
with petulant caprice, enjoying the pain which

[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]

she inflicted by her frowns, from the idea how
soon she would chace it away again by her
smiles. She took a pleasure in alarming his
fears, by affecting a temporary preference to some
one or other of his rivals; and then would delight
in allaying them by an ample measure of
returning kindness. Perhaps there was some
degree of vanity gratified by all this; it might be
a matter of triumph to show her absolute power
over the young soldier, who was the universal
object of female admiration. Eugene, however,
was of too serious and ardent a nature to be
trifled with. He loved too fervently not to be
filled with doubt. He saw Annette surrounded
by admirers, and full of animation; the gayest
among the gay at all their rural festivities;
and apparently most gay when he was most
dejected, Every one saw through this caprice,
but himself; every one saw that in reality she
doated on him; but Eugene alone suspected the
sincerity of her affection. For some time he
bore this coquetry with secret impatience and
distrust; but his feelings grew sore and irritable,

[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]

and overcame his self command. A slight misunderstanding
took place; a quarrel ensued.
Annette, unaccustomed to be thwarted and contradicted,
and full of the insolence of youthful
beauty, assumed an air of disdain. She refused
all explanations to her lover, and they parted in
anger. That very evening Eugene saw her full
of gayety, dancing with one of his rivals; and
as her eye caught his, his fixed on her with unfeigned
distress, it sparkled with more than usual
vivacity. It was a finishing blow to his hopes,
already so much impaired by secret distrust.
Pride and resentment both struggled in his breast;
and seemed to rouse his spirit to all its wonted
energy. He retired from her presence with
the hasty determination never to see her again.

A woman is more considerate in affairs of
love than man; because love is more the study
and business of her life. Annette soon repented
of her indiscretion. She felt that she had used
her lover unkindly; she felt that she had trifled
with his sincere and generous nature—and then
he looked so handsome when he parted after

[figure description] Page 156.[end figure description]

their quarrel, his fine features lighted up by indignation.
She had intended making up with him
at the evening dance, but his sudden departure
prevented her. She now promised herself that
when next they met, she would amply repay
him by the sweets of a perfect reconciliation,
and that thenceforward she would never—never
tease him more!

That promise was not to be fulfilled. Day
after day passed; but Eugene did not make his
appearance. Sunday evening came, the usual
time when all the gayety of the village assembled,
but Eugene was not there. She inquired
after him: he had left the village. She now
became alarmed; and forgetting all coyness and
affected indifference, called on Eugene's mother
for an explanation. She found her full of affliction,
and learnt with surprise and consternation
that Eugene had gone to sea.

While his feelings were yet smarting with
her affected disdain, and his heart a prey to alternate
indignation and despair, he had suddenly
embraced an invitation which had repeatedly

[figure description] Page 157.[end figure description]

been made him by a relative, who was fitting
out a ship from the port of Honfleur, and who
wished him to be the companion of his voyage.
Absence appeared to him the only cure for his
unlucky passion; and in the temporary transports
of his feelings there was something gratifying
in the idea of having half the world intervene
between them. The hurry necessary for
his departure left no time for cool reflection; it
rendered him deaf to the remonstrances of his
afflicted mother. He hastened to Honfleur just
in time to make the needful preparations for the
voyage; and the first news that Annette received
of this sudden determination, was a letter delivered
by his mother, returning her pledges of
affection, particularly the long treasured braid
of her hair; and bidding her a last farewell, in
terms more full of sorrow and tenderness than
upbraiding.

This was the first stroke of real anguish that
Annette had ever received, and it overcame her.
The vivacity of her spirits were apt to hurry her
to extremes; she for a time gave way to

[figure description] Page 158.[end figure description]

ungovernable transports of affliction and remorse, and
discovered by her violent exclamations the real
ardour of her affection. The thought occurred
to her that the ship might not yet have sailed;
she seized on the hope with eagerness, and hastened
with her father to Honfleur. The ship
had sailed that very morning. From the heights
above the town she saw it lessening to a speck
on the broad bosom of the ocean, and before
evening the white sail had faded from her sight.
She turned, full of anguish, to the neighbouring
chapel of our Lady of Grace, and throwing
herself on the pavement, poured out prayers and
tears for the safe return of her lover.

