The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1884-03-15

II am better, dear papa" she said,
softly. IL shall soon be quite we'll .
MY child, he said, faintlv. II have
but few hours to stay with you; do not
leave mel"
Never again, dear father-neyer
| again :" she sobbed
The blind clergyman, in conseouenco
OF the presence Of his daughter, rallied
slightly for few days; but toward morn
ing on the fourth day, Geraldine, whose
| mind and firmness were wonderfully re-
stored by the shock of her fathers Illness.
noticed that indescribable change which
precedes dissolution.
He still slept, but suddenly opening
his eyes called Geraldine.
She was by his side in an instant with
her arm beneath his head
My child" he said, "promise me to
be mother to Constance. leave Won.
alas both unprovided for; but she Is so
young and innocent I tremble for her.
Father" she said, bending down, "I
promise will watch over her; no sacrifice
shall be too great, no work too nard, that
L will not do for her. Trust her to ne
and all will be well, dear father, for nv
happiness and life shall not be withheld
to shield her from harm p
God forbid, my dear child, that you
should be called to make those sacrifices:
but guard her, Geraldine"
''Do not doubt me; and now rest in
peace dear"
| mot till have blessed you, nv dear
est child. Call your sister I have not
many moments to remain with my treas
ures. F"
Poor Constance was reused from sleep
to receive her fathers dying blessing.
My poor tiuttering little tloyer' he
said, as he felt her trembling little fingers
within his own. "Your earthly parent is
leaving you, but you have One above all
who Will care for you" And then he
blessed them both.
| The feeble hands relaxed their fervent
pressure, the lids fell gently over the
sightless eyes, the features settled into
the expression Of perfect peace, and the
aged clergyman of Dunlo was no more.
The death of her father made Geraldine
forget her own sorrow, and forced her to
think of others.
| Her sisters grief was for time so over
whelming that it threatened her life. The
atfectionate child had clung to her father
as the only being she had to love on
earth. Geraldine, with a mothers ten
derness and sisters devotion, soothed
the grief she could not check, and pill
lowed the fair young head on the bosom
Of sisterly love.
She gave every direction for the funeral
and aad to looh into their resources to
meet the expenses. She was herself pen
niless, and she had never before g1aspel
the fact that Eugene Bowmont must have
provided everything for her until now
She stood beside the grave of her father
with Constance, and never were there
two more interesting and lovely creatures
left to the cold charity of the world
Many OF the gentlemen from the vicinity
paid the last tribute of respect to the
! memory of Mr.. Somerset; but no relative
save his two fair daughters stood round
his resting place. Vlscount Dunkellon,
at Eugene's request, walked across the
fields to the church, and, with him, was
present at the solemn service.
Little did the poor girls think that Eu-
genes orders had converted the simple
grave into vault or that it was sons
dirty that had prompted the attention.
They felt alone In the world, aud Con-
stances 8 excessive grief and Geraldine's
attentions to her sister prevented them
from seeing the pale features of Lord
Bownont CT the surprised look OF intense
admiration with which the ViscOuut re-
sgart,ed the elder sister.
'What lovely face that poor girl has!"
said the Viscount as he walked back to
the Hall. Il have heard strange tales of
her absence. Do you think her Us good
as beautiful
Miss Somerset, said Eugene, speak
irg with difficulty, "has been from home
as companion to lady in town, and I
think her everything that is good and
pure.
'You have loved that girl, I believe,
Bowmont. Tell me the truth, old fel-
lows"
Yes" said Eugene, 81 have loved
her, and l think it was once returned;
but have been too cruel for any trace of
it to remain now"
81 will not refer to this again" said
the Viscount, for see it is painful
subjec5
The next day Lord Bowmont returned
to town, but Viscount Dunkellon re-
manned, and the mex! Sunday, greatly to
the surprise OF every one III the house
hold, was at church.
The sisters were in their usual seat, and
the ViscouIt was unable to keep his eyes
and attention from the beautiful girl
whose pale, sweet face looked moro
touchingly lovely in her deep mourning
For the first time Charles Dunkellon
felt that he loved the orphan daughter of
! the blind minister of Dunlo.
Day after day he wandered near the
parsonage, and If he could catch sight Of
her slender form or even her shadow on
the blind, he was repaid for hours of
watching.
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