The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1897-05-15
A WOODLANDS TALE.

14l14tOb IN NlIL.
The valley is lined with woods for a
long distance, Int in che place, little
more than two miles from the sea, there
is a clear space, where the big house
stands above its hanging gardens.
Strangers have occupied it for so lcnc a
time that they would wonder and be in
dignant did Yea call them by thai name.
But strangers they Iarat remain for the
sake CT cerassn memories attaching to
the place, and the woods that line the
valley as 1t wander9 AVA inland are
haunted by the gentle CHEST Of & woman
whose beauty lives to this day upon the
lips of lovers throughout all the country
round about.
For 90 years an CID man dweIt there,
continually divided betwizt the love of
the living, his daughter, ard a passion
for his dead wife that was forever draw
ing him toward the land Of twilight
wherein he pictured her waiting for his
coming. He had lived hardly in his
youth, III oYcrworked and underpaid
drudge, finding the whole Of his lifa's
pleasures III the books cf the great mas
tiers and in devoted care for his mother.
Apart from these, indeed, he had no
life. His whole existence was but a
struggle to carr by uncongenial labor
the barest means Of substance. His
mother had died when he was nearing
20, and then his condition was even
more to be pitied, for it seemed he had
lived out his life before he had reached
the middle CT his years and without ex.
perience of those things that make ex-
istence glorious. Yet the gods had much
of bitter and Of sweet in store for him.
A distant relatiye-a cousin Of his
mothers, a mere name to him hitherto
died and left a Will whereby he be-
came master Of the big house, and
wlthal a man of means. At FIRST the
change Of circumstance rather detracted
from his comfort than otherwise. But
he was gentleman, and a person great
~ loved by all who met him. He quick
~ adapted himself to the change and
made himself q place in the hearts and
homes of the ~neighboring gentry. He
showed himself a charming host, and in
a wise and quiet way did much to pro-
mote the public coed.
They say that the tale of how he won
his wife was as pretty as any ever writ
ten. His life hitherto had not been Of
the sort to inspire him with any over
weening Of his own personal at
fractions, and it did net occur to him
that his present position could make a
difference to the JUDGMENT likely to be
passed on him by any young girl whose
hand he might seek. They say, for they
are fond of the story in those parts,
that the wooing was all hers; that she |
saw how gently he was resigning him i
self to a burden he deemed inevitable /
and made it clear to him thatof all her i
suitors he alone had touched her heart. !
AT any rate, he married a young wife
and lived with her in the big house for |
some few months beyond a year. Tf he |
had died at the end Of that time, he
would have thanked the gods for the |
best life 1t was ever given to man to en-
joy, but that was not the thing ordain-
ed. His wife died a day Or two after the
birth of a daughter, the Rachel of the
story you are to hear.
The man was rot altogether unhappy
during the years that followed. 1t was
not in his nature to be made morose and
misanthropical BY crushing sorrow,
and, though he felt himself somewhat
out of place in a world that no longer
held his wife-who had drawn to her
every fiber in his being as a hidden
spring draws the roots of a tree-his
daughter gave him much happiness,
and, what was even more important, a
reason for existing.
She was a ~singularly lovable child,
and his continual thoughtfulness Oh her
behalf had the effect Of making a like
carefulness for otAers mere instinct in
her. She was a child in virtue of her
simplicity of heart, but her intercourse
with others wa all made up of little,
courtesies such as are in most OF
rs the last refinements of art.
due course she went away to school.