When she returned home the cheerfulness of
her spirits was at an end. She looked back with
remorse and self upbraiding at her past caprices;
she turned with distaste from the adulation of
her admirers, and had no longer any relish for
the amusements of the village. With humiliation
and diffidence she sought the widowed mother
of Eugene; but was received by her with
an overflowing heart; for she only beheld in her

[figure description] Page 159.[end figure description]

one who could sympathize in her doating fondness
for her son. It seemed some alleviation of
her remorse, to sit by the mother all day; to
study her wants; to beguile her heavy hours;
to hang about her with the caressing endearments
of a daughter; and to seek by every means, if possible,
to supply the place of the son, whom she
reproached herself with having driven away.

In the mean time the ship made a prosperous
voyage to her destined port. Eugene's mother
received a letter from him, in which he lamented
the precipitancy of his departure. The voyage
had given him time for sober reflection. If Annette
had been unkind to him, he ought not to
have forgotten what was due to his mother, who
was now advanced in years. He accused himself
of selfishness in only listening to the suggestions
of his own inconsiderate passions. He
promised to return with the ship; to make his
mind up to his disappointment; and to think of
nothing but making his mother happy. “And
when he does return,” said Annette, clasping her

[figure description] Page 160.[end figure description]

hands with transport, “it shall not be my fault
if he ever leaves us again!”

The time approached for the ship's return.
She was daily expected, when the weather became
dreadfully tempestuous. Day after day
brought news of vessels foundered or driven on
shore, and the sea coast was strewed with
wrecks. Intelligence was received of the looked
for ship having been seen dismasted in a violent
storm, and the greatest fears were entertained for
her safety.

Annette never left the side of Eugene's mother.
She watched every change of her countenance
with painful solicitude, and endeavoured
to cheer her with hopes, while her own mind
was racked by anxiety. She tasked her efforts
to be gay; but it was a forced and unnatural
gayety; a sigh from the mother would completely
check it; and when she could no longer
restrain the rising tears, she would hurry away
and pour out her agony in secret.

Every anxious look; every anxious inquiry of
the mother, whenever a door opened, or a strange

[figure description] Page 161.[end figure description]

face appeared, was an arrow to her soul. She
considered every disappointment as a pang of her
own infliction; and her heart sickened under the
care-worn expression of the maternal eye. At
length this suspense became insupportable. She
left the village and hastened to Honfleur, hoping
every hour, every moment, to receive some tidings
of her lover. She paced the pier, and wearied
the seamen of the port with her inquiries. She
made a daily pilgrimage to the chapel of our
Lady of Grace; hung votive garlands on the
wall; and passed hours either kneeling before
the altar, or looking out from the brow of the
hill upon the angry sea.

At length word was brought that the long
wished for vessel was in sight. She was seen
standing into the mouth of the Seine, shattered
and crippled, bearing marks of having been sadly
tempest tost. There was a general joy diffused
by her return, and there was not a brighter eye
nor a lighter heart than Annette's in the little
port of Honfleur. The ship came to anchor in
the river, and shortly after a boat put off for the

[figure description] Page 162.[end figure description]

shore. The populace crowded down to the
pier head to welcome it. Annette stood blushing,
and smiling, and trembling, and weeping;
for a thousand painfully pleasing emotions agitated
her breast, at the thoughts of the meeting
and the reconciliation that was about to take
place. Her heart throbbed to pour itself out
and atone to her gallant lover for all its errors.
Her agitation increased as the boat drew near;
until it became distressing. At one moment
she placed herself in a conspicuous place, where
she might at once catch his view, and surprize
him by her welcome; the next moment she
shrunk among the throng, trembling, and faint,
and gasping with her emotions.

