f 
 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 OP 
 CAllfORNlA/ 
 

 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
X 
 
 ALINE OF THE 
 GRAND WOODS 
 
 A Story of Louisiana 
 
 BY 
 
 NEVIL G. HENSHAW 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 MCMIX 
 
Copyright, 1909, by 
 THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 LOAN STACK 
 
PS 3* 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 MY FATHER 
 
 739 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK ONE 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I THE MAIL is LATE AT LANDRY * . 5 
 
 II FATHER MARTAIN FORGIVES A SINNER . 13 
 
 III How THE MAIL CAME TO LANDRY . . .22 
 
 IV MONSIEUR LANDRY MAKES A DISCOVERY . -33 
 V MR. LAWRENCE RECEIVES A LETTER .. ., ,. . 39 
 
 VI NUMA ASKS A PRICE FOR SILENCE . , -47 
 
 VII MR. LAWRENCE SEES His MAN . v * -56 
 
 VIII A FLAG is RAISED AT LANDRY ,. . .69 
 
 IX FATHER MARTAIN MAKES A JOURNEY . , .80 
 
 X OLD TELESSE MAKES A PROMISE . , . . 87 
 
 XI OLD TELESSE GOES HOME , . -97 
 
 BOOK TWO 
 
 I BELRIVE . 109 
 
 II SOME BIRDS . 123 
 
 III AND A BOTTLE . . . . . . . 133 
 
 IV THE GRAND WOODS . . . . . .148 
 V ANGELE OF ANSE LE VERT . . . ... 158 
 
 VI TOM BAYNE OF SUNNYSIDE 168 
 
 VII A FAIRY AND A GOBLIN . . . . . 179 
 
 VIII AUNT BETTY DRIVES OUT . . . . .189 
 
 IX OLD TELESSE MAKES A WISH . . . . 205 
 
 vii 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 X A RAIN 215 
 
 XI AND ITS CONSEQUENCES ... .224 
 
 XII NUMA MAKING ONE CONQUEST FAILS TO MAKE 
 
 ANOTHER 241 
 
 XIII AUNT BETTY DECIDES ... .258 
 
 XIV HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF 265 
 
 XV ALINE MAKES A SACRIFICE 275 
 
 XVI OLD TELESSE ASSERTS HIMSELF . . 288 
 
 XVII FATHER BERTRAND LOSES His TEMPER . . 300 
 
 XVIII MONSIEUR LANDRY TRIES TO REMEMBER . . 309 
 
 XIX MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS . 322 
 
 XX ALINE SAYS Gooo-BY . 34* 
 
 XXI LEBossu MAKES A JOURNEY TO THE CONVENT 
 
 AT MOUTON 35 
 
 XXII NICHOLAS WILSON GIVES A WARNING . 364 
 
 XXIII NUMA SETTLES AN OLD SCORE . . . .380 
 
 XXIV LE SAUVAGE .... 39 1 
 XXV ALINE GIVES HER ANSWER . . . 413 
 
 XXVI MONSIEUR VARAIN PICKS UP His DUCK AT LAST . 425 
 
 XXVII OLD TELESSE SEEKS A RECKONING . . 43 6 
 
 XXVIII LE Bossu TELLS His STORY . . . -453 
 
 XXIX NUMA PAYS His DEBTS 4^8 
 
 XXX CHRISTMAS CHEER 479 
 
 vill 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Arpent, a measure of land, used in Louisiana in place of the acre. 
 Banquette, sidewalk. 
 Bayou, a small river. 
 
 Cajun (from Acadian), a name applied to certain of the French 
 people of Louisiana. 
 
 Comment ca va? How are you going? 
 Cotton ade, a cotton cloth made by the Cajuns. 
 Coulee, a pond. 
 
 Graine a volee, a large water lily closely resembling the Egyptian 
 Lotus. 
 
 Lagniappe, a small gift (usually of candy) given with each 
 purchase. 
 
 Pirogue, a canoe. 
 
 Pistache Sauvages, a wild flower. 
 
 Poule d eau, a black water fowl, fishy and unpalatable as a food. 
 
 Tetrain, slowly. 
 
BOOK ONE 
 
Aline of the Grand Woods 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE MAIL IS LATE AT LANDRY 
 
 FULL in the glare of the hot June sun stood the 
 store of Monsieur Etienne Landry, its weather- 
 beaten sides seeming to give forth smoke in the 
 intense heat. 
 
 The china tree in front, its leaves withered and 
 drooping, bent its branches earthward, as though after 
 a long struggle with heat and drought, it bowed its 
 head to the inevitable. Underneath the store porch a 
 ragged hound, driven there for shelter, panted des 
 perately with lolling tongue and bloodshot eyes, too 
 hot even to snap at the myriad of flies which buzzed 
 about him. 
 
 Within the store it was cool and dark, and on enter 
 ing one was greeted by an odor, mixed indeed, but not 
 unpleasant an odor as though someone had mixed a 
 great many groceries together, and had then stirred 
 them vigorously. Two long counters ran down the 
 sides of the store, and near the end of the right-hand 
 
 3 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 counter was a little place enclosed by a railing, con 
 taining a desk and some chairs, where Monsieur Lan- 
 dry kept his accounts, and which was the sanctum sanc 
 torum of the place. When Monsieur Landry invited 
 any one to sit with him within this sacred precinct it 
 signified that the invited one was worthy of the honor. 
 
 Within this railing now sat Monsieur Landry and 
 Father Martain at a little table playing checkers. 
 
 Monsieur Landry was a large man, stout from good 
 living, with a fat red face, upon which nature had set 
 the perpetual seal of good humor. There was also 
 about him a certain air of dignity, a manner as of one in 
 authority, and why should there not be, for was he not 
 the son of old Adrien Landry, the first owner of the 
 store, and the founder of Landry? And also was he 
 not the Postmaster, with an ability to read, and write, 
 and speak English, not excelled by anyone from the 
 Grand Woods to Mouton, excepting, of course, Father 
 Martain? Monsieur Landry was very proud of his 
 English, which indeed he spoke very well, and when 
 conversing with any one who was even slightly 
 acquainted with that language, he never uttered a word 
 of French. 
 
 His companion at the little table, Father Martain, 
 was so unlike him in appearance, that the contrast was 
 startling. Small and very thin, the good priest beside 
 the great bulk of Monsieur Landry, appeared to be but 
 the shadow of a man. His long hair, which was of a 
 yellowish white, hung about a face that was the color 
 of old parchment the nose, long and thin, accentuated 
 its sharpness. The mouth with its thin lips would have 
 
 4 
 
THE MAIL IS LATE AT LANDRY 
 
 given an air of severity to the face, were it not for a 
 little line at each corner, faint and shadowy, extending 
 downward, the aftermark of a smile. And what a 
 smile it was! kind and sympathetic, ready at all times 
 to calm the troubles of those who went to the good 
 priest for comfort. His eyes were blue, the faint blue 
 of the robin s egg. Large and innocent they were, and 
 full of a great love for all things, with a look of 
 patient resignation in them, as though their owner had 
 foregone some long-cherished wish, and had foregone 
 it cheerfully. 
 
 He was dressed in a rusty black cassock, and in his 
 lap there rested a black hat, with a low crown and a 
 very wide brim. It was an old hat, how old, nobody 
 but Father Martain knew, gray with age, the felt 
 cracked in many places from long usage. 
 
 Some of the members of his congregation had sent 
 to New Orleans one Christmas for a new cassock and 
 hat, and had given them to him, with all of the cere 
 mony that is so dear to French people. The good 
 priest had received them with tears, unable in his agita 
 tion to utter a word of the thanks that filled his heart. 
 He had worn the cassock with all of the pride of 
 one in new garments, but upon his head he still wore the 
 old hat with its wide brim. 
 
 When one of the present givers remarked upon it, 
 he smiled and replied: 
 
 " The new hat, my son, is very fine, and I keep it for 
 some great occasion, but this, my old hat Ah } mon 
 filsf I wore that in Paris "; and in the blue eyes there 
 grew for a moment a great longing. Only for a 
 
 5 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 moment was it there, and so quickly did it go, and so 
 quickly did the look of resignation take its place, that 
 the questioner never saw it. It meant a life of longing 
 and self-suppression, unknown to any one but Father 
 Martain himself. 
 
 And so these two sat at the little table on this 
 hot June day, playing checkers, as they had done every 
 day for years, and on the generally smiling face of 
 Monsieur Landry there was a look of worry that was 
 wholly foreign. He was playing carelessly, and had 
 lost four games, a thing that had never happened 
 before, for whether it was that Monsieur Landry was 
 the better player, or whether it was that Father Martain 
 was too considerate to beat him, he invariably won. 
 
 But it was not this that caused the troubled look on 
 Monsieur Landry s face, as his frequent glances at the 
 clock on his desk seemed to certify. The hands of this 
 clock were rapidly approaching the hour of three, and 
 the mail, which should have been brought to the store 
 at twelve, had not yet arrived. Every morning, pre 
 cisely at seven o clock, Monsieur Landry s eldest son 
 Adrien, rode over to Mouton for the mail, and every 
 day at twelve o clock he returned with it. He had been 
 late before, of course, sometimes as much as a half 
 hour, but three hours ! such a thing had never happened. 
 
 Next to his religion, nothing was more sacred to 
 Monsieur Landry than the mail. The little box, with its 
 glass front and twenty pigeonholes, where the letters 
 for delivery were kept, shone with a radiance that was 
 the outcome of much labor on his part, for he would 
 allow none else to touch it. 
 
 6 
 
THE MAIL IS LATE AT LANDRY 
 
 When, after his father s death, he had at first taken 
 the store, Monsieur Landry had not been so particular. 
 He had recognized the importance that his office as 
 Postmaster gave him, and had enjoyed it accordingly, 
 but the dust of many days covered the glass box, and 
 the letters were often left scattered upon the counter 
 while he waited upon a customer. However, there 
 had come a time, when a letter for Colonel Gordon had 
 been mislaid, and could not be found for several days. 
 The Colonel had ridden over, and in language more 
 forcible than polite, had spoken to him of the sacred 
 character and importance of the mail. He had spoken 
 also of people who were in prison for a crime less than 
 that of losing a letter. Monsieur Landry had never 
 forgotten. 
 
 And so the mind of Monsieur Landry was in a tumult 
 at this delay in the arrival of the mail, and presently 
 he shoved back his chair from the table, utterly regard 
 less of the fact that it was his move, and mopping his 
 face with a large bandanna handkerchief, sat staring 
 through the open door at the glaring sunshine outside. 
 
 "It is no use," said he. " I can play no more. 
 Already the mail is three hours late, and I can find 
 no reason for its being so. Adrien is a good boy, and 
 he would not stay so late unless there is something the 
 matter; and if there is something the matter, what 
 is it?" 
 
 " That," said Father Martain, who sat smiling with 
 a timid superiority over his recent victory, " I cannot 
 say. But cheer up, my friend ! Adrien will come, and 
 it will all then be well." 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Monsieur Landry shook his head slowly. 
 
 " Maybe so, maybe so," said he, " but let us now 
 put up the board, for I cannot play longer, and if 
 Adrien does not soon come, I must get my horse and 
 ride to Mouton." 
 
 While speaking, Monsieur Landry had been gather 
 ing up the checkers, and now closing the board, he 
 placed it very carefully upon the desk, and turning to 
 the priest, who had also risen, he said with the air of 
 one making an apology long delayed. 
 
 " I am sorry, mon Pere, that I cannot play longer, 
 but you must understand my worry over this matter. 
 So let us sit here and wait for Adrien to come. And 
 we can talk about the church fair that we will have 
 next month." This last was added as though in atone 
 ment for his abrupt termination of the game. 
 
 "Ah, the fair!" said the priest. "Now that will 
 be something to talk of. We must have the band from 
 Mouton, and perhaps Auguste will " 
 
 But what Auguste would perhaps have done was 
 never told, for at that moment someone who had 
 mounted the porch, unheard by the two speakers, 
 entered the store. 
 
 Monsieur Landry, who had gone forward to meet 
 him, now saw that it was a Mr. Lawrence, who owned a 
 small sugar plantation near Landry. Monsieur Landry 
 did not like Mr. Lawrence, because he did not know 
 anything definite about him, and although he had tried 
 very hard to find out something of his antecedents, he 
 had so far been unsuccessful. 
 
 He knew one thing about him, as you shall pres- 
 
 8 
 
THE MAIL IS LATE AT LANDRY 
 
 ently see, but this one thing only caused him to wish 
 to know more. 
 
 In a little community, such as Landry, with its one 
 store, where from miles around people come to supply 
 their simple wants, the storekeeper must naturally know 
 a great deal about each one of them. For, once having 
 made their purchases, they spend many an hour talking 
 of themselves, their crops and their neighbors talking 
 unreservedly as such simple people do. 
 
 And such a storekeeper as Monsieur Landry, with his 
 education and desire for learning something new, must 
 needs learn many things that a less clever man would 
 overlook. If a child were born, if some one died, if 
 even some one were sick, it was not very long before 
 Monsieur Landry knew all the details of the affair, and 
 even more than all, for sometimes he added a little on 
 his own account. 
 
 But here was one who to him was a mystery, and 
 therefore, Monsieur Landry did not like him. How 
 ever, he did not allow his dislike to become visible, and 
 addressing Mr. Lawrence in a very cordial tone he 
 inquired what he could do for him. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence, looking past him to the priest, 
 bowed, and then turning to Monsieur Landry said: 
 
 " I would like to know if there is a letter for me." 
 
 In the mind of Monsieur Landry there arose a great 
 tumult. Never before had Mr. Lawrence asked for a 
 letter. A few letters had come for him, it was true, but 
 all of them had been business letters, and most of 
 them had been from a firm of lawyers in Mouton. 
 Of course the Postmaster knew that. 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " Here may be a chance," thought Monsieur Landry, 
 " to really find out something if I manage things prop 
 erly," so putting on an air of polite inquiry, he asked: 
 
 " Does Monsieur Lawrence expect a letter? " 
 
 " I most certainly do," answered Mr. Lawrence, 
 " otherwise, I would not have asked for one." 
 
 An inspiration seized Monsieur Landry. He also re 
 membered that the postmarks were often blotted and 
 illegible. 
 
 " The mail is late; very late," said he. " I do not 
 now know when it will arrive, but if you will let me 
 know from where the letter will come, and whether 
 it is a business letter or not, I will send it over by 
 Adrien as soon as it comes. That is, if it does come," 
 he added lamely. 
 
 He did not mention the fact that Mr. Lawrence 
 could wait at the store until the mail arrived. 
 
 The brow of Mr. Lawrence now grew dark. 
 
 " Mr. Landry," said he, " when that letter of mine 
 arrives, I will come and get it, or I will send my col 
 ored boy for it; and I would like to say that if it is 
 customary for persons to give descriptions of their let 
 ters at this postoffice, before they get them, I will have 
 mine sent to Mouton. It is rather a long ride, but it 
 would save answering a great many unnecessary ques 
 
 tions." 
 
 Having said this, he bowed again very politely to 
 the priest, and walking out to his horse, mounted it 
 and rode away. 
 
 Now this outburst was rather uncalled for, after the 
 polite inquiry and kind offer of Monsieur Landry, but 
 
 10 
 
THE MAIL IS LATE AT LANDRY 
 
 only an hour before, old Telesse, Lawrence s man of 
 all work, had told him of an attempt, coupled with 
 bribes of tobacco, made that morning to learn some 
 thing of his master s life and habits, and the heart of 
 Mr. Lawrence was filled with anger at this speech, 
 inquisitive in the extreme, yet veiled in a cloak of 
 solicitous inquiry. He knew that Monsieur Landry was 
 trying to pry into his affairs, and he also knew that 
 Monsieur Landry knew that he was aware of it. 
 
 The red face of Monsieur Landry became a deep 
 crimson, and for a moment he was unable to express the 
 indignation that filled him. Walking to the door, he 
 gazed at the receding figure of the horseman, as 
 though he were going to say something in vindication of 
 himself, but the horse of Mr. Lawrence had now car 
 ried its owner beyond speaking distance, so that, had 
 the storekeeper said what was in his mind, he would 
 have been obliged to shout, and he did not care to 
 shout about an affair of this kind. So he turned slowly 
 toward the priest, who instantly removed from his 
 countenance the smile of amusement, which had been 
 broadening during every moment of the conversation 
 between the two men. 
 
 He knew well the curiosity of Monsieur Landry, and 
 he had enjoyed the discomfiture of that gentleman 
 immensely, especially as he considered curiosity a very 
 undesirable trait. 
 
 Monsieur Landry now forgot his English, and laps 
 ing into his mother tongue, as one is apt to do in 
 moments of great excitement, exclaimed, " Canaille! " 
 
 The good priest shook his head sadly. 
 
 1 1 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " You must not say that," he remonstrated. u It is 
 not right my friend. He spoke rudely, it is true, but 
 one must overlook such things as a quick temper and a 
 sharp tongue. Calm yourself, and remember that it 
 does no good to call people names." 
 
 Monsieur Landry said never a word to this, but seat 
 ing himself, he drew from his pocket paper and tobacco, 
 rolled himself a cigarette, and lighting it, sat for 
 a while inhaling the smoke and blowing it forth in 
 great volumes. 
 
 Gradually the deep crimson began to fade from his 
 face, his eyes lost their sparkling anger, and in a few 
 moments the countenance of the storekeeper assumed 
 its usual genial expression. 
 
 Father Martain nodded his head approvingly. 
 
 " That is right, my friend," said he. " It is not 
 worth being angry about." 
 
 Monsieur Landry smiled magnanimously. 
 
 " No, mon Pere, it is not," he replied, all feeling 
 of rancor seeming to have disappeared: but Lawrence, 
 riding home in the hot sunlight, knew that he had 
 doubled the storekeeper s curiosity, and what is more, 
 Monsieur Landry knew it also. 
 
 12 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 FATHER MARTAIN FORGIVES A SINNER 
 
 MONSIEUR LANDRY, having recovered 
 from his anger, returned to his first griev 
 ance, the lateness of the mail. Bidding 
 Father Martain excuse him for a moment, he went 
 to the open door and gazed far down the hot, dusty 
 road that led to Mouton. 
 
 But his search was rewarded with nothing more 
 than the sight of a battered wagon, which, moving 
 slowly through the heavy dust clouds, finally pulled up 
 at the store. 
 
 In the bottom of the wagon there lay a man 
 stretched out at full length, one arm hanging help 
 lessly over the side, the other doubled under him. He 
 was lying on his back, full in the glare of the sun, a 
 hat over his face, and in the crook of the arm that 
 dangled over the side of the wagon there was a large 
 demijohn, which spoke eloquently of his condition. On 
 the seat in front there sat a boy, who, throwing the 
 rope reins in the bottom of the wagon, jumped out and 
 entered the store. 
 
 Monsieur Landry, addressing him in French, asked 
 him what he wanted. 
 
 " Tobacco," answered the boy in the same language; 
 " four packs." 
 
 3 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 He might have been fifteen or sixteen years of age, 
 and as he stood in the shadow of the door, Monsieur 
 Landry saw that he was a very handsome boy, tall 
 and lithe and very graceful, with black hair and eyes, 
 a long straight nose, and a very red, full mouth. His 
 hands and bare legs were burned red by the sun, but 
 his arms and chest (which one could see through his 
 torn shirt) were an olive-brown the brown of the 
 Spaniard. 
 
 Having made up the packages of tobacco into a small 
 bundle, the storekeeper, who was curious to know more 
 of this boy, now took from a glass jar a large stick of 
 peppermint candy, and handing it to him with the 
 tobacco, said: 
 
 " There is your lagnlappe. Won t you come in here 
 and eat it where it is cool? Your horse will also get a 
 rest, and will be fresh again when you are ready 
 to go." 
 
 The boy eyed the stick of candy scornfully. 
 
 " Candy is for children," said he. " I want chew 
 ing tobacco for my lagriiappc." 
 
 Monsieur Landry s eyebrows went up in surprise. 
 
 " Very well," said he; " come in and sit down, and 
 I will get it for you." 
 
 Taking the candy, he put it back in the jar, and 
 brought the boy a square piece of tobacco. The 
 tobacco was worth five cents, the candy one, but the 
 curiosity of the storekeeper was aroused. 
 
 Seated upon the counter, and swinging his bare legs 
 vigorously, the boy bit off a large piece of the tobacco, 
 and chewing it for a moment spat viciously at a fly upon 
 
 14 
 
FATHER MARTAIN FORGIVES A SINNER 
 
 the floor, his face beaming with contentment, appar 
 ently oblivious of the man in the scorching heat outside. 
 
 But Monsieur Landry was not so forgetful. 
 
 " The man outside in the wagon," said he. " The 
 sun will kill him." 
 
 The boy smiled. 
 
 " He is used to it," he replied; "besides I put his 
 hat over his face. He has lain all day in the sun before, 
 and it won t hurt him now." 
 
 Monsieur Landry now thought it time to ask a few 
 questions. 
 
 " Who is the man in the wagon? " he inquired. 
 
 " He is my father," answered the boy. 
 
 " And your name is ? " began the storekeeper. 
 
 " Numa," answered the boy. " Numa Le Blanc." 
 
 " A very pretty name," said Monsieur Landry, " al 
 though," looking at the boy s brown skin, " it is not 
 very appropriate. Numa," he repeated thoughtfully; 
 " that is Spanish." 
 
 " My mother was Spanish; she is dead," said the 
 boy laconically. 
 
 "That is sad," the priest here remarked; " for your 
 father does not seem to be a good man." 
 
 The boy s face flushed, and he raised his head 
 proudly. 
 
 "My father is not a bad man when he is not drunk," 
 said he. "He treats me well, and lets me hunt with 
 his gun. I do not blame him for getting drunk, either, 
 for the doctor has told him that he must die very soon, 
 and he drinks to keep from suffering. Perhaps, if you 
 suffered as he does, you might want to drink, too, mon 
 
 15 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Pere > and forget the pain. We live in the Grand 
 Woods," he continued, " and it is very lonesome there 
 at night. When my father groans from his pain, it is 
 terrible. Often I have ridden in the night to get him 
 a drink and the little powders that he takes to make 
 him sleep. When the pain is very great, he sometimes 
 strikes me, but I do not mind it, for when he is better, 
 he is sorry. See, here is where he struck me last night." 
 
