The Tupelo journal., 1904-12-16

a glorious warmth, unlike others, has
been a compensation far beyond my
deserts, or the giving up of those am
bilious dreams of professional success
which once filled my youth.
OF recent years Vera has driftea far
Their away from me, by the forcs OK
circumstances.
First, her governess came between
us, with her childish studies; then l
persuaded Susan to send her to a col
lege in a big city, for the child's brill
liant mind and strong nature made
her far superior to her mothers or
Miss Barton, her mediocre governess,
with whom Vera was not on very good
terms. | plainly saw it was best to
place her under different and better
influences.
Susan, poor soul, like all pretty,
spoilt, weak women, is irascible, when
she should be f~orbearing, and uncer-
tain when she should be strong. She
could no more control that splendid
child Vera, either through love or
authority, than a dove could manage q
stormy, impetuous little eagle.
During Vera's holidays l always ar
ranged for them to summer in the
mountains or on the seashore. and |
have insisted on their living abroad
during the past two years, after Vera
came home to us from college, for
| wanted the child to acquire a broader
knowledge of life before her plunge
into the social whirl and the adulation
certain to be hers by reason of her
great beauty and fascination.
OF course, as manager of this place,
| cannot absent myself; only when |
have rendered an account of my stew
ardship will I be able to go away, and
that will be for all time.
But | learned of Vera's popularity
and brilliant capture of the world So
cial last winter.
Yes. this is an ideal hour for the
sitting and probing of ones inner
thoughts and a plain realization of
ones calm desires, while the calm soli-
tude OF these fields and forests, and the
gentle whisperings of nature prompts
to a silent acceptance of life as fate.
The field hands have all gone home
and lights are beginning to glimmer
in the rows of wbite-washed cabins
near the levee.
The sorrel turns his head and whin-
MES. to remind me hat dusk precedes
night, and already the dew is bringing
out the sweet scents OF the vanilla
grass and the fragile white lilies grow
ing on the edge of the canal.
How beautiful this scene is, and how
it will remain vivid in memory in all
it's lovely details when | shall have
left it.
For go l must, and the reason is
borne in on me with irresistible force
this calm spring evening. l see myself
as | am, worn and weather-beaten by
Is years of arduous work, with hair
turning gray at the temples, a grave
taciturn man having none of the
graces of youth, with a broken career.
Only the task | set myself to accom-
plish has been done, the redemption
of Jacks fortune, for Vera, his bonny,
star-eyed daughter.
Why leave?
Because, being a man and a fool,
| could not bear to live under the
same roof with Vera, seeing her daily
and loving her as | do, knowing the
day will come when some one, having
a better claim to her affections than
the humdrum old guardian she has
known from childhood, will take her
irrevocably from me.
So, gathering the reins and going
slowly along the path by the canal
separating field from the forest, l
look musingly at the scene before me
so as to always bear it in memory.
Cousin Duncan! Cousin Duncan!
Tie Rufus to that tree and come on. I'm
going in the swamp to the sawmill."
Vera sat in a pirogue in the canal
and was gliding up to the bank.
"You can't go this evening; it's re-
dlculously late" | objected, looking
down at her.
Il can get there in half an hour. l
must go. | want to tell Ben Jones his
Ivy hdo tllO lCfCl oLu bC "uo Soh1N
home. Jump down and come on. Do"
Vera, looking up and poised lightly,
holding her long paddle, was irresisti-
BILE.
Are you aware that it gets as black
as Erebus in the swamp as soon as
night falls?" l asked, throwing Rufus
bride over a short limb and stepping
carefully down the bank.
Indeed | am. That's why | came
after you. ] wouldn't dare venture in
there by myself"
Vera swept with long strokes down
the canal, and, turning into the swamp,
we were Don under the shadow OF
moss covered cypress and water oaks.
l took the paddle from her and we
sped along, for night was coming fast
and the collateral canals through the
| swamp are confusing.
Vera's gayety was infectious, and
the delight was keen and deep to be
gliding through the narrow cuts and
the still dark water in the unbroken
solitude of the vast silent forest.
We suddenly emerged into a sort of
circular clearing. | looked at my
watchr 1t was one hour since our en-
entrance in the swamp, and looking
around, the place seemed strangely I'M
familiar.
In the hazy light an opening ahead
seemed to indicate that it was the
cut leading to the saWmill.
- ~a~A~ l,A -sIl ~