It was on a beautiful morning of the month of April, that, taking a book with her as usual, she went down to the sea side, and sat reading for some hours; when, just as she was about to return home, she saw a lovely little boy, about five years old, wandering towards the place where she was, picking up shells and sea weeds, and appearing to be so deeply engaged in his infantine pursuit, that he did not see her 'till she spoke to him. 'Whose sweet little boy are you, my love?' said she. The child looked at her with surprise. 'I am my mamma's boy,' said he, 'and so is Henry,' pointing towards another who now approached, and who seemed hardly a year younger. The second running up to his brother, caught his hand, and they both walked away together, looking behind at the strange lady with some degree of alarm. Their dress convinced Emmeline that they belonged to a stranger; and as they seemed to have nobody with them, she was under some apprehension for their safety, and therefore arose to follow them, when on turning round the point of a rock whose projection had concealed the shore to the left, she saw a lady walking slowly before her, whom the two little boys had now rejoined. In her hand she held a little girl, who seemed only learning to walk; and she was followed by a nursery maid, who held in her arms another, yet an infant at the breast. The stranger, near whom Emmeline was obliged to pass, curtsyed to her as she went by. And if Emmeline was surprised at the early appearance of company at a time when she knew it to be so unusual, the stranger was much more so at the uncommon elegance of her form and manner: she was almost tempted to believe the fable of the sea nymphs, and to fancy her one of them. Emmeline, on regaining her apartment, heard from the hostess, whom she found with another neighbour, that the lady she had seen arrived the evening before, and had taken lodgings at the house of the latter, with an intention of staying great part of the summer. The next day Emmeline again met the stranger; who accosting the fair orphan with all that ease which characterises the address of those who have lived much in good company, they soon entered into conversation, and Emmeline almost as soon discovered that her new acquaintance possessed an understanding as excellent as her person and address were captivating. She appeared to be not more than five or six and twenty: but her person seemed to have suffered from sorrow that diminution of its charms, which time could not yet have effected. Her complexion was faded and wan; her eyes had lost their lustre; and a pensive and languid expression sat on her countenance.