It was almost a relief to her when she perceived
that her lover was not in the boat; she
presumed that he had remained on board to prepare
for his return home, and she felt as if the
delay would enable her to gather more self-possession
for the meeting. As the boat was nearing
the shore there were a thousand inquiries
made and laconic answers returned. At length

[figure description] Page 163.[end figure description]

Annette heard some one inquire after her lover.
Her heart palpitated: there was a moment's
pause: the reply was brief but awful. He had
been washed from the deck with two of the
crew in the midst of a stormy night, when it
was impossible to render any assistance. A
piercing shriek broke from among the crowd,
and Annette had nearly fallen into the waves.

The sudden revulsion of feelings after such
wearing anxiety was too much for her frame.
She was carried home senseless. Her life was
for some time despaired of, and it was months
before she recovered her health; but she never
had perfectly recovered her mind: it still remained
unsettled with respect to her lover's
fate.

“The subject,” continued my informer, “is
never mentioned in her hearing; but she sometimes
speaks of it, and it seems as though there
were some vague train of impressions in her
mind, in which hope and fear are strangely
mingled, some imperfect idea of his shipwreck,
and yet some expectation of his return.

[figure description] Page 164.[end figure description]

“Her parents have tried every means to cheer
her up, and to banish these gloomy images from
her thoughts. They assemble round her the
young companions in whose society she used to
delight; and they will work, and chat, and sing,
and laugh as formerly; but she will sit silently
among them, and will sometimes weep in the
midst of their gayety; and if spoken to will
make no reply, but look up with streaming eyes
and sing a dismal little song which she has learnt
somewhere, about a shipwreck. It makes every
one's heart ache to see her in this way; for she
used to be the happiest creature in the village.

“She passes the greater part of the time with
Eugene's mother, whose only consolation is her
society, and who doats on her with a mother's
tenderness. She is the only one that has perfect
influence over Annette in every mood. The
poor girl seems, as formerly, to make an effort to
be cheerful in her company; but will sometimes
gaze upon her with the most piteous look, and
then put back her cap, and kiss her gray hairs,
and fall on her neck and weep.

[figure description] Page 165.[end figure description]

“She is not always melancholy, however;
she has occasional intervals when she will be
bright and animated for days together; but there
is a degree of wildness attending these fits of
gayety, that prevents their yielding any encouragement
to her friends. At such times she will
arrange her room, which is all covered with pictures
of ships, and legends of saints; and will
wreath a white chaplet, as if for a wedding, and
prepare wedding ornaments. She will listen
anxiously at the door, and look frequently at the
window, as if expecting some one's arrival. It
is supposed that at such times she is looking for
her lover's return; but as no one touches upon
the theme, or mentions his name in her presence,
the current of her thoughts are for the most part
merely conjecture.

“Now and then she will make a pilgrimage
to the chapel of Notre Dame de Grace; where
she will pray for hours at the altar, and decorate
the images with wreaths that she has woven; or
will wave her handkerchief from the terrace,

[figure description] Page 166.[end figure description]

as you have seen, if there is any vessel to be
seen in the distance.”

Nearly two years, he informed me, had
now elapsed, without effacing from her mind
this singular taint of insanity; still her friends
hoped it might gradually wear away. They
had at one time removed her to a distant part of
the country, in hopes that absence from the scenes
connected with her story might have a salutary
effect; but, when her periodical melancholy returned
she became more restless and wretched
than usual, and, privately escaping from her
friends, set out on foot, without knowing the
road, on one of her pilgrimages to the chapel.

This little story entirely drew my attention
from the gay scene of the fête, and fixed it upon
the beautiful Annette. While she was yet standing
on the terrace the vesper bell was rung from
the neighbouring chapel. She listened for a moment,
and then, drawing a small rosary from her
bosom, walked in that direction. Several of the
peasantry followed her in silence; and I felt too
much interested not to do the same.