 He rolled back his torn sleeve as he spoke. 
 
 The good priest gave a little gasp of horror, as he 
 saw a ragged cut, reaching from shoulder to elbow. 
 Monsieur Landry s heart was touched. His sympathy 
 was at once aroused. 
 
 " Let me bind it up for you, and put some salve upon 
 it," said he, and suiting the action to the word, he went 
 behind the counter, presently reappearing with a piece 
 of cloth and a large, tin box of salve. 
 
 " How did it happen? " he asked, rubbing some of 
 the salve upon the cut, with a touch as tender as a 
 woman s. 
 
 " He struck me with a plank; there was a nail in it," 
 said the boy, flinching a little as Monsieur Landry began 
 to wind the bandage tightly around his arm. 
 
 The storekeeper now thought it time to ask another 
 question. 
 
 "Where have you been?" he inquired, tying the 
 bandage deftly, and pulling down the sleeve again. 
 
 " To Mr. Lawrence s place," replied the boy. 
 
 "Your father knows Monsieur Lawrence, eh?" asked 
 the storekeeper, with a gleam of hope that he might 
 learn something of the latter gentleman. 
 
 16 
 
FATHER MARTAIN FORGIVES A SINNER 
 
 " No," answered the boy; " he went to see old man 
 Telesse. My father lives at his house in the Grand 
 Woods. He is keeping it for him while he works for 
 Mr. Lawrence. He gives my father money when he 
 goes to see him; I do not know why, and he " 
 
 The boy paused, for at this moment there arose 
 from the outside a most horrible uproar, and those in 
 the store, turning to see the cause, beheld a strange 
 sight. 
 
 The man in the wagon had risen to his feet, and was 
 making the most violent attempt to reach the ground. 
 Suddenly, by a great effort, he threw himself from the 
 wagon, and falling heavily to the ground, raised such 
 a cloud of dust, that for a moment both man and 
 wagon became invisible to those in the store. 
 
 The two men, closely followed by the boy, now 
 started forward to help the unfortunate one, when from 
 the dust there emerged a horrible figure, which made 
 directly for them, uttering such terrible curses, that 
 Father Martain placed his fingers in his ears and 
 shrank behind the huge form of the storekeeper. The 
 boy also shrank behind Monsieur Landry, who being 
 thus, as it were, left alone to face the enemy, seized a 
 hatchet that lay upon the counter, and bade the infuri 
 ated man to keep his distance. 
 
 " Numa ! " shrieked the man, with a volley of oaths. 
 " I will kill him this time. In the store talking, was he? 
 He will talk no more when I am through with him." 
 
 This speech, plentifully interlarded with oaths, was 
 delivered in the French of the Acadian, or Cajun, as 
 the people of Evangeline are more generally known in 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Louisiana. After this outburst, the angry father 
 stood panting for breath, and swaying unsteadily, as 
 though he had used up his little store of strength in 
 his endeavor to reach the trembling boy, who shrank 
 closer to the storekeeper at every word. 
 
 As he stood making desperate efforts to reach his son, 
 yet ever watchful of the hatchet in the hands of Mon 
 sieur Landry, this drunken man seemed the very incar 
 nation of anger. His hair, long and matted, filled with 
 dust and dirt from the bottom of the wagon, fell about a 
 face that was wasted and worn by disease and dissipa 
 tion. His mouth, the lips curled back in a savage 
 snarl, displayed an array of yellow, uneven teeth, and 
 between his ragged locks shone a pair of eyes gleaming 
 with rage the eyes of a wild beast. 
 
 Suddenly he made a savage spring forward, regard 
 less of the hatchet, and in a moment the storekeeper 
 would have been obliged to defend himself, but at this 
 movement, Father Martain, coming from behind him, 
 advanced upon the infuriated man, his arm out 
 stretched. 
 
 "Peace, my son," said he. " The boy has done no 
 wrong." 
 
 Instantly, over this cursing, furious man, there came 
 a great change. His face composed itself, his eyes 
 lost their savage glare, and in a moment there stood 
 before the priest, a cringing, docile creature, his whole 
 attitude speaking of submission and repentance. 
 
 " I am sorry, mon Pere," he faltered. " I did not 
 see you. It is the drink that makes me crazy. For 
 give me, mon Pere, for I am sorry." 
 
 18 
 
FATHER MARTAIN FORGIVES A SINNER 
 
 For a moment the good priest gazed upon this 
 strange apparition sorrowfully, and then laid his hands 
 upon the matted locks. 
 
 " God bless you, my son," he said, " you have 
 suffered much, and I forgive you. Go in peace, and 
 spare the boy, for he loves you as a son should love a 
 father." 
 
 The man turned to his son weakly. 
 
 " Come," said he; " it is late, and the woods are far 
 away." 
 
 The boy coming forth, placed his arm about his 
 father, who now seemed utterly exhausted, and thus 
 supporting him, passed slowly out to the wagon and 
 drove away. 
 
 For several moments the priest and Monsieur Lan- 
 dry stood looking after the wagon as it rattled away, 
 Monsieur Landry still holding the hatchet, which he 
 had forgotten in his excitement. He now placed it upon 
 the counter, and turning to the priest said: 
 
 " You were just in time, mon Pere. Had you been 
 a moment later, I should have obliged to do him an 
 injury. It is strange how quickly he became calm when 
 you spoke to him." 
 
 The priest smiled, as if in appreciation of a Divine 
 favor done for him. 
 
 " He has forgotten all but his religion," said he. 
 " When he loses that, there will be nothing left. I 
 must try and see him for the boy s sake, as well as for 
 his own." 
 
 The storekeeper said nothing to this, and resuming 
 his chair, sat for a while in silence, his mind going 
 
 19 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 rapidly over the past events, until it came to the boy s 
 telling of his visit to Mr. Lawrence s plantation, and 
 there it stopped. 
 
 As if speaking more to himself than to the priest, 
 he said: 
 
 "Again that Monsieur Lawrence, about whom no one 
 knows anything, and yet I will know something of him 
 before very long, even though I am obliged to go to 
 his house to find it out. He has no right to be so 
 mysterious, mon Pere" continued he, now speaking 
 directly to the priest. " It does not look well. Per 
 haps he has committed some crime, and is in hiding. 
 If that is the case, we should know about it." 
 
 " If the man does not wish to speak of himself," 
 replied the priest slowly, " it is his privilege not to do 
 so, and you should not say that he has possibly com 
 mitted some crime. You have no reason for thinking 
 so, and you should not judge others harshly." 
 
 " But I have reasons for thinking so ! " said the store 
 keeper vehemently. " Does not his coming here as he 
 did look strange? As for myself, had I come to a 
 place in such a manner, I should have given my reasons 
 for doing so, you may be sure. Did he not come to my 
 store the night of the great storm three years ago, 
 bringing with him a little child, and asking for shelter? 
 And after I had taken him in, and fed him, would 
 he answer the few simple questions that I asked him? 
 No, mon Pere, he would not. He told me that he 
 had bought my old place near here from Monsieur 
 Parker of New Orleans, that he had missed it in the 
 storm and darkness, and that he would go to it in the 
 
 20 
 
FATHER MARTAIN FORGIVES A SINNER 
 
 morning. This he told me, and no more. To my wife 
 he said that the child was a girl, and that her name 
 was Aline. C est tout. 
 
 " And think of the way he looked, mon Pere. His 
 face was white and drawn, and his eye his eyes, mon 
 Pere, were like those of the souls in torment. When 
 he spoke, which was not often, his voice, I assure you, 
 trembled as with some great emotion. 
 
 " It is true that he may have been tired from his 
 journey, as he looked better the next morning, but he 
 spoke then even less than he had spoken the night 
 before. In the store we met old Telesse, who was in 
 from the Grand Woods. There were no fish in the 
 bayou, he said. His back was so bad that he could 
 no longer cut down trees. What was he to do to make 
 a living? This Lawrence engaged him to work at his 
 place, put him in his buggy with the child, and thank 
 ing me, drove away. 
 
 " And this, mon Pere, is how he came to Landry. 
 Unknown he came, and unknown he has lived here for 
 three years. I know no more of him at this moment 
 than I did the morning that he drove away with old 
 Telesse. What is more, I know of no one in Landry 
 who knows as much of him as I do, and after my 
 being so kind to him that stormy night, he speaks to me 
 harshly just now. Do you blame me for saying of 
 him what I did? What do you think, mon Pere?" 
 
 " I think," said Father Martain, who for the last 
 few minutes had been gazing through the open door, 
 " I think that I see your son Adrien coming with the 
 mail." 
 
 21 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 HOW THE MAIL CAME TO LANDRY 
 
 A this answer to his question Monsieur Landry 
 sprang to his feet in such haste that he over 
 turned his chair, and not waiting to set it upon 
 its feet again, he rushed out upon the porch. 
 
 Far down the road, at a point where it turned to the 
 left, he saw a gathering cloud of dust; and as he gazed 
 it continued to assume greater proportions. The per 
 son was undoubtedly approaching at a great speed. 
 
 Father Martain, who had righted the overturned 
 chair, now joined the storekeeper, who, taking from his 
 pocket a large silver watch, gazed at it thoughtfully 
 for a moment. 
 
 " Five o clock," said he. " The mail is indeed late, 
 but we shall soon know, that is if it is Adrien com 
 ing" And then, " It is Adrien! " he shouted. " I 
 can see the horse ! " 
 
 The cloud of dust had by this time approached very 
 near, and in its midst the watchers were now able to 
 see plainly a small creole pony, which was being urged 
 to its utmost speed by a boy, who was lashing it unmer 
 cifully with a long switch. 
 
 The storekeeper turned excitedly to Father Martain. 
 
 22 
 
HOW THE MAIL CAME TO LANDRY 
 
 "Whipping a horse in this heat!" he cried. 
 " Adrien will kill him. If he does, I shall whip him 
 worse than he has whipped the horse." 
 
 " It is cruel," said the priest. " He should not do it 
 with all this heat and dust." 
 
 He would have said more on the subject of cruelty, 
 but at this moment Adrien had come within hailing 
 distance, and Monsieur Landry yelled at him angrily in 
 French : 
 
 " Do not beat that horse! " he called. " Do you 
 want to kill him? " 
 
 But the boy paid no attention to his command, and 
 continued lashing the horse savagely, until he dashed 
 madly up to the porch. Without waiting to bring the 
 animal to a full stop, Adrien slipped from the saddle, 
 and rushing up the steps to his father, clasped him 
 convulsively around the knees, sobbing loudly in a per 
 fect frenzy of terror. 
 
 Monsieur Landry placed his arm tenderly about his 
 trembling, sobbing son, and patted him affectionately 
 upon the head. 
 
 " What is it, my boy? " he asked. " Come, do not 
 be afraid; you are at home now. And the mail, my son, 
 we must get that, and then you must tell me your 
 trouble." 
 
 Gently releasing the boy s hold, the storekeeper 
 stepped down to the horse, who stood where the boy 
 had left him, blowing loudly, his brown coat covered 
 with a lather of sweat and dirt. Behind the saddle, 
 and fastened to it with strips of rawhide, was the 
 cause of Monsieur Landry s anxiety for the past four 
 
 23 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 hours the mail bag, its brown leather sides white with 
 dust. Mons. Landry carefully unfastened it, tucked it 
 under his arm, and then leading the horse over to the 
 rack, he hurried back to the porch, where Father Mar- 
 tain had almost succeeded in calming the terrors of the 
 excited Adrien. 
 
 It was now getting late in the day and the sun did not 
 shine so fiercely upon the porch, therefore Monsieur 
 Landry motioned the priest to one of the chairs that 
 stood there. Taking the seat nearest himself, and, 
 drawing Adrien to his side, he asked for the reason of 
 his fright. 
 
 The boy, on being questioned by his father, began 
 with an outburst in French, almost incoherent, and 
 punctuated with sobs. 
 
 " He shot at me! " he cried wildly. " Yes, he shot 
 at me, and the bullet it came so close. He hit the mail 
 bag, and if he had hit me I should now be dead dead 
 like Armand, when he fell in the bayou." 
 
 " Wait, my son," interposed Monsieur Landry. 
 " Calm yourself, and tell us all about it from the begin 
 ning, so that we shall know just what has happened. 
 You say that the bullet struck the mail bag? Let us 
 
 see." 
 
 Reaching down to where he had placed it, by the 
 side of his chair, Monsieur Landry picked up the mail 
 bag and examined it intently. On the side which had 
 been on top of the saddle, there was a long groove 
 cut in the leather, as cleanly as though one had done 
 it with a knife. The edges of this cut were the reddish 
 brown of new leather, in marked contrast to the deep 
 
 24 
 
HOW THE MAIL CAME TO LANDRY 
 
 brown of the rest of the bag, and through these edges 
 the storekeeper saw the back of a letter, its top fur 
 rowed by the same bullet that had made the groove 
 in the bag s side. 
 
 Father Martain, who had also been examining the 
 bag, his face alive with interest and curiosity, now ex 
 claimed excitedly: 
 
 " This is serious, my friend. Tell us quickly, Adrien ! 
 There is nothing to be afraid of now; you are safe 
 at home." 
 
 " Yes, go on and tell us, Adrien ! " cried Monsieur 
 Landry, who by this time was also wild with curiosity 
 and excitement. " Stop your crying instantly, or I shall 
 give you something to cry for. Begin at the beginning 
 and tell me all about it, leaving out nothing, for some 
 one has tampered with the mail, and that is a very 
 serious thing, I can tell you." 
 
 Thus adjured, Adrien ceased his sobbing, and in a 
 high nasal voice began the story of his difficulties. 
 
 " You know, mon pere" said he, " that every day 
 when I ride over for the mail to Mouton, I go as 
 quickly as I can, and I only wait long enough to get 
 the letters before I come back again. I do not go 
 into the town by the public road, for there is a foot 
 path about half a mile outside that leads directly to 
 the post office, and I always go that way. 
 
 To-day, when I had ridden on this footpath for a 
 little ways, a man in the road, not far off, yelled at me. 
 This man had a gun, and I thought that he was hunt 
 ing, although there is nothing to hunt just now. I was 
 riding very fast when he yelled at me, and so I did not 
 
 25 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 stop to hear what he had to say, but yelled back at him 
 that I was in a hurry, and rode on into Mouton. 
 
 " When I came to the post office Monsieur Brous- 
 sard, the postmaster, gave me the letters, and I put them 
 in my bag. When I started to go out he came to the 
 door with me, and asked me who was going to take 
 the mail to Landry. 
 
 " I am, I told him. 
 
 " But you cannot, he said. 
 
 " I asked him why. 
 
 " There is yellow fever at Mouton, six cases, said 
 he. You must know of it ; the guard must have told 
 you. 
 
 u I told him about the footpath, and about the man 
 with the gun, whom I thought was out hunting. 
 
 " That was the guard, he said, and I should have 
 ridden up to him, and told him about the mail. He 
 would have sent in for it, and given it to me, so that 
 I could have gotten the mail without going into the 
 town. Now that I had come into the town, I could 
 not go out again. 
 
 " * But the guard was not there yesterday morning, 
 I said; and why is it that we have not heard of the 
 fever from people who have stopped at the store on 
 their way from Mouton ? 
 
 " * The guards only came on last night, he told me. 
 The people at Mouton did not say anything about the 
 fever, because they were afraid of being quarantined. 
 The planters about the town found out about the fever 
 last night, and they put guards on every road, so that 
 those in the town could not come out. People could 
 
 26 
 
HOW THE MAIL CAME TO LANDRY 
 
 come in, but the guards would tell them of the fever, 
 and when they were once in, they could not go out 
 again. 
 
 " * But the mail? I asked; surely the mail can 
 go out ? 
 
 " * Yes, said Monsieur Broussard, * the mail could go 
 out, if some one from Landry were to come as far as 
 the guard and get it. I had better wait until the next 
 day about the mail, when some one coming from Lan 
 dry to look for me, could bring it back. As for myself, 
 he did not know when I would be able to leave. 
 
 " Then Monsieur Broussard went into the post office, 
 and left me. 
 
 " I did not know what to do, but I took the mail bag 
 and tied it on my saddle. I made up my mind that I 
 would leave Mouton that day. I did not know how I 
 was going to do it, but I made up my mind that I was 
 going to leave, and I was very much frightened. Do 
 you blame me, mon pere? " 
 
 The boy paused for breath. 
 
 " No, no," said Monsieur Landry, who looked very 
 grave at the mention of the yellow fever. 
 
 Father Martain looked very grave, also, and in his 
 interest for what was to follow, he paid no attention to 
 Monsieur Landry, who was about to speak to his son. 
 
 Seizing Adrien by the shoulder, he cried: " Go on, 
 Adrien!" 
 
 Monsieur Landry, in his excitement, did not notice 
 this little piece of pardonable rudeness, and forgetting 
 what he had to say, seized the boy s other shoulder and 
 demanded the rest of the story. 
 
 27 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " Do not shake me so," said Adrien; and then he 
 continued : 
 
 " I tied my horse to a tree, and sat down for quite 
 a long while, thinking of how I should get away from 
 Mouton. After a while I got on my horse and rode 
 out to the guard. I told him that I had the mail, but 
 he would not let me pass. He wanted to take the 
 letters, and give them to some one who would try to 
 get into the town, but I would not let him have them, 
 for you have told me, mon pere, that I must never 
 let anyone touch the mail. So I rode back into the 
 town again, and sat down under a tree. 
 
 " This time I sat for a long while, and it was late 
 in the evening when I saw a woman walking along the 
 street crying. When she saw me, she asked me if I 
 would help her, for she was in trouble. I felt so sorry 
 for her that I said that I would, and I rode to her 
 house, tied my horse, and went inside. 
 
 We walked down the hall until we came to a door, 
 and the woman, pushing it open, told me to enter. 
 When I first went in I could not see very well, because 
 the shades in the room were pulled down, but after 
 a moment I saw a large bed, and on that bed I saw 
 Oh! mon pere I saw " 
 
 Here the boy, trembling and shaking as with an 
 ague, fell upon his knees, burying his face in his 
 father s lap, his hands tightly pressed over his eyes, 
 as though to shut out some terrible sight. 
 
 Monsieur Landry stroked his head tenderly. 
 
 " Calm yourself, my son," said he, " and tell us what 
 you saw." 
 
 28 
 
HOW THE MAIL CAME TO LANDRY 
 
 Slowly the boy raised his head, his eyes wide with the 
 terror of what he had seen, and without rising from his 
 kneeling posture, said, in a low voice: 
 
 " I saw on the bed, mon pere, a man a dead man ! 
 He was lying with nothing on him but his nightshirt, 
 which was almost torn off his body, and his face was 
 the most terrible thing that I have ever seen. It was. 
 all bony and yellow but I cannot tell you what it 
 looked like, mon pere. It was too horrible. 
 
 " The woman seemed to be almost crazy, because of 
 grief, I suppose. 
 
 u There he is, said she; my husband dead. 
 There he lies dead, I say, and none will come near him. 
 No one will help me, and why? Is this yellow fever 
 then so bad, that a poor weak woman is left alone in 
 her trouble? Other men die and there is mourning. 
 People come to help the wife, while I am left alone 
 with my dead. But you must help me. Together we 
 will dress him in his black clothes, that he may not 
 look so dreadful as he does now. You will help me, 
 will you not, my boy ? 
 
 " While this woman was speaking, I was so scared 
 of her, because she spoke so wildly, and at the dead 
 man on the bed, that I could not speak or move; but 
 when she had finished, I rushed out of that room and 
 out of that house, and jumping on my horse I struck 
 him with my whip, letting him go where he wanted to. 
 
 " He started off as fast as he could go, and presently 
 he came to the footpath and went out upon it, for I 
 always come home that way. I was so scared that I 
 hardly noticed where he was going, and I kept on whip- 
 
 29 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 ping him as hard as I could. All of a sudden, when I 
 was near the place where the footpath turns into the 
 road, I saw the guard (who had seen me coming) leave 
 his place on the road, and run toward me to cut me 
 off. I tried now to stop my horse, but I could do noth 
 ing with him, so I whipped him as hard as I could, and 
 shut my eyes, waiting for the guard to shoot me. I 
 heard him yell at me to halt, and then I heard his gun 
 go off. 
 
 " When I heard the bullet strike the mail bag, I 
 thought that it had hit me, and I was so afraid that I 
 would fall to the ground, and that they would take 
 me back to Mouton, that I kept on whipping my horse, 
 and I do not remember anything else until I saw 
 you, mon pere, and Pere Martain standing on the 
 porch." 
 
 The boy paused for a moment, and then said: 
 
 " That is all, mon pere. And now may I go to the 
 house and have my mother give me something to eat? 
 I have eaten nothing since early this morning." 
 
 " You may go, my son," answered Monsieur Landry 
 gravely, and as the boy walked slowly through the 
 store, he followed the retreating figure of his eyes 
 until it had vanished from his sight. 
 
 For a long time he and Father Martain sat thinking 
 of what the boy had told them, each of them dreading 
 to speak of this threatened calamity. Finally the 
 silence was broken by Father Martain, who holding his 
 old hat upon his lap, caressed it tenderly for a moment, 
 and then said: 
 
 "This is bad, my friend; very bad. And Adrien 
 
 30 
 
HOW THE MAIL CAME TO LANDRY 
 
 was in the room with the man who had the fever. We 
 are in the hands of God, and His mercy is very great. 
 Perhaps all will yet be well." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Monsieur Landry, but his voice 
 lacked the ring of faith that had accompanied the 
 words of the good priest. 
 
 Again there was a long silence, and in the mind of 
 Monsieur Landry the words of Father Martain kept 
 repeating themselves with merciless insistence: 
 
 " And Adrien was in the room with the man who 
 had the fever." 
 
