St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1886-09-25
MY CHILD LOVE,

o"ooo ldco IHaI could not help 1t, Dut
stopped IN the street, drew out my sketch
book from my pocket, and began to sketch
IL. Inc child kept her position, watching
me ae IL under charm. With rapid
mana drew IN the surroundings. but when
came TO the sweet face my pencil grew
gentle. touched tenderly the soft, rounded
outlines, the little rings Of curly hair, the
earnest, wide-open eyes, [ wanted to
finger over each line, as it made the likeness
more perfect, but feared she would move
and would lose it all.
She was just the kind of child that YOU
want to take in your arms and cuddle and
| talk soft, loving nonsense to, while the ear
nest eyes gaze at you until you could cry.
LII was quiet street i'll the sleepy old
town where L was spending the summer,
ana there were not many passers-by; so [
sketched until had finished my picture as
Tar as was necessary. AS | went away [
kissed my hand to the child, and she re-
turned 1t III quaint little way that suited
her well.
took out canvas as soon as l reached
my little sanctum and. though twilight was
approaching, spreading my pallet 1 began
to paint. 1t was pleasant task I had set
myself, and worked earnestly, until the
darkness gathered so thckly that l was
obliged to stop.
The next day / started off with quick
step that would give me no time for loiter-
ing in case found the child at the win
dow.
She was there and recognized me. kissing
her hand.
AS the days passed on. the picture gained
upon me so much that determined to
make it that much talked and thought of
naintinU no no fn no
envy; so | worked hard upon it, seeing the
child whenever | could.
1t seemed little strange to me that the
only sign of life | could see about the
house was the child at the window, and
that she should so often be there, evidently
watching.
One day found that she was still at the
window when | went home, so | quietly al
tered my hours that might see her twice
day instead of once.
had come to have quite a feeling of
mystery about by child-lov that [ would
not break in any way by asking her name
Or anything about her. All [ knew [
wanted to come to me through her, and [
knew no one in the town to whom | would
care to mention such a pleasant, foolish
little affection.
Once or twice. passing the house earlier
than usual, found my little friend out
side, and slipping her tiny hand in mine
she would walk along by my side little
way, then turn back. She was as content
to ask no questions as l was, and so our
friendship progressed Sometimes in pass
ing put little bunch of flowers on the
window for her; sometimes she would slip
clover BOSOM or daisy in my hand. Our
advances on each side were coy and re-
served, for she never spoke, and when I
spoke to her she answered with a little
nod.
One day she had laced in the window
panes her letter cards. with pictures on
them, three or four in each pane, as high
as she could reach. AS [ passed. there
was the dear little face. as usual, peeping
through the flowers, and she pointed to the
cards in grave, amused way that was
irresistably entertaining. That night I
drew little picture for her. and put it on
the window the next day.
My painting was almost done, and it was
hard to tell which of the two l loved best.
the child or the picture, when 1 was taken
sick, and had to stay in by bed for three or
four days.
My thoughts dwelt particularly on the
little one, and missed her more and more.
My landlady was very kind and attentive
to me- but it was the kindness of charity,
not of love, and l felt very lonely. I
wanted my little friend, and fancied that if
her soft fingers could touch my hot, aching
head it would cure me.
With thinking of it grew so anxious
that as the time came around at which /
usually saw her l could remain in bed no
longer. but arose. and. after dressing, went
to her house. When 1 came in sight of it
saw man carrying little coffin. My
heart sank within me, and with shiver [
fastened on. The door was open and l en-
tered. Bewildered for moment | stood
still not knowing which way to turn, then
went into the back room.
There lay my darling on the bed, still
and white, with few flowers in Ler little
hand.
'.Oh, when did she die?" cried. IN
able TO keep the tears from my eyes or
voice.
A gentleman whom l had not seen. sit
ting on the other side of the bed, lifted up
his haggard face, and, with desolate,
heart broken look, answered me, hardly
showing any surprise at my question:
Last night at twilight"
Unable to stand any longer [ dropped in
the chair and watched her with solemn
eyes. Presently the gentleman again lifted
up his head from the pillow she lay on, and
looking at me- asked:
Are you the new friend she told me of,
of whom she seemed so fond?"
l nodded my head; and presently, when
[ could speak without crying told him of
how our friendship had commenced; how,
while painting her picture and seeing her
so often, / had grown to love her as if she
had been my own flesh and blood.
Then he told me how she had. a short
time before she died, signed to him to give
her the little picture of the Christ Child 1
had painted for her, and after kissing it,
and making him kiss it. she had died with
it in her hand.
He showed me how she had told him of
me by making him take her place at the
window and then initiating everything I
had done, ending by kissing her hand.
That she kept for sign for me, and in that
way kept him informed of the progress of
our friendship. If day passed without
her seeing me she would tell him by kissing
her hand and shaking her head mournfully.
He burst into tears and said: MY darling
little ANGEL Everything she did was done
silently; she has never spoken"
''She was my only darling" he said with
a sob pitiful to hear from man. "All L
had on earth to love, and now she is goneI
mother, dying. put her in my arms, have
never left her for a day. and now she has
left me forever Whenever 1 went out she
stood at the window watching for me when
1 came back, and then, cuddling in my
arms, never left me-"
| went with her father and the old nurse
when we carried her TO her reSting-place
among the flowers she so much loved, and
then went back to my picture with little
lock of her hair, my only outward sign Of
her.
I have since painted pictures that won
praise from men, women, and critics that
the world called fine, butnone that came so
entirely from my heart, or that always con-
tinued to touch it so nearly, as the painting
of the little child L found always watching
in the old town, whose earnest eyes and
bright. sweet smile kept me from knowing
that the lips were speeches.. -Hearth and
Home,