A Visitor

           WhatIhavepurposedtorecordisnearlyfinished;butthereisyetanincidentconspicuousinmymemory,onwhichitoftenrestswithdelight,andwithoutwhichonethreadinthewebIhavespunwouldhavearavelledend.

           Ihadadvancedinfameandfortune,mydomesticjoywasperfect,Ihadbeenmarriedtenhappyyears.AgnesandIweresittingbythefire,inourhouseinLondon,onenightinspring,andthreeofourchildrenwereplayingintheroom,whenIwastoldthatastrangerwishedtoseeme.

           Hehadbeenaskedifhecameonbusiness,andhadansweredNo;hehadcomeforthepleasureofseeingme,andhadcomealongway.Hewasanoldman,myservantsaid,andlookedlikeafarmer.

           Asthissoundedmysterioustothechildren,andmoreoverwaslikethebeginningofafavouritestoryAgnesusedtotellthem,introductorytothearrivalofawickedoldFairyinacloakwhohatedeverybody,itproducedsomecommotion.Oneofourboyslaidhisheadinhismother’slaptobeoutofharm’sway,andlittleAgnes(oureldestchild)leftherdollinachairtorepresenther,andthrustoutherlittleheapofgoldencurlsfrombetweenthewindow-curtains,toseewhathappenednext.

           ‘Lethimcomeinhere!’saidI.

           Theresoonappeared,pausinginthedarkdoorwayasheentered,ahale,grey-hairedoldman.

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Roboto Lora
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