[figure description] Page 167.[end figure description]

The chapel, as I said before, is in the midst of
a grove on the high promontory. The inside is
hung round with miniature ships, and rude paintings
of wrecks and perils at sea, and providential
deliverances; the votive offerings of captains and
crews that have been saved. On entering, Annette
paused for a moment before a picture of the
virgin; which I observed had recently been decorated
with a wreath of artificial flowers. When
she reached the middle of the chapel she knelt
down, and those who followed her involuntarily
did the same at a little distance. The evening
sun shone softly through the chequered grove into
one window of the chapel. A perfect stillness
reigned within; and this stillness was the more
impressive contrasted with the distant sound of
music and merriment of the fair.

I could not take my eyes off from the poor
suppliant. Her lips moved as she told her beads;
but her prayers were breathed in silence. It
might have been mere fancy excited by the scene,
that, as she raised her eyes to heaven, I thought
they had an expression truly seraphic; but I am

[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]

easily affected by female beauty, and there was
something in this mixture of love, devotion, and
partial insanity, that was inexpressibly touching.

As the poor girl left the chapel there was a
sweet serenity in her looks, and I was told that
she would now return home, and in all probability
be calm and cheerful for days and even
weeks; in which time it was supposed that hope
predominated in her mental malady; and that
when the dark side of her mind, as her friends
called it, was about to turn up, it would be known
by her neglecting her distaff or her lace; singing
plaintive songs, and weeping in silence.

She passed on from the chapel without noticing
the fête, but smiling and speaking to many
as she passed. I followed her with my eye as
she descended the winding road towards Honfleur,
leaning on her father's arm. “Heaven,”
thought I, “has ever its store of balms for the
hurt mind and wounded spirit, and may in time
raise up this broken flower to be once more the
pride and joy of the valley. The very delusion

[figure description] Page 169.[end figure description]

in which the poor girl walks, may be one of
those mists kindly diffused by Providence over
the regions of thought, when they become too
fruitful of misery. The veil may gradually be
raised which obscures the horizon of her mind,
as she is enabled steadily and calmly to contemplate
the sorrows at present hidden in mercy
from her view.”

[ANNETTE DELARBRE] PART II.

[figure description] Page 170.[end figure description]

On my return from Paris, about a year afterwards,
I turned off from the beaten route at
Rouen, to revisit some of the most striking scenes
of Lower Normandy. Having passed through
the lovely country of the Pays D'Ange, I reached
Honfleur on a fine afternoon, intending to
cross to Havre the next morning, and embark for
England. As I had no other way of passing
the evening, I strolled up the hill to enjoy the
fine prospect from the chapel of Notre Dame de
Grace, and while there I thought of inquiring
after the fate of poor Annette Delarbre. The
priest who had told me her story was officiating
at vespers, after which I accosted him and learnt
from him the remaining circumstances.

He told me, that from the time I had seen her
at the chapel her disorder took a sudden turn for
the worse, and her health rapidly declined. Her
cheerful intervals became shorter, and less

[figure description] Page 171.[end figure description]

frequent, and attended with more incoherency. She
grew languid, silent, and moody in her melancholy;
her form was wasted; her looks pale
and disconsolate; and it was feared she would
never recover. She became impatient of all
sounds of gayety, and was never so contented
as when Eugene's mother was near her. The
good woman watched over her with patient and
yearning solicitude, and in seeking to beguile
her sorrows would half forget her own. Sometimes
as she sat looking upon her pallid face, the
tears would fill her eyes, which, when Annette
perceived, she would anxiously wipe them away,
and tell her not to grieve, for that Eugene would
soon return; and then she would affect a forced
gayety, as in former times, and sing a lively air;
but a sudden recollection would come over her,
and she would burst into tears, hang on the poor
mother's neck, and entreat her not to curse her
for having destroyed her son.

