Rensselaer Republican, Volume 20, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 February 1888 — A STORY OF LOVE. [ARTICLE]

A STORY OF LOVE.

By W. S. Gilbert.

I am a poor, paralysed fellow who for many years past has been confined to a bed or sofa. For the last six years I have occupied a email jpotn, looking on to one of the narrow side canals ot Venice, having no one about me but a oeaf old woman who makes my bad and attends to my for d; and here I eke out a poor income of about £3O a year bv leaking water color drawings of flowers and fruit (they are the cheapest models in Venice), and these I send to a friend in London, who sells them to a dealer forsmall sums. But, on the whole, 1 am‘hanpy and content. It is necessary that I f-hould describe the position of my room rather minute ly. Its only window is about five feet above tne water of the canal, and above it the house projects some six feet and overhangs the water, the pn jeering portion being supported by stout piles driven into the bed of the canal. This arrangement has the disadvantage (among others) of so limiting my upward view that I am enable to see more than about ten feet of the heikht of the house immediately opposite to me, although by reaching as far out of the window as my infirmity will peimit I can see a considerable distance up and down the canal, which does not exceed fifteen feet in width. But, although I can see bnt'little of the material house opposite, I can see its reflection upside down in the canal, ano I contrive to take a lood deal of inverted interest in such of its inhabitants as show themselves from time to time (always upside down) on its balconies and at its win-, down. When first I occupied my room, about six years ago, mv attention was directed to the reflection of a little girl of thirteen or so (as nearlv as I could judge), who passed every day on a balcony just above the upward range of my limited field of view. She had a glass of flowers aud a crucifix on a little table by her side, and aa she eat there in fine weather from early morning until dark, working assiduons’y all the time, I concluded that she earned her living by needlework. She was certainly an industrious little girl, and as far as I could judge by her upside down reflection, neat in her dress and pretty. She had an o’d moth er, an invalid, who on warm days would sit on the balcony with her, and it interested me to see the littlemaid wrap the old lady injshawls and bring pillows for her chair and a stool for her feet, and every now and again lay down her work and kiss and fondle the old lady for half a minute, and then take up her work Time went by, and as the little maid grew up her reflection grew down, and at last she was quits a little woman of, I suppose, sixteen or seventeen. I can only work for a couple of hours or so in the brightest part of the day, so I had plenty of time on my hands in whichtc watch her movements, and sufficient imagination toweavea little romance about her, and to endow her with a beauty which, to a great extent, I had to take for granted. I saw—or fancied that I could see—that she began to take an interest in my reflection (which, ol

