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Perdita by Hildegarde Hawthorne, Part one. Alfalfa Ranch. Alfalfa Ranch, low

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wide, with spreading verandahs, all
overgrown by roses and woodbine, and commanding

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on all sides a wide view of
the rolling alfalfa fields, was a most

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bewitching place for a young couple to
spend the first few months of their married

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life. So Jack and I were
naturally much delighted when Aunt Agnes asked us

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to consider it our own for as
long as we chose. The ranch,

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in spite of its distance from the
nearest town, surrounded as it was by

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the prairies, and without a neighbor
within a three mile radius, was yet

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luxuriously fitted with all the modern conveniences. Aunt Agnes was a rich young widow,

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and had built the place after her
husband's death, intending to live there

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with her child, to whom she
transferred all the wealth of devotion she had

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lavished on her husband. The child, however, had died when only three

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years old, and aunt Agnes,
as soon as she recovered sufficient strength,

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had left Alfalfa Ranch, intending never
to visit the place again. All this

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had happened nearly ten years ago,
and the widow, relinquishing all the advantages

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her youth and beauty, quite as
much as her wealth could give her,

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had devoted herself to work amid the
poor of New York. At my wedding,

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which she heartily approach proved, and
where to a greater extent than ever

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before, she cast off the almost
morbid quietness which had grown habitual with her.

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She seemed particularly anxious that Jack and
I should accept the loan of alfalfa

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ranch, apparently having an old idea
that the power of our happiness would somehow

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lift the cloud of sorrow which in
her mind brooded over the place. I

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had not been strong, And Jack
was overjoyed at such an opportunity of taking

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me into the country. High as
our expectations were, the beauty of the

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place far exceeded them. All what
color, what glorious sunsets, and the

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long rides we took, seeming to
be utterly tireless in that fresh, sweet

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air. One afternoon I sat on
the veranda at the western wing of the

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house. The verandah here was broader
than elsewhere, and it was reached only

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by a flight of steps leading up
from the lawn on one side, and

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by a door opposite these steps that
opened into Jack's study. The rest of

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this veranda was enclosed by a high
railing and by wire nettings so thickly overgrown

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with vines that the place was always
very shady. I sat near the steps,

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where I could watch the sweep of
the great shadows thrown by the clouds

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that were sailing before the west wind. Jack was inside, writing, and

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now and then he would say something
to me through the open window. As

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I sat, lost in delight at
the beauty of the view and the sweetness

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of the flower scented air, I
marveled that Aunt Agnes could ever have left

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so charming a spot. She must
still love it, I thought, getting

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up to move my chair to where
I might see still further over the prairies,

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and sometimes she will come back.
At this moment I happened to glance

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to the further end of the verandah, and there I saw, to my

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amazement, a little child seated on
the floor, playing with the shifting shadows

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of the tangled creepers. It was
a little girl in a daintily embroidered white

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dress with golden curls around her baby
head. As I still gazed, she

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suddenly turned with a roguish toss of
the yellow hair and fixed her serious blue

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eyes on me. Baby, I
cried, where did you come from?

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Where's your mamma, darling? And
I took a step towards her. What's

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that? Sylvia called Jack from within. I turned my head and saw him

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sitting at his desk. Come quick, Jack, there's the loveliest baby.

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I turned back to the child,
looked blinked, and at this moment Jack

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stepped out beside me. Baby.
He inquired, what on earth are you

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talking about, Sylvia dearest? Why? But I exclaimed, there was one?

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How did she get away? She
was sitting right there when I called

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a baby, repeated my husband,
My dear, babies don't appear and disappear

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like East Indian magicians. You have
been napping and are trying to conceal the

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shameful fact. Jack, I said, decisively, don't you suppose I know

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a baby when I see one?
She was sitting right there, playing with

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the shadows, and I it's certainly
very queer. Jack grinned go and put

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on your habit, he replied.
The horses will be here in ten minutes,

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and remember that when you have accounted
for her disappearance. Her presence still

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remains to be explained. Or perhaps
you think was Singh produced her from his

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sleeve, I laughed, Was Sang
was our Chinese cook, and more apt

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I thought to put something up his
sleeve than to take anything out. I

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suppose I was dreaming, I said, though I could almost as well believe

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I had only dreamed our marriage,
or rather, observed Jack, that our

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marriage had only dreamed us Part two
Shadows. About a week later I received

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a letter from Aunt Agnes, among
other things, chiefly relating to New York's

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slums. She said, I am
in need of rest, and if you

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and Jack could put up with me
for a few days, I believe I

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should like to get back to the
old place. As you know, I

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have always dreaded a return there,
but lately I seem somehow to have lost

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that dread. I feel that the
time has come for me to be there

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again, and I am sure you
will not mind me. Most assuredly we

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would not mind her. We sat
in the moonlight that night on the Verandah,

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Jack swinging my hammock slowly, and
talked of Aunt Agnes. The moon

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silvered, the waving Alfalfa and sifted
through the twisted vines that fenced us in,

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throwing intricate and ever changing patterns on
the smooth flooring. There was a

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hum of insects in the air,
and the soft wind, ever and Anon

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blew a fleecy cloud over the moon, dimming for a moment her serene splendor.