 Away there, where the road turned to the left, lay 
 Mouton, with its railroad, its big postoffice, and its 
 stores of every description. It was their mother city, 
 the source of their mail, their news, their connection 
 with the outside world. 
 
 Only a week ago Monsieur Landry had been there, 
 buying at the stores, calling upon old friends, and 
 meeting new ones. Then all had been peaceful 
 and happy. The people in the streets had joked and 
 laughed, their minds free from care. 
 
 And now, into this peace, into this happiness, had 
 come a vague terror, a thing to make the bravest heart 
 quail at its very awfulness, a thing which none could see, 
 none could grapple with, stealing unawares into the 
 town, unknown until heralded by death, by despair, by 
 terror, it had made its presence felt. A thing which 
 none could stop, none could swerve, destroying young 
 and old, rich and poor; a thing insatiable and relentless. 
 
 And now out of this terror, this despair, had come 
 Adrien, bringing with him, perhaps, the seeds of this 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 destroyer, to plant them unwillingly amid the peace 
 and quiet of Landry. 
 
 Monsieur Landry bowed his head, the words of the 
 priest still repeating themselves, as though burned into 
 his brain with letters of fire. 
 
 Very slowly Father Martain arose from his chair, 
 and very slowly he placed the old hat upon his head. 
 Going over to the storekeeper, he laid his hand 
 affectionately upon his shoulder. 
 
 * You must put your trust in God," said he. " We 
 are in His hands. I would not let anyone come near 
 Adrien until " The good priest hesitated for a 
 moment. " Until we know what is going to happen," 
 he finished softly. 
 
 "I am going now to the church to pray. It is all 
 that we can do. So good-bye, my friend, and hope 
 for the best." 
 
 Monsieur Landry rose to his feet slowly and with 
 difficulty. He seemed to have grown old in the last few 
 moments, and his ruddy face now had an ashy hue. 
 Without a word he held out his hand, and Father 
 Martain, shaking it warmly for a moment, left the 
 porch, and walked slowly toward the church, his head 
 bent low. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 MONSIEUR LANDRY MAKES A DISCOVERY 
 
 FOR a long time Monsieur Landry stood where 
 the good priest had left him, staring down the 
 road, his mind numbed by this totally unexpected 
 piece of news. 
 
 Thus he stood, seeing nothing, hearing nothing 
 knowing nothing, until suddenly he saw the mail bag, 
 lying where he had left it, by the side of his chair, and 
 the sight of this mail bag destroyed the frozen condi 
 tion of Monsieur Landry s brain, just as a stone thrown 
 into an ice-covered pool will destroy the frozen condi 
 tion of its surface. As if by magic it removed from 
 his mind the grewsome thoughts with which it had 
 been filled, and this man, who had been a moment 
 before as one made of stone, was now the postmaster, 
 eager to sort his letters, and curious to see for whom 
 they were intended. 
 
 Picking up the bag he walked briskly into the store 
 and behind the counter to the little glass mail box. 
 Here he unlocked the padlock of the bag, and thrust 
 ing his hand inside drew out the letters. 
 
 There were very few of them, eight or ten in all, 
 and when he had taken them out, the storekeeper laid 
 them upon the counter in a little pile. Now the top 
 
 33 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 letter on this pile was addressed to Monsieur Landry 
 himself, and without looking at the others, he opened it 
 and read it. It was from a firm of commission mer 
 chants in New Orleans that wished to sell his cotton 
 crop for that year. The letter was strictly a business 
 one, giving the rates for cotton together with the com 
 missions, but at the end there was a sentence that made 
 Monsieur Landry start. It ran: 
 
 " We would like to sell your entire crop, and if you 
 wish references, I know of no better one than to tell 
 you that for years we have sold all of the sugar that 
 Major William H. Lawrence has made at Lawrence 
 Hall plantation." 
 
 Monsieur Landry read this sentence several times. 
 He had heard of Major Lawrence and of Lawrence 
 Hall plantation; who had not? One of the wealthiest 
 sugar planters in the state, Major Lawrence was known 
 by every one, as was Lawrence Hall, famed for its huge 
 mill and wonderful crops. But Monsieur Landry had 
 not known that Major Lawrence s initials were " W. 
 H.," and as he thought of this he remembered that 
 those of the other Lawrence were the same. Never in 
 his wildest thoughts had the storekeeper connected the 
 wealthy planter with the mysterious stranger, but now it 
 seemed as though there might be some connection. The 
 more Monsieur Landry thought of this, the less he could 
 make of it; and finally he said, " It is a mere coinci 
 dence," and dismissed the matter from his mind. How 
 ever, he carefully placed the letter in his pocket for 
 future reference. 
 
 He now turned his attention to the other letters, 
 
 34 
 
MONS. LANDRY MAKES A DISCOVERY 
 
 sorting them and putting them, each in its proper 
 pigeonhole, until he came to the last one. This letter 
 was lying face downward, and as Monsieur Landry 
 picked it up, he saw that it was the one that had been hit 
 by the guard who shot at Adrien. The bullet had 
 passed along the top of the letter, tearing it almost off, 
 and it was only kept closed by a little piece of paper 
 on one side. 
 
 The sun had set, and it was quite dark in the store, 
 so dark, in fact, that Monsieur Landry was obliged to 
 hold this letter very close to his eyes to read the address. 
 And holding it close to his face, with his back to the 
 window, that the few remaining rays of light might 
 reach it, he read, u William H. Lawrence, Jr., Landry 
 P. O., La." 
 
 In his excitement Monsieur Landry dropped the let 
 ter. He had seen many letters for Mr. Lawrence, but 
 this was the first one that had ever had " Jr." after 
 the name in the address. The storekeeper was now 
 almost wild with curiosity. 
 
 " This proves that Major Law r rence is his relative, 
 possibly his father," said he; " but if only I knew more. 
 If I could see the letter inside." 
 
 Suddenly he thought of the torn top, where the bullet 
 had passed, and picking up the letter he examined it 
 carefully. By breaking the little piece of paper at the 
 side, the envelope could be opened, and its contents 
 taken out. 
 
 " It is only a very small piece of paper," thought 
 Monsieur Landry, " and I cannot imagine how the bul 
 let missed tearing it also. One could tear it himself, 
 
 35 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 and who would know the difference? The bullet tore it, 
 of course, the hole in the mail bag will prove that, and 
 Father Martain saw the torn letter in the bag before 
 it was opened. It is not wrong to do this when one 
 is as mysterious as this Lawrence. What can be easier 
 than to tear the piece of paper, and learn all that I wish 
 to know?" and the fingers of the storekeeper closed 
 nervously upon the letter, about to do their owner s 
 bidding. 
 
 Suddenly he paused. What if Mr. Lawrence should 
 call for his letter at the moment when he was reading it? 
 
 A thought struck Monsieur Landry. 
 
 " It is dark," said he. " I will close the store so 
 that none can disturb me." And suiting the action to 
 the word, he went quickly about the building, barring 
 the door and shutting the windows. When he had fin 
 ished, it was pitch dark inside, and groping his way 
 to the counter, he lit a lamp, whose small flame gave 
 but scant light in the black interior. 
 
 Taking the letter, he tore the envelope quickly with 
 a jerk of his finger, and drawing out the enclosure, he 
 laid it on the counter in the lamplight. 
 
 Instead of the letter that he had expected, there was 
 another envelope stamped, sealed and postmarked 
 from Mouton, showing that whoever had sent back the 
 letter, had sent it back unread. But it was the address 
 on this envelope that caused Monsieur Landry to cry 
 out in his triumph, for there, showing black in the light 
 of the lamp, and written in the hand of the mysterious 
 Lawrence, was this inscription, " Major William H. 
 Lawrence, Lawrence Hall Plantation, La." 
 
 36 
 
MONS. LANDRY MAKES A DISCOVERY 
 
 With a cautious glance over his shoulder, as though 
 he were afraid that some one was watching him, Mon 
 sieur Landry shoved the sealed envelope in the torn one, 
 and thrust it hurriedly into one of the pigeonholes in 
 the glass box. Then dragging a chair into the light, 
 he sat down to think over his discovery. 
 
 For a long while he sat, wrapped in thought, and 
 then, bringing his fist down upon the counter, he said 
 loudly, as though addressing some one, his voice ring 
 ing with triumph: 
 
 " If this mysterious man is not the son of Major 
 Lawrence, of Lawrence Hall plantation, then am I the 
 most mistaken man in Louisiana." 
 
 And as he sat thus, in the little circle of light cast 
 by the lamp, his face beaming with gratified curiosity, 
 the words of Father Martain came into his mind as 
 suddenly and as clearly as though some one had shouted 
 them in his ear, " And Adrien was in the room with the 
 man who had the fever." 
 
 Gone instantly were the joy and the triumph, and in 
 their place was the horror of the evening. Monsieur 
 Landry gazed into the dark corners and shuddered. 
 He thought of Adrien s story, of Father Martain who 
 had gone to pray for his safety, for the safety of 
 Landry. 
 
 And while this good man was invoking the Divine 
 aid, what had he been doing? Had he prayed for 
 deliverance from this great evil? No, not he. In the 
 dark of the store, like any criminal, he had done a 
 wicked deed, a crime, for which he should be punished. 
 And at this time, when he should have been at peace 
 
 37 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 with God, he had done it. Was it right for him to ask 
 for favors now? Would God now be merciful? 
 
 These thoughts, together with the terrors of the 
 evening, filled the mind of Monsieur Landry, and, his 
 overwrought nerves giving way, he bowed his head 
 upon his hands, and abandoned himself to his emotion. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 MR. LAWRENCE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 THE sun was well up, and already its warm rays 
 were beginning to tell of the heat to come, 
 when Lawrence rode homeward from Landry 
 with his mail. 
 
 His attitude toward the storekeeper that morning 
 had been formal indeed, and would have rapidly in 
 creased to anger at sight of the torn envelope had not 
 Monsieur Landry hastened to explain. Long and elo 
 quently had the storekeeper held forth upon the trials 
 of Adrien, adding to them many little details of his 
 own, and when he had finished, Lawrence had for 
 gotten the letter, his anger, and everything save this 
 impending calamity. 
 
 To his many anxious questions Monsieur Landry had 
 replied that Adrien was safely quarantined in an out 
 house, and that the doctor would be unable to say 
 anything about him until the disease had time to 
 develop. 
 
 So therefore it was that Lawrence set forth from 
 Landry a very downcast man, only to be more down 
 cast still when he suddenly remembered his letter. 
 
 This letter, the most important one that he had ever 
 received, had been driven from his mind by the news 
 
 39 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 of the fever, so now when he had a chance to think of 
 it, he quickly tore off the envelope and examined the 
 inclosure. 
 
 As he looked at the letter addressed by himself, its 
 seal unbroken, there came into his eyes a look of 
 despair the despair of one who has staked all upon 
 a single desperate chance, and has lost. 
 
 So this was the fate of the letter from which he had 
 hoped so much, upon which he had staked the future 
 of his child. His father had not even opened it, had 
 looked upon it as an appeal for aid for himself, and 
 had sent it back unread. 
 
 The thought of this only hurt Lawrence s pride the 
 more, for he had written with no thought or mention 
 of himself, sending only a plea for his little girl. A 
 short, passionate plea, asking that in case of his death, 
 the child s grandfather would give her his protection. 
 And here was the letter thrown back at him, unopened 
 and unread. 
 
 Slowly he tore it into small pieces which he dropped 
 by the roadside as his horse plodded lazily along the 
 bridle hung loosely on the pommel of the saddle. Thus 
 sitting very straight and still, he went on between the 
 tall Cherokee hedges until he came to his home, where 
 the horse went to the gate, stopped of his own accord, 
 and waited patiently for his master to open it. 
 
 Lawrence s house was comfortably long, and white, 
 and green-shuttered, but its paint was cracked and peel 
 ing, and there was an air of dilapidation about it that 
 showed that its owner was not in the best of circum 
 stances. The fence in front had many a gap and break 
 
 40 
 
MR. LAWRENCE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 in its long, sagging line of pickets, and the little gate 
 swung loosely upon one hinge. On entering this gate, 
 one passed through a thick row of china trees, which 
 grew on either side of the path that led to the house, 
 and at the end of this path were two huge water oaks. 
 All of these trees combined to shut out a great deal 
 of light, but they also added a great deal of shade and 
 coolness to the long porch which ran the entire length 
 of the house in front. 
 
 It was here that Lawrence came after having unsad 
 dled his horse, and dragging a chair into a shady cor 
 ner, he sat down to think of what he should do in this, 
 the time of his misfortune. For a while he sat, and 
 tried to find some gleam of light amid the darkness in 
 which his soul was plunged, but his tired brain refused 
 to work. 
 
 Rising wearily he went to the edge of the porch and 
 called for his daughter, called again and again, until a 
 faint voice answered him from far back in the field. 
 Then he went into the house, and returned in a moment 
 with something that he held in his tightly closed hand, 
 as he waited for the arrival of his little girl. 
 
 Around the corner of the house there came presently 
 a pointer dog, shambling along in the ungraceful gait 
 of puppyhood, his great, clumsy paws sprawling out 
 from his body as though he had lost control of them, 
 and behind him, running hard, her little blue apron 
 flaring out behind her, came the child. 
 
 The careworn face of Lawrence was lit with a smile 
 for an instant, as he beheld her approaching. He loved 
 his little daughter very dearly, and she, returning that 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 love a hundred-fold, was the one bright spot in a very 
 dreary life. 
 
 Running quickly to the steps of the porch the child 
 climbed upon her father s knee, where, breathing hard 
 from her recent exertions, she looked up at him 
 inquiringly. 
 
 Lawrence stroked her hair softly, his face glowing 
 with his great love for her. 
 
 " Where have you been, my daughter? " questioned 
 he. 
 
 " Chicot and I have been in the field with old Telesse, 
 mon pere," she answered. 
 
 Lawrence frowned. 
 
 " Have I not told you that you must not speak 
 French to me?" he asked. The child s face became 
 grave for a moment. 
 
 " I am sorry, father," she answered. " I have been 
 with old Telesse all morning, and he only understands 
 French. I am sorry father; I forgot." 
 
 " Poor little girl," said Lawrence, speaking more to 
 himself than to the child, " it will not be long before 
 you will forget to speak English entirely, living where 
 none can speak it. And what is Telesse doing in the 
 field?" 
 
 " He is plowing, and so are the nigger boys," 
 answered the child. " And Telesse let me ride on one 
 of the mules. And Chicot caught a rat," she added 
 proudly. 
 
 At the mention of his name, the dog wagged his 
 tail vigorously, and rose up and put his front paws 
 upon Lawrence s knees. The little girl patted him 
 
 42 
 
MR. LAWRENCE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 upon his head, and praised him loudly for his skill in 
 hunting. 
 
 Lawrence smiled at this for a moment, and then 
 pushing the dog away from him, opened his hand, dis 
 closing what he had brought with him from the house 
 a long, slender chain made of innumerable tiny 
 links of gold. 
 
 The child clapped her hands. 
 
 " Isn t it pretty; is it for me? " she cried. 
 
 " Yes," answered Lawrence gravely, " it is for you, 
 but I want you to listen very carefully to what I am 
 going to tell you, and you must never forget it." 
 
 " Yes," said the child solemnly, "I won t never 
 forget it." 
 
 Lawrence now drew a ring from his finger. He 
 opened the clasp of the chain and slipped the ring upon 
 it, where it hung, swinging from side to side, with the 
 sunlight glancing from the polished setting. 
 
 The ring was a band of chased gold, set with a 
 large stone of reddish-brown color, mottled with white, 
 and upon the polished surface of the stone was cut a 
 crest, whose delicate lines and tracery showed the work 
 of a master hand. 
 
 Lawrence now held up the chain with its dangling 
 ring, and said, slowly and impressively: 
 
 " This chain was your mother s, and from it hung 
 the holy medals which she always wore. The medals I 
 cannot give you now, my daughter, for I prize them 
 too much. But I am going to give you the chain, and 
 I want you to wear it always. 
 
 " This ring," he continued, holding it up as he spoke, 
 
 43 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " was given to me by my father when I was twenty-one 
 years of age. He gave one like it to my brother on his 
 twenty-first birthday, and the two rings are so much 
 alike, that when you put them side by side you can 
 hardly tell them apart. The stones are two carnelians 
 that your grandfather found in a gully on his planta 
 tion, and the family crest upon them was engraved in 
 Paris by one of the greatest lapidaries in that city. The 
 two rings are made from an old brooch that belonged 
 to your great-grandmother, so they are very valuable 
 for family reasons. This is the first time that mine has 
 left my finger since my father gave it to me nine years 
 ago but my little girl, what have I been talking 
 about? You have not understood a word of what I 
 have said, and I have gone on talking, forgetting all 
 about what a very little child you are." 
 
 When Lawrence had started speaking, the child had 
 followed every word, trying vainly to understand what 
 he was talking about, but as he went on, his mind now 
 back in the past of which he was speaking, utterly 
 oblivious to the age of his listener, she gave up in 
 despair, and sat with a puzzled look upon her face, her 
 little nose wrinkled up in bewilderment. It was this 
 puzzled look that now caused Lawrence to stop short in 
 his narrative, and taking the chain, he clasped it about 
 the child s neck, tucking it under the collar of her dress, 
 so that it was completely hidden from sight. 
 
 " Now listen, Aline," said he, " this is what you 
 must remember. Do not try to think of what I have 
 just said, but listen to me carefully. You must wear 
 this ring with the chain always, and you must never 
 
 44 
 
MR. LAWRENCE RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 show it to any one, unless you are in a great deal of 
 trouble. Do you understand?" 
 
 The child nodded. 
 
 " Now say it after me," said Lawrence. 
 
 Very slowly they repeated it together, until the child 
 could say it alone, when Lawrence kissed her, and put 
 ting her down upon her feet said : 
 
 " That s a good girl; never forget what I have told 
 you. Run away and play with Chicot now, for father 
 wants to be alone." 
 
 He watched her as she ran away to the field, the 
 dog following clumsily after her. 
 
 " Poor little child," said he, " what will your future 
 be, I wonder? How happy and how free from care 
 you are now what will you be ten years hence ? Who 
 will care for you when I am gone? Who will know 
 who you really are? Your grandfather, your own flesh 
 and blood, has cast you off you, an innocent little child 
 who never harmed a soul in your blameless life. And 
 why should you suffer for the wrong of your father, 
 who loves you so dearly? " 
 
 Many thoughts such as these filled the mind of Law 
 rence, and his heart was very bitter. 
 
 " Some one must know who she is, who I am," 
 thought he; " it is her right. If I were to die, she with 
 her French, that she must speak to make herself under 
 stood, would be thought a Cajun. With none to care 
 for her but Telesse, she would be looked upon as his 
 daughter. But who is there to whom I can turn, to 
 whom I can tell my story? Since my father has refused 
 her aid, in whom can I confide? 
 
 45 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " There is Colonel Gordon at Belrive but no, I 
 could not tell him. My pride would prevent me. Then 
 there is Landry with Doctor Lemaire. He would not 
 do; he is too old to outlive me. And Mr. Landry? He 
 is too curious. I could not trust to his discretion. 
 
 " And is there not one soul in all this country to 
 whom I can tell my story? " 
 
 Lawrence bowed his head in despair, and the bitter 
 ness within his heart was very great. Slowly he placed 
 his arm upon the railing, and sinking his head upon his 
 hands, pressed his palms against it as though he would 
 drive into it by force the name of the person that he 
 wanted. 
 
 And as he sat thus, plunged in despair, there came 
 suddenly before him a face. 
 
 It was an old face, the skin cracked and wrinkled 
 like parchment, framed by long locks of yellowish white 
 hair. The face had eyes of a faint blue, eyes that 
 beamed with a great love for all things, and the mouth 
 bore a smile that was a balm to all suffering souls. 
 Crowning the white hair and shading the face was an 
 old hat an old, black hat with a wide brim. 
 
 Very quietly Lawrence raised his head, and upon his 
 face there was a great calm. Very quietly he rose 
 from his chair and smiled with satisfaction, for he had 
 found his man. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 NUMA ASKS A PRICE FOR SILENCE 
 
 DOWN in the field, back of the house, old 
 Telesse was at work harvesting Lawrence s 
 cane crop. He was an old man, his hair 
 just turned a yellowish white, which made him look 
 much older than he really was, but in his gray eyes 
 there was a twinkle, which spoke of a vitality that was 
 far from being extinguished. 
 
 As he followed behind the plow, his bare feet sink 
 ing ankle-deep in the rich, black earth, his voice rising 
 every now and then as he urged his mules on to their 
 work, he was a Cajun of the Cajuns, speaking no 
 language but their French patois, his English being 
 barely intelligible. 
 
 For this simple old man, whose thoughts never 
 strayed beyond the present, this world held but three 
 things which counted. 
 
 First there was his religion, the religion of his peo 
 ple, of his friends, the religion that brought them from 
 the far-off prairies Sunday after Sunday to worship in 
 the little church at Landry. Wholly illiterate, his mind 
 untutored beyond the simple necessities of life, to this 
 old man his religion meant everything. To the good 
 priest he went in happiness, to rejoice with him at his 
 
 47 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 good fortune, and to him he went in sorrow, for sym 
 pathy, for comfort. 
 
 After his religion came the old man s master. To 
 him he gave his respect, his obedience, his submission. 
 Had anyone asked him to tell who the greatest man in 
 the world was, he would have answered instantly, " The 
 good Father Martain," but he would have added, 
 " Monsieur Lawrence is a very great man also." His 
 love for his master was very great, but it was tempered 
 with a great respect, the respect of the weaker mind for 
 the stronger one. 
 
 And last, there came the little girl, Aline. The old 
 man loved her with his whole heart, loved her above all 
 else in the world. 
 
 He loved his religion, but he stood in awe of it. 
 There was much that he could not understand. He 
 loved his master also, but at times he feared him because 
 of his knowledge. But the little girl, with her simple, 
 childish mind, simple and childish like his own, was 
 loved by him freely, unrestrainedly, loved with the 
 faithful, undying love that the dog has for its master 
 the love that has no reason, beginning without cause, 
 and lasting forever. 
 
