She had no fortune of her
own. When she lost her father and mother, her aunt--a very respectable
woman who kept the equally respectable Hotel ----, took her to live
there. She did the best she could. Even as a child, when you knew
her, she was charming, but at two-and-twenty she was marvellously
beautiful. Her hair--which she tried in vain to keep out of sight
under a heavy cap--came down over her neck in wavy tresses like
handfuls of ripe wheat. She did all that she could to conceal her
beauty. Her beautiful figure was disguised by a cape, and her long
white hands were always covered with mittens. But it was all of no
use. Groups of young men would assemble in church to see her at her
devotions. She was too beautiful for our country, and she was as good
as she was beautiful." My mother's story touched me very much. I have
thought of her much more frequently since, and when it pleased God to
give me a daughter I named her Noemi.
LITTLE NOEMI.
PART II.
The world in its progress cares little more how many it crushes than
the car of the idol of Juggernaut. The whole of the ancient society
which I have endeavoured to portray has disappeared. Brehat has passed
out of existence. I revisited it six years ago and should not have
known it again. Some genius in the capital of the department has
discovered that certain ancient usages of the island are not in
keeping with some article of the code, and a peaceable and well-to-do
population has been reduced to revolt and beggary.
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