A STRANGE QUEST.

Auckland Star, Volume XXI, Issue 48, 27 February 1890, Page 6

A STRANGE QUEST.

Ez Mansfield Tracy Walworth, •Author of "Warwick," " Hotspur,' "Beverly, , " Lulu," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXXV.—(Continued).

Weeks glided by, and the -winter came in like a lion.

Such piercing blaste of wind and such heavy falls of snow had rarely been known in the metropolis. When the Christmas time came ib was heralded in by a violent snowstorm.

Little Bessie stood at the window of the great Rudd mansion, contemplating the storm and eagerly watching the people plodding their way through the snow. > Tho servants had told her that the people were out purchasingtoys for the Christmas trees fchat night. So she was speculating upon the. contents of every bundle that wen 6 by. At'lasb her mother notified her that she was expected to go out that evening to a Christmas tree, at the house of her. grandfather's sister, who had just arrived on the steamer from Europe.

• Did she invice ms, mamma ?' inquired the child.

' No, dear; ehe does noc know that; there is such a little girl as you living. She invited your grandfather to come and bring hie family to her Christmas tree. It is evident from her note that she doesn't know that I have a little daughter. But your grandfather says that you must go with us, or she will feel very badly when she learns that we left you behind.'

' If she don't know me, mamma, she wont have anything on the tree forme.' ' Oh, ye 3 she will. The tree will be loaded with things that are not marked with any names. You will have your hands full, you may be sure, before you come away.'

Thus persuaded, the child gave her assent to be dressed for the expected entertainment. White and blue were the colours of the little dress they put upon her. Her bare neck and should era and her plump little arms were very fair, and the rose flush of health was in her cheeks. Then her brown curls were arranged, and her white slippers pub upon her feet. One more kiss from her fond mother, and away she whirled about the apartment like a fairy. Then she had to undergo ths hard task of waiting patiently until her father and mother had completed their toilet. But the longest evening must have an end. Then came a terrible disappointment. A messenger arrived from Nicholas Budd with a. note which apprised them that he could not reach home for two hour 3 yet, and that they must wait for him. Nothing could be done but to wait patiently and endeavour to keep little Bessie's mind occupied and interested in other matters than the expected Christmas tree. At last, when all were weary and the hour was late, the sleigh of the banketdrove up to the front of'the house, and Bessie aud her parents were hurried into it, and away drove all four for the house of the strange lady. The snowstorm drove downwards with unabated fury, and the gale whirled the flakes into drifts on every side.

1 We shall be very late, but my sister ■will be all the more gratißed that we have come, and may insiet upon our staying all night. Should she do so we hfed better accept the invitation. After a long drive, the aged banker said again : 'It is evident that my sister knows nothing , of my grandchild. She has been in the East and has, probably gained her information of my family from newspaper accounts. She will be gratified, 1 know, by the surprise of meeting little Bessie.' The little girl again putin her suggestion that asshe was unknown she would probably be unprovided for on the Christmas tree. Her apprehensions in this regard were quieted/and they hurried on over the snow faster than ever.

At lasb they reached the street upon which the house stood. Ellorts had been jpade to clear the masses of snow from the stepe and pavement. ' They had be6n partially successful, but the huge piles of snow obstructed the streets and gutters. Nicholes Rudd looked out from the sleigh and saw that it was not feasible to drive just before the door. So he directed the driver to pause at the first cut made through the snow-bank, and they would alight there and walk to the bouse. The-ord'er wa3 obeyed, and in a few eeconda they stood upon the steps of the • bouse. The gale was appalling, and to their surprise and gratification they found the outer door open. They immediately entered the vestibule, while Sam rang the bell. Hie wife took off little Bessie's furs and hood, and Nicholas Rudd, finding that tho inner door opened to Ma touch, pushed the child ahead, saying : • Go and see why they don't answer to the bell.' The child walked in and looked about her. Seeing no one, she ventured to look in at a door whence bright light was issuing. .At this instant the bell in the neighbouring church-tower tolled the hour through the storm. Nicholas Rudd and his party were amazed when they had counted the strokes. Twelve, o'clock ! The birthday of the child Jesus had come. The snow howled at the opening of Christmas and the snow flew in blinding showers, but within the house was peace, for faith is peace. Alone beside a Christmas tree, whence all otheis had fled, sat an aged woman with silvered head and gentle face, praying to Him in whom she trusted. Hers was the faith which removes mountains, and she had brought to it new life ond fervour from her visit to Bethlehem. From the Holy Land had she returned to her home, and once again before she died she had determined to wrestle with God in prayer for that which had been one of the sweetest hopes oi her life. The children of old neighbours and friends had come to the Christmas tree, taken their gifts and gone. Poor children, as of old, had come empty-handed and hungry, and had gone away fulJ. The tree was still lighted, and only one gift remained upon it. It was the littb white stocking, a new white stocking, such as had marked the coming of each Christmas time for so many weary years. And upon it was written one little name ' B"ssie ' and it was stuffed full. She could not eradicate from her memory the fact as it had been. Her lost darling was alwaye a child to" her, just as when for the last time she had looked upon her blue eyes and brown curie "and infantile loveliness. As such she had dreamed of her and prayed for her restoration. In the nude* ot her prayer of fnitb tbo clock told JShSJStheetonn. She started at tto heavy, solemn vibrations of the bell, Xb\ was twelve o'clock. Was toWje «*««»■! Gad and flia pfon&es t® wf g»w,' f)®\ feaL Si© looGwi ap, &* **■ beawl«JfoHK, tarn. « had heard tor j«W** J*S £ar Wm Asp m&am pM M$ ; Tar in. «Jks? $j¥.j§2sL ffi

arms that she might reach the little white stocking in the tree. The little hands took down the prize, and Bessie kissed the aged woman tenderly, till she wept for

• My child ! my child ! God hae given me back my child !' "

There was a loud and startling trampling in tho hall as of feet shaking off the siiow, and then a happy trio entered to do her reverence.

