: known a squall could come but from one in the morning, were awaiting the cooler quarter. portion of the day for their return. Lau"I shall bring you another bottle your rella was not, however, allowed much time to uncle can pay for it," said the hostess smil-gaze around her, for, before she could prevent it, Antonino had taken her in his arms, and bore her like an infant to the boat. He sprang in after her, and with a few strokes of the oar, they were already in the open water. ing. "Only a glass, thank you, for your wine is somewhat fiery; my head is already quite hot from it." "Pooh! it will not affect your blood; you can drink as much as you like. Ah, here comes my husband! You must sit awhile longer, and chat with him." And there, true enough, came the sturdy owner of the little inn, his net hanging over his shoulder, and a red cap above his curly hair. He had been taking some fish to the before-mentioned lady of rank, to set before the little priest of Sorrento. As soon as he caught sight of his guest, he waved him a hearty welcome, and, seating himself beside him on the bench, began talking and asking questions. His wife had just brought out a second bottle of genuine Capri, when footsteps were heard on the sand, and Laurella appeared coming from Anacapri. She nodded hastily, and then stood hesitatingly for a moment. Antonino rose. "There is a girl of Sorrento, who came early this morning with our worthy pastor, and is obliged to return before night to her sick mother." "Well, well; it is a long time till night," said the fisherman; "she will not refuse a glass of wine. Hollo! wife; bring another jass.' "Let her alone," said the young seaman; "she is obstinate. If she determines not to lo a thing, heaven and earth will not move her;" and herewith he took a hasty leave, ran down to the boat, loosened the sail, and then stood awaiting his companion. She nodded again to the hostess of the inn, and then approached the boat with hesitating steps. She stopped and looked around on all sides, as though hoping or expecting the arrival of further company, but the shore was untenanted. The fishermen were either sleeping or out in pursuit of their business; some few of the women and children were sitting within their doorways, dozing or spinning; and strangers who had come across Laurella seated herself at the stern of the boat, and half turned her back to Antonino, so that he could see only her profile. Her features were even more stern than usual. The hair hung down over her low forehead, a determined expression hovered round the finely-cut nostril, and the full lips were firmly closed. When they had thus traversed a good part of the way in silence, she was much inconvenienced by the intensity of the heat, and took her bit of bread out of the handkerchief, which she tied over her plaits. Then she began to eat the bread, her only dinner, for not a morsel had crossed her lips at Anacapri. Antonino, after a moment's pause, took from a basket, which had been full in the morming, two oranges. "Here is something to eat with your bread, Laurella," said he; "but do not think I kept them on purpose for you; they fell out of the basket into the boat, and I found them when I came back from selling the rest." "Eat them yourself: the bread is enough for me." "But they are refreshing in this heat, Laurella, and you have walked far.” They gave me a glass of water up at the vineyard, and that has already refreshed me." "As you will," he replied, letting them fall back into the basket. A renewed silence. The sea was as smooth as glass, and hardly murmured round the keel; even the white seagulls, which build in the caves, moved noiselessly to their prey. "You might take the oranges to your mother," began Antonino again. "We have some at home still; and when those are finished, I can buy others." "O, just take them to her, with a greeting from me." "Why, she does not know you!" "I do not know you either." It was not the first time she had so disowned his acquaintance. A year before, when the painter first came to Sorrento, it happened on a Sunday too long, and I only, wonder at my own pathat Antonino, with other young men of the tience. You say you do not know me! town, were engaged, in an open space near Have you not seen long enough that when the principal street, playing at Boccia. It with you my feelings are well-nigh ungovernwas there the painter first saw Laurella, who, able, that my heart has been full, and that I with a pitcher on her head, walked by with- have longed to speak to you? And then you out observing him. The Neapolitan, struck put on that don't-care face, and turn your with her appearance, stood gazing after her, back to me." although he was in the very midst of the "What had I to say to you ? " she ingame, and three steps might have placed him quired shortly. "I have indeed remarked in safety. A hard ball against his ankle that you wished to make my acquaintance; must have reminded him this was not a place but I had no desire to hear my name in where he might lose himself in thought. He every one's mouth, for no end. Yes, I say looked round, as though awaiting an apology; for no end, for I should never take you for a but the young sailor who had thrown the ball husband-neither you nor any one else." stood silently and scornfully in the midst of his friends, and the stranger, thinking it advisable to avoid a dispute, quietly