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Perdita · Short Ghost and Horror Stories Collection

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  Speaker 1: Perdita by Hildegarde Hawthorne One alfalfa Ranch. Alfalfa ranch, low wide,
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  Speaker 1: with spreading verandas all overgrown by roses and woodbine, and
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  Speaker 1: commanding on all sides a wide view of the rolling
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  Speaker 1: alfalfa fields, was a most bewitching place for a young
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  Speaker 1: couple to spend the first few months of their married life.
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  Speaker 1: So Jack and I were naturally much delighted when Aunt
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  Speaker 1: Agnes asked us to consider it our own for as
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  Speaker 1: long as we chose. The ranch, in spite of its
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  Speaker 1: distance from the nearest town, surrounded as it was by
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  Speaker 1: the prairies and without a neighbor within a three yard radius,
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  Speaker 1: was yet luxuriously fitted with all the modern conveniences. Aunt
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  Speaker 1: Agnes was a rich young widow, and had built the
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  Speaker 1: place after her husband's death, intending to live there with
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  Speaker 1: her child, to whom she transferred all the wealth of
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  Speaker 1: devotion she had lavished on her husband. The child, however,
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  Speaker 1: had died when only three years old, and Aunt Agnes,
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  Speaker 1: as soon as she recovered sufficient strength, had left Alfalfa Ranch,
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  Speaker 1: intending never to visit the place again. All this had
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  Speaker 1: happened nearly ten years ago, and the widow, relinquishing all
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  Speaker 1: the advantages her youth and beauty, quite as much as
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  Speaker 1: her wealth could give her, had devoted herself to work
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  Speaker 1: amid the poor of New York. At my wedding, which
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  Speaker 1: she heartily approved, and where to a greater extent than
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  Speaker 1: ever before, she cast off the almost morbid quietness which
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  Speaker 1: had grown habitual with her. She seemed particularly anxious that
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  Speaker 1: Jack and I should accept the loan of Alfalfa ranch,
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  Speaker 1: apparently having an old idea that the power of our
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  Speaker 1: happiness would somehow lift the cloud of sorrow which in
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  Speaker 1: her mind brooded over the place. I had not been strong,
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  Speaker 1: And Jack was overjoyed at such an opportunity of taking
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  Speaker 1: me into the country. High as our expectations were, the
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  Speaker 1: beauty of the place far exceeded them. All what color,
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  Speaker 1: what glorious sunsets, and the long rides we took, seeming
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  Speaker 1: to be utterly tireless in that fresh, sweet air. One
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  Speaker 1: afternoon I sat on the veranda at the western wing
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  Speaker 1: of the house. The veranda here was broader than anywhere else,
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  Speaker 1: and it was reached only by a flight of steps
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  Speaker 1: leading up from the lawn on one side, and by
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  Speaker 1: a door opposite these steps that opened into Jack's study.
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  Speaker 1: The rest of this veranda was enclosed by a high
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  Speaker 1: railing and by wire netting so thickly overgrown with vines
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  Speaker 1: that the place was always very shady. I sat near
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  Speaker 1: the steps, where I could watch the sweep of the
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  Speaker 1: great shadows thrown by the clouds that were sailing before
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  Speaker 1: the west wind. Jack was inside, writing, and now and
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  Speaker 1: then he would say something to me through the open window.
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  Speaker 1: As I sat, lost in delight at the beauty of
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  Speaker 1: the view and the sweetness of the flower scented air,
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  Speaker 1: I marveled that Aunt Agnes could ever have left so
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  Speaker 1: charming a spot. She must still love it, I thought,
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  Speaker 1: getting up to move my chair to where I might
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  Speaker 1: see still further over the prairies, and sometimes she will
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  Speaker 1: come back. At this moment I happened to glance to
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  Speaker 1: the further end of the verandah, and there I saw,
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  Speaker 1: to my amazement, a little child seated on the floor,
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  Speaker 1: playing with the shifting shadows of the tangled creepers. It
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  Speaker 1: was a little girl in a daintily embroidered white dress
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  Speaker 1: with golden curls around her baby head. I still gazed.
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  Speaker 1: She suddenly turned with a roguish toss of the yellow hair,
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  Speaker 1: and fixed her serious blue eyes on me. Baby, I cried,
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  Speaker 1: where did you come from? Where's your mamma, darling? And
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  Speaker 1: I took a step towards her. What's that? Sylvia called
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  Speaker 1: Jack from within. I turned my head and saw him
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  Speaker 1: sitting at his desk. Come quick, Jack, there's the loveliest baby.
