Roanoke daily times. (Roanoke, Va) 1886-1890, 1889-12-22

Madeleine was very sad, very i'll; she
was as we are, my good sir. But the
birds still sing when they are i'll, and
Madeleine sang near us, who do not even
talk. l thought she would resist the
scourge. and l said to myself, Some day,
God willing, shall take her to live in
city To STE the roses in her cheeks we
would have given our lives, my poor
wife and l. But she was very pale; she
went TOO often to the edge of the water.
She loved-I do not know why-that
water, which harmed her so. Often,
when her mother called her to dinner,
she was seated in the wet grass at the
side of the pool. We scolded her, but it
did no good. 1t pleased her, she said, to
listen to the noise of the wind in the
reeds. She had nothing else to amuse
her, the. dear child. In other countries
the little girls of poor people can gather
flowers. peep in the birds nests and have
doves and play with them as in the pict-
ures l have seen in the city shops; here,
sir, there are no other flowers than the
lilies of the pool. the little birds would
be afraid to build their nests in our
great, gloomy trees, and the only doves
are ravens. Ny poor girl, then, loved the
pool. Sometimes, of an evenieg, would
hear her open the window of her cham
berthe chamber where you will sleep
tonight. sir. Come I'M 1 would cry;
go to bed, YOU will take cold No, no.!
she would say; and when l asked her
what she was looking at, There is star
in the pool. she would answer. One
morning at the breakfast hour Madeleine
did not come down stairs, Her mother
went up to her room. Madeleine is not
herer cried my wife. 1t was q month
ago, one Sunday morning. Madeleine
has not yet come back"
Charter had spoken slowly in mo-
notonous tone Now he wept silently.
The disappearance of their child more
than accounted for the gloom of my
hosts. Irepented having judged them
harshly, and it was with sincere pity that
pressed the old mans hands as I re-
tired.
My chamber was room covered with
moldy paper; in one corner an iron bed,
two cane seated chairs at right and left
of a walnut commode, a portrait of a
Young girl-Madeleine Notwithstanding
the single window; that was all. l
went to bed and to sleep, not without
some difficulty, for the stewards tale
had predisposed my mind to lugubrious
thoughts, and then thought of the fever
which dreaded SO.
After an hour of restless sleep awoke
with start.
"Whos there?" cried
The lamp which had not extinguished
enabled me to convince myself that was
alone-absolutely alone with the portrait.
From my bed, where could no longer
sleep, looked long at this picture. 1t
was young girl, very pale, dressed in
white, in an attitude of meditation; she
gazed at the window with strange
earnestness. AS one involuntarily fol-
lows the glance Of a person near, I di-
rected my eyes parallel to those Of the
portrait. The window had no curtains:
beyond the panes appeared vaguely the
nQ1SClNCU SllilOuSItCo VI eho AoiSou, onu
in the shadow there was single star.
Turning back from Madeleine, I noticed
that her gaze had become more intense,
but it was easy to explain to myself why
it seemed so: plunged for an instant into
the night, my eyes should now see more
clearly those Of the portrait, on which
the lamp shone full.
What I could not explain, what do
MOI understand even yet, was an absurd
idea-the result, no doubt, of my ner-
yous e-eitement-which led me to get
up, open the sash, as if in obedience to
the desire of the portrait, and, he win
dow open, turn back to it to receizs Ha
thanks, "A breath of wind which en-
tered room exttii1 gnished I'll q zanHki