The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1921-05-07
The Girl of the
Wilderness
By r. RAY BAKER

rested a hand on a knee Of his son.
They sat before fireplace in which a
swapping blaze was struggling against
a fall chill. They were smoking pipes
and apparently enjoying each others
company, as cronies do; and they
were cronies.
The old man? He was not that when
one came to a closer inspection. He
looked old, seated as he had been in
the shadows, for his silver hair was
all that was really. distinct in the
dusk. There were wrinkles, but not
deep. One would take it he had led
a free and easy life. until gradually
the impression formed that there was
something about him denoting a sor-
row. Possibly it was his eyes.
"It's up to you, Paul." he said in
a voice that was singularly soft and
pleasing. Il would not try to argue
you out of this marriage, but l want
to warn you and be sure you are not
making a mistake-as l did once"
The last four words preceded a deep
sigh, and the father leaned back again
in the shadow, to watch the glow
from the fireplace play about the
handsome. clean-cut face of his son.
II am sure, father" the son said.
with q note Of finality, Il love this
girl of the wilderness. You should
see her romp through the woods, her
cheeks aglow with health. You
should see her paddle canoe. and
dive and swim. And yet she Is as
retiring and reserved as the most de-
mure society belle, when the occasion
requires it."
"But your station in life," his father
hesitated. This girl cannot be your
social equal. You say she and her
mother live in a shanty in the woods
near Cedar Greek. where you spent
your vacation. They must be crude
people, it seems to me-"
The son was on the point Of max
ing an angry retort. but he checked 1t,
"She's as good, and lot better
than most of the girls in my station
Of life" he said. "Her English is
perfect, and she has a conversing
knowledge on a wide range of topics.
| did not see her mother, for l never
could get Anne to invite me to their
home. In fact, it is not her mother,
Anne told me. Rather, it is her adopt
ed aunt. Anne is really the daughter
of the sister Of the husband of the
sister of the woman she calls mother
If you can grasp that. Anyhow,
she's no blood relation, but they love
each other like mother and daugh'
ter. 1t seems that each is all the
other has.
'They live in the woods from choice
Anne's father was wealthy and left
a large amount of money to his daugh
ter; and Anne insists on sharing
it with the woman she now calls
mother. Because they love the woods
and choose to live in them-that does
not indicate a low station. does it,
And what if it does? love Anne"
1T all sounds very rosy. this love
talk" observed his father. and there
was touch of bitterness in his voice
"but it doesn't always work out thai
way. Look at my own case. DOM
care to talk of it as rule, but it's
sample of what one gets for marrying
beneath his level. Your mother was
lovable, good girl, but she had no
been educated in my ways of thinking
In many ways the case parallels
yours. Your mother would not ge
along in the society to which l wa:
accustomed. Like this girl you thinl
you love, she was fond Of the woods
and she wanted me to spend my life
| in them. could not reconcile mysei
to it, because l love the noise ant
hustle of the city. The silence OF thu
| woods drives me frantic. But l con
scented to try it, and built habita
ton in the woods; not modern struc
ture. as I desired, but a rustic lo'
house to suit your mothers fancy.
could not endure the solitude ant
finally one night we quarreled; AM
| terrible quarrel it was! 1t was rain
| ing, and thunder and lightning punctu
ated every sentence that was uttered
| In fairness to your mother. whom
loved In spite Of our incompatibiiitJ
/ must say that did most of the quar-
reling. She simply sat and locke
into my face with those gentle blu
eyes and let me rave. / never toll
yoti this before, because-because
was pretty hard for me; but now
when you are considering a step tina
II almost identical, / cannot refrai
from bringing 1t up as an example
But it is hard"
The silver hair was buried In tn
mans arms.
! 1.-The next morning l left the hous
with you." he went on, more composed
You cannot remember it, for you WEI
only a year and a half old and l ha
| to carry you in my arms. sneake
out of the cabbin with you bundled
a blanket before Ethel, your mothc
was awake. / did not return for thre
months, and when did. repenta1t,
found nothing but ashes to mark tn
spot where we had tried to live. An
never was r able to get a trace
YOUR mother, though believe she pc
ished in the Frisco earthquake.