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  Speaker 1: I turned back to the child, looked blinked, and at
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  Speaker 1: this moment Jack stepped out beside me. Baby. He inquired,
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  Speaker 1: what on earth are you talking about, Sylvia dearest? Why?
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  Speaker 1: But I exclaimed, there was one? How did she get away?
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  Speaker 1: She was sitting right there when I called a baby,
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  Speaker 1: repeated my husband, My dear, babies don't appear and disappear
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  Speaker 1: like East Indian magicians. You have been napping and are
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  Speaker 1: t trying to conceal the shameful fact. Jack, I said, decisively,
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  Speaker 1: don't you suppose I know a baby when I see one?
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  Speaker 1: She was sitting right there, playing with the shadows, and
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  Speaker 1: I it's certainly very queer. Jack grinned go and put
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  Speaker 1: on your habit, he replied. The horses will be here
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  Speaker 1: in ten minutes, and remember that when you have accounted
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  Speaker 1: for her disappearance, her presence still remains to be explained.
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  Speaker 1: Or perhaps you think Wasingh produced her from his sleeve,
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  Speaker 1: I laughed, was Singh was our Chinese cook, and more
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  Speaker 1: apt I thought to put something up his sleeve than
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  Speaker 1: to take anything out. I suppose I was dreaming, I said,
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  Speaker 1: though I could almost as well believe I had only
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  Speaker 1: dreamed our marriage, or rather, observed Jack, that our marriage
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  Speaker 1: had only dreamed us two shadows. About a week later
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  Speaker 1: I received a letter from Aunt Agnes, among other things,
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  Speaker 1: chiefly relating to New York slums. She said, I am
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  Speaker 1: in need of rest, and if you and Jack could
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  Speaker 1: put up with me for a few days, I believe
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  Speaker 1: I should like to get back to the old place.
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  Speaker 1: As you know, I have always dreaded a return there,
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  Speaker 1: but lately I seem somehow to have lost that dread.
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  Speaker 1: I feel that the time has come for me to
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  Speaker 1: be there again, and I am sure you will not
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  Speaker 1: mind me. Most assuredly we would not mind her. We
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  Speaker 1: sat in the moonlight that night on the verandah, Jack
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  Speaker 1: swinging my hammock slowly, and talked of Aunt Agnes. The
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  Speaker 1: moon silvered the waving alfalfa and sifted through the twisted
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  Speaker 1: vines that fenced us in, throwing intricate and ever changing
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  Speaker 1: patterns on the smooth flooring. There was a hum of
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  Speaker 1: insects in the air, and the soft wind, ever and
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  Speaker 1: Anon blew a fleecy cloud over the moon, dimming for
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  Speaker 1: a moment her serene splendor. Who knows, said Jack, lighting
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  Speaker 1: another cigar. This may be a turning point in Aunt
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  Speaker 1: Agnes's life, and she may once more be something like
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  Speaker 1: the sunny, happy girl your mother describes. She is beautiful,
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  Speaker 1: and she is yet young. It may mean the beginning
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  Speaker 1: of a new life for her. Yes, I answered, it
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  Speaker 1: isn't right that her life should always be shadowed by
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  Speaker 1: that early sorrow. She is so lovely and could be
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  Speaker 1: so happy, Not that she has taken the first step.
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  Speaker 1: There is no reason why she shouldn't go on. We'll
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  Speaker 1: do what we can to help her, responded my husband,
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  Speaker 1: let me fix your cushions, darling may have slipped. He
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  Speaker 1: rose to do so, and suddenly stood still, facing the
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  Speaker 1: further end of the verandah. His expression was so peculiar
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  Speaker 1: that I turned following the direction of his eyes, even
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  Speaker 1: before his smothered explanation of Sylvia, look there reached me.
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  Speaker 1: Standing in the fluttering moonlight and shadows was the same
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  Speaker 1: little girl I had seen already. She still wore white,
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  Speaker 1: and her tangled curls floated shining around her head. She
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  Speaker 1: seemed to be smiling and slightly shook her head at us.
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  Speaker 1: What does it mean, Jack, I whispered, slipping out of
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  Speaker 1: the hammock. How did she get there? Come? Said he,
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  Speaker 1: and we walked hastily toward the little thing, who again
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  Speaker 1: shook her head. Just at this moment, another cloud obscured
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  Speaker 1: the moon for a few seconds, and though in the
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  Speaker 1: uncertain twilight, I fancied I still saw her, Yet when
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  Speaker 1: the cloud passed, she was not to be found. Three
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  Speaker 1: perrita aunt Agnes certainly did look as though she needed rest.