 On and on went the old man, finishing one furrow, 
 only to start another, the mules plodding patiently 
 along, the bright blade of the plow turning back the 
 warm earth, which broke and scattered like ashes. 
 
 Seated high upon one of the cane rows, the green 
 leaves making a canopy above her, sat the little girl, 
 her blue apron a pleasing bit of color against the brown 
 and green of the field. By her side lay the dog, his 
 
NUMA ASKS A PRICE FOR SILENCE 
 
 nose between his paws, one eye open in quest of a 
 possible rat. The little girl, like a princess seated upon 
 her throne, divided her conversation between the old 
 man and the dog, chatting merrily with the former 
 whenever he came by, and talking softly to the latter 
 when the plow had passed. 
 
 Suddenly the dog started up growling, his hair rising 
 upon his back in little ridges, and the child, looking for 
 the cause of it, saw a boy carefully crawling through 
 the barbed wire fence that separated the field from the 
 road. 
 
 Paying no attention to the little girl, who was 
 quieting the dog with sundry soft pats upon his 
 head, the boy walked quickly to the end of the row 
 which old Telesse was plowing, and waited for him to 
 approach. 
 
 When the old man saw this boy his face became 
 troubled. Drawing up his mules at the end of the fur 
 row, he confronted him defiantly, one hand still hold 
 ing the plow, as though he expected the conversation 
 to be a brief one. 
 
 " Well, Numa," he asked in French, " what is it 
 now?" 
 
 The boy did not answer for a moment, but stood 
 silent, his brown face twisting with emotion. Within 
 him pride and grief were struggling, and it was some 
 little time before pride was triumphant. 
 
 " My father is dead," he answered finally. " He 
 died last night. I am a man now, and the horse, the 
 wagon, even the gun, are mine. Everything belongs 
 to me." 
 
 49 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Old Telesse nodded his head thoughtfully. 
 
 " Your father is dead; he died last night? That is 
 bad," said he slowly; "that is very bad." But the 
 expression upon his face belied his words, for, if ever 
 a man looked relieved, if ever a man looked pleased at 
 hearing a piece of news, that man was old Telesse. 
 
 " When will you bury him? " he asked. 
 
 " Late this afternoon," answered the boy. " Father 
 Martain is coming to the woods, and we will bury him 
 there." 
 
 The old man nodded again, and then, as though 
 he considered the conversation at an end, prepared to 
 move the plow to the next row. 
 
 " Wait a moment! " yelled the boy; " that is not all. 
 I must have some money for the burial, for the " 
 
 The old man turned upon him fiercely. 
 
 " It was always money, and more money with your 
 father, and now do you expect to keep on with the 
 same thing? " he cried. " If you do not leave the field 
 at once, I will try this whip upon you," and he made a 
 threatening gesture. 
 
 Into the black eyes of the boy there came a crafty 
 look, the look of one who, having another in his power, 
 grinds him without mercy. 
 
 " Before my father died," said he slowly, " he told 
 me of the man that you " 
 
 The old man s arms shot out in a beseeching gesture, 
 his whole being pleading for mercy. 
 
 " Stop ! " he cried. " It is all right. You shall have 
 the money, only keep still. How much is it that you 
 want?" 
 
 50 
 
NUMA ASKS A PRICE FOR SILENCE 
 
 The boy smiled with satisfaction. 
 
 "Ten dollars," answered he. u I must buy some 
 things at the store, besides paying for the burial." 
 
 The old man scratched his head thoughtfully for a 
 moment. 
 
 u That is a great deal of money," said he, " but I 
 will see what I can do. Come up to the house and wait 
 outside for me. Did you come in the wagon ? " 
 
 " No," answered the boy. " I walked all the way. 
 They are going to use the wagon to carry my father 
 in, and they are painting it. Painting it black for 
 death," he added grimly. 
 
 Up from the field went the old man and the boy, the 
 little girl following behind them, and when they reached 
 the house Telesse went inside, leaving the boy upon the 
 back steps. 
 
 The old man was inside a long time, and when he 
 came out he handed the boy a handful of silver. 
 
 " Now go ! " said he. " And I hope that your father 
 is suffering in hell! " he added under his breath. 
 
 Without a word of thanks the boy thrust the money 
 into the pocket of his ragged trousers and started off 
 toward the front gate, whistling as he went. 
 
 The old man looked after him angrily until he turned 
 the corner of the house, and then, with a shrug of his 
 shoulders, went back to his plowing again. 
 
 The boy went his way, whistling loudly until he 
 reached the front gate, where he found the little girl 
 playing with her dog in the shade of the thickly-grow 
 ing china trees. Half way through the gate he paused, 
 struck with the beauty of the child, and leaning against 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 one of the posts, he took off his battered hat with a 
 great sweep. 
 
 " Good-by, Aline," said he. " You are a pretty 
 child, and I like you." 
 
 The little maid, seated demurely upon the ground, 
 eyed him scornfully. 
 
 " I will say good-by, Numa," she answered, " but 
 you are a bad, ugly boy; my father says so, and you 
 look like Tony, the dago." 
 
 Into Numa s brown cheeks there flashed a streak of 
 red. 
 
 " I am not a dago," he answered proudly; " I am 
 half Spanish. And I am not bad or ugly either; your 
 father does not tell the truth when he says so. You 
 called me a boy, but I am not a boy; I am a man. My 
 father is dead, and all his things belong to me. I am 
 going to the woods now, to hunt, to work like a man, 
 but some day I am going to come back and marry you, 
 for you are the prettiest little girl that I have ever seen, 
 and I like you. And now won t you kiss me good-by? " 
 he asked teasingly. 
 
 The little girl drew her short skirt about her, as 
 though she did not wish it to rest upon the ground that 
 he had trod. 
 
 " No, Numa," answered she. " You are a wicked 
 boy, and you are a brown boy, too. Father has told 
 me never to kiss anybody that is not white like I am." 
 
 Numa s face flushed with anger. 
 
 " I am going to make you kiss me now, whether you 
 want to or not! " he cried, and seizing her by the hand, 
 he drew her roughly through the gate into the road. 
 
 52 
 
NUMA ASKS A PRICE FOR SILENCE 
 
 Then ensued a struggle in the hot, dusty highway: 
 Numa trying to bring the angry little face up to his 
 own, the child digging her head stubbornly downward, 
 and striking at him with her little pink fists. 
 
 So engrossed was Numa in the conflict that he did 
 not hear a horse rapidly approaching, and just as he 
 was about to drag the tired little head triumphantly 
 upward, a hand seized his collar, almost jerking him 
 backward into the dust. Looking up angrily he saw a 
 boy younger than himself, handsomely dressed, and 
 astride a small black pony. 
 
 You are a coward to fight a girl, and such a little 
 girl, too," said the boy. 
 
 The culprit eyed him sullenly for a moment. 
 
 " Well, it is none of your business," replied he. 
 " You go away and leave me alone." 
 
 " But it is my business," said the boy, " and if you 
 don t go away and leave this little girl alone, I ll get 
 off my horse and give you a good beating." 
 
 Numa answered never a word to this, and walked 
 sullenly away behind the horse, as though he were going 
 to follow its rider s instructions, but no sooner was the 
 boy s back toward him, than, stooping, he picked up a 
 large clod of dirt, and threw it with all his might at 
 his enemy. The clod struck him fairly between the 
 shoulders, almost knocking him from his horse, but 
 not waiting to see the effects of his throw, Numa ran 
 quickly across the road, and diving through the barbed 
 wire fence on the other side he darted out across the 
 fields, where it was impossible for the boy to follow him 
 upon his horse. 
 
 53 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 The newcomer screwed up his handsome face and 
 winked bravely, in the effort to keep back the tears 
 that rose to his eyes, for the blow had been a hard 
 one. One quick glance showed him that to pursue this 
 cowardly assailant would be impossible, so after rub 
 bing his aching back vigorously for a moment, he turned 
 his attention to the little girl. 
 
 She stood with her hand upon the gate, prepared for 
 instant retreat, should it be necessary, her face still 
 flushed from her recent exertions. 
 
 When the boy now turned toward her, she nodded 
 at him, smiling. 
 
 Thank you, boy," said she simply. 
 
 " Oh, that s all right," answered he. " I won t let 
 any boy hurt a girl, if I can help it. But that boy is a 
 coward, for he hit me behind my back." 
 
 " Yes," said the little girl, " Numa is a coward, and 
 I hate him. But I like you," she finished, smiling at 
 him again. 
 
 The boy s face became red with embarrassment. 
 
 " I like you, too," said he. " You are a very pretty 
 little girl, and I am coming to see you some time. I 
 am going to catch that boy some day and beat him 
 well, and if he ever bothers you again you must let 
 me know." 
 
 The child nodded, and with a good-by and a wave 
 of his hand, the boy started off up the road. He went 
 only a little way, the child following him with her eyes, 
 when he suddenly turned his pony and came riding 
 back. Reaching the gate he stopped for a moment and 
 said: 
 
 54 
 
NUMA ASKS A PRICE FOR SILENCE 
 
 " I just thought I would come back and tell you my 
 name, and where I live, for if I do not do so, you will 
 not know where to send for me if that boy bothers you 
 again. I live at Belrive plantation, and my name is 
 Gordon, Carey Gordon," and waving his hand again, 
 he rode swiftly up the road and out of sight. 
 
 The little girl went back to the dog, who lay sprawl 
 ing under the trees. Sitting down, she put his head 
 in her lap, stroked the animal softly and said: 
 
 " I like that boy. He is a pretty boy, and I hope 
 that he will come and see me soon ; don t you, Chicot? " 
 
 And sitting there in the shade of the trees, little 
 Aline found her first love, found him, and she did not 
 know it. 
 
 55 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 MR. LAWRENCE SEES HIS MAN 
 
 IT was late in the afternoon, and it was very warm 
 at Landry; so warm, in fact, that Father Martain 
 had forsaken the stuffy atmosphere of his house, 
 and had come into his little garden for shade and 
 comfort. 
 
 This garden (which was the pride of Father Mar- 
 tain s heart, and which he considered the very finest 
 garden in the world) would have caused a real gar 
 dener to open his eyes in amazement. Flowers, and 
 fruits, and vegetables grew here in the greatest pro 
 fusion, presenting such a confused and mixed appear 
 ance that for a moment one would have been at a loss 
 to know how all of these different vines, plants and 
 bushes came to be growing together. 
 
 And in the very midst of it all stood a huge fig tree, 
 its heavy foliage casting a deep shade, its wilderness 
 of branches the haunt of a multitude of birds who 
 chattered shrilly as they fought for the cool brown 
 fruit that grew in the greatest abundance. 
 
 In the shade of this tree sat the good priest. He was 
 thinking of the boy Adrien, and his heart was calling 
 out to God for a speedy deliverance from the fever. 
 An unopened book on the table beside him was an 
 
 56 
 
MR. LAWRENCE SEES HIS MAN 
 
 indication that he had come out to read, but his thoughts 
 were far from any such diversion, and he gazed 
 absently before him. 
 
 Beyond the white picket fence which enclosed his 
 garden lay Landry, basking drowsily in the sun. 
 
 There was the store of Monsieur Landry, its little 
 porch deserted, a few Creole ponies standing sleepily 
 at the rack in front, while their owners talked to the 
 storekeeper in the cool interior of the building. 
 
 There, further down the road, was the house of 
 Doctor Lemaire, rising white and cool amid its set 
 ting of green, the little drug store beside it standing 
 with closed door and barred windows, telling of the 
 doctor s absence. 
 
 And beyond the drug store, the dilapidated black 
 smith shop, with the cabin back of it, was silent and 
 deserted, the blacksmith stretched lazily beneath a tree, 
 sleeping away the hot summer afternoon. 
 
 All was quiet with the silence of contentment. 
 
 From the blacksmith shop a little girl came walking, 
 a bright tin pail swinging in her hand, her steps turned 
 toward the store. From the chimney of Monsieur Lan- 
 dry s house came a faint wisp of smoke, the herald of 
 an early supper. 
 
 All seemed peaceful and happy in the little town of 
 Landry. 
 
 Father Martain watched the girl with the pail, and 
 presently he himself became drowsy. He wondered 
 what she would buy when she came to the store, and 
 what she would pay for it, and while doing this the 
 good priest fell asleep. 
 
 57 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 And while he slept, a man who had ridden up the 
 Mouton road came down his little brick walk to where 
 he sat beneath the fig tree. 
 
 For a moment the man stood beside the sleeping 
 priest, wondering whether he should disturb him or 
 not, and then he saw a chair placed at the other side 
 of the table from the sleeping man placed there as 
 though in expectation of a visitor. The newcomer 
 went over to this chair, and, seating himself, waited for 
 Father Martain to awake. For a while he sat thus, his 
 eyes traveling over the garden, which seemed to amuse 
 him very much, and then Father Martain, suddenly 
 giving a little jump, sat up straight in his chair, his 
 eyes open, wide awake. 
 
 He did not immediately see his visitor, but stretch 
 ing himself as though very well satisfied with his nap, 
 he stooped to pick up his book, which had fallen at his 
 feet. As he raised himself, he saw for the first time 
 the newcomer, who sat across the table smiling at him. 
 
 Father Martain gave a little start of surprise, and 
 held out his hand. 
 
 " Mr. Lawrence ! " he cried, " I am glad to see you. 
 But how did you come here? You surprised me." 
 
 Lawrence smiled. 
 
 " You were asleep when I came," he replied, " and 
 I did not want to wake you up, so I just sat down, and 
 waited for you to wake up yourself." 
 
 " That was very kind of you," said Father Martain, 
 " but I should not have minded. The next time that 
 you come, if I am asleep, you must wake me. And 
 now let me offer you some figs. They are very nice, 
 
 58 " 
 
MR. LAWRENCE SEES HIS MAN 
 
 and we must eat them while we have them, for next 
 month I will not be able to give you any when you 
 come to see me." 
 
 As he spoke he pushed the dish of figs across the 
 table to Lawrence, who appearing to be embarrassed 
 for some reason, began eating them as though his life 
 depended upon his emptying the dish. 
 
 Father Martain had spoken to Lawrence as though 
 he had not only paid him a great many visits before, 
 but he expected to see him pay a great many more 
 visits in the future. Now the truth of the matter was, 
 that Lawrence had never before paid the priest a visit, 
 but Father Martain had seen that he was embarrassed, 
 and he wished to put him at his ease. 
 
 Therefore, he spoke to him in this manner, and in 
 the mind of the good priest there was no great curi 
 osity. He knew that Lawrence had some very good 
 reason for coming to see him, and he also knew that he 
 would find out what that reason was before very long. 
 He was content to wait until Lawrence should tell him 
 what it was. 
 
 For a moment the two men sat in silence, Lawrence 
 peeling and eating the figs in apparent enjoyment, 
 until finally he waved his arm about him as though to 
 take in the entire garden. 
 
 " That is a fine garden you have," said he. 
 
 Father Martain smiled, for he liked to have his 
 garden praised. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " it is a nice garden, and I like 
 it very much, but some people do not like it because 
 I have my flowers and vegetables mixed up together." 
 
 59 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 "It is rather a peculiar way to make a garden," 
 replied Lawrence. " Why did you plant it in that 
 manner? " 
 
 " I planted my garden that way," replied Father 
 Martain slowly, " for two reasons. The first one is, 
 that I can sit here in my chair beneath this tree, and 
 can look at the same time at my flower garden, my 
 vegetable garden, and my orchard," and the good priest 
 laughed heartily at his joke the joke that he had told 
 to every one for years, and at which he laughed more 
 heartily each time he told it. 
 
 Lawrence laughed also, apparently more at his ease. 
 
 "And your second reason?" he inquired. "If it 
 is as good as your first one, no one could blame you for 
 planting your garden upside down, if you wanted to." 
 
 Into the eyes of Father Martain there came a look 
 of tenderness, and he laid his hand affectionately upon 
 the knotted trunk of the fig tree, as one caressing an old 
 and tried friend. 
 
 " To me," said he softly, " all the growing things 
 which are planted in a garden are like people. I do 
 not mean the weeds, of course, for they are harmful 
 and choke out the useful plants, so I kill them when it 
 is necessary to do so. 
 
 " Now as I have told you, I look upon all plants as 
 people, and they all belong to one family. They live, 
 they grow, and each has its little part to play in the 
 world. People, to be good and to love one another, 
 must live together, where each can see the other and 
 take an interest in his welfare. So, to me, it is with 
 the plants, and I really believe that they love one 
 
 60 
 
MR. LAWRENCE SEES HIS MAN 
 
 another. See how that sweet pea vine clings to the 
 cornstalk as tenderly as a child clings to its mother. 
 Should you tear the child from its mother s arms it 
 would die, and so would die the vine, were I to tear 
 it away. 
 
 " Therefore, I plant my flowers and vegetables 
 together, and they love and help one another through 
 their short lives, just as we should do." 
 
 The good priest stopped speaking, and Lawrence 
 was silent for a moment thinking of what he had said. 
 
 " That is a very pretty thought," he observed, " and 
 one that should be a lesson to all men. But who would 
 have conceived such an idea save yourself, Father 
 Martain?" 
 
 Very many would have done so," replied the priest. 
 
 Lawrence laughed. 
 
 " No one but yourself could have thought of such a 
 thing," said he. " And now I should like to speak to 
 you about the business that I have come upon. I don t 
 suppose that you imagined that I came to ask about 
 your garden? " 
 
 " No," said Father Martain, " I did not." 
 
 " Then to begin with, I have come to ask a favor 
 of you," said Lawrence. " Why I should ask it of you 
 seems I suppose strange, as I am not of your religion, 
 but I have no one to turn to, and I have heard from 
 every one of your kindness and sympathy. Therefore, 
 I have come to you with my trouble." 
 
 " I am glad that you came, my son," replied the 
 good priest, " and your religion will play no part in 
 what you have to say. It is our mission in life to 
 
 61 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 help all who are in trouble, regardless of every 
 thing. And now, my son, what is it that you have 
 to tell me?" 
 
 " I have come to see you for my little girl s sake 
 more than for my own," began Lawrence, " and as 
 she is to be brought up in your faith, who better than 
 yourself should know of her past, and look to her 
 future? As you know, I am friendless here, and should 
 anything happen to me, my child would be left alone 
 without any one knowing who she really is, and who 
 she is you will know when I have finished my story. 
 Have you ever heard of Major Lawrence, of Law 
 rence Hall plantation? " 
 
 Father Martain nodded. 
 
 " I have lived for years in this little place, where 
 one hears of but few people," answered he, " but even 
 in Landry is Major Lawrence known." 
 
 " He is my father," said Lawrence simply. 
 
 Father Martain s eyes opened wide in amazement. 
 
 " Is it possible?" he cried. "And how is it that 
 you are living in this little house by yourself? " 
 
 " That," replied Lawrence, " is what I am going to 
 tell you. I will not speak of my youth at Lawrence 
 Hall, with its army of servants, its fields, and the big 
 sugar house, for that would take too long. It will be 
 enough to tell you that I was the oldest, and my father s 
 favorite child. I had one sister, who died, and there 
 is a brother younger than myself. 
 
 " My mother died when I was very small, and my 
 father seemed to give to me all of the love that he 
 had lavished upon her. My slightest wish was obeyed; 
 
 62 
 
MR. LAWRENCE SEES HIS MAN 
 
 there was nothing that I desired that was not given 
 me immediately, and so, as you can imagine, I grew 
 up a spoiled headstrong boy, who never counted the 
 cost of anything. 
 
 " When I was nineteen years of age I was sent to 
 college, where I stayed for four years, doing little but 
 spend my father s money and get myself into all man 
 ner of trouble. Upon my return home, after having 
 finished my college career, my father determined to 
 celebrate the event in what he considered an appropri 
 ate manner, and for three days there was feasting and 
 merry-making on the plantation. 
 
 There were barbecues, dancing, picnics, and every 
 thing that you can think of that would amuse the field 
 hands and their families. The big house was filled with 
 guests also, and they had their amusements as well as 
 the hands, so that, for all, the three days was one con 
 tinuous round of merriment. 
 
 " Now, among the many guests that came to Law 
 rence Hall at this time was a young girl, whom my 
 father was very anxious I should marry. She was 
 a pretty girl, her family was one of the oldest and 
 best in this country, and she was an only child, heiress 
 to a very large and valuable estate, so in every way 
 she was a young person with whom a matrimonial 
 alliance would be very desirable. Her father was also 
 an old friend of my father, and it was the earnest 
 desire of both of the old gentlemen that we should 
 marry. 
 
 " On the day preceding the arrival of the guests my 
 father called me into his study and spoke to me of this 
 
 63 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 matter, and so great was his desire that this marriage 
 should take place, that I promised him that I would 
 do all in my power to bring it about. 
 
 " So the guests arrived, and the plantation was filled 
 with merry-making, one amusement ending only to give 
 place to another, and every morning I would make up 
 my mind to speak to this girl before the day was ended, 
 only to go to my rest at night with my purpose unac 
 complished. 
 
 u Finally the third and last day arrived, and I had 
 not spoken. On the morrow the guests would depart, 
 and with them would go the girl upon whom my 
 father had set his heart. Why I had not spoken to 
 her I did not know then, and I do not think that I 
 can tell you now, but I suppose that the excitement and 
 bustle on the plantation banished all thoughts of any 
 thing but enjoying myself from my mind. 
 
 " The evening of the last day arrived, and as I dressed 
 myself for dinner I made up my mind that I would 
 speak to her that night. The negroes were to have a 
 barbecue, to which every one was going, and I thought 
 that it would be a very good time and place to make 
 my proposal. 
 
 " My father gave a very fine dinner that night, and 
 when the wine was served he rose from his chair and 
 proposed a toast to the future mistress of Lawrence 
 Hall, whoever she might be. As we all rose to drink 
 it standing, my father gazed across the table at the 
 girl, who had been placed next to me, and when she, 
 catching his eye, blushed a fiery red, I do not think 
 that there was a person at that table that had any 
 
 64 
 
MR. LAWRENCE SEES HIS MAN 
 
 doubts as to who the mistress of Lawrence Hall 
 would be." 
 
