ve her handkerchief from the terrace, as you have seen, if
there is any vessel in the distance."

Upwards of a year, 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, secretly 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
fete, 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.

The chapel, as I said before, is in the midst of a grove, on the high
promontory. The inside is hung round with little models of 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 checkered 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 from 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 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 return home, and in all
probability be ca