The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1900-01-23
NV Pale LADY.

man with a pale face and dark, unre-
| soOnsive eyes.
| The lady seldom spoke TO me, and when
she did it was in cold voice. but from
| the time she entered the room her eyes
! were fixed upon me.
so you have not yet found home for
this strange little girl she once said TO
the matron. looking at me.
! NO. ma am the matron replied, "she
| is a bright child. but she will not make
up TO any one. She is naughty. ma am.
| That is the only fault I find with her.
| She viii not kiss the strange ladies who
| ask her to, and she does not dance about
! and seemed pleased the way the other
| children do when some little pleasure is
/ given them"
| But for the fact that the eyes Of the
lady told nothing 1 should have said that
/ a CLEAN Of approval came into them
| then. The matron waited tnoment, ex-
! pecting, l suppose, that the lady would
| make some remark But she did not
| A short time after this was adopted
| by widowed lady, whose two sons had
| married and gone 10 far distant parts of
| the world. 1 cannot tell whether I was
made less unhappy or not by my new
| condition. / had always been terribly
| conscious of my - ldition. One form OF
| charity seemed to me, young as 1 was,
| lighted in the beauty of my adopted
mothers house 1 was amazed at the
| number of books on the shelves of her
| library. And it gave me pleasure to be
| clothed in garments that were of gay
| colors, and made as those of other chill
| dren were. l had a playroom to myself,
and a little pony and cart, but the Curl
Gus part of it was that it did not seem
at al strange to me to have all these
| things. 1t seemed to be in a few days
after 1 came into possession of them as
| if I had always had them.
1 had not been two weeks with my
| adopted mother when I heard the voice
of the tall, pale lady in the parIor. L
knew it at once 1t always made me
think of a bright winter day, with the
boar frost gIttering in the sunshine.
I'VE have been neighbors a long time,
Mrs. Thorneycroft,' 1 heard her saying.
! Il have come to make amends for my
| unneighborliness.
! There did not seem to be anything in
! common between these two and the con-
versation often dropped. yet the visitor
staid on and on. I got weary sitting on
| the stairs-I was waiting to go for a
walk with my adopted mother-and so
| walked boldly downstairs and into the
| parlor The moment my eyes met those
| going to pretent that she had never seen
me before. So looked at her as strange
| ly as she did at me.
''Your daughter, Mrs Thorneycroft?"
! asked the lady.
My daughter" said my adopted moth
| er. and said no more.
What is your name, dear child?" the
| lady questioned me. Her tone had never
| before been so tender in speaking to me-
| suppose she pitied me because she
thought my name had been changed.
1T is the same as it always was" said
I. at is Madelaine.''
saw the lady turn pink at this.
what a strange answer she said.
But it is beautiful name. Naturally
your name is the same as it ALWAYS
was"
Naturally" said my adopted mother.
You may run out and play Madelaine."
1 played about the doorstep till the 'all
lady came out. and then / said, going
up and taking hold of her hand:
IF you do not live far away I will 90
with you and see what your house is
like"
Thank you," said she, smilingly, aid
led on.
We turned a corner and stopped before
a tall, dark stone house, with curtains
|
"Will you>c come in?" she asked
Not today. My mother will be waiting
for me- But I will come tomorrow, if
you like, and bring my doll. I can come
after nv lessons"
cat 80"
yes agreed.
But that evening, when my adopted
mother held me on her lap, she said to
me: -,-
"Madelaine, you are never to go to see
the lady who called here today, even
though she asks YOU
why, mother?'
ct hardly know myself But you must
81 promised her I would go tomorrow
you must write her note and tell
her you viii not be there
Yes, mother"
So I did. 1t was an ill-spelled little
note, and it had tear blot on it. The
coachman carried it for me.
But still we met sometimes. Once III a
terrible storm of wind and rain, when I
was running home, she called ne into her
carriage.
You are all dripping" she cried.
hanging over me. 80. hei o me, You
will catch cold! Give me your hands and
let me warm them" And she chafed
my hands, and even held them TO her
cheek.
She was at my coming out party. years
after, and sent me great armful Of Titles
and after that 1 met her quite often at
different places-teas or dinners or the
opera. Sometimes, when we met In the
dressing-room, she would give a little
touch to my hair or tie my ribbons
afresh. or say whether or not she thought
a certain color becoming to me.
On a certain day of every year I re-
ceived a gift from an unknown donor,
and concluded, after much thought that
this day was the anniversary OF my
birth. OF the giver of these gifts I had
no doubt Ny adopted mother had not
the heart to forbid me TO keep and uss
the things I received in this mann IT.
though I could see she was not well
pleased that I should be the recipient
OK them.
I was quite % years old when one day,
as 7 walked in the park, a woman came
I'D 10 me- begging that would come with
her quickly. She said that her mistress
desired above ali things 10 see me.
knew the woman to be the maid o. that
lifelong mysterious friend whose influence
had always surrounded me, though We
had never lived under the same roof nor
enjoyed intercourse together.
II am forbidden n 90 TO her house"
said. remembering the old forb ddsncs.
But she is dying"
\ swift tear winged my feet 7 ran as
fast as 7 could TO the dark house with
the frost-Iike curtains. Up the stai-s 7
sped. past the servant WHO opened the
door for ne. on 70 the front chambe-.
The nurse made way for me There were
two men in the room, but brushed past
then
she raised herself from her pillows wi.h
a tremendous effort