trolling about, or seated on the
grass; the fine clumps of trees in the foreground, bordering the 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 her 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 waving her handkerchief, though
there was nothing to be seen but two or three fishing-boats, 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 by-standers, 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'Auge. 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 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 assumi