Fishing for Love.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume XVIII, Issue 1699, 26 June 1885, Page 2 (Supplement)

Fishing for Love.

Mad.uie D'Anqeki, whoresided at Chaton, was a lady of the strictest character, and of a heart proof against allurements. She prided herself upon her great insensibility, and her profound indifference had repulsed all those gallants who had volunteered to offer their addresses. The country was for hur a veritable retreat; she shunned reunions, and was only happy in solitude. The charms of a chosen circle, the pleasures of the world, had for her no attraction; and her favourite recreation was that of angling—an amusement worthy of an unfeeling woman. She was accustomed every pleasant day to station herself at the extremity of the lonely Island of Chaton, and there, with a book in one hand and her line in the other, her time was passed in fishing, reading, or dreaming.

A lover who bad always been intimidated by her coolness, and who had never ventured on a spoken or written declaration, surprised her at her favourite pursuit one day, when he had come to the island for the purpose of enjoying a swimming bath. He observed her for a long time without discovery, and busied himself with thinking how he might turn to his advantage this lonely amusement of angling. His reveries were so deep and so fortunate that he at last hit upon the desired plan—a novel expedient, indeed—yet they are always most successful with such women as pretend to be invulnerable.

The next day our amorous hero returned to the island, studied the ground, made his arrangements, and when Madame D’Angeri had resumed her accustomed place, he slipped away to a remote and retired shelter, and, after arraying himself in bathing costume, he entered the stream. An excellent swimmer and skillful diver, he trusted to his aquatic talents for the success of his enterprise. He swam to the end of the island with the greatest precaution, favoured by the chances of the banks and bushes which hung their dense foliage above the waters. In his lips was a note folded and sealed, and on arriving neat the spot where Madame D’Angeri was sitting, he made a dive, and lightly seizing the book, he attached it to his letter.

Madame D’Angeri perceiving the movement of her line, supposed that a fish was biting. The young man had retired as he came; he had doubled the cape, which extended out into the water, separating them from each other, and had regained bis post without the least noise in his passage under the billows. The deed was done.

Madame D'Angeri pulled in her line, and

what was her surprise to observe danglingupon the barb of her hook, not the expected shiner, but an unexpected letter. This was, however, trifling, and her surprise became stupefaction when, on detaching the transfixed billet, she read upon the envelope—her name. So, then, this letter which' ehe had fished up was addressed to her I This was something miraculous. She was afraid. Her troubled glance scrutinised the surrounding space, but there was nothing to be seen or heard; all was still and lonely, both on land and water.

She quitted her seat, bat took away the letter. As soon as she was alone, amhcloscted with herself, and as soon as the paper was dry—a paper perfectly waterproof, and writupon with indelible ink—she unsealed the letter, and commenced its perusal. “ A declaration of love 1” cried, she, at the first words. “ What insolence 1” Still the insolence had come to her in such an extraordinary manner that her curiosity would not suffer her to treat this letter as she had so many others—pitilessly burn it without reading. No—she read it quite through. The lover, who dated his letter from the bottom of the river, had skillfully adopted the allegory, and introduced himself as a grotesque inhabitant of the water. The fable was gracefully managed, and with the jesting tone which he had adopted was mingled a true, serious, ardent sentiment, expressed with beauty and eloquence. The next day Madame D’Angeri returned to the island, not without emotion, and some trace of fear. She threw her line with a trembling hand, and shuddered as, a moment after, she perceived the movement of the float. “Isit a fish ? Is it a latter ?” It was a letter. Madame D’Angeri was no believer in magic —atili. there was something strange and supernatural in all this. She had an idea of throwing back the letter into the stream, butrelinquishedit. The most stubborn and haughty woman is always disarmed in face of the mystery which captivates her imagination. The second letter was more tender, more passionate, more charming than the first. Madame D’Angeri read it several times, and could not help thinking about the delightful merman who wrote such bewitching letters. _ On the subsequent day she attached her line to the bank, and left it swimming in the stream, while she withdrew to a landing-place upon the extremity of the island. She watched for a long time, but saw nothing. She returned to the place, withdrew the line—and there was the letter.

This time an answer was requested. It was, perhaps, premature, yet the audacious request obtained a full success. The reply was written after some hesitation, and the hook dropped into the stream, charged with a letter which was intended to say nothing, and affected a sort of badinage which was nevertheless, a bulletin of a victory gained over the hard severity of a woman until then unapproachable. Madame D’Angeri had too much shrewdness.not to guess that her mysterious correspondent employed, instead of magic, the art of a skilful diver. Scruples easily understood restrained her from that portion of the bank where she was sure that the diver would emerge from the water.

But this game of letters amuaedjher. First, it pleased her intellect, and her curiosity became so lively that she wrote: “Let us give up this jesting which has pleased me for the moment but which should continue no longer, and come with your apologies to Chaton.”

The lover answered: “ Yes; if you will add ‘ Hope! ’ ” The inexorable lady replied: " If only the word was necessary to decide you, bo it so.” And the word was written.

The young man appeared, and was not a lonor. The gift of pleasing belonged to his person as much as to his style, and ho had made such rapid progress under water that it was easy to complete his conquest on land. Thus Madame D'Angeri caught a husband without wishing it, and in spite of the vow which she had taken never to marry. Holding the line, she had been caught by the fish.