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 swallows began to build in the eaves of the house,
and the robin and wren piped all 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 repeated 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 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 overwhelmed 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 awo