OOQIBMha could see as I could see here); •nd one day, when it Appeared to me that ahe was looking right at it—that is to My, when her n flection appeared to be looking right at me—l tjried the deoperate experiment of nodding to he', and to my intense delight her reflection nodded in reply. And so onr two reflections became known to one another. It did not take me very long to tall in love with her, bat a long time passed before I could make up my mind to do more than nbd to her every rooming, when the old woman moved me from my bed to the sofa at the window, and again in the evening, whin the little maid left the balcony for that day. One day, however, when I saw her reflection looking at mine I nodded to her •nd threw a flower into the canal. She nodded several times in return, and I mw her draw her mother’s attention to the incident. Then every morning I threw a flower into the water far “good morning,’’and another in the evening for “good night,” and I soon discovered that I had not thrown them altogether in vain, for one day she threw a flower to join mine, and she laughed and clapped her hands as the two flowers joined forces and floated away together. And then every morning and every evening she threw her flower when I threw mine, and when the two flowers met she clapped her hands, and so did I; but when they were separated, as they sometimes were, owing to one of them having met an obstruction which did not catch the other, she threw up her hands in a pretty affectation of despair, which I tried to imitate, but in an English and unsuccessful fashion. And when they were rudely run down by a passing gondola, (which happened,, not infrequently) she pretended to cry, and I did the same. Then, in pretty pantomime, she would point downward to the sky, to tell me that it was destiny that caused the shipwreck of our flowers,and 1, in pantomime not half so pretty, would try to convey to her that destiny would be kinder next tims, and that perhaps to-morrow our flowers would be more fortunate—and so the innocent cour'ship went on. One day she showed me her crucifix and kissed it, and thereupon I took a little silver crucifix which always stood by me and kissed that, and so she knew that we were one in religion. One day the little maid did not appearon her balcony, and for several days I mw nothing 01 her, and although I threw my fl iwers as usual no flower came to it company. However, after a time she reappeared dressed in black and crying often, and then I knew that the noor child’s mother was dead, as far as I knew she was alone in the world. The flowers came no more for many days, ror did she show any sign of recognition,but kept her eyes on her work, except when she placed her handkerchief to them. And opposite to her was the old lady’s chair, and I could see that from time to time she would lay down her work and gaze at it, and then a flood of tears would come to her relief. Bat at last one day she aroused herself to nod to me and then her flower came. Dav after day my flower went forth to j >in it, and with varying fortunes the two flowers sailed away as of yore. Bit the darkest day ot all to me was when a good-looking young gondolier, standing right end uppermost in his gondola (for I could see him in tne flesh) Worked his craft alongside the house and stood talking to her as she Mt on the balcony. They seemed to ppeak as old friends—indeed, as well as I could make out, be held her by the hand during the whole of their interview, which lasted quite half an hour. Eventually he pushed off*, and left my heart heavy within me. But 1 soon took heart of grace, for as soon as he was out of sight the little maid t > rew two flowers growing on the same stem—an allegory of which I could make nothing, until it broke upon me that she meant to convey to me that he and she were brother and sister, and that I had no cause to be Md. And thereupon I nodded to her cheerily, and she nodded to me and laughed aloud, and 1 laughed in return, and all went on •gain as before. Then came a dark and dreary time, for it became necesMry that I should unergo treatment that confined me absolutely to my bed for many days, and I worried and fretted to think that the little maid and I conld see each other no longer, and worse still, that she would think that I had gone away without even having hinte 1 to her that I was going. And I lay awake at night wondering how I could let her kno v the truth, and fifty plans flitted through my brain, all appearing to be feasible enough at night,but absolutely wild and impracticable in the morning. One day—and it was a bright day indeed for me —the old woman who tended me told me that a gondolier had inquired whether the English signor had gone away or had died; and so I learned that the little maid had been anxious about me. and that she had sent her brother to inquire, and the brother had no doubt taken to her the reason of mv protracted absence from the window. From that day, and ever after, during my three weeks of bed keeping, a - flowar waa found every morning on the edge of my window, which was within easy reach of anyone in a boat; and when at last a day came when I could r be moved I took my accustomed place on the sofa at the window, and the lit-

tle maid saw me and stood on her bead, to to ap*ak, and that was m eloquent as any right end up delight conld possibly be. So the first time the gondolier passed my window 1 beckoned to him, and he pushed up alongside and told me, with many bright smiles, that be wm glad indeed to see me well again. Tnen I thanked him aud his sister for their kind thoughts about me during my retreat, and I then learned from him that her pame waa Angela, and that she was the best and purest maiden in all Venice, and that anyone might think himself happy indeed . who could call her sister, but that he was happier even than her brother, for be was to be married to her, and, indeed, they were to be married the next day. Thereupon my heart seemed Io swell to bursting, an J - the blood rushed through my veins eo that I could bear i t and nothing else for a while. 1 managed at last to stammer forth some words of awkward congratulation, and he left me singing merrily, after asking permission to bring his bride to see me on the morrow as they returned* from church.

“For,” Mid he, “my Angela hMknown you for a long time—ever sines she was a child, and she bar often spoken to me about the poor Englishman who was a gooo Catholic, and who hy all day long sor } ears and years on a sofa at a window, and she has paid over and over again how dearlv she wished that she conld speak to him and comfort him; and one day. when you threw a flower into the canal, she asked me whether she might throw ano’her, and I told her yes, for he would understand that it meant sympathy with one who was sorely sffl cted. And so I learned that it was pity, and not love, except, indeed, such love as is akin to pity, that prompted her to interest herself in my welfare, and there was an end of it all. For the two flowers that I thought were on one stem were two flowers tied together (but I could not tell that), and they wefe meant to indicate that she and the gondolier were affianced lovers, and my expressed pleasure at this symbol delighted her, for she took it to mean that I rejoiced in her happiness And the next day the gondolier came with a train of other gondoliers, all decked in their holiday garb, and in nis gondola sat Angela, happy and blushing at her happiness. Then he and she entered the house in which I dwelt and came into my room (and it was strange indeed, after so many years of inversion, to see her with her, head above her feet), and then she wished me happiness) and a speedy restoration to good health (which could never he); and I, in broken words and with tears in my eyes, gave her the little crucifix that had stood by my bed or my table for so man-v years. And Angela took it reverently and crossed herself and kissed it, and so departed with her delighted husband. And as I heard the song of the gon dolieis as they went away—the song dying away in the distance as the shadows of the sundown closed around me—l felt that they were singing the requiem ot the only love that had ever entered my heart.