St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1893-05-20

saintliness about her; in fact, it was hel
very ready sympathy with all my &C
counts of my young~ life in the outel
world that drew my heart toward:
| her. 1t was her very womanliness thai
set me wondering who she could have
| been, and what had led her to shut her
self away from the world. There was
little to do, lying there in bed week
after week, and hundreds of times as
looked at that sweet woman moving
about the room, l pictured her without
the Golf, and said to myself that if she
were not then beloved wife, with q
husbands protecting arm around her,
and children climbing about her knees,
it was not because the love that should
have led to this hal been wanting, but
certainly because some marring chance
had prevented the realization of
such happiness. 1t amused me to make
a pretty history to myself, with Sister
Gabrielle for the heroine. A woman
with voice like hers, and such smile,
was bound to have loved deeply. Some
times, when she was not speaking, her
eyes had sad, far-away look. | can
only compare it to the look of an emf
grant who was toiling hot, dusty high
road to embark for new county, might
turn and give to the dear spot that he
had said long good bye to. But that
look never lasted more than a minute on
Sister Gabrelle's face. 1t was as if the
traveller settled his burden afresh on his
shoulders, and with fresh, vigorous reso-
luton, stepped on into the long cxpanse
of road that went stretching away to the
horizon.
Zone day could not help it
broke into one of those little reveries of
hers.
MY sister, said, Sweet and beau
tiful as you are, how is it that you never
married2'
"With lifted finger as one speaks to a
too daring child, she said only: 'Ssssh =
'Then with the movement of the emf
grant readjusting his knapsack, she
added: 'dNons. half past ten! DR.. Ma
daud will be here before we are ready
for him.
"From that day Sister Gabrielle avoid
ed sitting by my bedside. She watched
over me just as tenderly as before; but
our talks were shorter, ana | never ven
tured to repeat my question as you may
imagine. Nevertheless, lying theae
through the long days. it was impossible
not to go on wondering what had sent
this beautiful woman into the quiet life
where found her.
lone day | discovered that DR.. Ma
daud came from the same town as her
self, and | fell at once to questioning
him about her. All that could elicit
from him was that her name in the
world had been Jeanne D'Alcours, and
that she came of a good old Norman
titled family. | did not learn much by
that; it was not necessary to hear that she
was noble, for she had the stamp of no.
bllity in every line and in every pose of
her body. For laxative fellow,
thought Nadaud had remarkably little to
say about his former townswoman; and,
after gently sounding him once or twice
On the subject, | came to the conclusion
hat it was useless to look to him for en-
ightenment, but also came to the con-
clusion that Sister Gabrielle had a his
tory.
august came. l had been three
months in st. NIalo Hospital, and now
the time for leaving had arrived.
1t was carly morning. A fiacre stood
1t the gate, with my luggage upon it,
and Sister Gabrielle had come to the
doorway which led into the courtyard to
zee me off. Earl as it was, the sun was
'lready we'll on his days journey, and
perhaps it was the strong glare from the
white wall that made her shade her ewes
% persistcntly with her left hand while
We wee saying Good -byr.' Az for my
'wn eyes, there was something the mat
er with them, too. for the landscape, or
20 much of it as | could see from the St.
'lalo hospital door way. had taken on a
TRANCE, blurred look since saw it from
he window ten minutes before.
"'Adicu, mon lieutenant. Adieu"
ried Sister Gabrielle, in a voic meant
o be very CHEEKY.
"'Adien ma sieur! May 1 come to see
'ou and the old place, if ever / find my
elf in these ATTITUDES again2'
" Yes, yes, that is it; come back and
ee who is in your little bed under the
window. Take care of the arm' touch
ng the sling that held it, DIR, Nadaud
viii expect letter from you in copper.
late style before another month is over.
Illons. We will say, Au revoir. then,
OF Adieu. Bon voyage, mon lieuten-
Mt, bon voyagen
"Another handgrasp, and | made my
'ay to the cab, feeling strange intoxi-
ated sensation at being once more on
~ legs in the open air after such long
tretch between the blankets. Away we
titled down the steep stone paved street.
asst the queer old high houses that, as
re window-shutters were swung back,
'emcd to open their eyes and wake up
18th spirited relish for another davis
ustls and work. Very different, my
ear. to the lazy drawing up of roller {
lind in England is the swinging open of
pair of French persiennes. Whiffs of
ew bread and freshly ground coffee
Dated out from the open doorways of
lie baker, and the earliest risers Of St. (
alo, and presently the pungent, invig- {
'ating odor of the sea made itself smelt t
spite of the mixed odors of the street.
was new life to be out in the open air I
gain; and l was going to see my moth 7
:. But | could not forget Sister
abrielle."
Several years passed before my hus-
ind saw again the old steep streets of q
!. Malo. These years brought great t
ranges to him. His ri ght arm being c
longer capable of using sword, he G
tired from the army, took to Journal r
m, and eventually accepted an engage a
ent in London. In the English capital l.
made his home, marrying and settling
'wn to quasi-English life, which d