The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1885-02-13
HELENORE.

oIS ohAo We
would take her into our service.
She belonged to a miserable French
Canadian family that had lived in the
cfy for many years; but, shiftless and
degraded as they were, it was evident
nom the young girls account, that they
considered her the black sheep among
them; and her mother, always harsh
with her, for some reason had recently
grown more so, until that morning, If
tor an unusually cruel beating, Hele-
ore she said her name was Helenore
Baldeau-had fed from under her
hand, and shaking off the dust of her
native alley, wandered, she neither
knew nor cared whittier, till hunger and
fatigue led her to seek q shelter with us.
Her plain and somewhat heavy face
was swollen and red with weeping, and
there was a look of pleading in her great
soft black eyes that was difficult to resist.
ooh, if you would but try me!n she
said. II can do good many tings; I care
only for some bread to eat and q place
to leev, and"-with a shudder-"to be
hurt nc more"
l held the door open and looked at
her with compassion stirring my heart.
Poor child! she seemed SO young and
yet so f%orlorn, standing there in her
dripping garments. She could not have
beer o than Is or 1G years old, and
she looked into my face with an ex-
precision of gentle confidence that l felt
1t would be cruel to wholly disappoint.
And then she asked so little-"only o
place to leev and bread to cat, and to be
hurt no more"
The tears came to my eyes as the
simple words REQUIRED to me, and
yielding to a sudden impulse + took her
in, fed her, and made her as comfortable
as possible; meanwhile turning it over
and over in my mind as to what l should
do with her.
AT dinner time 1 held q consultation
with Jack, the nominal head of our fam
ily.;I say nominal a%dvisedly, for he in
sists that [ defer to him only as a mat
ter of form, after having fully deter
mined in my own mind upon IN course
of action.
Be this as it may, he generally con-
firms my decisions, thus making assur-
ance doubly sure; so this time, after
looking over my very 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 Bal
deau was a horrible old vixen, but she
readily agreed to let her daughter re-
main in u employ if, after o suitable
trial, we so desired.
When Jack came home ct night he
found us all together in the sitting
room. l wa sewing and Helenore was
sitting near me playing with little Ned,
our 3-year-old boy. p
well, H%elenore," said he lightly,
81 have seen your mother, and YOU can
stay with us if you are q good girl"
Sometimes quite an audience would
gather around her while she PLAYED,
and she always received their applause
with much dignity, and rs q matter of
course. But there was one thing about
this instrument very remarkable and
mysterious; it responded to Helenore's
touch and to hers alone. Many others
t1ied it, but always with poor success.
Even Jack, who has q sort Of facility
with a dozen instruments, and can play
the whole opera Of ''Patience' on a tin
whistle, after a fashion, finally gave it
up in despair, declaring that he believed
that Helenore was q witch undoubtedly
it was the popularity Of her voice that
gave to her, footing such wonderful eff
feet.
She seldom sang, and when she did,
it seemed to be solely for the sake of
giving vent to some powerful emotion
otherwise nexpressible. Her voice was
low, but very sweet and flexible; she
had no high tones. / think she consid-
cred them too light and frivolous to
convey the feelings of her soul.
I once asked her why she never sang
high.
"Mine heart is down here" she nm
swered, laying her hand on her heart; and
I was glad to believe that in those low,
deep tones of hers, so tremulous and so
solemnly sweet, the strange, poetic soul
of this poor untaught creature found
full expression and was satisfied.
She sang her own words generally,
and they were without connections
senseless tumble; and yet as she sang
them they often possessed o weird and
startling significance. Here is one Of
her songs:
s'Oh happy, happy me!
SO still, so still, white moon.
To eev, to love, to die.
ALI still and white, to die!"
BY questioning found out what these
words meant to her. She was alwaysat
ease with me, and could express herself
more freely to me than anybody else so
she tried to explain this verse.
of unutterable gratitude and tried in
vain to speak; then, with one swift
movement, she threw herself at my feet,
and fastening 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 sew
eral occasions when deeply moved, and
it was as expressive and touching as
characteristic.
We soon became much attached to
her, and her odd wild ways furnished
us no little amusement. One of her ia
vorite 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.
It wa only q large sheet of thick pa
> per, rolled up into q huge trumpet
Eaape. and on this queer instrument she