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Who knows, said Jack, lighting
another cigar. This may be a

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turning point in Aunt Agnes's life,
and she may once more be something like

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the sunny, happy girl your mother
describes. She is beautiful, and she

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is yet young. It may mean
the beginning of a new life for her.

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Yes, I answered, it isn't
right that her life should always be

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shadowed by that early sorrow. She
is so lovely and could be so happy

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now that she has taken in the
first step. There's no reason why she

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shouldn't go on. We'll do what
we can to help her, responded my

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husband, let me fix your cushions, darling, they have slipped. He

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rose to do so, and suddenly
stood still, facing the further end of

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the Verandah. His expression was so
peculiar that I turned following the direction of

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his eyes, even before his smothered
exclamation of Sylvia look. There, reached

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me, standing in the fluttering moonlight
and shadows, was the same little girl

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I had seen already. She still
wore white, and her tangled curls floated

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shining around her head. She seemed
to be smiling and slightly shook her head

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at us. What does it mean, jack, I whispered, slipping out

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of the hammock. How did she
get there? Come? Said he?

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And we walked hastily towards the little
thing, who again shook her head.

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Just at this moment, another cloud
obscured the moon for a few seconds,

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and though in the uncertain twilight I
fancied I still saw her. Yet when

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the cloud passed, she was not
to be found. Part three Perdita aunt

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Agnes certainly did look as though she
needed rest. She seemed very frail,

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and the color had entirely left her
face, But her curling hair was as

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golden as ever, and her figure
as girlish and graceful. She kissed me

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tenderly and kept my hand in hers
as she wandered over the house and took

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long looks across the prairie. Isn't
it beautiful? She asked softly, Just

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the place to be happy in I've
always had a strange fancy that I should

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be happy here again some day,
and now I feel as though that day

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had almost come. You are happy, aren't you, dear? I looked

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at Jack and felt the tears coming
to my eyes. Yes, I am

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happy. I did not know one
could be so happy, I answered.

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After a moment. Aunt Agnes smiled
her sweet smile and kissed me again.

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God bless you and your Jack.
You almost make me feel young again,

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as though you could possibly feel anything
else, I retorted, laughing, you

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little humbug to pretend you old,
and slipping my arm round her waist,

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for we had always been dear friends, I walked off to chat with her

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in her room. We took a
ride that afternoon, for aunt Agnes wanted

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another gallop over that glorious prairie.
The exercise and the perfect afternoon brought back

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the color to her cheeks. I
think I shall be much better tomorrow,

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she observed as we trotted home.
What a country this is, and what

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horses, slipping her hand down her
mount's glossy neck. I did right to

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come back here. I do not
believe I will go away again, and

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she smiled on Jack and me who
laughed and said she would find it a

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difficult thing to attempt. We all
three came out on the verandah to see

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the sunset. It was always a
glorious sight, but this evening it was

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more than usually magnificent. Immense rays
of pale blue and pink spread over the

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sky, and the clouds, which
stretched in horizontal masses, glowed rose and

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golden. The whole sky was luminous
and tender, and seemed to tremble with

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light. We sat silent, looking
at the sky and at the shadowy grass

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that seemed to meet it. Slowly
the color deepened and faded. There can

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never be a lovelier evening, said
aunt Agnes, with a sigh. Don't

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say that, replied Jack. It
is only the beginning of even more perfect

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ones. Aunt Agnes rose with a
slight shiver. It grows chilly when the

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sun goes, she murmured, and
turned lingeringly to enter the house. Suddenly

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she gave a startled exclamation. Jack
and I jumped up and looked at her.

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She stood with both hands pressed to
her heart, looking the child again,

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said Jack in a low voice,
laying his hand on my arm.

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He was right there in the gathering
shadow stood the little girl in the white

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dress. Her hands were stretched towards
us, and her lips parted in a

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smile. A belated gleam of sunlight
seemed to linger in her hair. Perdita

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cried aunt Agnes in a voice that
shook with a kind of terrible joy.

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Then with a stifled sob, she
ran forward and sank before the baby,

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throwing her arms about her. The
little girl leaned back her golden head and

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looked it aunt Agnes with her great
serious eyes. Then she flung both baby

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arms round her neck and lifted her
sweet mouth. Jack and I turned away,

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looking at each other with tears in
our eyes. A slight sound made

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us turn back. Aunt Agnes had
fallen forward to the floor, and the

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child was nowhere to be seen.
We rushed up, and Jack raised my

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aunt in his arms and carried her
into the house, but she was quite

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dead. The little child we never
saw again, and of Perdita