I have loved so well, and I blow sand and mould and seeds of creeping plants to bind the scattered portions together, and root them again to the spot.' "That's a dreadfully sad story, Lolita; it has made me feel shyer than ever of this dreary place." "The Wind's stories are always melancholy, Ana dear; though you don't know his language, you hear that his tone is always plaintive." "Then I don't want any more of the Wind's stories. I'll tell you what I like. I like the sights I see in the Sunbeam." "Oh, tell me what you see in the Sunbeam!" “Then you must come out of this dreary place, and sit down with me on the sunny bank yonder, and I'll tell you what I have seen." " WHAT ANA SAW IN THE SUNBEAM. HEN I lie on the tomillar1 and look through the sunbeams," said Ana, "I see all the little sprites getting ready the beautiful colours to paint the flowers and the insects, and the clouds, and others that dye the tree-leaves green and gild the old walls, and others that teach the insects to hum and the birds to sing, and little children to smile. "Do you know, Lolita," pursued Ana, "when a little baby is put into the cradle for the first, very first time, if the Sunbeam plays upon it, the little sprites always look after that baby, and never forget it, but when it is grown up into a big man or woman they still continue their care. There was once such a little baby, Lolita, born in a poor little cottage; such a poor little cottage, Lolita, that there were no shutters to the windows of any kind, when it was ever so hot the sun all came in, 1 Bank of wild thyme. and made the air suffocating, unless the poor mother could pin up an old dress; but it was not often she had one besides the one she had on. So it happened that when this little baby was born, Lolita, the sunbeams were streaming in, with the little sprites all basking in them, and the sprites kissed this little baby, and said, 'Dear little girl, we will never leave you; only be good, and so long as you are good we will see that you shall want for nothing at all.' "A very little while after, Lolita, that little baby's father died, and you might have said the sprites had forgotten her; but it was not so. They kept their word exactly. She did not know her father had died. Her mother was there, and took care of her, and she was too little to know that other children had more pleasure, so she wanted nothing. "She did not even know, Lolita, the labour her poor mother had to work for them both, and even when she sang her to sleep with her sad, ceaseless song, "En los brazos te tengo, Y considero, ¡Qué será de ti, niño, Si yo me muero!" "While in my arms I hold thee, What fate I leave thee to, child, If call'd by death away." she knew nothing of its meaning; her little face was pressed close and warm against her mother's breast, and a flower or a fruit, which the sprites had painted for her, was enough to complete her happiness. "Before Pura-such was her name-was two years old, her mother died too. But the sprites had not forgotten her, Lolita: her mother had a sister, and when this sister came to the funeral, they had painted Pura's cheeks with such fresh, clear tints, and lit up her baby face with such a bright, sweet smile, that her aunt would not part from her, but took her home and brought her up as her own child, and was to her as a mother. "The sprites played with her now just as before; and when she was asleep they used to dance on her bed, and say, 'Dear little girl, we will never leave you; only be good, and so long as you are good we will see that you shall want for nothing at all,' "Meantime, Pura grew up to learn to be useful: she worked in the garden, and kept the house tidy, and fetched the water from the fountain, and did all that Tia Trinidad wanted. She was very 3 good and very obedient, and never wasted her time; her only amusement was lying on the thyme 3 Aunt. It is also a title of respect and endearment, much in use between intimate friends, especially among the lower orders in Spain. bed in the sunshine, because then the sprites painted such pretty dreams for her. "But Tia Trinidad was growing old, and after her there was no other aunt, nor any relation to look after Pura; and though she would not say it aloud to vex Pura, who was always bright and gay, she yet continually repeated in her own mind, just as the poor mother used to sing, "En los brazos te tengo, Y considero, ¡Qué será de ti, niño, Si yo me muero!" "So things looked very bad again, Lolita; but the sprites had not forgotten Pura, as you shall see. "Tia Trinidad earned her living by waiting on strangers at the little inn down in the village, and as few people came that way, she was often many days without earning a 'chavo. One day, however, there came a great gentleman who had returned from the Indies with a great lot of money; he said he had roamed the world long enough, and seen enough of great cities; he meant now to settle himself in some quiet, remote village, and the only thing he wanted in this world was a nice, good, industrious wife, who would make his home smiling and happy. + Ochavo, a coin about equal to a farthing. |