The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1876-05-08
Teresa.
An Italian Story.

breath and rev;ving warmth, which stir the
pulses that in Northern lands would cease to
beat, Lionel Merton, half poet, half artist,
and half invalid, sought it for life both of
mind and body; and his delicate frame
shattered by the chill blasts of the North
woke to a new being in the soft Ausonian
climate, whilst his artist eye glanced with
pleased delight over luXuriant plains and
olive-planted slopes, with here and there a
glimpse of the yellow Tiber flowing majesti-
cally along.
He was just now standing in the doorway
of the inn, gazing, not at the landscape or
the skies, but at a face that had attracted his
attention more than once since his arrival at
-. He had seen it first in the beautiful
gardens of the villa, not far from the inn,
peering through the parted branches of a
myrtle, whose dark, glossy leaves seemed to
form fitting framework for the living pic
ture behind them. But the branches had
closed hastily as the girl met the blue eyes of
Lionel fixed steadiastly upon her.
1--WE must 60 home, Tina" said she to the
child. who was watching the doves wash
themselves in the basin of the fountain, and
she swung it up to her shoulder, where it
wound its tiny hands in her dark hair, loosen
ing some of the coils that fell heavily down
below her waist. A flush came over the pale
olive skin.
s'Thou art bad child, Tinap' she said as
she hastily twisted up the long tresses under
the folds of her white head-gear.
The large lustrous eyes had but looked at
Lionel for a moment, and yet they seem to
have told him long story that he had been
in the past trying 10 decipher.
Next he had seen her in the church, kneel-
ing in fervent prayer. and had silently
watched the changes of countenance until
again she perceived him, and with startled
look rose and fed away.
To-day Teresa stood leaning against stone
pillar, playing with the pink blossom of a
catalpa that stood near her, when suddenly
she found herself once more face to face with
the English stranger.
He had discovered her name-Teresa !;
daughter of blind Tomaso Cecchi and his bed
ridden wife. She was good daughter, and
worked hard to support her parents. To-day
she seemed to be taking life easily-drinking
in the splendor of the purple mists and golden
sheets Of sunlight with true Italian indo-
lence.
"Dolce far neintew thought Lionel, as he
looked at the statue-like figure, and the head
thrown back, partly with WEAKNESS, partly
with an intense appreciation of the beauty
around her.
But Teresa's rest was not to be of long
duration. The Mercanti of the Campagna
had sent for laborers 10 gather in the harvest,
and men and women were forming into bands
to Join in the work. Teresa was going, so
gossip had told Lionel, and to him it seemed
sacriege that the beautiful maiden should
toll and slave with the common multitude.
But what could he do? And in the midst of
his meditations the girl raised her face, and
again their eyes met.
"Teresav' The name burst involuntarily
from his lips.
She started and blushed, but this time did
not flee away. She looked up at Lionel.
Isl, signore," she answered.
"That is a pretty flower" said Lionel;
"will you give it to ?"
She made DO reply, but put the blossom
into his hand. And so the acquaintance was
made and the two chatted away in the sun
shine.
Lionel had gone to Tomaso Cecchi's lodg-
"But your. daughter is not strong enough
for such workv' said he, in conclusion to
long harangue.
The old man shrugged his shoulders.
Poverty said he, sis a hard master and
Teresa is good girl"
"Too good to endanger her life in the tolls
of the Campagna Think of the risk, the
labor the heat, the foul evening mistsp'
But Tomaso looked back beyond the dis
comforts and remembered time when the
plains resounded with songs and laughter,
and the wine was preached and hearts were
light.
81 found my wife there" said he sand
Teresa may find husband"
Lionel instinctively drew back. A hus-
band among those laboring pheasants! impos-
sible; for in his eyes Teresa was worthy to be
the bride of king.
Scan you not find substitute for your
daughter? T." and then he hesitated,
for Teresa had come into the room.
Glow much will it cost to get substitute,
Teresa9"
Teresa laughed. "Giovanetta would pay
if she could go in my place." said she
"There are too many ready and willing to
go.'
'sLet them go. thenr' responded Lionel.
eagerly.
ey." returned Teresa.
Scarcely thinking Of what he was doing,
Lionel had poured out the contents of a
purse full of ENGLISH gold upon the table.
The quick ear of Tomaso caught the sound;
he stretched out his hand as if to clutch the
ringing coin, but Teresa sprang between,
turning flashing face upon Lionel.
"We are not beggarsP' she exclaimed; 81
work for my breadp'
"Will you not let me help you?" asked
Lionel in low tone.
"You cannot" she replied, in an equally
low voice; and the flash died out of her face,
for Lioners tone was very humble, and his
eyes had spoken something to her that her
heart answered. She gathered the money
together and put into his hands.
ut must not be-" said she, as he sorrow
fully departed.
''Thou art a fool, childw said Tomaso
Cecchi, when Lionel was out of hearing.
"These English know not what to do with
their gold, and we should have been all the
better for it."
Slowly plodded the large, gray oxen over
the plains of the Campagna; Iazily
sauntered the drivers at their side.
Here and there one heard the sounds of mer-
riment: there again were silent toilers; here
WORKOUT laborers who had crept into the
shade and fallen asleep, and above stretched
the blue heavens, still and cloudless, over the
gray and purple sweeps of far-of landscape,
with here and there a patch of sun-gilt wa
ter.
All this Lionel saw, for lie had obtained
lodging in one of the large stone farmhouses,
since money will obtain anything; and the
fair, delicate-looking, generous Englishman
was popular among the poor Italian peas
ants.
Teresa knew that lie was there, but she
avoided him; and he, seeing this, only
watched her from distance, and gave no
token that she was more to him than any
other laborer on the vast plains. He had
seen IOmaSO and MS Vile before he had fol-
lowed to the Campagna, and they were am
ply provided for during their daughters abb
sence.
Lionel Merton had fallen in love, and he
sat down and took be matter into deliberate
consideration. His first thought was that
Teresa was queen; fit to be the wife of any
man, was his second; why not of himself?
was the third; and that she should be if pos
sible, was the fourth. Yet how to proceed
was the difficulty; he felt, with all the keen
sensitiveness of an Englishman to absurd sit
uations, that he was somewhat absurdly
placed at the present moment; for Teresa,
calmly pursuing her work, gave him no OPP
portunity of addressing her without bringing
the eyes of the multitude upon himself and
the handsome maiden.
".
Teresa was the one to break the silence.
She feared the pestilential breath that comes
with the chill blasts and heavy dews after the
burning heat of the day might take effect on
Lionel Merton. She noted a lassitude and
feverishness. which he imputed to his state of
mind, and suddenly she appeared before him.
''Signore YOU must flee from hence or YOU