the neighbourhood delightful. The truth is, he had fallen in love—as pleasant a method of passing time in the country as any young gentleman could devise.
Wandering in search of the beauties of Nature—(people who have nothing else to do, become picturesque in self-defence)—he met with one of her beauties indeed, the loveliest peasant girl that ever "made sunshine in a shady place." A scarlet cloth cap, trimmed with fur, partly covered a profusion of fair hair, which was parted on the soft forehead, and fell in bright and natural ringlets on the neck; her dress was of grey serge, and short enough to shew a foot and ancle such as not even the rude country shoes could disguise; her cheek had the bright beaming crimson of early youth and morning exercise; and her deep blue eyes shone with the vivacity of uncurbed gaiety and unbroken spirits. She came along, bearing a willow basket of wood-strawberries and wild blossoms, with a dancing step, and a lively song on her lips, singing in the very gladness of her heart.
The strawberries led to an acquaintance—Adalbert was thirsty, and Theresa (for such was her name) generous: she divided her fruit with the stranger, eagerly pressing the best upon him, in all the frank and earnest good-nature of a child. She was too simple, and too much accustomed to meet with kindness from every one, to be bashful.
They arrived at the cottage, where Theresa’s