took his departure. But the matter was talked about, and was again brought up when the painter openly proposed for Laurella. "I know nothing of him," she said indignantly, when the painter inquired if she refused him for the sake of that uncivil youth. But the circumstance had come to her ears, and when she met Antonino she always recognized him. And there they sat in the boat like the bitterest enemies, while the hearts of both beat high. Antonino's usually good-tempered face was very red; he lashed the waves till the foam besprinkled him; and his lips trembled occasionally, as though giving vent to evil words. She pretended to observe nothing, put on her most nonchalant air, and, leaning over the side of the boat, let the water trickle through her fingers. Then she took the handkerchief off again, and arranged her hair as though she were quite alone in the boat; but her eyebrows still moved convulsively, and it was in vain she strove to cool her burning cheeks by pressing her wet hands against them. They had now got about half-way across, and no other boat was visible; the island had been left behind, the coast before them lay far distant in the sunlight, and not even a sea-mew disturbed the solitude. Antonino looked around him. A thought seemed to flash across his mind; the color faded suddenly from his face, and he let the oars fall. Involuntarily, Laurella turned towards him, collected and fearless. "I must make an end of this!" burst forth the young man; "it has already lasted "Nor any one else? You will not always speak thus. Because you sent off the painter: bah! you were only a child then. The day will yet come when you will feel lonely, and then, foolish as you now are, you will take the first good offer." "No one knows his future. It is possible my mind may change; but what is that to you?" "What is that to me!" he exclaimed, and bounded from his seat, so that every plank quivered. "What is that to me! and you can still ask that when you know the state I am in. Know, then, the miserable wretch shall perish you dare to prefer before me!" "Have I promised myself to you? Can I help it if your head is turned? What right have you over me?" 66 "O," he cried, "it is not written down, to be sure; no lawyer has inscribed it in Latin, and affixed his seal thereto; but this I know, that I have as much right over you as I have to enter heaven if I act uprightly. Do you imagine I will look on when you go to church with another, and the girls pass by me with a shrug of the shoulders? Will I submit to that degradation?" "Do as you like. I shall not be intimidated, threaten as you will. I suppose, I also may do as I please." "You shall not say so long," he replied, while every limb shook. "I am man enough not to submit any longer to have my life made miserable by a froward girl. Do you know that you are here in my power, and must do as I will?" She started slightly, and her eyes flashed. "Kill me, if you dare!" she said slowly. "One must do nothing by halves," he said in a more subdued voice. "I cannot bottom of the boat, and she now first perhelp it, my child," he continued almost sad-ceived the blood. She cast a rapid glance ly, and as though in a dream; "but we towards the hand with which, as though must both go down-both together and unwounded, he was using the our. now!" he shouted, and clasped her suddeniy in his arms. But the next moment he drew back his right hand, and the blood spurted out she had bitten him severely. "Here!" she said, and extended her handkerchief to him. He shook his head, and rowed on. At length she stood up, went to him, and bound the handkerchief tightly round the deep wound. She then, "Must I do as you will?" she cried, pushing him away with a sudden movement. notwithstanding his opposition, took one of "We shall see if I am in your power!" the oars herself, sat down opposite, but With these words, she sprang over the side without looking at him, and fixed her eyes on of the boat, and disappeared for a moment the oar, reddened with blood, at the same beneath the water. She came up again im- time impelling forward the boat with powermediately, her dress clinging tightly round ful strokes. They were both pale and silent. her, her hair, loosened by the water, hang- As they approached the land, they were met ing heavily round her neck; and she threw by the fishermen going out to lay their nightout her arms energetically, and swam on nets. They shouted to Antonino, and jeered without another syllable towards the distant at Laurella; but neither looked up or replied shore. The sudden alarm seemed to have with a word. The sun still stood tolerably bereft Antonino of his senses. He stood bent high over Procida when they reached the forward in the boat, with his eyes fixed rigid-shore. Laurella again shook out her dress, ly on the girl, as though a miracle were pass- which was by this time almost dry, and ing before his sight. Then he shook himself, sprang to land. seized the oars, and followed her, with every nerve distended, whilst the bottom of the boat was reddened with the stream of blood which continued to flow forth. In a moment he was by her side, fast as she swam. "In the name of our holy Mother," he cried, into the boat. I have been a fool! knows what came over me. A flash of light seemed to dazzle my brain; I was mad, and did not know what I was saying or doing. I do not ask you to forgive me, Laurella; I only wish to save your life, by entreating you to get in again." She swam on as though she had heard nothing. 