Just at this time, to the astonishment of every
one, news was received of Eugene; who, it appeared,
was still living. When almost drowned

[figure description] Page 172.[end figure description]

he had fortunately seized upon a spar which had
been washed from the ship's deck. Finding
himself nearly exhausted he had fastened himself
to it, and floated for a day and a night until all
sense had left him. On recovering he had found
himself on board a vessel bound to India; but so
ill as not to move without assistance. His health
had continued precarious throughout the voyage;
on arriving in India he had experienced many
vicissitudes; and had been transferred from ship
to ship, and hospital to hospital. His constitution
had enabled him to struggle through every
hardship, and he was now in a distant port,
waiting only for the sailing of a ship to return
home.

Great caution was necessary in imparting
these tidings to the mother, and even then she
was nearly overcome by the transports of her
joy. But how to impart them to Annette was a
matter of still greater perplexity. Her state of
mind had been so morbid; she had been subject to
such violent changes; and the cause of her derangement
had been of such an inconsolable

[figure description] Page 173.[end figure description]

and hopeless kind, that her friends had always
forbore to tamper with her feelings. They had
never even hinted at the subject of her griefs;
nor encouraged the theme when she adverted to
it; but had passed it over in silence, hoping that
time would gradually wear the traces of it from
her recollection, or at least would render them
less painful. They now felt at a loss how to undeceive
her even in her misery; lest the sudden
recurrence of happiness might confirm the estrangement
of her reason, or might overpower
her enfeebled frame. They ventured, however,
to probe those wounds which they formerly did
not dare to touch; for they now had the balm to
pour into them. They led the conversation to
those topics which they had hitherto shunned;
and endeavoured to ascertain the current of her
thoughts in those varying moods that had formerly
perplexed them. They found, however,
that her mind was even more affected than they
had imagined. All her ideas were confused and
wandering. Her bright and cheerful moods,
which now grew seldomer than ever, were all

[figure description] Page 174.[end figure description]

the effects of mental delusion. At such times
she had no recollection of her lover's having
been in danger, but was only anticipating his
arrival. “When the winter has passed away,”
said she, “and the trees put on their blossoms,
and the swallow comes back over the sea, he
will return.” When she was drooping and desponding,
it was in vain to remind her of what she
had said in her gayer moments, and to assure
her that Eugene would indeed return shortly.
She wept on in silence and appeared insensible to
their words. But at times her agitation became
violent when she would upbraid herself with
having driven Eugene from his mother, and
brought sorrow on her gray hairs. Her mind
admitted but one leading idea at a time, which
nothing could divert or efface; or if they ever
succeeded in interrupting the current of her fancy,
it only became the more incoherent, and increased
the feverishness that preyed upon both mind
and body. Her friends felt more alarm for her
than ever, for they feared that her senses were

[figure description] Page 175.[end figure description]

irrecoverably gone, and her constitution completely
undermined.

In the mean time Eugene returned to the village.
He was violently affected when the story
of Annette was told him. With bitterness of
heart he upbraided his own rashness and infatuation,
that had hurried him away from her; and
accused himself as the author of all her woes.
His mother would describe to him all the anguish
and remorse of poor Annette; the tenderness
with which she clung to her, and endeavoured,
even in the midst of her insanity, to
console her for the loss of her son; and the
touching expressions of affection that were
mingled with her most incoherent wanderings
of thought; until his feelings would be wound
up to agony, and he would intreat her to desist
from the recital. They did not dare as yet to
bring him into Annette's sight, but he was permitted
to see her when she was sleeping. The
tears streamed down his sunburnt cheeks as he
contemplated the ravages which grief and malady
had made, and his heart swelled almost to

[figure description] Page 176.[end figure description]

breaking as he beheld round her neck the very
braid of hair which she once gave him in token
of girlish affection, and which he had returned
to her in anger.