 Here Lawrence paused for breath, his eyes sparkling 
 with the memories of days long past, his mind ap 
 parently back amid the scenes which he was describing. 
 Father Martain said never a word, but waited patiently 
 for the speaker to continue. 
 
 " After the dinner was over," said Lawrence in a 
 moment, " we all went over to the quarters to see the 
 barbecue, and it was so arranged that the girl walked 
 with me. The negroes had built a great fire, and were 
 roasting the ox, which would have made us hungry with 
 its tempting odor had we not just risen from the table. 
 Around the fire there was a large number of negroes 
 from Lawrence Hall and from other plantations 
 for miles around, and they all seemed to be having 
 the happiest time of their lives, dancing, singing, 
 and cheering for me, every one of them with his or 
 her eye upon the ox, which was now nearly done. 
 
 " Standing back from the circle of fire was a group 
 of white people gazing like ourselves at the antics of 
 the negroes, but unlike ourselves, waiting to eat some 
 of the savory animal. They were Cajun tenants 
 upon my father s plantation and the plantations 
 nearby. 
 
 " While we were viewing this strange scene, one of 
 the best dancers on the plantation began to dance, and 
 as we could not see very well from where we stood, I 
 called to the girl to follow me, and walked into the 
 circle of negroes opposite the place where the Cajuns 
 stood. 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " For a few moments I watched the dancer, and 
 then, looking over the fire toward the group upon the 
 other side, I saw the most beautiful girl that I had ever 
 seen in my life. I will not try to describe her to you, 
 for I could not find words fit to do so, but at this 
 moment, after several years, I can see her as plainly 
 and as clearly as I saw her that night. 
 
 " She was standing amid the group of roughly clad 
 people, like some angel descended to earth, her head 
 thrown back, her lips smiling at me, the fire lighting 
 up her glorious face until it shone as the faces of the 
 saints are said to shine in heaven. For a moment we 
 gazed at each other across the fire. Then a group 
 of negroes passing in front of me shut her from my 
 sight, but in that moment I knew that I should never 
 love any woman save this glorious creature. Even 
 in my newborn love I thought that it would be easier 
 for me to cross the barrier of flame than to cross the 
 gulf that must separate our two lives. 
 
 u My companion now tugged my coat sleeve, asking 
 me to take her back to the rest of the party, and when 
 I turned to her, I found that instead of being beautiful, 
 as I had thought she was, she was plain and ugly in 
 comparison with the other girl. I also thought of my 
 promise to my father as we walked back, and in vindi 
 cation of myself I must tell you that I tried to say to 
 her what he wished me to, but the words would not 
 come, and when we joined the other guests I knew that 
 I would never speak to her. 
 
 u As soon as I could, I excused myself from the com 
 pany, saying that I wished to speak to one of the 
 
 66 
 
MR. LAWRENCE SEES HIS MAN 
 
 tenants, and going over to the group of Cajuns I spoke 
 to old Hypolite, my father s head plowman. 
 
 " * Everyone is having a good time/ I said to him. 
 
 " Yes, said he, * and we all have you to thank, 
 M sieu, for our pleasure. Had you not come home 
 from school there would have been no celebration/ 
 
 " t There are many strange faces here to-night, said 
 I. I should like to meet some of the visitors and give 
 them welcome, and I began to ask him the names of 
 those about me, until finally I pointed to the girl. 
 
 " When I asked of her, he frowned. 
 
 " * That is the daughter of old Edmond Varain, 
 said he. * She had been visiting on M sieu Lowry s 
 plantation, and came over here with her friend. She 
 should not have come. Her father would be furious 
 did he know of it. I also think that Major Lawrence 
 would be displeased did he know that she was here. 
 
 " Now when old Hypolite told me this, my heart 
 sank, for it seemed to me as though everything was 
 going against me. Years ago Edmond Varain had 
 worked for my father, had been his overseer and right- 
 hand man. But one day there had been a quarrel 
 between them, and Varain had left Lawrence Hall 
 cursing my father and threatening vengeance. He 
 even threatened to kill my father, but after a time he 
 left our parish, and opened a store near Mouton. 
 My father never heard from him after he left 
 Lawrence Hall, but the news came to us that he had 
 made a good deal of money out of his business and 
 was well off. 
 
 " So you can understand how I felt when old Hypo- 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 lite told me that this beautiful girl was the daughter of 
 my father s enemy. 
 
 " I went around meeting the different visitors, old 
 Hypolite introducing me with as much ceremony as if 
 I had been a king, until we came to the girl. Hypolite 
 wished to pass her by, but I made him stop and intro 
 duce me, much against his will, and it was then, in the 
 light of the fire, with the dancing, singing negroes all 
 about us, that I met Aline Varain, the woman who was 
 afterward my wife." 
 
 Again Lawrence paused for breath, while Father 
 Martain gazed at him in amazement. 
 
 68 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A FLAG IS RAISED AT LANDRY 
 
 AD do you mean to tell me that the father of 
 your dead wife is Monsieur Varain, the owner 
 of the big store in Mouton?" asked Father 
 Martain, when he had recovered from his surprise. 
 
 " I do," answered Lawrence, " and I hear that he is 
 now a very rich man." 
 
 Father Martain nodded. 
 
 " Well, to go on with my story," said Lawrence; " I 
 talked to Aline Varain for a few moments, and when 
 I left her I was madly in love, so madly in love that 
 I felt that if I could not have this girl I would die. 
 
 " I returned to the house with the other guests, and 
 spent the night walking the floor, the image of Aline 
 Varain ever before me. > 
 
 " The next morning all of the guests left, and Law 
 rence Hall settled down to its usual routine. 
 
 " No sooner had the last, carriage driven away 
 than I ordered my horse and rode to Mr. Lowry s 
 plantation. I did not know what I would say when 
 I met the girl; I had no excuse to make, my mind being 
 filled with one great desire the desire to see her, and 
 to see her at once. 
 
 " When I reached the house where Aline was stay 
 ing they told me that she had gone walking in the woods 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 with her friend, so to the woods I went, where I found 
 the girls gathering berries. After talking to them for 
 a while, I sent the friend away upon some pretext, and 
 I then had Aline alone, where I could speak to her of 
 what was in my heart. 
 
 " What I said what she said I cannot tell you. 
 It was all like some beautiful dream. I was young, 
 romantic, filled with the joy of a first love. She was 
 still but a child, an affectionate child, of a stern, unlov 
 ing father, her whole being crying out for love, her 
 heart starving for a tender word, a caress, and in the 
 daylight I found her more beautiful than she had been 
 the night before. 
 
 " Can you wonder that we loved one another at the 
 end of our brief meeting? 
 
 " The friend was taken into our confidence and 
 promised her assistance in every way. 
 
 " When I kissed my pretty Aline and bade her 
 good-by, promising to see her on the morrow, I felt 
 as though I had left this earth and was in Paradise. 
 My horse carried me home, his bridle dragging in the 
 dust, where I let it stay in my abstraction. 
 
 " On reaching Lawrence Hall, my father called me 
 into his study and asked me if I had spoken to the 
 girl that he had chosen for my wife. 
 
 " I was aghast, for in my new-found love I had for 
 gotten all about her. Why I lied to him I do not 
 know, as I could have told him that I did not have 
 a good chance to speak to her, but I suppose that in 
 my confusion I forgot everything, and said the first 
 thing that came into my mind, to shield myself. 
 
 70 
 
A FLAG IS RAISED AT LANDRY 
 
 " I told him that I had proposed to her, and that 
 she had refused me. 
 
 " My father looked very sad. 
 
 " It was the one great wish of my life, but you did 
 all that you could, my son, said he. I thank you. 
 
 " I left him, feeling the most miserable creature on 
 earth, and for a moment I thought of going to him 
 and telling him the whole truth, but thoughts of Aline 
 forbade me, and I went instead to my room to dream 
 of my love. 
 
 " Every day I went to meet Aline, and every day I 
 grew more in love with her and she with me. So a 
 week passed, and on the next day Aline was obliged to 
 return home. 
 
 " Up to that time I had gone on loving this girl 
 regardless of the future, thinking only of the happy 
 present, but now something must be done, and must 
 be done at once. 
 
 " No hope could be had from my father; Aline s 
 father was more hopeless still. 
 
 " All morning we three strove for some solution of 
 this problem, making one plan only to abandon it for 
 another, more useless then the first. 
 
 " Finally it was time for the girls to go, and Aline 
 was telling me, between her sobs, that she would always 
 love me, when the friend said suddenly: 
 
 " * I have it ! There is but one way. You must 
 marry this evening. Your fathers may storm as much 
 as they please, but they cannot untie the knot that God 
 has tied. 
 
 " We followed her advice, and that evening we rode 
 
 7 1 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 over to the town, where we were married in the little 
 church, the friend and the priest s housekeeper acting 
 as witnesses. There in the little church, with its rows 
 of empty pews staring at us, as though in mockery, with 
 the friend praying for us while the gentle old priest 
 mumbled through the service, I married Aline Varain. 
 Married the daughter of my father s enemy, of my 
 father s overseer, a girl far below me in station, bring 
 ing naught with her but her father s curse married 
 her though it cost me my heritage, and there has never 
 been a moment in my life when I have regretted it ! If 
 ever there has been a saint on earth, that saint was my 
 Aline. In the long, sad days that followed, days of 
 darkness without a single gleam of hope, she was my 
 only comfort. Aline she was called, angel she was, 
 kind and loving always, with a beauty that none could 
 match. 
 
 " After we were married, we returned to our 
 meeting-place in the woods, where we considered 
 what was to be done next. The priest had been 
 warned about speaking of the wedding, and the house 
 keeper did not know us, so for the present our secret 
 was safe. 
 
 " After talking long and earnestly, we decided that 
 the wedding should be kept quiet for the present, and 
 that Aline should return home in the morning as she 
 had intended doing. I was to stay at Lawrence Hall 
 and arrange my affairs before speaking to my father, 
 so that when the crash came we would not be left 
 destitute. 
 
 " So I kissed my weeping bride, and started for 
 
 72 
 

 A FLAG IS RAISED AT LANDRY 
 
 home, my heart heavy within me, my grief at leaving 
 my newly made wife almost more than I could bear. 
 
 " My father met me upon the front porch, his face 
 white with anger, and called me to come to his study 
 at once. 
 
 " When I entered the room, I found him at his 
 desk, a letter before him, and in a voice trembling with 
 rage he read it to me. It was from his friend, whose 
 daughter he wished me to marry, and in it the writer 
 said that on receiving my father s letter, containing his 
 news of the refusal of my offer of marriage, he had 
 spoken to his daughter, asking for an explanation. She 
 had told him that there had been no proposal made, 
 and he wished an explanation of the matter immediately. 
 
 " And now, sir, said my father, when he had fin 
 ished the letter, what have you to say for yourself? 
 
 " I was dumfounded. I saw that concealment would 
 now be impossible. I told him of my intention of keep 
 ing my promise, of my meeting with Aline Varain, of 
 my love for her, of my marriage. I told him the whole 
 story and begged his pardon begged for forgiveness, 
 kneeling at the foot of his chair. 
 
 " When I had finished, he rose to his feet, his face 
 white as death, his whole body shaking as with a palsy. 
 Go! said he, pointing his trembling finger at 
 the door. * Go ! and never let me hear of you again. 
 Never let me see you again in life, or in death. You 
 have disgraced your name, and you have broken your 
 father s heart. For these things I might forgive you, 
 but you have lied to me also. That I can never for 
 give. Now go, and never let me see your face again. 
 
 73 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " I passed through the door at which he pointed, my 
 heart full of bitterness, but never a word did I answer. 
 I loved my father, even as I love him now, and I could 
 not bring myself to speak to him in anger. 
 
 " Slowly I went to my room and packed what few 
 things I could carry on my horse. As I came down the 
 stairway I met my brother, and to him I poured out my 
 troubles, knowing that I would receive sympathy. We 
 loved each other dearly, and when I told him what 
 had happened he cried like a child. He insisted on my 
 taking what money he had, and before I left he slipped 
 it into my pocket. 
 
 " He walked with me to the plantation gate, where, 
 blinded by tears, I shook his hand and rode away. 
 Thus I left Lawrence Hall, the place that had been 
 my home all my life, the place where my people have 
 lived and died for generations. I have never been 
 back. 
 
 " And so I rode away, and found my young wife, 
 who tried to comfort me, and then, for the first time 
 in my life, the problem of living confronted me. There 
 was I, a young man of twenty-four, the spoiled child 
 of a rich father, thrown into the world to fight for 
 existence with but a small sum between myself and 
 starvation. Added to this was my complete igno 
 rance of any way in which to make a living. Can 
 you wonder that I was aghast at the prospect of the 
 future ? 
 
 " We went to New Orleans where, after a while, I 
 secured a position as a clerk. It was there that my 
 little girl was born, and I called her Aline after her 
 
 74 
 
A FLAG IS RAISED AT LANDRY 
 
 mother. We lived in the city for a time and my wife 
 began to fade away day by day. The doctors could 
 do nothing for her they said. 
 
 " Finally one physician, the greatest in the city, told 
 me that to save her life I must take her to the country, 
 not for a visit, but to live there. A friend of mine in 
 the city owned the place near Landry where I am liv 
 ing now, and he offered it to me on yearly payments. 
 Having a little money put away, I bought it, paying 
 for the first year. My wife was very sick at the time, 
 too sick I thought to be moved, but she insisted upon 
 going away, so the final arrangements were made, the 
 furniture was packed, and we started for Mouton. 
 
 " Half way there, she became so ill that we were 
 obliged to stop at a little town on the road. I took 
 her to a hotel and the doctors came, but they could do 
 nothing. She died that night died in the shabby 
 hotel, amid the singing and laughing of a drunken 
 crowd of vagabonds who were making merry in the 
 bar beneath her room. 
 
 " So she whom I met amid laughter and song, died 
 amid laughter and song, and the last words that she 
 spoke to me were the words of love that she greeted 
 me with when first I met her." 
 
 Here Lawrence bowed his head upon the table, and 
 for a while all was silent in the little garden. 
 
 " There is little more to tell," said he finally, lifting 
 his haggard face from his arm. " I buried my Aline 
 in the graveyard back of the town, and taking the child 
 came on to Landry. I reached Mouton as one crazed, 
 my chief desire being to reach my place, where, away 
 
 75 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 from all men, I could mourn for my lost one. It was 
 late in the afternoon when I arrived, and although a 
 storm was brewing I set out at once for my place. Of 
 my arrival here I will not speak, as I feel sure that 
 our curious friend, Mr. Landry, has saved me the 
 trouble. 
 
 " So I have lived here alone and friendless for three 
 years, working day and night to pay for my place, and 
 I have not prospered. My crops have been bad, and 
 last year s money was not paid. I have another year 
 of grace, and if this crop is a failure I will lose every 
 thing. 
 
 Therefore, you can understand that I have been 
 worried about my child, especially at this time when 
 there is fever in Mouton. She is all that I have, and 
 she is very dear to me. Without me she would be 
 left alone, the place would go, and I cannot bear to 
 think of it. 
 
 "A week ago I swallowed my pride and wrote to 
 my father for the first time, asking him to help the 
 child in case of my death. The letter came back to me 
 to-day unopened. 
 
 " I could write to my brother and he would help me, 
 but I cannot bring myself to do it, for it would cause 
 a breach between him and my father. 
 
 " So in my trouble I have come to you, Father Mar- 
 tain, and I ask you to take care of the child if it is 
 necessary, to look after her, and to bring her up in her 
 mother s religion, which is your own. She is well-born, 
 and should be raised a lady, not as the waif that she 
 must be if she has no one to help her through her 
 
A FLAG IS RAISED AT LANDRY 
 
 childhood. Will you take this child into your 
 keeping? " 
 
 Father Martain rose, and held out his hand across 
 the table. 
 
 " You can depend upon me to do it," answered he, 
 and the two men clasped hands silently. 
 
 " And now you have my wretched story," said Law 
 rence " It is a sad one, without a gleam of light in 
 it, and I hope that it did not tire you." 
 
 "You are mistaken," said the good priest softly; 
 " there was a gleam of light in it. The whole story 
 shone with a good, pure love, which made it very 
 beautiful to me. And Monsieur Varain? You did not 
 tell me of him. Why do you not write, or go to him, 
 for the little girl s sake? He is rich and can help 
 you." 
 
 Lawrence s face grew dark. 
 
 " My wife wrote to him asking his forgiveness, soon 
 after our marriage," answered he. " How any human 
 being could have written the letter that he sent in reply, 
 I cannot imagine. Had you seen the letter, you would 
 not have asked that question." 
 
 u I am sorry; I did not know," said Father Martain. 
 " And the girl that your father wished you to marry, 
 what of her? " 
 
 " My brother married her the year after I left 
 home," answered Lawrence. " They have one child, 
 a girl, who is two years younger than my little one. 
 And there is one thing more that I wish to tell you of. 
 To-day I hung upon my little girl s neck, by a chain, a 
 ring, which has my family crest upon it. My brother 
 
 77 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 has one like it, so much like it that you can hardly tell 
 the two apart. Should my father relent and wish to 
 take the child, you could prove her identity by this ring, 
 were I not alive to do so. Do you understand? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Father Martain, " I do under 
 stand." 
 
 Lawrence rose, and held out his hand. 
 
 " I must be going now," said he, " and I thank you 
 more than I can tell you." 
 
 The good priest smiled, and shook his head. 
 
 " It is nothing," he replied. " I am glad to be of 
 service to you. I trust that you may live a long life, 
 and that the fever will not come to Landry, but should 
 my services be necessary, you may rest assured that the 
 child will want for nothing while I am alive." 
 
 He went down the narrow, brick walk with his vis 
 itor and watched him ride away. 
 
 " Poor man," said he to himself, " his life has been 
 a hard one." And as he leaned upon his little gate 
 watching the departing Lawrence, his mind went back 
 to France to the Paris that he loved. 
 
 He thought of a girl who had been there many 
 years ago. A girl whom he had loved, a girl who, if 
 she had lived, might have been 
 
 Father Martain brushed his hand across his eyes, 
 and raising his head, looked about him. 
 
 In the west the sun was setting in a mass of fire 
 behind the Grand Woods. Dark and grim rose the 
 trees, their tops radiant with the fast-fading light. The 
 great stack of the sugar house at Belrive was gilded 
 also by this light, as it rose tall and silent, like some 
 
 78 
 
A FLAG IS RAISED AT LANDRY 
 
 huge sentinel, guarding the broad acres and many 
 buildings of Colonel Gordon. 
 
 A little breeze had sprung up from the east, and the 
 oaks in the grove before him rustled softly. Across 
 from the blacksmith shop came the clang of iron, tell 
 ing that the blacksmith had finished his nap. 
 
 But for this noise, the little town of Landry was 
 silent. It seemed to sleep in the soft evening glow. 
 
 Monsieur Landry came out upon his porch and be 
 gan to nail something to one of the posts that supported 
 its roof. 
 
 Father Martain watched him idly, for he could not 
 see what was being nailed up, the huge bulk of the 
 storekeeper hiding it from sight. He wondered what 
 it was. 
 
 " Perhaps it is a new postoffice sign," said he to 
 himself. 
 
 Monsieur Landry finished his nailing and walked 
 into the store. Father Martain leaned over the gate to 
 get a better view. 
 
 On the post a little flag which the storekeeper had 
 put there caught the breeze and stood out stiff and 
 straight. 
 
 It was a brilliant orange. 
 
 Father Martain fell upon his knees on the narrow 
 brick walk, his eyes uplifted in prayer. 
 
 " Dieu vous sauve" said he. 
 
 79 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 FATHER MARTAIN MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 FOR four months the fever had raged in and about 
 the little town of Landry; for four long, horrible 
 months it had seared the minds of all with ter 
 ror; and now it had passed on, leaving in its wake 
 a long train of death and desolation and the many 
 stricken ones, who were to live or die as best they might. 
 
 Never in the history of the place had there been 
 such a time. People went mad with fear, laughing and 
 cursing at the destroyer until, stricken like the rest, 
 they died with a horrid smile upon their lips. Fam 
 ilies left their homes, their belongings, and plunged 
 madly into the cool sanctuary of the Grand Woods, 
 the sick ones that they had deserted crying after them 
 for help, for mercy. 
 
 Neighbors passed one another at a great distance, 
 speaking no word of greeting, fearful of contagion. 
 Fathers deserted their families, forgetting all in their 
 mad rush for safety, leaving behind the mothers, who 
 nursed and prayed, and fought the destroyer with a 
 bravery to be marveled at by heroes fought through 
 the long, hot days; ever tender, ever fearless, faithful 
 unto death. It was a time of fear, of madness, never 
 to be forgotten, to be spoken of in days to come with 
 lowered voice. 
 
 80 
 
FATHER MARTAIN MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 And through these four months of frenzy, of 
 destruction, the good Father Martain had gone about, 
 nursing and praying, burying the dead, and comforting 
 the living. Through these long days of darkness he 
 had been the one gleam of light, the one ray of hope, 
 striving amid the danger with a fearlessness born of 
 virtue, leaving behind him words of hope, of comfort, 
 of better days to come. Where the fever raged most 
 fiercely, there would be the good priest, his soft voice 
 calming the terrors of the living, praying for the souls 
 of the dead. 
 
 And now the fever had passed, and the people were 
 more hopeful. Father Martain s work was done, and 
 in the little room, whose window looked out upon the 
 church, he lay dying dying of the fever that for the 
 past four months he had fought with all his heart, with 
 all his soul, and with all his strength. 
 
 Early that morning Doctor Lemaire, worn to the 
 white shadow of a man, had come out of the house; 
 his face set, his voice trembling. 
 
 " There is no hope ; he cannot live through the day," 
 he had said to the little group of watchers at the gate, 
 and two large tears had fallen upon his coat sleeve as 
 he shook the hand of Monsieur Landry. 
 