66 come Heaven "You can never reach the land; it is at least two miles off. Think of your mother: if anything were to happen to you, she would die of grief." Laurella measured the distance to the shore with her eye, then, without replying, she swam towards the boat, and grasped the side with her hands. He stood up to help her; his jacket, which had lain on the bench, slipped into the water as the boat was drawn on one side by the girl's weight. She swung herself up, and took possession of her former seat. When he saw her safe, he resumed the oars, whilst she tried to wring out her dripping garments, and to shake the water from her hair. Whilst thus engaged her eyes fell on the The old spinner who had seen them start in the morning was again upon the beach. "What is the matter with your hand, "Tonino?" she cried. "Holy Mary! the boat is swimming in blood!" "It is nothing, good mother," replied the young man. "I have razed the skin a little, but it will be well by to-morrow. That unlucky blood is always at the surface, ready to flow forth, and make things look worse than they are." "I will come and lay herbs on it, comrade. Wait; I shall be with you in a minute.” "Do not trouble yourself, Goody. It is all right now, and by to-morrow it will be well, and forgotten. I have a healthy skin, which heals up directly." "Addio!" said Laurella as she turned into the path up the ascent. "Good-evening," cried the young man, but without looking at her. He then removed his tackle and the baskets from the boat, and climbed up the little stonesteps to his hut. No one but himself inhabited the two rooms, through which he now began to pace up and down. There was more air than there had been in the morning, and it came in refreshingly through the open windows; the solitude, too, was delightful to him. He stood some time before the little picture of the Virgin, and gazed thoughtfully a "It will be a week at least before you can go out to sea again." on the glory which surrounded it; but he she took his hand and removed the bandage. did not pray, for he knew not what petition She started when she saw the violent swellto make, now that all hope was gone. Time ing, and exclaimed: "Holy Virgin!" had seened to stand still to-day; he longed "It has bled a little," said he; "but for night, for he was weary, and the loss of day or two will set it all right.” She shook blood affected him more than he imagined. her head.. He felt a sharp pain in his hand, and seating himself on a chair, loosened the bandage. The blood, which had been repressed, burst out again, and the hand all around the wound was much swollen. He washed it carefully, and strove to cool it. On examining it again, he could clearly trace the marks of Laurella's teeth. "She was right," he said; "I was a brute, and deserved no better. I will send back her handkerchief to-morrow by Giuверре." When he had again bound up his hand as well as he could with the aid of his teeth, he threw himself on the bed and closed his eyes. The bright moon awoke him from a doze, and the hand seemed even more painful than before. He had just raised himself to soothe the beating pulses with water, when he heard a noise at the door. "Who is there?" cried he; and lifting the latch, Laurella stood before him! Without a word, she walked in, threw off the covering she wore on her head, and placed a little basket on the table. Then she drew a long breath. "Nonsense. It will be well by the day after to-morrow at latest. Besides, what does it signify?" Meanwhile, she had re-washed the wound, to which he submitted like a child. She then placed upon it the healing herbs, which almost instantly relieved the fever, and bound up the hand with strips of linen which she had brought in her little basket. When she had finished "And “I thank you, Laurella," said he. now-listen! If you will favor me still further, forgive me for the madness which took possession of me to-day, and forget all I said or did. I do not myself know how it happened. You were not the cause, I can assure you; and you shall never again hear anything from me that can displease you." "It is I who have to ask your pardon," interrupted she. "I ought to have put things before you in another and a better light, and not irritated you with my nonchalant air; and then the wound”. "It was necessary, and quite time that I "You come to fetch your handkerchief," should be brought to my senses," he replied; said Antonino; "but you might have been" and, as I have before said, it is of no conspared the trouble, as to-morrow morning sequence. Do not speak of pardon: you early I should have requested Giuseppe to take it to you." "It is nothing about the handkerchief," she replied quickly. "I have been on the hillside to gather herbs for you, to stop the bleeding. There; and she raised the cover of the basket. "Why did you give yourself so much trouble?" said he without any bitterness. "I am better already - much better; and if I were worse, it would be nothing but what I deserve. Why have you come at this hour? Suppose any one were to find you here! You know how they chatter even when they have no foundation." "I care for none!" she said hastily. "I will see your hand, and apply these herbs, for you can never manage it by yourself." "I tell you there is