At length the physician that attended her determined
to adventure upon an experiment; to
take advantage of one of those cheerful moods,
when her mind was visited by hope, and to endeavour
to engraft, as it were, the reality upon
the delusions of her fancy. These moods had
now become very rare, for nature was sinking
under the continual pressure of her mental
malady, and the principle of reaction was daily
growing weaker. Every effort was tried to
bring on a cheerful interval of the kind. Several
of her most favourite companions were kept
continually about her. They chatted gayly;
they laughed, and sang, and danced; but Annette
reclined with languid frame and hollow
eye, and took no part in their gayety. At length
the winter was gone; the trees put forth their
leaves; the swallow began to build in the eaves
of the house, and the robin and wren piped all

[figure description] Page 177.[end figure description]

day beneath the window. Annette's spirits gradually
revived. She began to deck her person
with unusual care, and bringing forth a basket of
artificial flowers, she went to work to wreathe
a bridal chaplet of white roses. Her companions
asked her why she prepared the chaplet.
“What!” said she with a smile, “have
you not noticed the trees putting on their wedding
dresses of blossoms; has not the swallow
flown back over the sea; do you not know that
the time is come for Eugene to return, that he
will be home to-morrow, and that on Sunday
we are to be married?”

Her words were reported to the physician,
and he seized on them at once. He directed
that her idea should be encouraged and acted
upon. Her words were echoed through the
house. Every one talked of the return of Eugene
as a matter of course; they congratulated
her upon her approaching happiness, and assisted
her in her preparations. The next morning
the same theme was resumed. She was dressed
out to receive her lover. Every bosom fluttered

[figure description] Page 178.[end figure description]

with anxiety. A cabriolet drove into the village.
“Eugene is coming,” was the cry. She
saw him alight at the door, and rushed, with a
shriek, into his arms.

Her friends trembled for the result of this
critical experiment; but she did not sink under
it, for her fancy had prepared her for his return.
She was as one in a dream, to whom a tide of
unlooked for prosperity, that would have over-whelmed
his waking reason, seems but the natural
current of circumstances. Her conversation,
however, showed that her senses were
wandering. There was an absolute forgetfulness
of all past sorrow; a wild and feverish
gayety that at times was incoherent.

The next morning she awoke languid and exhausted.
All the occurrences of the preceding
day had passed away from her mind as though
they had been the mere illusions of her fancy.
She rose melancholy and abstracted, and as she
dressed herself was heard to sing one of her
plaintive ballads. When she entered the parlour
her eyes were swoln with weeping. She

[figure description] Page 179.[end figure description]

heard Eugene's voice without, and started. She
passed her hand across her forehead, and stood
musing like one endeavouring to recall a dream.
Eugene entered the room, and advanced towards
her; she looked at him with an eager searching
look, murmured some indistinct words, and before
he could reach her, sunk upon the floor.

She relapsed into a wild and unsettled state of
mind, but now that the first shock was over, the
Physician ordered that Eugene should keep continually
in her sight. Sometimes she did not
know him; at other times she would talk to him
as if he were going to sea, and would implore
him not to part from her in anger; and when he
was not present she would speak of him as buried
in the ocean, and would sit, with clasped hands,
looking upon the ground, the picture of despair.

As the agitation of her feelings subsided, and
her frame recovered from the shock which it
had received, she became more placid and coherent.
Eugene kept almost continually near her.
He formed the real object round which her

[figure description] Page 180.[end figure description]

scattered ideas once more gathered, and which linked
them once more with the realities of life. But
her changeful disorder now appeared to take a
new turn. She became languid and inert, and
would sit for hours silent and almost in a state of
lethargy. If roused from this stupor, it seemed
as if her mind would make some attempts to
follow up a train of thought, but soon became
confused. She would regard every one that approached
her with an anxious and inquiring eye,
that seemed continually to disappoint itself.
Sometimes as her lover sat holding her hand she
would look pensively in his face without saying
a word, until his heart was overcome; and after
these transient fits of intellectual exertion she
would sink again into lethargy.