 Monsieur Landry had turned away his head, weeping 
 softly. He, too, was white and thin, and so changed 
 that one would have hardly known him for the jovial 
 storekeeper of four months before. All through the 
 long siege he had fought bravely, sending his wife away 
 to safety, burying his boy Adrien, who had died, nurs 
 ing his boy Octave, who had lived, tending the good 
 
 81 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 priest when he had been stricken, with a devotion that 
 was tireless. 
 
 Softly he turned away his head, and the boy Octave, 
 who had served at the altar, tugged the doctor s coat. 
 
 " Shall I ring the bell, M sieu Le Doctaire, and let 
 the people know that le Pere Martain will not live 
 to-day? " he had asked. 
 
 Doctor Lemaire had nodded his head, and the boy 
 had entered the church, sobbing as though his heart 
 would break. 
 
 So all morning the bell had tolled its news of sorrow, 
 the harsh sound of the broken metal going out over the 
 fields, calling the people to Landry as it had called them 
 from time immemorial; calling them to the little red 
 church where they had been christened, where they had 
 been married, from which they would be buried; calling 
 them to the side of him who had been their friend, 
 their helper, the one who had cheered them when they 
 were sad, rejoiced with them when they were happy. 
 
 All morning long they came, riding their horses, 
 driving their carts, some walking along the dusty road, 
 all bent upon one errand, all filled with sorrow, calling 
 upon God to spare their loved one. They thronged the 
 little house, they trampled the little garden; and those 
 unable to get inside of either waited patiently in the 
 road, or prayed within the church. Men who had 
 rushed madly from their homes a week before, terror- 
 stricken at the fever, fought for admission to the little 
 house with its yellow flag drooping idly in the heat. 
 Women wept as sorrowfully for this old priest as 
 they had for the loss of their sons and daughters. 
 
 82 
 
FATHER MARTAIN MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 On the front porch Monsieur Landry argued with 
 the throng as best he could. 
 
 " Do not come in ! " cried he fiercely, the tears 
 streaming down his cheeks. " Do you not know that 
 there is fever inside? Do you wish to all catch it and 
 have another epidemic? " 
 
 But the people did not heed him. One tall, gaunt 
 man, on whose grizzled beard the tears glistened, 
 answered him harshly: 
 
 " Do you suppose that God would send us fever 
 through His priest? Do you think that our good Pere 
 Martain would harm us? " said he, and passed on into 
 the house. 
 
 Within the little room that had been his home for 
 so many years lay Father Martain, his soft voice, 
 which had comforted so many, speaking to his children 
 for the last time. On the hard, narrow bed he lay, his 
 white hair falling about the thin yellow face, his blue 
 eyes sparkling from the fever within him. 
 
 Monsieur Landry pushed his way through the throng 
 of weeping men and women that crowded the little 
 room, and approached the bedside. He reeled and 
 swayed as he walked, like a drunken man, his eyes 
 gleaming with a strange light. 
 
 Father Martain smiled as he saw him, and held out 
 his hand weakly from the covering of the bed. 
 
 " It is almost time to say farewell," said he. 
 
 Monsieur Landry fell upon his knees at the bedside; 
 a woman, grown hysterical, shrieked, and was taken 
 from the room. 
 
 " Nay, do not cry, my children," said the good 
 
 83 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 priest. " It is the will of the good God, and who shall 
 judge His wishes? Do not weep for me there is no 
 need. I am going to make a journey, that is all. I go 
 to my reward, to happiness. You should be glad, and 
 yet my children it is hard to leave you; I love you 
 so. I have known you from childhood. Many of you 
 I have baptized, I have married; and I have baptized 
 many of your children. 
 
 " And you, my old friend, my old comrade," said 
 the dying man, holding the storekeeper s hand more 
 tightly, " it is very hard to leave you. You have nursed 
 me so carefully, so faithfully, I thank you. But your 
 hand is cold as death; are you, too, ill of the fever, my 
 old friend? The good God forbid it." 
 
 " It is nothing, mon Pere" said Monsieur Landry 
 brokenly. " I am weak and nervous, that is all." 
 
 A little old man, his worn clothes caked with the dirt 
 of the fields, pushed through the crowd, and knelt near 
 the bed. He had left his plow in the furrow at the 
 tolling of the bell, and had walked into Landry, count 
 ing as nothing his age, the dust and the sun. Kneeling 
 alone, his weather-beaten cheeks wet with tears, his 
 trembling hands outstretched toward the priest, he 
 raised his voice in entreaty. 
 
 " Bless your children, mon Peref" he cried; "bless 
 us for the last time. Call upon the good God to help 
 us, to protect us, for when you are gone, who will 
 help us?" 
 
 Father Martain made a movement to raise himself. 
 In a moment the arm of Monsieur Landry was about 
 him, supporting the helpless form. 
 
 84 
 
FATHER MARTAIN MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 Down upon their knees fell the watchers, their heads 
 bowed low. 
 
 Through the window a ray of sunshine, entering the 
 room, shone about the head of the good priest like a 
 halo. Outside a bird lifted its voice in song, the clear 
 notes rising in the silence, thrilling with happiness, with 
 the pure joy of living. The air was heavy with the 
 scent of flowers, with the strong, rich odor of the 
 autumn fields. From the room came a sound of stifled 
 sobbing. 
 
 Father Martain raised his voice in benediction, plac 
 ing his children in the care of God the God to whom 
 he was soon to go the words falling to a whisper as 
 he finished. 
 
 Slowly Monsieur Landry laid back the feeble frame 
 upon the bed, and bent low to catch the words of the 
 dying man. Leaving the bedside, he sought for some 
 thing in a corner of the room. 
 
 The watchers whispered to one another. 
 
 " The good Father asks for something," said they. 
 " Perhaps it is a holy relic that will soothe his dying 
 
 moments." 
 
 Out from the corner came Monsieur Landry, and 
 staggered toward the bed. Gently he placed upon it 
 what he had brought with him and then, with one 
 great gasp, he fell to the floor, his body shaking con 
 vulsively. 
 
 The watchers craned forward, curious to see what 
 he had brought, curious to know why he had fallen. 
 
 The good priest lay back upon the pillows very still, 
 the halo of sunlight shining brightly about him. His 
 
 85 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 eyes were closed, and upon his lips there was a smile 
 as of a great happiness. Clasped in his hands there 
 was an old hat, a dark spot amid the white expanse of 
 covering. 
 
 Once more the watchers fell upon their knees, their 
 cries rising upon the still air as a dirge an anthem for 
 the dead. 
 
 Father Martain had made his journey. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 OLD TELESSE MAKES A PROMISE 
 
 IN a room of an old white house near Landry, 
 another man lay dying, fighting for his life with 
 all his strength, crying out to God to spare him. 
 
 No throng of friends, of well-wishers, crowded the 
 room in which he lay. One man alone tended him, 
 nursing him with a faithfulness that was untiring. 
 
 No cries of grief sounded within the room. The one 
 who nursed him sitting by the bed in solemn silence, 
 his face expressionless. If there was sorrow within him, 
 he made no sign. 
 
 Through the open window came the tolling of the 
 bell at Landry, the harsh sound rudely breaking the 
 stillness of the autumn afternoon. The sick man turned 
 uneasily upon his bed. 
 
 " Telesse, are you there?" he asked. 
 
 The old man rose from his chair and bent over him. 
 
 " I am here, M sieu," answered he. 
 
 " That bell," said Lawrence fretfully, " why has it 
 rung all morning? Why is it ringing now? It annoys 
 
 me." 
 
 " They are ringing for the good Father Martain," 
 said the old man. " He is dying to-day of the fever." 
 
 " And is there no chance for him? " asked Lawrence. 
 " Might he not get well? " 
 
 87 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " There is no hope," answered the old man. " As 
 I told you, he is dying. Le Doctaire Lemaire has said 
 that he cannot live through the day." 
 
 The sick man sighed wearily. 
 
 " My one chance gone," said he to himself. " The 
 man upon whose help I counted dying dying like 
 myself of this fever. So this is the end of it all, and 
 here I am to die like a rat in a hole, alone and friend 
 less, my own child denied me. It is too much ! I can 
 not die ! I will not die ! God will let me live for the 
 child s sake, for my little Aline s sake." 
 
 Slowly and painfully he raised himself from the 
 bed, his eyes shining wildly, great beads of perspiration 
 upon his brow the dew of anguish. 
 
 " Telesse ! " he called. 
 
 " Oui, M sieu?" came the answer. 
 
 " Listen," said the sick man, " the doctor has said 
 that I will die, has he not? " 
 
 " So he has said, M sieu," replied the old man. 
 
 " The doctor is wrong!" cried Lawrence, "I am 
 not going to die; I shall live. The cane must be cut, 
 must be sold, and who shall do it but I? Who shall 
 care for Aline, my Aline, but I ? Who shall bring her 
 up; who shall teach her to be a lady, the lady that she 
 is? Who, I say, shall do all this but I? Bring me my 
 clothes, Telesse, for I am going out to the field to my 
 work. I will not lie here and die like a dog, helpless 
 and alone." 
 
 "Mais, M sieu!" cried the old man, " le Doctaire 
 Lemaire " 
 
 " Le Doctaire Lemaire lies when he says that I am 
 
 88 
 
OLD TELESSE MAKES A PROMISE 
 
 going to die! " cried the sick man, his voice rising to a 
 shriek. " Bring me my clothes, do you hear? Bring 
 them quickly. It is late, and I must be out before the 
 
 sun sets." 
 
 Slowly the old man left the bedside, muttering to 
 himself. 
 
 " He is crazy," said he. " It is the fever. I have 
 seen it before, and I will please him." 
 
 The sick man fell back upon the pillows gasping. 
 Telesse hurried to the bedside. 
 
 " M sieu, M sieu, what have you done? " cried he. 
 
 " It is no use," said Lawrence weakly. " The doc 
 tor is right, I am going to die. Thank you, Telesse; 
 you have been a good and faithful servant." 
 
 " It is nothing, M sieu," said the old man, and into 
 his stolid face there came a look of sorrow. He 
 brushed his hand across his eyes quickly, stealthily, as 
 though ashamed of the deed. 
 
 " It is something," said the sick man, " and you 
 know it. When the people on this place fled in terror 
 of the fever, you alone stayed behind to care for me, 
 to nurse me. You stayed and risked your life to save 
 mine. Do you call that nothing? For three days you 
 have not slept, you have scarcely tasted food. Do you 
 call that nothing? Listen, for I am going to tell you 
 something. Long years ago, before you knew me, I 
 was a rich man. I had many servants, and I owned 
 many arpents of land, more land even than the Colonel 
 Gordon. Everything that I wanted I had, and now, 
 Telesse, where are all the servants? Where is all the 
 land? Gone, all gone, and as I lie here dying, there 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 is only you. Of all the many, you alone are left. Now 
 do you not see how much I think of what you have done 
 forme?" 
 
 " It is nothing, M sieu," repeated the old man. " If 
 you are pleased with what I have done, I am glad, but 
 I have done nothing." 
 
 "And Aline?" asked Lawrence, for the hundredth 
 time that day, " she is safe? " 
 
 " She is in my cabin," answered the old man, " and 
 the colored girl, Cecile, is with her. She has not been 
 in the house, and there has been no danger." 
 
 " Telesse, give me your hand," said his master. 
 
 Fearfully the old man held it out, his face awe 
 struck, as though some great honor was to be bestowed 
 upon him. 
 
 " Listen, Telesse," said Lawrence. u I want you to 
 promise me something. Remember that you are prom 
 ising a dying man and that your promise is sacred. 
 When I am dead there will be no one to care for 
 the child but yourself, and I leave her in your charge. 
 Promise me that you will care for her so long as you 
 live, that you will look out for her as though she were 
 your own child." 
 
 " I promise you, M sieu said the old man simply. 
 
 " The crop," continued his master, u I give to you. 
 You must sell it and pay for the place. A man will 
 come for the money. If there is anything left, you 
 must save it for the child. Send the little one to school, 
 to church, and there is one thing above all that you must 
 remember. Aline is a pretty child, and she will be a 
 handsome woman. Living with you, your friends, your 
 
 90 
 
OLD TELESSE MAKES A PROMISE 
 
 people, must see her. The young men will wish to 
 marry her. Promise me that you will never let one of 
 your people marry her, that you will keep her from all 
 save those of her own station, for I swear to you that 
 she is a lady. Promise me upon your knees." 
 
 The old man knelt at the bed. 
 
 " I promise, M sUu-," said he. 
 
 For a long time there was silence in the room, the 
 sick man tossing restlessly, Telesse sitting by the bed, 
 staring out in front of him waiting. 
 
 Through the open window there came finally the 
 sound of a horse in the road outside. The old man 
 crossed the room and looked out. The man upon the 
 horse made a sign. 
 
 Slowly the old man left the window and seated him 
 self again by the bedside. 
 
 " The good Father Martain is dead," said he, 
 " Gabbie has told me so." 
 
 Lawrence clenched his hands despairingly. 
 
 " My hopes have died with him," answered he. 
 " He was a good man. God rest his soul." And there 
 was silence for a great while, as the short, autumn after 
 noon drew near its close. In the west the sun was set 
 ting, smothered in masses of flame-colored cloud. The 
 air grew cooler, and from a near-by coulee came the 
 hoarse croaking of a frog the herald of the night. 
 
 The sick man gasped suddenly. 
 
 " It is coming, Telesse," he cried faintly. " I am 
 going going to die. See, the sun has almost set. 
 We are going out together. I am going to see my 
 Aline, my wife. But the little one ah! could I but 
 
 91 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 see her before I go. I would give my hopes of salva 
 tion for the sight of her face, the sound of her voice." 
 His voice rang with agony, and he buried his face in 
 the covers sobbing. 
 
 The old man was thinking hard, his face wrinkled 
 with perplexity. 
 
 u There is a way that you could see her, M sieu," 
 said he in a moment. " I could close the window and 
 Cecile could bring her there. She would be outside and 
 safe. If I held you up you could see her very well." 
 
 The face of the sick man glowed with joy, with 
 expectation. 
 
 " Telesse," said he, " you have by those words given 
 me the joy of a lifetime. May God bless you. But 
 go quickly and call Cecile, there is no time to lose; I 
 am nearly gone." 
 
 The old man went quickly to the door and called 
 until, from the cabin in the back, came an answer. 
 Briefly he gave his order and returned to the dying 
 man. 
 
 He lay huddled among the covers, quivering with 
 anguish, his eyes blazing with the fire of the fever. 
 Toward the window he gazed with all his soul, his lips 
 moving in prayer prayer for but a few brief moments 
 of life that he might see the child. 
 
 Slowly went the minutes, dragging like years to his 
 agonized brain. Through the window there came a 
 dull glow of red, the dying embers of the sunset. The 
 corners of the room grew dark. Telesse beat the arms 
 of his chair impatiently. 
 
 The shadows began to lengthen, the square of the 
 
 92 
 
OLD TELESSE MAKES A PROMISE 
 
 window was now almost black and the old man rising, 
 lit a candle. 
 
 Suddenly there was a noise outside, and at the win 
 dow there appeared a black, grinning face. Very ten 
 derly the old man raised his master, who lay back 
 against him, panting from the exertion. 
 
 The black face grinned at the occupants of the room 
 for an instant, and then in its place there came at the 
 window the little girl. Very sweet and pretty she was 
 with her face lit up by the dying sunset, and at the 
 sight of her father she laughed happily, waving her 
 little hand as though in greeting. 
 
 The sick man s face was lit with a smile. 
 
 " Good-by, my daughter," said he. " May God help 
 and protect you, for I can no longer do so." 
 
 The little girl laughed merrily, and waved at him in 
 great glee. 
 
 " Good-by, good-by, father," said she. " When are 
 you coming back? " 
 
 For a moment more father and daughter gazed at 
 one another, and then the darkness fell, the square of 
 the window went black; Cecile set the child upon her 
 feet. 
 
 The old man laid his master back upon the bed, and 
 for a moment stood watching, his face set, his eyes filled 
 with tears, for he thought him dead. 
 
 Lawrence stirred and held out his hand feebly. 
 
 " And now it is good-by to you, Telesse," he whis 
 pered. " I can only thank you. I would to God that 
 I could repay you." 
 
 The old man held the hand as one holds a sacred 
 
 93 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 thing, and then, falling upon his knees, buried his face 
 in the covers. 
 
 " Listen, M situ," said he, " for there is something 
 that you can do for me if you will." 
 
 There was no answer, but the hand in his tightened 
 for an instant. 
 
 " It is said, M sieu" he continued, " that if one who 
 has sinned will tell his sin to one about to die, and if 
 that one, when he sees God, will plead for the sinner, 
 the sin will be forgiven. Long years ago, a man who 
 had killed another, fled to the Grand Woods, where he 
 hid for safety. For many days we hunted him, and we 
 were to know him, if we found him, by the red blouse 
 that he wore. One day when I was out hunting with 
 the boy Numa s father, we saw in the woods a man, 
 and he wore a red blouse. I called to him to halt, but 
 he ran and so I shot him. When we came up to him 
 we found that it was not the man we sought, and I had 
 killed one of my friends. We buried him where he lay, 
 and no one knew what became of him. Le Blanc never 
 told, but I have had to give him nearly all of my money 
 to keep him silent. Before he died he told the boy 
 Numa. To him, also, must I give money. For years 
 I have prayed to the good God to forgive me, and now 
 will you ask for my forgiveness also? I swear to you, 
 M sieu, I did not mean to kill my friend. Will you 
 plead for me and save my soul, M steuf" 
 
 The old man raised his head, his eyes filled with 
 entreaty. 
 
 His master smiled, and opened his lips as though to 
 speak. The old man bent forward eagerly. 
 
 94 
 
OLD TELESSE MAKES A PROMISE 
 
 The smile faded, the eyes opened wide with a great 
 resolve. Swiftly the sick man raised himself, his 
 clenched hands beating the air wildly, as though he 
 fought some one. 
 
 "I will not ! " he cried, and stopped. 
 
 The old man s face went white, and he held out his 
 hands imploringly. 
 
 " M sieu, M sieu, for God s sake, say yes ! " he 
 gasped hoarsely. 
 
 "I will not die ! " said his master, and fell back 
 limply among the pillows. 
 
 The old man bent over him for an instant, his hand 
 feeling for the heart that had ceased to beat. Slowly 
 he took the candle from the shelf and set it at the head 
 of the bed. 
 
 "Thank God! he did not refuse me," said he, the 
 tears upon his cheeks glistening in the candle light. 
 
 Softly crossing the room he lit another candle and 
 placed it at the foot of the bed. 
 
 "Thank God!" said he again, drawing his arm 
 across his eyes. 
 
 From inside his blouse he now drew forth his most 
 treasured possession, a small wooden rosary, worn black 
 from age and much using. Softly he raised it to his lips 
 and kissed it, as one kisses a loved one at parting. 
 
 " May the peace of God go with you," said he, as 
 he placed it carefully between his master s fingers. 
 
 The new moon swam in a cloudless sky above the 
 little town of Landry, sending forth rays of shimmer- 
 
 95 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 ing light that glorified the landscape as with a flood of 
 silver. 
 
 They fell upon the house of Father Martain, and 
 stealing through the open window, rested softly, 
 as though in reverence, upon the one who lay therein. 
 They fell upon the church where, amid the soft glow 
 of the candles, many people prayed for the soul of him 
 who had so often prayed for theirs. 
 
 They fell upon a long, white house, that stood in the 
 shadow of many trees, wherein an old man sat dry- 
 eyed and staring, at the bedside of his master, waiting 
 for the morning, and what it might bring. They fell 
 upon a cabin where a little girl laughed and clapped 
 her chubby hands at the antics of a negro girl, and 
 knew not what had befallen her. 
 
 They fell upon the house of Monsieur Landry, 
 wherein its owner writhed and shrieked in his delirium, 
 the final victim of the departed scourge. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 OLD TELESSE GOES HOME 
 
 WITH the coming of the busy grinding season 
 in November, came also a stranger to Lan- 
 dry. This stranger was none other than the 
 Mr. Parker from whom Lawrence had purchased his 
 place. 
 
 He was plump and contented-looking, was this 
 stranger, with a very red face and a shiny bald head. 
 That he was not a Louisianian by birth, could also be 
 told at a glance, and indeed he made no pretense of 
 being one. 
 
 " I come from good old New England, but I am a 
 naturalized Louisianian now," he was wont to say when 
 asked about his birthplace. 
 
 Mr. Parker had come to Louisiana when still in his 
 twenties, and had worked as a clerk in New Orleans for 
 many years. During those years he had been frugal, 
 saving his small income with an object in view. In his 
 work at the office he had heard much of sugar and of 
 planters, for the business was a commission one, and 
 gradually his thoughts began to center upon one thing 
 a sugar plantation. 
 
 It was the dream of his life, the goal which he strove 
 to reach, and why not? Did not the people all about 
 
 97 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 him speak of the planter, of his life, praising him as 
 the backbone of the country? Mr. Parker had seen 
 them also, fine bronzed men, who came to the office 
 in their cool silk and linen clothes, talking carelessly 
 about their crops, smoking many cigars, drinking many 
 drinks, and through it all wearing an air of amused 
 tolerance an air that a prince might use among his 
 subjects. 
 
 To be like one of these men who seemed to have no 
 cares in life, joking through a morning at the office, 
 going out (with a bill handed to the hall-boy) to spend 
 an evening at wine or at cards at some club that was 
 what Mr. Parker longed for. 
 
 And so he saved his earnings and waited for an 
 opportunity to buy a place. 
 
 One day a customer, whose cotton Mr. Parker s 
 firm had sold for years, came to the city. 
 
 Mr. Parker saw him at the office and they talked of 
 land. The customer s name was Landry, and when he 
 had left, Mr. Parker had promised to buy a place that 
 was for sale, near the town where this Mr. Landry 
 lived. 
 
 So Mr. Parker had his plantation, but not for long, 
 as he sold it to a friend whose wife must live in the 
 country for her health. He sold the place on yearly 
 payments, and the man had paid only for the first year. 
 Two years had now gone by, no payments had been 
 made, the man to whom he had sold the place was 
 dead, and now Mr. Parker set out at last to become 
 a planter. 
 
