lter's destination _so far_--and, as it fell out,
even to that _other_ station in the route of life, only second in
awfulness to the "bourne from whence no traveller returns." His English
friends, who had been some years inhabitants of Caen, were acquainted
with many French families in that town and its vicinity, and, among
others, Walter was introduced by them at the Chateau de St Hilaire,
where the Protestant English were always welcomed with marked
hospitality. The still languishing health of the young soldier excited
peculiar interest; he was invited to make frequent trials of the fine
air of the chateau and its noble domain. A very few sufficed to convince
him that it was far more salubrious than the confined atmosphere of
Caen; and very soon the fortunate invalid was installed in all the
rights and privileges of "L'Ami de la Maison."
Circumstances having conducted our _dramatis personae_ to this point, how
could it fall out otherwise than that the grateful Walter should fall
desperately in love (which, by the by, he did at first sight) with la
belle Adrienne, and that she should _determine_ to fall _obstinately_ in
love with him! He, poor fellow! in pure simplicity of heart, really
gazed himself into a devoted passion for the youthful beauty, without
one interested view towards the charms of the heiress. But, besides
thinking him the handsomest man she had ever seen, she was determined in
her choice, by knowing it was in direct opposition to the wishes of her
parents, who had long selected for her future husband a person so every
way unexceptionable, that their fair daughter was very likely to have
selected him for herself, had they not committed the fatal error of
expressing their wishes with regard to him. There was PERSUASION and
DISSUASION--mild opposition and systematic wilfulness--a few tears, got
up with considerable effort--vapeurs and migraines in abundance--loss of
appetite--hints about broken hearts--and the hearts of the tender
parents could hold out no longer--Walter Barnard was received into the
family as the future husband of its lovely daughter.
All this time, what had become of la petite Madelaine? What does become
of little girls just half-way through their teens, when associated,
under similar circumstances, with young ladies who are women grown? Why,
they are to be patient listeners to the lover's perfections when he is
out of the way, and more patient companions (because perfectly unnoticed
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