It was
a temporary affliction also to Annette, to lose her lover. With tender
embraces, half childish, half womanish, she parted from him. The tears
streamed from her blue eyes, as she bound a braid of her fair hair
round his wrist; but the smiles still broke through; for she was yet
too young to feel how serious a thing is separation, and how many
chances there are, when parting in this wide world, against our ever
meeting again.
Weeks, months, years flew by. Annette increased in beauty as she
increased in years, and was the reigning belle of the neighbourhood.
Her time passed innocently and happily. Her father was a man of some
consequence in the rural community, and his house was the resort of
the gayest of the village. Annette held a kind of rural court; she was
always surrounded by companions of her own age, among whom she alone
unrivalled. Much of their time was passed in making lace, the
prevalent manufacture of the neighbourhood. As they sat at this
delicate and feminine labour, the merry tale and sprightly song went
round; none laughed with a lighter heart than Annette; and if she
sang, her voice was perfect melody. Their evenings were enlivened by
the dance, or by those pleasant social games so prevalent among the
French; and when she appeared at the village ball on Sunday evenings,
she was the theme of universal admiration.
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