 So great was his impatience to see his place that the 
 
 98 
 
OLD TELESSE GOES HOME 
 
 lateness of his arrival at Mouton alone deterred him 
 from driving out to it at once, and the next morning 
 found him at the Court House a full hour before it was 
 opened. 
 
 Here, with the assistance of Paul Hebert, a deputy 
 sheriff, his affairs were soon set in order, and when that 
 gentleman offered to drive out to his place with him 
 Mr. Parker s gratitude knew no bounds. 
 
 " I will have to act as interpreter, anyhow," said 
 Hebert, " for the old man who is at your place won t 
 understand a word of English when he finds that you 
 have come to run him out." 
 
 So, therefore, when a little later he set out with Paul 
 Hebert toward Landry, Mr. Parker felt that Heaven 
 could not possibly compare with his present position. 
 Under the influence of this mood he began to speak 
 knowingly of his crop, his plantation, of the prospects 
 for a good year, and all to such good purpose that 
 before Mouton had been left a mile behind him his 
 companion had come to the conclusion that not only 
 was Mr. Parker no planter, but that he had never been 
 on a plantation in his life. However, as Mr. Parker 
 did not know of this opinion, he rattled away blithely, 
 and so they drove on until the place was in sight. 
 
 Mr. Parker liked the long, white house set among 
 the china trees. It looked very comfortable to him, 
 and the more he looked, the more comfortable it be 
 came. To one who had been used to the restricted 
 comforts of a boarding house, the size and amount of 
 room in the house before him was bewildering. 
 
 Paul Hebert tied his horse near the gate, and Mr. 
 
 99 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Parker climbing out of the buggy, confronted him with 
 a worried look. 
 
 " Do you know," said he, " that in my hurry I have 
 forgotten all about bringing out my baggage." 
 
 " Oh, that will be all right," replied Paul Hebert. 
 
 * You can come back with me, and there will be a lot 
 
 of things that you will have to buy in town. You ought 
 
 to give the old man until to-morrow morning, anyway, 
 
 to get out." 
 
 Thus reassured, Mr. Parker went through the broken 
 gate and up to the front steps, where Paul Hebert 
 knocked loudly upon the door. There was no answer. 
 
 " Let s go around to the back of the house," said he, 
 " and perhaps we will find the old man there." 
 
 In the doorway of the stable old Telesse was sharp 
 ening a cane knife. When he saw the two men ap 
 proaching, he stuck the knife in one of the doors and 
 came forward to meet them. 
 
 Paul Hebert called out to him from a distance. 
 
 " Comment qa va? " said he. 
 
 Te train said the old man, as he joined the two 
 men and shook hands with them awkwardly. He paid 
 little attention to Mr. Parker, who stood eyeing him 
 mistrustfully, as though he feared that the old man 
 had another cane knife hidden about his person. 
 
 Paul Hebert now began to speak to him in French, 
 and for a long time he and the old man talked earnestly, 
 the former explaining his words with many gestures 
 and much showing of papers, the latter replying sel 
 dom, listening sullenly, his face filled with a dogged 
 sorrow that was pitiful to see. 
 
 TOO 
 
OLD TELESSE GOES HOME 
 
 Finally Paul Hebert turned to Mr. Parker. 
 
 " It is all finished," said he, " but I had an awful 
 time explaining it to him. He cannot read, and your 
 papers were of no use. It seems that Mr. Lawrence 
 left him -the crop when he died, and he cannot under 
 stand why it does not belong to him. Finally I said 
 something about the Judge, and that fixed him. All of 
 the people around here are afraid of the Judge. The 
 old man is going to move away to-day in the jumper, 
 which he says is his. The horse is that small gray one 
 in the pasture. It is his, also, as he brought it with 
 him when he came to this place. He is going back to 
 his house in the Grand Woods. You had better come 
 with me now and get your baggage, so that you will 
 have time to get back before dark." 
 
 Before he started for the gate, Mr. Parker turned, 
 and going over to the old man, held out his hand. 
 
 " If you want to stay here and help me," said he, 
 " there is no reason why you should leave at all. I am 
 sorry enough to turn you out, but the place is mine, and 
 you must know that I want to have it. Won t you stay 
 awhile with me, until I can get things straight? " 
 
 The old man glared at him savagely for a moment, 
 and then threw out his hand in a gesture of hate and 
 disgust. 
 
 "Voleur!" said he. " Je vais t attraper!" 
 
 Mr. Parker shrank from this fierce old man and 
 joined Paul Hebert quickly. 
 
 " What did he say? " he gasped. 
 
 The deputy sheriff smiled in amusement. 
 
 " He called you a thief, and said that he would get 
 
 101 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 even with you some day," answered he, as the two men 
 started for the front of the house. 
 
 The old man watched his unwelcome visitors out of 
 sight in a dazed sort of way, his head nodding at inter 
 vals, as though he were accepting the inevitable. When 
 the sound of the departing buggy had died away, he 
 went to the pasture gate and called the little girl. 
 
 Out from the hedges she came, her little apron full 
 of white Cherokee roses, the dog Chicot plodding stead 
 ily behind her. When she reached the old man, he 
 spoke to her in French. 
 
 " Come with me; I wish to speak to you," said he. 
 
 Obediently the little girl followed him, and when 
 they had reached the stable, the old man seated him 
 self upon a great log that lay there, drawing the child 
 up beside him. 
 
 " Listen," said he. " M sleu Paul Hebert came 
 here to-day with a stranger, and he has told me that 
 this place is not ours; that it belongs to this stranger, 
 and that we must move. Do you understand? " 
 
 The little girl nodded, her face wrinkled with a per 
 plexity that denied her statement. 
 
 " We must go away to my house in the Grand 
 Woods," continued the old man. " We must leave the 
 crop, the stock, everything. I will take the horse and 
 the jumper, for they are mine. We will go now and 
 pack up our clothes, so that we can leave this evening. 
 The stranger is coming out to-night. I do not under 
 stand it all, but one thing I know. We must leave. Do 
 you understand? " 
 
 Again the little girl nodded, and this time she seemed 
 
 102 
 
OLD TELESSE GOES HOME 
 
 to be worried. Once or twice she began to speak and 
 stopped, as though she was about to ask a favor that 
 she feared would be denied her. Finally she spoke, her 
 voice trembling with anxiety. 
 
 "Can can can I take Chicot with me?" she 
 asked slowly. 
 
 The old man thought for a moment. 
 
 " Yes," answered he. " He can run along beside 
 the jumper. 
 
 The child s pretty face broke into smiles of delight, 
 her eyes beamed with happiness. What cared she for 
 house or home or fields? She had her dog, her play 
 mate, and she was satisfied. 
 
 But the old man was not, and as he gazed about 
 him and saw the many familiar objects that for years 
 had daily played their part in his life, his heart was 
 very heavy. Down in the fields the cane stretched 
 eastward, a mass of green and purple. There it lay, 
 the work of his hands, each stalk owing its life, its 
 strength, its sweetness, to his untiring labor. All 
 through the year he had watched it, helping it from 
 the first tender shoot to the strong-jointed stalk, and 
 now when it stood ripe and ready, when his work was 
 finished, he must lose it. He had made the crop, and 
 another, a stranger, would reap the harvest would 
 receive the money, the little child s money for which he 
 had worked so untiringly. It was very hard, and the 
 old man s eyes were filled with tears, tears of anger, of 
 bitter protest. 
 
 Suddenly his eye caught the mass of roses in the 
 child s lap, and his face softened. 
 
 103 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " Come, Aline," said he. " We will say good-by to 
 your father." 
 
 Taking the child by the hand, he walked slowly to 
 the little garden by the side of the house. There, 
 among the ragged rose bushes (whose heavy flowers 
 filled the air with perfume), covered with grass and 
 creepers, was a mound, its top strewn with faded flow 
 ers. Above it the trees stretched their branches in a 
 green canopy, and at the head there was a rough 
 wooden cross, carved from solid oak the work of 
 many days. 
 
 By this cross, his own handiwork, the old man knelt 
 in silent prayer, his head bowed, his arms folded. The 
 little girl knelt also for a moment, her face sad, and 
 then rising, she took her roses from her apron and 
 placed them upon the grave until it gleamed a mass 
 of white amid its emerald setting. 
 
 In the trees overhead a bird began to sing. The 
 little girl, falling upon her knees, buried her face 
 among the white blossoms, and kissed the hard black 
 earth. The old man rose to his feet and stood watch 
 ing her. In a moment the child came to him. 
 
 " I have told my father good-by," said she, and 
 smiled. 
 
 The old man coughed, and turned his head away. 
 
 " Come into the house," said he brokenly, " for we 
 must pack our clothes and leave." 
 
 Into the house they went, the old man making their 
 few clothes into a bundle. What belonged to him, he 
 took, lingering lovingly over the many things which he 
 must leave behind. Finally all was ready, and he stood 
 
 104 
 
OLD TELESSE GOES HOME 
 
 at the door with his jumper. Lifting the child to the 
 high seat, he stood for an instant looking about him. 
 
 " I am leaving many things of your father s that I 
 must see the stranger about to-morrow," said he. " I 
 will come in a wagon and, if he lets me have them, 
 I will bring them back with me. And now that you are 
 going to the Grand Woods to live with me, Aline, you 
 must not call me Telesse any more. You must call me 
 Uncle Telesse; do you understand?" 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Telesse," answered the child. 
 
 " Good," said the old man as he climbed into the 
 jumper and sat beside her. 
 
 Once more he looked about him in silent parting, his 
 eyes dim and misty, and then, whipping the horses, they 
 started upon their journey, the dog trotting behind 
 them. Down through the Cherokee hedges they drove, 
 the old man silent, the child chatting merrily, now 
 pointing out something by the roadside, now calling to 
 the dog, alive with the pleasure of seeing something 
 new. 
 
 Presently they came to Landry, and the old man, 
 seeing Monsieur Landry on his porch, called to him as 
 he passed: 
 
 " Comment qa va? " cried he. 
 
 Monsieur Landry did not reply. All memory of the 
 past had been wiped from his brain by the fever as a 
 schoolboy wipes a sum from his slate, and he knew not 
 who the occupants of the jumper were. 
 
 Angrily the old man turned the corner past Monsieur 
 Landry s house. 
 
 " It is always the way," said he to himself bitterly. 
 
 105 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " When one is in trouble the whole world is against 
 him." 
 
 The child turned and cast a backward glance at the 
 little town. 
 
 " Good-by," said she laughingly. " I am going 
 away, far away to the Grand Woods; ain t I, Uncle 
 Telesse?" 
 
 " Yes," answered the old man as he whipped up the 
 horse, " you are going to the Grand Woods, and you 
 did right to call me uncle." 
 
 The child nodded and turned again to look at the 
 fast-receding Landry. With an impatient shrug she 
 settled herself in her seat again, for the little town had 
 sunk behind the distant horizon. 
 
 And so it was that Aline, daughter of Lawrence, left 
 her home and her heritage behind her; and so it was 
 that this old man and this little girl, so strangely thrown 
 together by fate, by destiny, set out in the clear Novem 
 ber evening toward the Grand Woods, which, lying 
 cool and still in the western sunlight, stretched out its 
 green arms to receive them. 
 
 106 
 
BOOK TWO 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 BELRIVE 
 
 IT was twelve o clock on a bright winter day and it 
 was cold very cold. Early that morning, before 
 the first faint streaks of the approaching day had 
 appeared in the east, coming softly, timidly, as though 
 in awe of the stern dignity of the night, a visitor had 
 come to Belrive. A rough, a noisy visitor, howling and 
 shrieking in utter abandon, starting the sleeping ones 
 into a shivering wakefulness this unwelcome visitor 
 was the North Wind. 
 
 All morning long he had sported about Belrive, 
 whistling through the quarters in mockery at the shiv 
 ering negroes within ; swirling about the stables in mad 
 outcry until the cowering animals huddled together for 
 warmth and comfort; rattling through the avenue of 
 live oaks that led to the big house until the moss and 
 leaves strewed the ground far and near; roaring and 
 shrieking about the big house itself, in the most imperti 
 nent manner possible, until the fires within blazed 
 fiercely and the smoke from the tall chimneys poured 
 in volumes, to be tortured and twisted by this same 
 North Wind, until torn to pieces it vanished forever. 
 Far up in the cloudless sky was the sun; shining calm 
 and undisturbed, its stolid face and warming rays bid- 
 
 109 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 ding defiance to this noisy invader, promising peace and 
 deliverance from his blustering sway. 
 
 Down near the quarters a negro was ringing the 
 plantation bell, his ragged clothes flapping about him, 
 his body swaying with the rope, which threw the bell 
 from side to side, sometimes completely overturning it in 
 its violence. Loudly boomed the bell, and the wind in its 
 wanton play catching the sound, hurried it along past 
 the stables, over the high white fence of the stable lot, 
 and on into the fields, rushing over the levees with their 
 dead offerings of withered weeds; driving it through 
 the tall Cherokee hedges within whose green hearts 
 the birds cuddled low for shelter; whirling it around the 
 great piles of straw until the field mice burrowed 
 far into their musty interiors ; urging it on over the rich 
 black furrows where the plows had passed, until it 
 brought it to the plows themselves, and the negroes 
 hearing it, hurried their mules to the end of the rows, 
 glancing eagerly toward the quarters where the twist 
 ing columns of smoke told of warmth, of rest, and of 
 comfort. 
 
 No sooner did a team reach the end of its row than 
 its driver, fixing his plow point into the catch upon his 
 long wooden slide, stepped upon the slide himself and 
 started for the plantation road, his body swaying with 
 the motion of the mule in his effort to keep a balance 
 upon his narrow foothold. The big gang plows, whose 
 two shining blades had all morning torn and shattered 
 the tender bosom of the earth, started toward the road 
 also; the drivers cracking their whips and shouting at 
 the teams in their eagerness to reach the road before 
 
 1 10 
 
BELRIVE 
 
 the others; the two big blades raised high above the 
 ground now as though in truce after the battle of the 
 morning, the earth dropping from their polished sides 
 in token of the long deep scars behind them. And last 
 of all the water boy, his little barrel clasped under his 
 arm, hurried to the road where his water cart stood, 
 and seating himself upon the narrow board in front, 
 picked up the rope reins, and beat the sleepy mule into 
 a terrified energy in his effort to catch up with the 
 plows. 
 
 Seated upon their horses, watching these preparations 
 for departure, and falling in behind the long cavalcade 
 as it moved briskly toward the stables, were two white 
 men: Carey Gordon, the owner of the plantation, and 
 Nicholas Wilson, his overseer. 
 
 Carey Gordon was a young man, nearing his thirtieth 
 year, of medium height and slender, yet there was about 
 his well-built and sinewy person an air of vigor and 
 strength not to be despised. Any one of the negroes 
 at Belrive would have told you that he was powerful, 
 mighty powerful. He was tanned by the wind and sun 
 to the deepest of brown, and the hand that he rested 
 upon his saddle was almost the color of the weather- 
 beaten leather. His face was clear cut and handsome, 
 the jaw slightly squared, giving him an air of authority 
 and firmness, while his mouth, well-shaped and master 
 ful, showed when he smiled a row of white even teeth 
 that were the crowning beauty of his very pleasing fea 
 tures. His eyes were gray, and in them also one saw 
 the same firmness that his whole person suggested; the 
 firmness of a man who, having bent his will to a pur- 
 
 iii 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 pose, follows that purpose untiringly until its accom 
 plishment is gained. 
 
 His life had been a busy one, filled with much work 
 and many worries. Called from college by the death 
 of his father, he had taken charge of the plantation 
 with its many acres and its throng of negroes, and for 
 several years he had tried, with the help of an overseer, 
 to make it pay, working hard in dogged silence through 
 the short, busy grinding season, only to find that he 
 had lost at the end of each year; hoping against hope 
 through it all that he would succeed another time. 
 
 Finally it came to him that he would never succeed. 
 His sugar house, though considered large at the time 
 when it had been built, was now too small, and he knew 
 that to cope with the many huge refineries would be 
 impossible. So for many days he was in despair, his 
 mind tortured by idleness, until he met the man who 
 now rode at his side Nicholas Wilson. 
 
 This Nicholas Wilson had been in many places and 
 knew of many crops. He met Carey at the time of his 
 misfortune, and his eye catching sight of the many level 
 acres of Belrive, he spoke to him of rice, spoke long 
 and eloquently; and Carey, seeing a gleam of hope, grew 
 at first interested, then hopeful, and in the end agreed 
 to plant a small crop as an experiment, with Wilson as 
 overseer. 
 
 And so Carey Gordon turned his back upon the cane 
 of his ancestors and planted rice, gaining what he had 
 lost in the first two years, and continuing to gain as the 
 years passed on, while the poor deserted sugar house 
 gazed at him in reproachful silence from its broken 
 
 112 
 
BELRIVE 
 
 windows, and Nicholas Wilson, rubbing his hands to 
 gether in facetious glee, murmured, " What did I tell 
 you?" 
 
 Nicholas Wilson was a Western man, and into his 
 sharp, thrifty common-sense nature had injected a great 
 amount of good humor and a keen appreciation of the 
 ridiculous, which, combined with his knowledge of 
 many persons and places, made him a most interesting 
 person. Upon his countenance you would perpetually 
 find a look of quizzical amusement, as though he were 
 about to say, " I know that you are going to tell me 
 something funny; well now what is it?" As he rode 
 along with his companion he beguiled the time with 
 many stories and anecdotes until they reached the 
 stables, when suddenly his face became serious. 
 
 " Say, look here, Mr. Gordon," said he, " I was 
 down in the back of the field to-day, and I was looking 
 at that empty cabin again. Hain t there no one we can 
 get to take it before plantin time? There s a big patch 
 around that cabin that hain t got a thing on it, and I 
 hate to see the land lie idle." 
 
 " I can t find a soul," replied Carey helplessly. " I 
 would rather get a white man to take the place on 
 shares if it is possible. You see what you can do, and 
 I will try again." 
 
 Wilson nodded. " All right," said he. " I ll get a 
 man if I have to kidnap him." 
 
 During this conversation the negroes had been unhar 
 nessing their teams, each man hanging his harness on 
 one of the multitude of pegs that lined the stable walls, 
 and then pulling his plow from off its slide to place it 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 in a half-circle with the rest. The mules, released from 
 their gear, trotted quickly into their stalls, where a loud 
 sound of crunching announced that they were hungry 
 afcer their half-day s work, while the negroes, follow 
 ing their example, hurried off to the quarters, whence 
 a loud yelling of children and a great barking of dogs 
 heralded their arrival. Carey, leaving the overseer at 
 his home, rode away by the footpath that led from the 
 stables, and hurrying past the old sugar house as though 
 ashamed of his desertion, arrived at the big house just 
 as the bell was ringing for lunch. 
 
 The house at Belrive was a very old and a very large 
 one, having in its time been a veritable palace, where 
 the planters and their ladies in the golden, never-to-be- 
 forgotten days, before the War, had come to enjoy 
 a hospitality that was as boundless as the acres of its 
 owner. It was a tall square house, set against a back 
 ground of live oak and magnolia trees, its many out 
 buildings huddling about it in a motley throng as 
 though afraid of leaving its protection. 
 
 On entering the dining room Carey found his mother, 
 his Aunt Betty, and his sister Marjorie seated about 
 the table, and awaiting his arrival. His mother, who 
 sat at the foot of the table, was a small woman past 
 the middle-age of life, yet still retaining a good part 
 of the beauty for which in her younger days she had 
 been famed. She had been born a Virginian, and was 
 the descendant of a long line of Careys, whose name she 
 wished to perpetuate through her only son. 
 
 Sitting next to her at the lunch table was her sister, 
 Mrs. Peters, generally called Aunt Betty, if the 
 
 114 
 
BELRIVE 
 
 speaker knew her well, or Miss Betty, if he did not. 
 Like her sister she was small, but here her resemblance 
 to that lady ceased entirely, for, being a much older 
 woman, her face was crossed and seamed by a great 
 many wrinkles, which would have made one think her 
 very old and feeble, were it not for her great activity 
 and her eyes. These eyes were very black and small, 
 like those of a bird, and as they were continually hop 
 ping from one point of vision to another (with gener 
 ally an amused tolerance in their placid depths) they 
 told of an activity of mind and a keen sense of 
 observation, really remarkable in such a very little 
 old lady. Like her sister, she was a widow. Mrs. Gor 
 don had mourned and still mourned the death of her 
 husband with a grief that was as true as her love for him 
 had been, but Aunt Betty had stood her affliction with 
 very little mourning and very much stolid silence; so 
 much stolid silence in fact, that a number of people had 
 expressed their opinion that she looked upon the taking 
 away of her husband as more of a Godsend than a 
 calamity. 
 
 Those who had known the late Mr. Peters remem 
 bered him as a timid, shrinking man, who, never ex 
 pressing any opinion of his own or saying anything not 
 previously approved of by his wife, seemed to have 
 been overcome by her powerful mind to the extent of 
 being a nonentity. But what he had been during his 
 life had no connection with his wife s memory of him, 
 for like some great heroes he was immortalized by 
 death, and his merest saying became to her an incon- 
 testible truth. Whenever Aunt Betty wished to impress 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 a fact upon a listener, she recalled something said by 
 her husband bearing upon the subject, and if the re 
 marks used by the deceased Mr. Peters were introduced 
 into an argument, it was a sign that the argument was 
 ended and ended in her favor, as the sayings of her 
 husband were manifestly incapable of contradiction. 
 
 Some people said that as the deceased Mr. Peters 
 had never been known to make an original remark dur 
 ing the whole of his married life, his many brilliant 
 sayings were the property of his wife, loaned to him 
 during his lifetime to be made famous by his death; 
 and some people went so far as to say that a great many 
 of the remarks and expressions credited to him had 
 never been uttered by that quiet, timid gentleman at 
 all. But you may be sure that such gossip as this had 
 never reached the ears of Aunt Betty, who, taking the 
 greatest interest in all the affairs of her neighbors, 
 never for a moment imagined that the neighbors took 
 such a very great interest in hers. 
 
