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 calm and cheerful for days, and even weeks; in which
time it was supposed that hope predominated in her mental malady; and
that, when the dark side of her mind, as her friends call it, was
about to turn up, it would be known by her neglecting her distaff or
her lace, singing plaintive songs, and weeping in silence.
Pages:
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405