Page:Francesca Carrara 1.pdf/60

56 Suddenly the way terminated in a little lonely glade, through which a small clear brook ran with a sweet low song, a perpetual and musical murmur, as the waves rippled over the white and blue pebbles which lay glittering below. On either side spread the moss thick and soft, and starred with a thousand coloured particles, red, gold, and purple, Nature's own delicate broidery. There was nothing of that luxuriance of blossom which had hitherto clothed the wood, for there were no hawthorns; but the bog-myrtle imparted its tender fragrance, and the caressing honeysuckle wound round many an ancient trunk, odours exhaling from every fairy-like tube—fit trumpets for the heralds of Titania.

Bending down beside the brook, from whose bank she was gathering the moss, the slender outline of her form mirrored darkly on the stream, was a girl, lovely enough even for the lovely scene around. The grey stuff dress, the white cap, whose border was drawn close round the face, were such as a peasant would wear; but there was about her not only that grace which nature and beauty give, but that softness and refinement which belong, if not to gentle blood, yet to gentle breeding. The pure white of her skin had known no exposure to the weather, and the fair and delicate