' Merry Christmas.'

CHAPTER XXXVI.

A MERRY CHRISTMAS. The brother and sister stood face to face once more after the lapse of many years. Time had marked hi 3 changes upon the brow of each. They were aged, but the family marks upon them wore indelible, and they recognised each other without difficulty. She, still clinging to little Bessie, was presented to the son of Nicholas Rudd and to the young wife. She gazed long and earnestly at the latter, and then exclaimed :

' Why, she is wonderfully like my child !' • Which child, Bister ?' said the aged

banker

* Why, this child,' she said, holding little Bessie toward them. The child was busily engaged in tearing open the wrappers of the toys with which the stocking was stuffed. She exclaimed with delight when she saw some articles appear from the stocking which she had long coveted, and said : ' How did you know I was coming V

' Siefcor,' said the banker, ' there is some misunderstanding here. This young woman is Hi}' son's wife, and the chiles in your arras is her daughter Bessie. They are alike, it ia true, and naturally enough, for they are mother and daughter.' 4 This child, my little daughter, the child of this lady who has married your son ! Impossible i. Brother, this is a child who was stolen from me and of whose existence you never heard. .

' What ?' exclaimed Nicholas Rudd. 'Do you really mean that thiy young child is yours? Why, she is my granddaughter. I have watchad her little face developing into beauty from hor early infancy. There has never been a week .at a time of absence from her. She is as surely my grandchild as that Christmas tree stands there.'

' Nicholas, she is my child. I lost her, and God in answer to my prayer restored her to me. Nothing shali ever sever me from her. .

The young mother now drew near in her surprise and anxiety. A rival claim was being set up by the venerable lady. A suspicion crossed her mind that Mrs Judge Truelove might be insane. ' Tell me all about it, sister, , said the old man. ' There is evidently some mistake in your mind, some mystery. Tell me the whole occurrence. When did you lose your child, and what was her name ?' This question seomed to bowilder the old lady. Dates and years began to assert themselves in her mind. Then the illusion of the moment faded. She dwelt so long upon the loveliness of that infantile face that she had never realised, what changes must have occuraed in the person of her lost darling. ' Why !' she exclaimed, ' I must have been drearniDg all these years. Oh ! how many years ago was it ? Ifc was something like eighteen "years ago that sho was stolen from me or strayed away. Ah ! I can tell. Come to this drawer. 1

She led the way to a great drawer in a piece of ancient-looking furniture, or sideboard, which she retained when her other furniture was sold. She opened it and exposed rows of little white stockings sfcufied full of presents for a little girl.

' There ! you see I was right! Count the stockings and add to them the one that Bessie has in her hand, o,nd you will see that my child has been gone from me eighteen years. Every Christmas Eve 1 have hung a stocking up on the tree for her, and prayed Heaven to send her back to me to claim them all.'

There were tho evidences of her faith and her fidelity to the memory of her child. She gave them all to Bessie, and the child was wild with delight. So many little stockings, stuffed full, had never fallen to tho lob of ona little girl on Christmas Day before. They were all hers, and upon each one of them was a fecrap of paper, bearing the s-ingle word ' Bessie.'

Tears stood in the eyes of the old man as he contemplated her. ' Tell me more, sister,' he said, putting his hand upon tho arm of Sam's wife, and restraining her as she was about to speak. ' Did you ever hear from the child again ?' ' Yes, yes,'" she said. ' One ot the greatest detectives this city has ever known tracked her. His name was t'ryor, and he was found murdered upon the docks.'

'Murdered!' exclaimed Nicholas Eudd. • I knew him, but never heard of his fate.'

' I saw his mysterious death mentioned in a newspaper,' she said ; ' bub no matter about that now. He tracked my child to a shanty near the Central Park. lie came to my husband and obtained a parby of men to aid him in retaking Bessie; bub when we all came to the shanty the child was gone, and the woman who had possession of her Jay there alone and murdered.' 'What was the woman's name?' said Sam's \pife, approaching Mrs Trueiove, eager cmio&ity beaming in hor faco. 'Red-Eyed Mag,' was the reply as she fixed her attention upon the beautiful face of the young wife. ' I was that little child, Bessie, and you are-niy mother, and this is 70111* grandchild !' exclaimed the young wife.

'I am bewildered,' said 'The Good Woman,' regarding her. ' Are you my child —my long-lost Bessie ? What proofs do you bring V

'Upon my neck, when- I was stolen or lo3t, hung a little golden harp suspended from a golden chain. Hei'e it is, mother, upon my neck now. Do you not recognise it?'

The silver-haired woman took the little harp in her fingers and looked eagerly upon it. Then she gazed afc the features of tho wearer.

'Yes, yes. That is the same hdrp and chain, and your face is tho face oi little Bessie here. My ciaughtor 1 my daughter.!'

( To be contimied.)