The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1885-04-02

Oh, Father, In that hour,
Though hand and heart betray me-
Uphold me with Thy power,
Nor let the change dismay mo!
Strengthen me with Thy might
To tread deaths darksome portal,
Until 500 Heavens light :,
Glow on tho shoteE immortal
BLEN0RE.
She came to our door one dreary
November day in the pouring rain and
begged to be taken into our service.
She belonged to . miserable French
Canadian family that had lived in the
tity for many years; but shiftless and
degraded as they xets, il was evident
from the young girls aceodnt that they
considerd her the black sheep among
them; and her mother; always harsh
with her, for some reason had recently
grew more so, until that morning, after
an unusual cruel beating, Helenore-
she said her name was Helenore Bal
aeau-had fed from under her hands,
and shaking off the dust Of her native
ally, wandered, she neither knew it6f
cared whittier, till hunger and fatigue
led her to seek shelter with us.
Her plain and somewhat heavy
face was swoolen and red with weeping,
and there was Look of pleading in her
great soft black eyes that was difficult
to resist
ooh, if you would but try mel" she
said. II can do . great many things;
and + care only for some bread to eat
and d place to sleep, and;" with shud.
der, ITO be hurt NO more"
I held the door open and looked at
her with compassion stirring my heart.
Poor child! She seemed 80 young and
yet so forlorn, standing there in her
dripping garments. She could not have
been more than fifteen or sixten years
old, and she looked up into my face
with such an expression of gentle con-
fidence that I felt it would be cruel to
wholly disappoint.
And then she asked 40 little ''only
place to sleep and bread to eat and to
be hurt no more" The tears came to
my eyes as her simple words REQUIRED
to me, and yielding to sudden impulse,
I took her in, fed her, and made her as
comfortable as possible, meanwhile
turning it over and over in my mind
what I should do with her.
At dinner time held q consultation
with jack, the nominal head of our
family; I say nominal advisedly, for he
insisted that I defer to him only as
matter OF form, after having fully de.
termined in my own mind upon any
course Of action:
Be this as it may, he generally con-
firms my decision. thus making assur-
ance doubly sure; so this time, after
looking over my livery latest" as he
called her he promised to go to her
mother and negotiate, if he could. for
Helenore's services.
As q result of that interview, he
found out for a certainty that Madame
Baldeau was horrible old vixen; but
she readily agreed to let her daughter
remain in our employ if, after suitable
trial, we so desired.
When Jack came home at night, he
found us all together in the sitting
room. 1 was sewing, and Helenore was
sitting ne"r me, playing with little Ned,
our three-year-old boy.
"Well, Helenore, said he, lightly, IL
have seen your mother, and YOU can
stay with us if you are good girl"
She turned toward him with a look of
unutterable gratitude and tried in vain
to speak then, with one swift movement
she threw herself at my feet, and fasten-
ing her great eyes upon mine with an
expression I shall never forget, she
made the sign of the cross upon her
forehead and breast. We saw her do
this afterward on several occasions
when deeply moved, and it was as ex-
pressive and touching as characteristic.
We soon became much attached to
and her odd wild ways furnished us nc
little amusement. One of hor favorite
pastimes was to sit with baby in the back
door and play on her Emusic" as she
called it. This was an invention Of
Helenore's own, and was only one Of
her many grotesque but poetic fancies. II
was only o large sheet of thick, stout pa
pei. rolled up into huge trumpet shape
and on this queer instrument she would
play for hours, bringing out the most
unhealthy, but withal, musical tones
which the neighbors far and near soon
learned to marvel at and to designate as
"Helenore's music"
Sometimes quite an audience would
gather around her while she PLAYED,
and she always received their applause
with much dignity and as q matter Of
course. But there was one thing about
this instrument, very remarkable and
mysterious; it responded to Helenore'e
touch and to hers alone. Many others
tried it, but always with poor success.
Even Jack, who has sort of facility
with dozen instruments, and can
play the whole opera of "Patience" on
tin whistle, after q fashion, finally
gave it up in despair, declaring that he
believed Helenore was q witch. I'm.
doubtedly it was the popularity of he,
voice that gave to her footing such
wonderful effect.
She seldom sang, and when she did,
it seemed to be solely for the sake Of
giving vent to some powerful emotion
otherwise inexpressible. Her voice was
low, but very sweet and flexible; she
had no high tones. I think she con.
sidered them too light and frivolous t.
convey the feelings of her soul.
once asked her why she never SANG
high. Mine heart Is down here" she
answered, laying her hand upon he,
heart; and I was glad to believe that il
those low, deep tones of hers, 80 tremu.
lous and so solemnly sweet, the strange
poetic soul of this poor untaught crea