San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-03-05

foliage and long festoons of moss Bently
Ray knew that it was Bruyere's boat, but
somehow-it may have been the state of
his nerves-the simmer on the water,
whose bosom was beginning to ripple,
made it look like phantom craft.
How rapidly the winl rosel Within five
minutes it was a gale; the black clouds
boiled against the sky and heavy roaring
came out of the distance. He was forced
to hurry back to his room. Already the
house was trembling.
Armentine Rouquette, with the strange
and overmastering revelation in her heart,
had no room for a thought of the storm in
the air. The sail on the bayou had caught
her vision. She wrung her hands and gave
way to bitter weeping.
Throb upon throb the gale grew more
furious. The enormous weight and swing
of the palpitations fairly Jared the earth.
1t tore the bayou into crashing, seething,
foam capped fragments that hammered
and broke against the shore with detona-
tions like thunderbursts.
The Rouquette household came together
In the hall. CONSERVATION looked from
every face IS shutters went crashing off
and the giant arms of the live oaks were
wrenched and dragged over the roof.
"The house will stand" said Placide to
his aged father and mother as he put an
arm around each. ut is built to hold"
The actor was smiling. The storm had
restored his nervous equilibrium and
driven from his mind the sentiments OF
evil lately brooding there.
"This must be a mistake" he remarked,
with much of his accustomed lightness;
"this blow was meant for the Caribbean.
was in such another on Barbados a few
years ago. It's nothing; it'll soon pass"
Placide prevailed on his mother and
father to sit down; but it was impossible
to maintain an Indifferent expression OF
countenance while the house was rocking
almost like a boat at sea. Each succeed
ing surge of the wind was heavier than its
predecessor; already the spray from the
bayou was beating on the walls and win
dows like level rain.
"But where is Armentine? She is not
here. Can she be sleeping?" inquired the
old man in a querulous voice.
Just then a chord of music, strong,
sweet phrase struck from guitar, came
in as if on the surface of all the tumult
and boom of the storm, and a rich baritone
voice began singing an old French love
song, tender, thrilling, strangely in con-
trast with the elemental bedlam of noises.
Placide Rouquette and the actor looked
at each other wonderingly. They knew
the voice, but what could the man means
It was Felix Bruyere, come to serenade
Armentine. Of all times this surely was
the most unpropitious for such a perform
ance.
"The idiotp exclaimed Placide HE
Oh hs.a In aoul.IY,1
The song and accompaniment arose as
the storm arose-higher, stronger, sweeter,
more appealing. Sometimes the strains
pest and SO divided that they sounded like
q multitude of echoes scattered through
hubbub Of waves and lashing the tree
boughs.
Presently the stress Of the wind was so
great that they felt the house moving from
its foundations Timbers strained and
cracked, and at last part Of the roof went
off with terrible noise.
Placide ran to Armentine's chamber. She
was gone. Her window was open to the
night, and through it he could see the
great trees leaning almost level under the
pressure of the wind current He ran and
leaned out. The moon was covered with
racing clouds, but he saw distinctly two
shadowy forms flying under the trees to-
ward the bayou.
Could they be Felix Bruyere and Armen.
timer
Before he could more than think the
final crash came, and the mansion went to
pieces. It was a sudden lurch Of the tenn
pest, so to call it, furious dash, with an
appalling medley of wild noises; arending,
tearing, dragging, bursting, multitudinous
roar, and then all was over.
Strange to tell, with the exception of a
slight cut on Placide's hand, no member
of the household was hurt, although the
mansion was quite destroyed.
The cyclone rolled on, and its wheel OF
destruction at length spent it's force far
away in the wild swamps. Out came the
moon low in the west and glorified once
more the expanse of the tumbling, froth
covered bayou. Sweet and soft as the
breath of child was the breeze that now
stole over the scene of desolation.
The houseless household of Rouquette
place drew together in picturesque group
on the sand by the water side. Far out
and diagonally viewed across the bayou
they saw sail gently leaning to the breeze
and swaying with the roll of the waves.
Both Placide and the actor felt sinking
of the heart. The catastrophe whose tum-
bled ruins lay all around them was for
gotten in the sudden overwhelming sense
of something awfully significant in that
spectral sail slowly receding in the watery
distance. Soon it disappeared.
Armentine was gone. Search far and
wide was made for her afterward, but not
a trace could be found, nor was Felix
Bruyere ever again seen on the bayou. He,
too, had passed beyond the limit of discov'
cry.
The incident became legend among the
noonIa and fsbarmen and sailors declared