The Cook County herald. [volume] (Grand Marais, Minn.) 1893-1909, 1893-07-15
HORROR R-STRICKEN.


When Marguerite ,Ourdac married
Antoine Soulet, and he carried her
miles below. Petit Anse to live in a
little cabin situated close to the edge
of q profoundly melancholy bayou,
her friends in Vermlllionville gave.
her up as one dead. They had never.
liked Soulet. His homely,s massive
body seemed but an index. to a
morose character. and all p1tied and
wondered at Marguerite, who had
been such a little chatterbcx and go
gay and happy, and who realized
nothing OF Soulet's .tempestuous
nature,
Marguerite was a lovely girl,
strong and 1.-the of limb, with vivid
coloring and great dreamy brown eyes
and small hands and feet. She was
skilled in all sorts of work, could
cook and sew and weave home-spun
clothes, such as the men in Acadia
wear. -Altogether~her life had been
one of continual industry and was in
nocent and : harmless. She met
Souletsa at a Saints Day ball, and in
spite of his huge, awkward body and
homely visage she was attracted to
him from the. first and shortly after
ward married him, although pre-
viously he had thought no human
life necessary to his own, being con-
tent to live alone with all that was
solemnest and grandest in nature.
: Their little cabin was a low-eaved
affair, and when they were first mar
rled Marguerite had planted grape
vines and roses about it until after
five years it's unpainted walls and
curled shingles were masses of yell
low and white blossoms. There was
deep thicket back of the house,
where swamp camellias, blood-red
roses and monstrous passion-fowers
filed the air with their perfume and
formed background of almost bar
barrie beauty.
81 At first when Soulet would leave
! her lone to go away for any purpose
Marguerite was almost afraid Of the
strange silence and elusive shifting
OF the trees, when moved by the
wind, but after time she grew ac-
customed to the profound melancholy
and loved her home, content to work
hard for their little baby girl. Sou
let was kind, and loved her with a
fierce jealous devotion that was some
times trying to her lighter nature,
and ii once in a while she had a
vague feeling that the old gay life in
the little village was better, she was
careful not to let her hus band know it.
Soulet was in the habit of frequent
~, going on fishing excursions. SO
Marguerite thought nothing more of
IT than usual, when he signifed his
intention OF departing early one
morning. Indeed, if anything she
hurried him away.
. ou are not afraid" said Soulet,
IN the soft Acadian patois, observing
certain thoughtful expression in
his wife's face.
She shuddered slightly and glanced
In tie direction of the forest, where
gigantic magnolias and live oak
seemed to wave their misty arms.
'No," she said lightly, and there
was feverish glow in the brilliancv
OF her face. ''I'm not afraid, there's
nothing to hurt me-
So Soulet Kissed her and started
with his fishing-pole thrown over his
shoulder. p
She watched him as he went in
straight line through the knee-deep
grass, which was fragrant with
flowers, until he came to the BAYOU
where he got into his bateau and
rowed away until he was hid from
her sight by the masses of moss that
lined the banks.
1t was a clear day, and the air
was filled with a pure binding heat.
Great piles Of feecy white clouds
hoated in the sky and cicada from
somewhere in the live-oak uttered
the only sound which disturbed the
silence. =. -. - = -,
When soulet was out of sight
Marguerite hurried from the house
and ran back towards the woods.
Ihe great, melancholy, loW-lying
forests had always been full Of sig
nifcant meaning to her. They
seemed to threaten and the mon
strous half-humanlike growths which
leered up from the twilight recesses
were full of Imaginable terrors and
it had been only when in her hus-
bands company that she ever went
there. She ran breathlessly on until
suddenly she stopped at the entrance
OF the shadoWy place. Leaning
against q great rank, knotted vine.
which hung twisted and coiled about
"a cypress tree, she peered -intently
before her and lifting her voice
called, The dore, Theodore. dear
Theod ore s
The pale gray and dusky green
mists echoed her cry until the woods.
seemed alive with spectral voices
shouting that name.
For a moment a supernatural ter