The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1884-04-17
A STRANGE VISITOR.


A STRANGE VISITOR.
She was such !. dainty little old lady,
with her sad, delicate, naughty face,
her snow-white hair her black glanc-
ing eyes, bright as stars.
The child was mere baby, not more
than three or four years old. She had
on white frock and tiny scarlet shoes,
but wore neither cape nor hat.
Madame Van Dyck started violently
at sight of her standing there So sud-
denly, as if she might have dropped
from the ceiling. Then she said softly:
'Who are you, little onep Where
/ have you come fromp'
The baby eyes met madame's fear
lessly.
''P'ease, rs Dada" she said gravely,
pushing cloud of yellow curls off her
face with both hands.
Madame's cold eyes softened. She
almost smiled as she extended her
white and jewelled hand, saying gent
ly:
''Come and kiss me, darling"
The little one lowered on tiptoe a
moment, half turned away, like a bird
poising for flight, and then as the lady
took step toward her, darted off, as
if winged really.
Madame followed quickly, but by the
time she reached the door her small
visitor had vanished, and though she
summoned her servants and caused in
stant and thorough search to be made,
the child could not be found.
A day or two after the stately lady
was in her conservatory.
Suddenly, from somewhere near,
sounded childish voice.
an tiss 90 now if oo'll dive some
fowers.'
Turning quickly. madame saw
cherub head parting the branching
leaves of a tall white lily just beside
her.
She had not heard sound till then,
and there was the strange child again.
Madame put her hand to her side.
''Oh," she murmured, in an accent
OF mingled pain and fright, sit is Lew
face"
The child stood still, looking at her
with her lovely shining eyes, her small
hands fiuttering like the two wings OF
a bird.
Suddenly madame caught her in her
arms and kissed her with such fervor,
and hugged her so tightly, that the lit
tie child cried out sharply:
Dad. 'fraid. Put Dada down this
moment"
But she did not cry, as Madame Van
Dyck noticed approvingly.
won't you run away again if l put
you DOWN."
''Put Dada down." repeated the child
inperiously.
Madame obeyed, laughing as she
had not done for years.
Now, you small mystery, she said,
as she set her upon her feet, ''what
next?'
The child held up the short skirt of
her gaily embroidered dress in her wee
fingers.
Dada want towers now. Dada want
a bushel of towers"
Madame proceeded at once to cut as
nearly bushel of her choicest BIOS
SONS as her tiny skirt would hold, tax
inc whichever ones Dada herself order
ed with the baby imperiousness of a
thoroughly spoiled child.
''She is Laura over again-just Laura
over again." madame kept repeating
to herself, with lips that trembled a
little. Il can't imagine where she
comes from. But she sha'n't escape
this time as she did before"
She was bending at this moment over
bed of violets, carefully culling the
largest and sweetest. When she turn
ed round, with her hands full, her
small visitor was nowhere to be seen.
At first madame thought she must be
hiding among the plants; but she could
not find her. Then she went quickly
to the nearest door-one opening into
the parlors-and searched there thor
oughly herself.
Afterwards she questioned the SER
wants again; but as before, no one had
seen any child-no one bnt madame.
Madame Van Dyck was tie widow OF
very rich man, whom she had mar
ried late in life without loving. Five
years after, he died, leaving her all his
property; for he had loved her.
There was one child--a little girl
whom madame adored with an abso
lutte idolatry. The child was very
lovely, very warm-hearted. very self
willed, and was never denied the small
est whim. except one.
She fell in love with handsome
Young man when she was seventeen
and madame ordered him to leave hel
house, and never enter it again.
The end of it was that Laura Var
Dyck, in q rash and angry moment
ran away with her lover, and married
him.
The two had never met since.
IF she would only write and ask me
to forgive her." the poor mother hat
thought in bitter pain, Il would do it
But she don't care for me anymore,
The proud. hurt woman never asked
after her child; never sought to know
whether she lived or died; but wha
her desertion had been to her vol
might read in her white hair. She wa
miserable unhappy creature in al
her pomp and stateliness.
Once more the mysterious child witt
the cherub head and birdlike voice ant
movement came to Madame Van Dyck
She had been i'll for several weeks
!. and was only now able to sit up, Al
through her sickness the thought of tn
child had haunted her; and partly be
cause she could hear nothing of her
partly, perhaps, because she was sic
d and nervous, she began to have strang
fancies about her.