St. Landry clarion. (Opelousas, La.) 1890-1921, 1899-02-04

u
| lieved that they, who stood in the
mothers place. had ro#right to tell
| her.
When at last they were startled by
| their brother-in-laM's unexpected de-
nand that his daughter should follow
| him into the far west, they knew not
what tostsay. They had no objections
that they could dare to offer how, and
they had no rights IN the child herself,
that they could set against the right of
d father; and Faith, as any girl would
be, was wild to go, They watched and
prayed. feeling as il some unhallowed
bargain, transacted long ago, in which
an unconscious life was the innocent
forfeit, had been fatally foreclosed. And
they had made no effort to prepare the
girl for whatever surprises, or shocks,
| or ordeals, this foreclosure involved.
They could not have said just what it
was that they feared--simply they did
not trust the man, her father, and. they
| greatly feared the life to which he was
taking her. But they never questioned
that she must go.
Those gentle, tlnassertive, maiden
| mothers who, with more than maternal
unselfshness, had fulfilled every duty
and made every sacrifice for their sis
ter's child, yielded her up to the natural
| tie, and every one said that it was well
done, A few outspoken old gentlemen
who had no daughters of their own,
and one or two defrauded young ones,
declared it was shame; but the wives
and mothers generally said that 1t was
the right placefor Faith; all the more II,
as was. .hinted, her father was not in all
respects just what he should be. So,l
with no more preparation for thee
perience before her than girls havewho
go to the altar with men they are ex-
Iected to reform, Faith had journeyed
blithely westward, to cast in her life,
in the somber solitude of the Big Horn
with that of the dull, hard, careless,
coarse old man on whom her instinct
had conferred every grace and dignity
of fatherhood.
And now, with her first trouble, her
woman's defensive strength of silence
came to her, and her letters to her aunts
were models of pious deception. To one
person only had she uttered a wordsof
all her hearts shame and Indignation,
and that one, as she remembered with a
burning face, had been all too ready to
listen.
At the Big Horn mine ONT Tuesday
night, there were indications that the
manager was expecting guests to din
ner. He had put on his senatorial black
frock suit, white stiff shirt, and light
tie, with a large diamond sparkling on
the ftlll-blown folds of silk. Faith was
reluctantly lovely in the most reserved
of her simple, dainty dinner dresses.
Her simplicity annoyed her father. He
would have had her come before him
like Esther before the king. The table
was set for six persons, and there were
three wine glasses at each plate. There
were no flowers, nor any little feminine
touches about the rooms, to show that
the fair daughter,of the house had
taken either pride of pleasure in pre-
pairing for her fathers guests; nor was
there in her face any of the brightness
of happy expectancy. .
Mr.. Bingham was reading in the:
library off the dining when Faith
entered by the curtain-draped door,
which half revealed the table, aglow
with candles and cleaning with glass
and silver. The manager was a 1uxuri-
Gus pToyider; he loved that his house
hold should fare sumptuously and dress
brave1y, and he was not behind In set
ting-a prosperous example. !
Father, may I speak to you about
something
Mr.. Bingham turned to his daughter
with a slightly forced look of amiable
interest. certainly, my dear. Moth.
ing unpleasant, hope"
Oh, yes: is unpleasant. .Itis about
Abby. 7 wish You would tell me what
she did do before came. can never
ask her to do a thing but She is perfect
ly amazed. She says she never waited
on tables when you gave dinners
neVer!" NJ !.
sOh, yes, she did, but-a-you needn't
say I said so. She makes distinction
in her own mind, very likely, between
waiting on men-who are supposed to
be helpless creatures, anyway--and
waiting when lady sits at table and
gives orders. You haven't struck her
right. that's ALL
.'Why, father. + cannot speak to her!
I positively cringe to her, now. She has
the most extraordinary manners! If ]
meet her she never steps aside; she
pushes ahead, and I simply retire to
avoid. a collision. She goes out and in
at the front door, and sits on the front
porch; she doesn't think of rising if /
happen to come out she doesn't see
me. She answers the bell orsnot, as she
pleasess I have opened the door, my
self, to men who have asked If Miss
Steers was in, evidently expecting that
I should call her; which / did! i
thought it a jekesat frst--ont the coun-
try and the way wesIive. But it's get
ting past a joke. Tonight, with four
men to dinner, took itsfor granted
that she proposed to make herself use
full. Tdidn't ask her toswait on table;
/ thought it safer to assume that she
would condescend that much. But /
gave her a few hints which she certain
sly needed was as pleasant and as
careful as I could be--a11d she fewsup
in a perfect rage. Twas obliged to leave.
the room.
Now, what are we to do? You know
what q scramble tits when Wan has to
come in; he has all he can possibly do
with his dinner. Iwould wait on table.