Tensas gazette. [volume] (St. Joseph, La.) 1886-current, 1913-05-02

le6utu CudplSIs Wy NOAh - H''
complished-for all time, l believe.
From the inception of what con-
sidered my life mission, / made the re-
solve to beuueath to Agatha Shaw
whatever manuscripts or other mate
rial of value my work should lead me
to accumulate, together with this
house, in which / have spent all the
later years of my life. You are Aga
tina Shaw's only child, therefore to
me a foster-child.
Another reason, four years ago, led
me to confirm my former testament.
From time to time l have informed
myself concerning your movements
and fortunes. The work you have
chosen, my dear Agatha, | can but be-
lieve to be fraught with unusual dan
gers to a young woman. Therefore
hope that this home. modest as It
is, may tempt you to an early retire
ment from the stage, and lead you to
more private and womanly career.
This / make only as a request, not as
condition. l bid you farewell, and
give you my blessing.
Faithfully yours,
HERCULES THAYER."
Agatha Redmond folded the thin
sheets carefully There was a mist in
her gaze as she looked off toward the
distant city lights.
Dear old gentleman! His whole
love-story, and my mothers too. per-
hapsi" Her quickened memory re-
called childish impressions of visit
to a large country house and OF
solemn old mamie seemed incredibly
ancient to her-and of feeling that In
some way she and her mother we're In
a special relationship to the house. 1t
was called "the old red house" and
was full of fascinating things. The
ancient man had hidden her go about
and play as IL 1t were her home, and
then had called her to him and laid
open a book, leading her mind to re-
gard its mysteries. Greek! 1t seemed
to her as If she had begun 1t there
and then. Later the mother became
the teacher. She was nursed, as 1t
were, within sight Of the windy plains
of Troy and to the sound of Homeric
hymns-and all by reason of this
ancient scholar.
There was a vivid picture In her
mind, gathered at some later visit, OF
a soft hillside. a small white church
standing under its balm-of-gilead tree,
and herself sitting by stone In the
old churchyard, listening to the strains
of hymn which fioated out from the
high, narrow windows. She remem-
bered how from without she had
Joined the hymn, singing with all her
small might; and suddenly the asso-
citation brought back to her a more
recent event and a more beautiful
strain Of music. Half in reverie, half
in conscious pleasure In the exercise
of facile organ, she began to sing:
Free of my pain. free OF my burden of
sorrow,
At last shall see thee"
The song fioated in a zone of ST.
lence that lay above the deep-mur-
muring city. The voice was no more
than the half-voice of flute, sweet,
gentle, beguiling. 1t told, as many
songs tell, of little earthly Love in the
grasp of mighty Fate. Still she sang
on softly.
Suddenly the song ceased, and the
reminiscent smile gave place to an
expression of surprise, as the singer
became conscious Of deeper shadow
falling directly in front Of her. She
glanced up quickly, and found herself
looking into the face of a man whose
gimlet-like gaze was directed upon
herself.
Quickly she rose, she could not
turn into the path before the gentle
man, hat in hand, with a deep bow and
clearly enunciated words, arrested, her
impulse to fight.
Pardon, Mademoiselle, / am a
stranger in the city. l was directed
this way to Van Cortlandt Hall, but
find / am in error, intrigued-in con-
fusion. Would mademoiselle be so
good as to direct me?"
The tones had foreign accent.
There was something. also, in their
bland impertinence which put Miss
Redmond on her guard. He was a
good-sized, blond person, carefully
dressed, and at least appeared like
a gentleman.
Miss Redmond looked into the
smooth, neat countenance, upon which
no record either of experience or of
thought was engraved, and decided
fieetingly that he was lying. She
judged him capable of picking up &C
quaintances on the street, but thought
that more originality might be ex-
pected of him.
Suddenly she wished that she had
returned sooner to her ear, for though
she was of an adventurous nature, her
bravery was not of the physical order;
and she disliked to have the appear
ance Of unconventionality. After the
first minute she was not so much
afraid as annoyed. Her voice became
frigid, though her dignity was some