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  Speaker 1: She seemed very frail, and the color had entirely left
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  Speaker 1: her face, But her curling hair was as golden as ever,
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  Speaker 1: and her figure as girlish and graceful. She kissed me
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  Speaker 1: tenderly and kept my hand in hers as she wandered
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  Speaker 1: over the house and took long looks across the prairie.
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  Speaker 1: Isn't it beautiful, she asked softly, Just the place to
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  Speaker 1: be happy in. I've always had a strange fancy that
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  Speaker 1: I should be happy here again some day, and now
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  Speaker 1: I feel as though that day had almost come. You
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  Speaker 1: are happy, aren't you, dear? I looked at Jack and
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  Speaker 1: felt the tears come into my eyes. Yes, I am happy.
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  Speaker 1: I did not know one could be so happy, I answered.
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  Speaker 1: After a moment. Aunt Agnes smiled her sweet smile and
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  Speaker 1: kissed me again. God bless you when you're Jack. You
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  Speaker 1: almost make me feel young again, as though you could
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  Speaker 1: possibly feel anything else. I retorted, laughing, you little umbug
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  Speaker 1: to pretend you are old, and slipping my arm around
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  Speaker 1: her waist, for we had always been dear friends, I
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  Speaker 1: walked off to chat with her in her room. We
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  Speaker 1: took a ride that afternoon, for aunt Agnes wanted another
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  Speaker 1: gallop over that glorious prairie. The exercise and the perfect
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  Speaker 1: afternoon brought back the color to her cheeks. I think
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  Speaker 1: I shall be so much better tomorrow, she observed as
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  Speaker 1: we trotted home. What a country this is, and what horses,
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  Speaker 1: slipping her hand down her mouth's glossy neck. I did
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  Speaker 1: right to come back here. I do not believe I
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  Speaker 1: will go away again, and she smiled on Jack and me,
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  Speaker 1: who laughed and said she would find it a difficult
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  Speaker 1: thing to attempt. We all three came out on the
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  Speaker 1: verandah to see the sun set. It was always a
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  Speaker 1: glorious sight, but this evening it was more than usually magnificent.
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  Speaker 1: Immense rays of pale blue and pink spread over with
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  Speaker 1: the sky, and the clouds, which stretched in horizontal masses,
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  Speaker 1: glowed rose in golden. The whole sky was luminous and
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  Speaker 1: tender and seemed to tremble with light. We sat silent,
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  Speaker 1: looking at the sky and at the shadowy grass that
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  Speaker 1: seemed to meet it. Slowly the color deepened and faded.
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  Speaker 1: There can never be a lovelier evening, said aunt Agnes,
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  Speaker 1: with a sigh. Don't say that, replied Jack. It is
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  Speaker 1: only the beginning of even more perfect ones. Aunt Agnes
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  Speaker 1: rose with a slight shiver. It grows chilly when the
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  Speaker 1: sun goes down, she murmured, and turned lingeringly to enter
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  Speaker 1: the house. Suddenly she gave a startled exclamation. Jack and
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  Speaker 1: I jumped up and looked at her. She stood with
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  Speaker 1: both hands pressed to her heart, looking the child again,
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  Speaker 1: said Jack in a low voice, laying his hand on
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  Speaker 1: my arm. He was right there in the gathering shadow
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  Speaker 1: stood the little girl in the white dress. Her hands
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  Speaker 1: were stretched toward us, and her lips parted in a smile.
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  Speaker 1: A belated gleam of sunlight seemed to linger in her hair.
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  Speaker 1: Perdita cried aunt Agnes in a voice that shook with
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  Speaker 1: a kind of terrible joy. Then with a stifled sob,
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  Speaker 1: she ran forward and sank before the baby, throwing her
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  Speaker 1: arms about her. The little girl leaned back her golden
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  Speaker 1: head and looked at aunt Agnes with her great serious eyes.
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  Speaker 1: Then she flung both baby arms round her neck and
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  Speaker 1: lifted her sweet mouth. Jack and I turned away, looking
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  Speaker 1: at each other with tears in our eyes. A slight
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  Speaker 1: sound made us turn back. Aunt Agnes had fallen forward
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  Speaker 1: to the floor, and the child was nowhere to be seen.
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  Speaker 1: We rushed up, and Jack raised my aunt in his
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  Speaker 1: arms and carried her into the house, but she was
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  Speaker 1: quite dead. The little child we never saw again. End
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  Speaker 1: of Perdita by Hildegarde Hawthorne.