The Opelousas courier., 1901-05-25
A W0MAN'S LIFE.
BY Hannah Hopper.

men, and I can take care of. myself
don't worry about that. l will be care
full and not trust in strangers, and will
remember all your good advice, and
try to follow it."
With these words Susan Weathers-
field climbed into the old stage-coach,
and, drawing her heavy veil over her
face, shrunk back in one corner of the
rough cid vehicle, and remained silent
during the journey to the depot. She
did not one look back, though there
was q large oval window near her,
and she knew her father and mother
were standing On the porch with their
old eyes dimmed with tears as they
watched the old stage-coach until it
was lost to sight, Her lips were firmly
compressed together, and her eyes
closed SO that the tears might be held
back should they attempt to flow.
Susan Weathersfeld was a farmers
daughter, and was not much used to
the world. She could work we'll in the
kitchen, and her hands were hard and
brown. For years and years she had
washed and ironed and scrubbed and
baked over and V e again, and had
been to q certain extent contented,
but those days were past and gone,
and she had resolved to make a drudge
Of herself no longer, but to go out
into the world to seek her fortune.
In spite of the matter-of-fact life
which she had led, Susan Weathers-
field had had her bit of romance and
1t had awakened in her mind new
thoughts and new desires.
Seven years before, when she was
out eighteen, she had given her heart
to a nice young farmer and had con
tinued from that time to think of a
home of her own, and form plans of
economy and comfort. Her cheeks
were as red as roses then, and her
heart without a thought of sorrow or
pain. She sang and laughed at her
labors, and nothing seemed too hard
for her to do. She worked in the dairy
and in the kitchen and often helped
her father in the field.
Enoch Chapel came often to the
farmhouse and sat with her at the
Preside while the old folks nodded in
their chairs. They stammered and
FLUSHED and were as happy as only the
innocent and contented can be; but as
the years went by Enoch Chapel be-
came ambitious, and tired of plodding
year after year on a farm, receiving
but little more than a plain living, and
after weeks Of deliberation he went
to the city.
Susan Weathersfeld watched him
after he had hidden her "good-by' I'M
til the apple trees hid him from her
sight, and not a doubt Of his sincerity
and faithfulness entered her mind.
though no engagement existed be-
tween them. She was O little disap-
pointed that he had given up farming,
Tor her mind had SO long been fixed
on q quiet home and a pleasant, we'll
cultivated farm, with Enoch to oversee
1t and herself to do the work indoors:
out Enoch was too dear to her heart
TO excite in her bosom any rebelIious
thoughts, SO she went back to her work
In the kitchen, a little disappointed
and lonesome, but she tried to drive
such feelings away by thinking of the
future.
But time rolled on, and Enoch did
not come to claim her as his bride. She
watched and waited in vain, and her
neart grew sick. and the whole ASPECT
OF her life was changed. He came
back to the neighborhood once, and
she saw him at the country church.
Dut ne had changed so perceptibly that
she could hardly believe him to be the
Enoch Chapel who had SO often eaten
nuts and apples with her at her faith
ers hreside. He had put on city airs,
ano was dressed in city style, and poor
Susan knew, Bya-zRoman's intuition.
that they were forever separated.
She went home from church that day
with a mind SO changed that it scarce
~ resembled to any extent her
thoughts and feelings Of the past, She
took the path through the pasture and
grove, and her brain had never since
It's existence performed the amount OF
earnest, thorough work which it per-
orne that day as she walked home
from the little steepleless meeting
aouse on the hill. There was a COM
piete revolution. and it seemed to stir
the blood in her veins and awaken
every nerve to activity.
She walked into the old farmhouse
With her face so white and her Inns so
firmly compressed that her good moth
er was alarmed; but Susan assured her
1t was nothing, that she was only a
little weary from her walk: and then
q passed by her and entered the lit-
tie plain parlor, and sitting down nv |
the open window tried to form her |
thoughts into plans and resolutions.
1t was a very fair September day.
u from the window where Susan sat
there was a view of broad fields, and
orchards and forests in the back
ground, but Susan Weathersfield.
though she gazed out over the land
scape' saw nothing which was in reali-
ty spread out before her, for her eyes.
governed by the workings of her Brain.
saw only that which her mind was fast
weaving into visions Of her future life.
The quiet country home. with Enoch
Chapel as its master and herself as its
mistress, had vanished forever from
her iznaginings; she harbored no feel
ing of censure, but accepted the loss Of
Enoch Chapel, as what must need be
pf the great difference which
Dad arisen between them. Instead u