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'Sold!'

A Complete Story. Against an old moss-grown wall hidden by a clustering vine, and sheltered from the heat of the sun’s rays by a fig tree in great luxuriance, leant a girl with all the charms youth loves to bestow. A girl with a fair face crowned with a halo of rippling l-ed-gold hair, which clustered low on her broad white forehead, beneath which was a pair of merry blue eyes, into which now and again came a mirthful twinkle. A nondescript mouth, which in repose was decidedly resolute, but when the carmine lips parted showed a set of perfect teeth, and gave the owner a most vivacious expression, and a straight small nose, completed a face fair to look on, which was set on a pair of faultless shoulders, a little figure with small shapely hands and feet, and such charms as men love to dwell upon. The perfumes of the orange and lemon blossoms were wafted past this quiet spot, and enhanced the dreamy fascination of the scene. Away in front of the girl were the snowy Apennines almost mingling with the clouds, below were hills richly clothed with Nature’s voluptuous hand, descending to fields of maize ripening in the dazzling sunshine, bounded by flowei-decked hedges and foliage of verdant green ; behind the old wall lay the Mediterranean, a moving mass of vivid blue, a clamp of dark trees, and the old vineyard. Nothing broke the stillness of the scene but the occasional splash of a bucket being dropped into the old well, and now and again the distant murmur of women’s voices.

But the girl was lost to everything, for she was in a day dream, and now and again the warm Southern blood came and went under her fair -skin, and a merry rippling smile would part her lips, as though her thoughts were of a jovial description. She was so engrossed that the creak of the rusty gate as it swung on its hinges and the noise of approaching footsteps did not rouse her, and the newcomer gazed at her admiringly in silence. < Magella !’ the name smote on the girl’s ears in the soft, low modulated tones of an Englishman. ‘ Signor 1’ The girl started from her dreamy attitude into sudden life, and for an instant a shadow crossed her face and then she held out her hand smilingly.

‘So you are dreaming again, Mia Cara,’ the man continued softly, as he advanced and laid his hand on the small slim one, tenderly pressed it, and glanced at the tremulous fingers that were holding the edge of the vine basket. ‘Of what are you dreaming now ?’

‘Of many things, Signor,’ the girl spoke low and fluently in their own mother tongue, and looked up shyly from under her heavily fringed lashes.

He was good to look upon—this Englishman, who had come to study the vineyard and its workers. No fault could be found with his wellproportioned figure, cleai’-cut and handsome, sunburnt features, as he leant negligently against the fig-tree, and toyed with the girl’s soft hands. Many women were willing to give up their liberty at the sound of his low, pleading tones. He was a man who made it his rule to enjoy his life whereever he went, and detested being annoyed and inconvenienced. Of all things he worshipped himself the most, with that sublime selfishness that men inherit as their birthright, but never admit. He was vexed at finding himself in such an out-of-the-way village, brought thither by the enthusiasm of his artist friend ; but once there, and finding kis friend utterly obdurate in His intention to remain a fortnight, he had immediately looked about for amusement, and the companionship of the vinegrower’s daughter, who seemed so unsophisticated and innocent was an interesting study in itself. He had encountered her a few days after his arrival, bandying words with a pictui'esque peasant driving a heavy cart drawn by two oxen, and whom the girl insisted on detaining while she twined clusters of vine growth over the animals’ heads, to protect them from the scorching noon-day sun. Once she had sat as a sketch for his friend, and he had found them chatting gaily—she with flushed face and downcast eyes, and his friend evidently finding it extremely interesting. Each time he had strolled back with her on some pretence ; and she had obviously been flattered by his low-spoken words of

admiration. Now, the Fates had been kind and given him the opportunity he sought, of a quiet tete-a-tete, and he had come upon her dreaming, as he fondly believed, of himself. ‘ Foolish child !’—he spoke tenderly, loaking on the lovely blushing face. * Tell me, Magella, were you thinking of me V A singular agitation showed itself in the girl’s face by a faint pink streak in each cheek. ‘ Why do you ask, Signor?’

‘Do you know that I cannot l’est away from you, that I am filled with a vague unrest V the man spoke in tones of suppressed passion. ‘Do you not care for me a little ?’

The girl made no reply, but bent her head till her golden threads of hair almost touched his arm..

The .nan placed his hand under the perfect "oval face and turned it toward his own, which was full of yearning tenderness ; but he could read nothing in the drooping, downcast eyes. ‘ Have you no kind word for me ? Do you not care that in a few days I must away from you for ever, and how can I live without you V Still the girl made no answer, though he noted that her breath came and went quickly, and almost fancied he felt the throbbing of her heart. The atmosphere was quite oppressive; all round Nature was, in a glow with the relentless rays of the sun, which poured its full strength on the luscious clusters of purple grapes ; there was a peculiar stillness in the shadow under the wall, as the man stood intently watching the girl’s flushed face, hesitating as he chose his words. This “’pastime was so amusing, and he wondered at the power of love that he read on her transparent face, and he clasped her hands more firmly in his own as he drew her to him and tried to read her answer’. How could he resist the temptation to touch that charming little downcast face with his lips ? The girl started, and lifting her eyes let them sweep the man’s face, and then drooped them again with fascinating demureness. * It will be very lonely when you are gone, Signor. ’ “My darling ! how I wish I could always have your sweet face by my side; life would then be a dream.’ There was a break in the man’s voice, and he began to feel more in earnest than he cared to admit. She was so bewitching, that he felt under an unusual influence, and the confiding clasp of her childish hand touched him. She seemed such an innocent child, that he felt half inclined to call himself a brute and thrust her from him and depart. ‘Do you really love me V she asked incredulously.

l Of course I do. Who could see you, and not love you V For one insane moment he wished he had never gone so far, or that he could have asked her honourably to be his wife, for she had stirred his feelings and made him half ashamed of himself. What a pity it is that so few ot us have courage to walk outside Adam’s weather-beaten track.

The girl drew herself away from him, and leaned her head on her hand against the old wall, and he did not feel inclined to disturb the expressive silence that fell between them.

Once more, the old rusty creaking gate opened and fell to, and there fell on their ears the patter of little footsteps. It was the man who first espied a little barefooted child with a bunfch of grapes in his hand, eyeing him curiously, and looking round as if in search of someone. A lovely child with blue eyes, hidden by a profusion of golden curls ; as he caught sight of the girl’s dress he darted forward joyously, shouting in his shrill, baby voice ‘ Look ! look ! I pulled them down all by myself. All by my own self,’ he echoed proudly. The baby voice acted like magic on the gii'l ; and as she raised her face from the wall and smothered the child with kisses, to the man’s amazement there was no yearning tenderness in the pair of wicked blue eyes that gazed into his. Throwing hack her golden head, she laughed noiselessly to herself, and picking up the child bade him clasp his hands round her neck, and courtseying low to the Englishman, who was looking on in wonder at the change, she said in her low sweet tones : ‘ Addio, Signor. My husband wants me; I must go to provide his dinner. I knew you were married ; your friend told me. I hope Signora is well.’ And then with a tantalising laugh, the girl disappeared, and as the gate fell to, for once he felt lie had himself been sold.

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZMAIL18920115.2.25

Bibliographic details

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1037, 15 January 1892, Page 11

Word Count
1,538

'Sold!' New Zealand Mail, Issue 1037, 15 January 1892, Page 11

'Sold!' New Zealand Mail, Issue 1037, 15 January 1892, Page 11

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