ered 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 informant, "is never mentioned in her
hearing; but she sometimes speaks of it herself, 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 her
lover's shipwreck, and yet some expectation of his return.

"Her parents have tried every means to cheer her, 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 learned 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 dotes 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 kiss her gray hairs, and fall on
her neck and weep.

"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 satisfaction 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 wreathe a white chaplet, as if for a
wedding, and prepare wedding ornaments. She will listen anxiously at
the door, and look frequently out 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, nor
mentions his name in her presence, the current of her thoughts is mere
matter of 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 had woven; or
will wa