By degrees this stupor increased; her mind
appeared to have subsided into a stagnant and
almost deathlike calm. For the greater part of
the time her eyes were closed; her face almost
as fixed and passionless as that of a
corpse. She no longer took any notice of
surrounding objects. There was an awfulness

[figure description] Page 181.[end figure description]

in this tranquillity that filled her friends with
apprehension. The physician ordered that she
should be kept perfectly quiet; or that if she
evinced any agitation she should be gently lulled,
like a child, by some favourite tune.

She remained in this state for hours, hardly
seeming to breathe, and apparently sinking into
the sleep of death. Her chamber was profoundly
still. The attendants moved about it
with noiseless tread; every thing was communicated
by signs and whispers. Her lover sat by
her side, watching her with painful anxiety, and
fearing that every breath which stole from her
pale lips would be the last.

At length she heaved a deep sigh; and from
some convulsive motions appeared to be troubled
in her sleep. Her agitation increased, accompanied
by an indistinct moaning. One of
her companions, remembering the physician's instructions,
endeavoured to lull her, by singing
in a low voice a tender little air, which was a
particular favourite of Annette's. Probably it
had some connection in her mind with her story;

[figure description] Page 182.[end figure description]

for every fond girl has some ditty of the kind,
linked in her thoughts with sweet and sad re-membrances.

As she sang the agitation of Annette subsided.
A streak of faint colour came into her
cheeks; her eyelids became swoln with rising
tears, which trembled there for a moment, and
then stealing forth, coursed down her pallid
cheek. When the song was ended she opened
her eyes and looked about her as one awaking
in a strange place.

“Oh Eugene! Eugene!” said she, “it seems
as if I have had a long and dismal dream. What
has happened, and what has been the matter
with me?”

The questions were embarrassing; and before
they could be answered, the physician, who was
in the next room, entered; she took him by the
hand, looked up in his face, and made the same
inquiry. He endeavoured to put her off with
some evasive answer. “No! No!” cried she,
“I know I've been ill, and I have been dreaming
strangely. I thought Eugene had left us; and

[figure description] Page 183.[end figure description]

that he had gone to sea—and that—and that he
was drowned!—But he has been to sea!” added
she, earnestly, as recollection kept flashing
upon her, “and he has been wrecked—and we
were all so wretched—and he came home again
one bright morning—and—oh!” said she,
pressing her hand against her forehead with a
sickly smile, “I see how it is; all has not been
right here. I begin to recollect—but it is all
past now—Eugene is here! and his mother is
happy—and we shall never, never part again—
shall we, Eugene?”

She sunk back in her chair exhausted. The
tears streamed down her cheeks. Her companions
hovered round her, not knowing what to
make of this sudden dawn of reason. Her lover
sobbed aloud. She opened her eyes again, and
looked upon them with an air of the sweetest
acknowledgment. “You are all so good to me!”
said she faintly.

The physician drew the father aside. “Your
daughter's mind is restored,” said he, “she is
sensible that she has been deranged; she is

[figure description] Page 184.[end figure description]

growing conscious of the past, and conscious of
the present. All that now remains is to keep
her calm and quiet until her health is re-established,
and then let her be married, in God's
name!”

“The wedding took place,” said the good
priest, “but a short time since; they were here
at the last fête during their honey moon, and a
handsomer and happier couple was not to be seen
as they danced under yonder trees. The young
man, his wife, and mother, now live on a fine
farm at Pont L'Eveque; and that model of a
ship which you see yonder, with white flowers
wreathed round it, is Annette's offering of thanks
to our Lady of Grace, for having listened to her
prayers, and protected her lover in the hour of
peril.”

[figure description] Page 185.[end figure description]