no necessity." "Then let me see it myself, that I may believe you." Hs could not resist her when have done me good, and I thank you for it. And now go home, and to bed; and there is your handkerchief-you can take it with you." He held it towards her, but she still stood there, and appeared struggling with herself. At last she said: "You lost your jacket, too, through my means, and I know the price of the oranges was in it. I thought of this only on my way home; and I cannot exactly make it up to you, for we have no money, and if we had, it would belong to my mother. But here is the silver cross the painter put on my table, the last time he was with us. I have not looked at it since then, and do not wish it to remain in my box any longer. If you sell it it is worth at least a couple of piasters, my mother said at the time-your loss will be almost replaced, and what remains I will try to earn by spinning at night after my mother is asleep." "I will take nothing!" answered he short- " Holy Mother! do you imagine all my heart's ly, and pushing away the bright cross which blood has run out of that little, wound? Do she had drawn from her pocket. you not feel it there beating in my breast, as though it would burst? If you only say this to try me, or out of pity for me, go away, and I will try to forget this also. You shall not think yourself guilty, because you know what I suffer about you." "You must take it," said she. "Who knows how long it may be before you can earn anything with that hand. There it lies, and I will never look at it again." "Then throw it into the sea!" "Why, it is no gift I make you; it is nothing more than your right, and what you ought in justice to receive." 66 "No," she replied firmly, and looking up eagerly from his shoulder through her swimming tears. "I love you! and, lest I should let you see it, I have struggled strongly against it. But now I will behave differently, for I could not help looking at you if I met you in the street. And now," added she "Right? I have no right over anything of yours. If, in future, you should meet me anywhere, do me the favor not to look at me, that I may not think you remember how wrongly I acted towards you. And now solemnly, "receive this kiss, that you may good-night, and let the subject drop." He laid her handkerchief in the basket, and the cross by its side; then closed the lid. When he looked up, he started. Large heavy drops were rolling down Laurella's cheeks. "Holy Madonna!" he cried, "are you ill? You are trembling from head to foot!" say to yourself if you doubt again: 'She kissed me, and Laurella kisses none but him she intends for her husband.' And now," concluded she, disengaging herself, "you must go to bed, and get your hand well. Goodnight! Do not go with me, for I fear no one -but you." She then tripped out of the door, and disappeared in the shadow of the walls. Antonino continued to gaze for some "It is nothing," she said. "I will go home;" and she turned towards the door; but her emotion overpowered her, and lean-time longer through the window over the ing her head against the door-post, she sobbed glorious sea, in which a thousand stars seemed aloud. He hastened towards her, but before to twinkle. he could take her hand, she threw herself into his arms. "I cannot bear it!" she cried, clinging to him like a dying creature to life. "I cannot bear your speaking so kindly, and bidding me leave you, when I am conscious of having done you so much injury. Strike me! tread me under your feet! curse me even! or if it be true that you love me still, after all I have done, here, take me, keep me, do with me what you will; only do not send me away from you thus!" Sobs again interrupted her. He held her for a time in his arms in silence. "If I still love you!" cried he at length. The next time the little priest came out of the confessional, in which La rella had long been kneeling, he smiled quietly to himself. "Who would have thought," said he mentally, "that Heaven would so soon have shewn mercy to this poor strange heart? And there was I anticipating a hard struggle with that besetting sin of hers, pride. But how short-sighted are we mortals, where Heaven is so wise! Well! may the blessing of all the saints be upon her; and may I live to see the day when Laurella's eldest son can take his father's place in rowing me across the water. Ei, ei, ei! La Rabbiata!" THE BALLADS OF IRELAND. Collected and edited Historical [quære, Political?] Ballads, "Oliby Edward Hayes. In two volumes. ver's Advice," by Colonel Blacker- an Orange WITH rare exceptions, and they mostly trans- homily on the text of " Keep your powder dry" lations, these" Ballads of Ireland" are of mod--and similar poems, appear along with "The ern date, Moore's Melodies being about the old-Wexford Massacre," "The Treaty Stone of Limest specimens; the most numerous belong to the period when Young Ireland" and the Nation newspaper were in their meridian glory. The ballads are judiciously classed according to their nature; notices of the writers or notes on the subject are given when necessary; and the selection has been made with impartiality. In the erick," and similar patriotic themes. The general impression is that which we noted in reviewing the poetry of the Nation newspaper years ago-the echo of "the Saxon," rather than the raciness of" the Celt." It is an interesting collection. - Spectator. |