The Opelousas courier., 1898-01-01
FERN COTTAGE.
BY ANNA SHIELDS.
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20
there"
This was the last statement my
lawyer made upon the long-winded
recital of the state of my affairs, when
1 returned from a seven-years' alb
sence, to take up my abode in my own
home. He had by my directions
renovated and put into good order
the large, handsome house that was
my inheritance from father, grand
father and great-grandfather, passing
in each generation through q course
of undermining that still left the
stately, old-fashioned walls and extern
sive grounds intact. We Hiltons were
very fond of Hilton Place, and had
ample means wherewith to maintain
its beauty.
But beside my own home, / also
possessed several houses in the village
Of Crawford and one cottage just at
the boundary line of my garden, a
pretty place that my mother had chris
tened Fern Cottage, from the number
of rare ferns that nestled in the little
garden under fanciful miniature grot-
tos and piles of rocks placed there.
l confess to a feeling of decided an
noyance when 1 heard that this little
gem of a country home had been
leased to Q workingwoman. It had
been a summer resort for some of our
own intimate friends, who preferred
an independent home to the hospitali-
ties Of others, and it annoyed me to
think of any n living there who
would not preserve its dainty furni-
ture and pretty surroundings with
cultured taste. But I kept my opinion
to myself, and, indeed. for many days,
was SO crowded with business calls
that I quite forgot the matter.
It was after twilight on q warm
April evening, that, passing the cot
tage, I saw through open windows my
new tenant. She was bending over a
small table, apparently drawing, while
the circle of light from q student lamp
fell full upon her. I had fancied q
vulgar, commonplace woman. This
was what I saw:
A figure slender and graceful, with
hands as white and perfect as if carved
in marble. A face purely oval, color
less and fair, with regular features,
and shaded by hair of midnight black.
Twice, while I looked, she lifted her
eyes, large, lustrous and dark, full of
suppressed pain. A face that covered
a heart full of bitter anguish, O brain
sensitive and cultivated.
I am a physician, though I have
practiced little, preferring to write for
the use of younger students; but I
love my profession and cannot quite
keep its instincts quiet, when I study
a new face. And all these instincts
warned me that here was a woman
burning a candle already Pickering OF
both ends.
I had quite forgotten mine was not
a strictly honorable position, thus
spying on a solitary woman's privacy,
when an eldery woman, seemingly an
upper servant of better days, came
into the room.
"Will you never cease your work
ing ?" she said, fretfully. when the
daylight Is gone, and you cannot sort
your colors, you take up that drawing
that is running your eyes. Rest,
child"
Then the voice I knew must belong |
to that face, full, rich, melodious, but
freighted with sadness, answered her:
"Rest! You know I cannot rest!''
"Play then! Do anything but strain
your eyes any longer over that fine |
work"
The widow rose then, sweeping her
heavy, black draperies across the room
to the piano, where she played. Surely
if this was recreation, It was a pitiful
mockery. Wailing, minor music. full |
of sobbing pain. Heavy chords melt
ing into sad r~efrains. A master touch
a rare power in the long, slender
fingers only called out strains Of
heart-breaking pathos.
The old servant took out her knit
ting, seemingly satisfied to have
driven her mistress from actual work.
and the darkness fell around me. MAX
ing still clearer the bright circle Of
light upon the table, and the soft.
shadowy gloom Of the corner where
Mrs. Raynor, with her deep, sad eye
and breaking heart, poured out some
thing of her pain in music.
A soft rain drove me home. but I
unused long and deeply over my ten
ant. l called several times, and re-
ceived courteous welcome, was enter
tanned by strictly conventional ccnver-
sation, heard the piano in some fash
lonable, snowy music, and found the
surface society Of Mrs. Raynor.
gentle, refined lady, attractive and
sgreeable-no more.
might have accepted this for the
real woman, but I had a habit Of lin
gering about my garden, as the draw
lng-room of Fern Cottage commanded
no other view, my neighbor seldom
closed the windows as the spring crept
INTO summer. Paler, more shadow.
With added sadness in the great, dark
'yes. Mrs. Raynor became almost
ethereal as the warm weather stole
something each day from her strength.
md | was not surprised n morning
Q see old Susan coming hastily into
Oh, DR.. Wilton" she said, "she
a. tainted over those horrid picturesl
Will you come 2"
I went ct once, finding my patient
'rostrated at last. and gently snbmis-
I'VE g OF ny couapfa.Dds bus eae, t.e !
a aaa impressive, /,