 Seated across the table from Aunt Betty was Mar- 
 jorie Gordon. A large blue envelope lay upon the 
 cloth in front of her, and there was a smile of great 
 satisfaction on her pretty face. She was a young girl, 
 not yet out of her teens, having just attained that age 
 when, passing from the awkward schoolgirl period 
 into young womanhood, the real feminine begins to show 
 itself faint and delicate, and supremely divine. 
 
 The first to greet her brother as he entered the room, 
 Marjorie half arose from her chair in her eagerness, 
 waving the blue envelope at him. " It s come ! It s 
 come ! " she cried, still waving the envelope furiously. 
 
 116 
 
BELRIVE 
 
 " She is going to be here early this spring, and then 
 won t I have some one to go with, and won t you have 
 some one to flirt with? " 
 
 Carey, who had taken his seat and appeared bewil 
 dered at this outburst, now began to understand. " You 
 mean that your Miss Lawrence is coming to Belrive? " 
 he inquired. 
 
 Marjorie nodded. " Yes," said she, u Julia is com 
 ing. Aren t you glad? " 
 
 Carey smiled rather doubtfully. " Yes, yes," an 
 swered he, " but I don t see any great cause for excite 
 ment just now, when you consider that she will not be 
 here until spring." 
 
 " From her letter she seems to be delighted at the 
 prospect of staying in the country," said Mrs. Gordon. 
 " As you have heard, her father died last summer, and 
 since then she has been living with her aunt in New 
 Orleans. She wrote that a cousin of hers has taken 
 charge of Lawrence Hall, and that she misses the 
 plantation dreadfully. So Marjorie, who was her 
 room-mate at school, invited her to visit us. She will 
 be such a companion for us all, and I am sure that 
 from what is said of her beauty you had better look out 
 for yourself, Carey." 
 
 Carey laughed. " If she were coming sooner," said 
 he, " I might need your warning. As it is, she will get 
 here when I am so busy thinking of planting that I will 
 not have a thought for anything else. However, I will 
 try to find the time to entertain her." 
 
 " And to fall in love with her," suggested Aunt 
 Betty. 
 
 117 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Carey shook his head. " I won t have time enough 
 for that," answered he. 
 
 " Your uncle was once traveling with a man," said 
 Aunt Betty, " when the train happened to stop at a little 
 station in which there was a sort of restaurant. When 
 the man saw it from the car window he told your uncle 
 that he would like to get out and buy a sandwich but 
 he was afraid of getting left. * You have plenty of 
 time in which to do so, said your uncle, so the man got 
 out and bought his sandwich. He also caught his 
 train." Aunt Betty ceased speaking and began to fold 
 up her napkin. 
 
 Carey looked puzzled. " But I don t see what that 
 has to do with my falling in love with Miss Law 
 rence," he ventured. 
 
 Aunt Betty smiled triumphantly. "The man fell in 
 love with the girl who sold him the sandwich," said she. 
 " It took just two minutes." 
 
 " Did he marry the girl at the restaurant? " asked 
 Marjorie. 
 
 " He did," said Aunt Betty. " And she ran away 
 with the very conductor who took up his and your 
 uncle s tickets on the day he met her. I suppose that 
 Fate worked the affair out that way to be consistent." 
 
 Carey nodded his head thoughtfully. " I guess you 
 are right, Aunt Betty," said he; " it doesn t take very 
 long, does it? " 
 
 " Of course it doesn t," said the little old lady 
 decisively. 
 
 "Did it take Uncle very long?" asked Marjorie 
 timidly. 
 
 118 
 
BELRIVE 
 
 Aunt Betty smoothed the cloth in front of her and 
 smiled grimly. u No," said she. " He didn t take 
 long at all. I didn t let him. It is a very good thing 
 to do, my dear, as you will find out soon enough." 
 
 u How you do talk, Betty," said Mrs. Gordon. 
 " Marjorie is too young to even think of getting 
 married." 
 
 " Perhaps she is," replied Aunt Betty. " A good 
 many people get married without thinking, and if most 
 of them thought about the matter at all there would be 
 fewer marriages." 
 
 " Well," said Carey, " if that is the case, I am going 
 to think of marrying for a long time to come, as I am 
 by no means anxious to change my present condition." 
 
 At this moment the big clock in the hall struck one, 
 and pushing back his chair from the table Carey arose. 
 " I will just have time to catch the teams on their way 
 to the field," said he, as he hurried from the room. 
 
 Going out to his horse he mounted and was about 
 to ride away to the stables, when his eye was struck 
 by the figure of a man who was riding slowly up the 
 long avenue of live oaks that led to the house. Mov 
 ing forward until he reached the avenue of trees, 
 Carey waited for the stranger to come up to him, which 
 he finally did, pulling in his horse (a poor mass of 
 skin and bones) with a quick, cruel jerk of the bridle. 
 
 He was a tall, handsome man with wicked black 
 eyes, a thin well-shaped nose, and a very red, full 
 mouth. His face was an olive brown, and his clothes, 
 which were torn to rags and tatters flapped and beat 
 about him in the cold wind, showing the ragged holes 
 
 119 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 with the brown skin beneath. Despite the coldness of 
 the weather he was wet to the waist, and his water- 
 soaked shoes showed the feet within blue with cold. 
 Hanging from the pommel of his worn saddle, as 
 though in explanation of his soaked condition, was a 
 great bunch of ducks and snipe, and the man, who 
 seemed to be in a very good humor despite his dilapi 
 dated wet appearance, swung his gun across the saddle 
 in front of him, and pointing to the game asked 
 pleasantly: 
 
 "Want to buy some birds? " 
 
 " I don t know; you will have to ask at the kitchen," 
 answered Carey, and then mindful of poachers, 
 "Where did you kill them?" 
 
 " In the Grand Woods," said the stranger. " They 
 are fine and fat. Feel one," he urged, holding out a 
 duck as he spoke. 
 
 "You live in the Grand Woods?" asked Carey, 
 who having felt the duck was about to ride on. 
 
 " Yes," said the stranger, " but I would like to live 
 in Landry. And the old man will not move with the 
 girl," he added angrily, speaking more to himself than 
 to his listener. 
 
 " I see," said Carey; " so there is a girl in it, is there? 
 And the old man, what does he do? " 
 
 " He raises a little cotton and a little corn, but his 
 place is not large, and he can make but little money," 
 answered the stranger. 
 
 Carey s eyes brightened. " Does he really know 
 anything about a crop? " he asked eagerly. 
 
 " He was an overseer on a plantation near Landry 
 
 120 
 
BELRIVE 
 
 before the yellow fever, and he always did well," 
 replied the stranger. " But then, M sieu, that was 
 fifteen years ago." 
 
 " And what is this man s name? " asked Carey. 
 
 " Telesse," said the stranger, " Old Telesse." 
 
 " Well," answered Carey, " I have a good cabin 
 without a tenant, and if the old man will take it in time 
 for planting I will let him work the land about it on 
 shares. Will you tell him that for me? " 
 
 The stranger s eyes shone with pleasure. " I am 
 going there to-night, and I will surely tell him," he 
 answered. 
 
 Carey smiled. " I see," said he. " So you are going 
 there to-night, are you? Going to see the girl, I 
 suppose? " 
 
 The stranger s face flushed slightly. " If you saw 
 the girl you would know why I go to see her, M sieu 
 Gordon," he replied passionately. " She is not like 
 the other girls about here. She is an angel, and she is 
 beautiful. Ah! so beautiful! More beautiful than the 
 statue of the Virgin in the big church at Mouton. And 
 she is as good as the Saints that the Pere Martain told 
 me about when I was a boy. Why, do you think, 
 M sieu!" he cried, his voice rising higher, " do you 
 suppose that I would go in the water on such a day 
 as this for any but Aline, my Aline? " 
 
 Carey looked at the man and wondered at his pas 
 sion. In some way it seemed to affect him so that 
 when he spoke his voice was soft and low. " The girl 
 must be very good and very pretty," said he, " and I 
 am not surprised at your loving her. Go to the kitchen 
 
 121 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 with your birds and if they do not buy them you can 
 at least get warm." 
 
 The stranger thanked him and started his tired horse 
 toward the kitchen. Carey stood watching him as he 
 rode slowly away, when suddenly a thought striking 
 him, he called to the retreating horseman. " I say," 
 he cried, " what is your name? " 
 
 The stranger, turning in the saddle, answered him 
 with a shout, the wind causing his voice to sound weak 
 and far away. " Numa, Numa Le Blanc," said he. 
 
 Carey dug his spurs into his horse s side and went 
 loping off toward the stables. " Numa," said he to him 
 self thoughtfully, " Numa Le Blanc. Now where have 
 I heard of that name before? " 
 
 122 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 SOME BIRDS 
 
 THE kitchen at Belrive (a long extension built 
 out from one side of the big house) was 
 always a place of great warmth and comfort; 
 a place where one might while away many a work 
 ing hour in front of the big stove and never know 
 it; a place where much conversation and many argu 
 ments progressed, where the idle came to waste away 
 the day, and the industrious stopping for a moment 
 became idle also, in the power of its mighty comfort, 
 its savory odors and its high-pitched conversations. 
 
 It was a small kingdom in itself, where many mat 
 ters of importance and of moment were discussed and 
 the ruler of it all, proud in her position and relentless 
 to those who disobeyed her, was Aunt Felonise, the 
 cook: big and black and bubbling over with good 
 humor and contentment at one moment, only to be giv 
 ing vent to her anger in deep-chested threats in the 
 next. To enter her kitchen was an honor given only 
 to the house servants, and were any one from the 
 quarters to try to go beyond the big green door, with 
 its myriad of sooty finger marks, Aunt Felonise would 
 never recover from the insult. 
 
 It was toward this kitchen that the ragged Numa 
 now made his way, and finding the green door tightly 
 
 123 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 closed against the wind, he got down from his horse 
 and knocked loudly upon it. On the other side of the 
 door he heard at first a great deal of loud talking and 
 laughing, but at the sound of his knock it ceased en 
 tirely, as though some one had snuffed it out like a 
 candle, and a deep voice asked from inside: 
 
 "Who dar?" 
 
 "Want to buy some birds?" asked Numa doubt 
 fully. 
 
 The door swung slowly inward, and he entered to 
 find himself in a great square room, its whitewashed 
 walls black with soot and grease and hung with a 
 multitude of cooking utensils of various shapes and 
 sizes. Near the wall was the big stove, crowded with 
 pots and kettles, and surrounded by a shivering group 
 of negroes of all ages, who, huddling as close to it as 
 possible, derived from it the double enjoyment of its 
 heat, and its appetizing odor. 
 
 Standing near the stove, her turbaned head bent 
 over a pot in a most industrious manner, was Aunt 
 Felonise, her broad figure presenting a view of greasy 
 blue and white calico that was marvelous to see. 
 
 " Want to buy some birds? " repeated Numa, look 
 ing about him helplessly. 
 
 Aunt Felonise rose up and faced him, her whole per 
 son expressing the scorn that she felt for what she 
 called " po white trash." Gazing at him in surprise, 
 as though she had not heard the knock or his coming in, 
 she inquired: 
 
 " Whar you come from? " 
 
 " The Grand Woods," answered Numa laconically. 
 
 124 
 
SOME BIRDS 
 
 " Lemme see yo birds/ she commanded. 
 
 Going out to his horse Numa untied the birds, and 
 brought them in to her. Aunt Felonise examined them 
 carefully, turning them over, and prodding them with 
 a fat black forefinger. Finally she announced her ver 
 dict. " Dese birds is mighty po ," said she. " Some 
 how de birds ain t like dey uster be. Dey get mo 
 poo er every year. But I ll see if dey wants any at 
 de house. 
 
 " Buddy!" she now called to a small boy, who 
 sprawled lazily on his back amid the group about the 
 stove, " get up from dar, yo urthless good-fo -nuthin 
 nigger, an go in de house an ask if dey wants any 
 birds. Ask Miss Margey, if you kin," she continued 
 as Buddy reached the door, " for God knows, I doan 
 want Miss Betty to come heah wif all dese triflin nig 
 gers layin round, an it s so cold out doas I ain t got de 
 heart to turn em out." 
 
 During this speech, delivered by Aunt Felonise in a 
 high voice at first, and in almost a whisper at the end, 
 Numa had been standing near the stove warming him 
 self and drying his clothes, and the heat having begun 
 to penetrate the damp coarse material, little puffs of 
 white steam began to ascend from him, accompanied 
 by a very strong odor of wet, scorched cloth. Aunt 
 Felonise, whose heart was tender, noticed this and 
 felt sorry for the soaked, bedraggled figure before 
 her. 
 
 " Well, for God, if de man ain mos on fire wid de 
 hot an de cold," said she vaguely. " Jes stand by de 
 stove till you s good an warm." 
 
 125 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 And so Numa stood by the fire while Aunt Felonise 
 stirred about among the pots and pans, and the negroes 
 about the stove were chatting merrily, when the sound 
 of footsteps on the gallery outside warned them of the 
 approach of the absent Buddy, whose loud talking told 
 that there was somebody with him. 
 
 As he reached the door he shrieked, " Heah he is, 
 Miss Betty! " whereupon that lady was heard inform 
 ing him that she was not deaf, and that a continuation 
 of such very loud talking would very probably get him 
 into a great deal of trouble. But the warning of the 
 loyal Buddy had been heard in time, for when Aunt 
 Betty entered the big kitchen the group about the fire 
 had melted away just as snow would have melted if 
 placed in a similar position, and the room was now 
 filled with a busy throng that chopped meat, picked 
 chickens, scoured pans, helped about the big stove, and 
 seemed to be trying to atone, in a single minute, for its 
 idleness during the entire morning. 
 
 For a moment Aunt Betty surveyed this seeming 
 industry in a quiet, dangerous silence, her eyes moving 
 quickly about the room. " This is the first time in my 
 life," said she drily, her eyes now fixed upon a certain 
 corner, " that I have beheld the spectacle of two full- 
 grown women picking one small chicken." 
 
 " Aunt Felonise was in a powerful hurry for it, Miss 
 Betty," said one of the culprits, " an we s both workin 
 on de chicken to get it ready sooner." 
 
 " The falsehood that you are telling, Millie," re 
 plied Aunt Betty, " is such a monstrous, and such a 
 deliberate one, that I almost feel inclined to compli- 
 
 126 
 
SOME BIRDS 
 
 ment you on your powers of mendacity or of lying, I 
 should say. However, you will come with me to the 
 house when I go back, and I will try and find something 
 for you to do." 
 
 To this the woman to whom she had been speaking 
 answered nothing, as the greater part of Aunt Betty s 
 speeches were unintelligible to the negroes, but having 
 understood that she was to go to the house and work 
 under the supervision of that keen-sighted lady, she sat 
 in silence, divided between sullenness and bewilderment. 
 
 Aunt Betty turned to Numa, who still stood by the 
 stove, an amused smile upon his face, his clothes now 
 scorched and almost burning. " I will take your birds," 
 said she, " if you are willing to sell them for the usual 
 price." 
 
 Numa nodded his head and held out his hand. Aunt 
 Betty produced her pocketbook and carefully counted 
 out the amount in small change. When she had 
 counted it twice, to be sure that the amount was right, 
 she poured the little heap of silver into Numa s out 
 stretched hand. " Now," said she, looking him 
 squarely in the eyes, " there is your money. I suppose 
 that you will spend it all upon whiskey instead of giv 
 ing it to your wife." 
 
 " I have no wife," answered Numa, putting the 
 money deep down in his pocket. 
 
 " But there is whiskey in Landry," replied Aunt 
 Betty suggestively. 
 
 Numa started to speak, but catching an expression 
 on her face that said plainly. " I know what you are 
 going to say," he choked the lie that came to his lips, 
 
 127 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 and answered her quickly, his eyes never wavering 
 from hers. 
 
 " Yes, there is whiskey in Landry," said he, " and 
 I am going to spend all of this money on it but two-bits, 
 which I will spend on a present for my girl." 
 
 Aunt Betty gazed at him for a moment in astonish 
 ment, and then calling to the woman Millie to follow 
 her, she started out with never a word. When she 
 reached the door she stopped for a moment, and turn 
 ing addressed the ragged Numa in a slow, even voice, 
 to his utter bewilderment. " I have this morning seen 
 in this kitchen," said she, " the very acme of truth and 
 mendacity. If this woman were white," she continued, 
 pointing to the sullen Millie, who stood beside her, 
 " those people who believe that persons unlike each 
 other should marry, would find in her an ideal wife for 
 you. As it is, your girl, of whom you spoke just now, 
 will get such a truthful husband that she will be miser 
 able to the end of her days, and she will deserve her 
 fate also for being fool enough to marry you." 
 
 Aunt Betty went out, and the colored woman follow 
 ing her, slammed the door with a loud bang, expressive 
 of her indignation at being forced to leave the merry 
 company inside. 
 
 Numa stood by the fire for some time in silence, 
 jingling the money in his pocket absently, and trying to 
 make out what the lively old lady had said to him. 
 
 Aunt Felonise looked at him and grinned. " Ole 
 Miss Betty a mighty fine talker," said she, " but you 
 can t always tell what she s talkin bout." 
 
 " No," answered Numa, with a little laugh, " you 
 
 128 
 
SOME BIRDS 
 
 cannot. Thank you for the fire, and for selling the 
 birds." 
 
 Aunt Felonise nodded her head majestically in 
 acknowledgment of his thanks, and Numa, going out 
 to his tired horse, turned its head toward Landry. 
 Down the long avenue of oaks he went, and out 
 through the gate into the public road, his handsome 
 face bright with the anticipation of the good time that 
 he would have in the little town. There before him it 
 lay, clearly seen over the flat, level acres of Belrive, its 
 big church with its square wooden tower, its eight or ten 
 stores set in a square with the dwelling houses huddling 
 close about them, its grove of oaks swaying in the wind; 
 all standing forth from the blue sky behind it like some 
 vast picture set amid the brown and gray of the fields. 
 Landry had grown since his boyhood; had grown 
 slowly, adding a house or two every year, building a 
 new church, and finding it too small, building a larger 
 one, until it now stood a completed town; a village 
 that would grow no more, but would stand for ages 
 as it now was, the haunt of the idle on week days, the 
 meeting place of hundreds of worshipers on Sundays. 
 In the years to come time might add a little, a very 
 little to its completed growth, but that would be all, 
 and Landry lying sleepily among its fertile fields was 
 finished, and would increase no more.. 
 
 And so Numa rode along, now singing merrily, until 
 near Landry he met the priest, who was taking his even 
 ing walk along the dusty road. To him the hunter 
 bowed low as he passed, pulling off his hat, for in all 
 the world there was but one man for whom he had the 
 
 129 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 least respect or obedience, and that man was Father 
 Bertrand of Landry. In his careless, shiftless way 
 Numa, when sober, was a very easy person to get along 
 with, provided you did not offend him; but once under 
 the influence of the liquor he became a fiend incarnate, 
 hating everything, venting his cruel anger upon any 
 one who came his way, shrieking and cursing and fight 
 ing like some demon escaped from torment. It was 
 when he was in this condition that the terrified people 
 of Landry would send for Father Bertrand, and the 
 priest coming upon the infuriated Numa, would never 
 fail to calm him with a word or wave of his hand, and 
 after speaking to him for a while would leave him 
 docile and quiet, and crying in his shame like a little 
 child. 
 
 Finally Numa entered Landry, and stopping outside 
 of Monsieur Landry s store, he tied his horse to the 
 rack in front, and went stamping inside as a man will 
 do who has ridden a long way in the cold. Monsieur 
 Landry was not in the store. Politics had interested 
 him in his declining years; he was so completely 
 wrapped up in the game that he never missed anything 
 of a political flavor; and he carried with him a great 
 many votes, for as in the days of old, he was the leader 
 of Landry and of all the adjacent country. 
 
 His son Octave, who now looked after the store, 
 came forward at Numa s entrance with a query. 
 
 " Something for my girl," answered Numa, " some 
 thing worth two bits. Something fine and pretty." 
 
 Octave thought for a moment, and then thrusting 
 his hand into a show case brought forth a long paste- 
 
 130 
 
SOME BIRDS 
 
 board card upon which was pinned a great variety of 
 cheap brass jewelry, set with pieces of red and blue 
 glass, dull and lusterless poor, cheap counterfeits. 
 
 " Here you are," cried he, displaying the card with a 
 flourish," here is just what you want, fine and good 
 and only two bits." 
 
 Numa looked at the card carefully for a moment, 
 examined a large brooch a twisted mass of tarnished 
 metal, set with a great red heart of glass, and throwing 
 down his money said: 
 
 " I will take this one. Wrap it up good so that I 
 will not break it." 
 
 Octave wrapped up the brooch carefully, and handed 
 him the package. "Who is the girl, Numa?" asked 
 he, his voice full of awe and of flattery for the hand 
 some man whose conquests were well known at Landry. 
 " Is she like the little girl Madelaine that you " 
 
 Straight across the counter went Numa s hand for 
 the speaker s throat, his body quivering with anger, his 
 eyes blazing with fury, with fierceness, like those of a 
 madman. Octave, springing away from him, cowered, 
 trembling against the shelves. "What is it, Numa?" 
 he whimpered. " I meant no harm. I did not mean to 
 make you angry." 
 
 Slowly Numa withdrew his arm from across the 
 counter, his breath coming short and sharp in his anger, 
 and for a while he stood silent, fighting down the rage 
 that was within him. Octave, still crouching against 
 the shelves, watched him with a terrified fascination. 
 
 Finally Numa drew a deep breath, and picking up 
 the package, which he had dropped in his anger, spoke 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 to the trembling clerk, his voice weak and low with 
 suppressed rage. " You are a fool, Octave," said he. 
 " This girl is not like Madelaine. I am going to marry 
 her because she is as good as the holiest saint above. 
 Is she like Madelaine do you ask," he cried, his anger 
 rising again; " if ever you speak to me of my girl or of 
 Madelaine again I will kill you. Why I did not kill 
 you a moment ago I do not know. You are lucky, 
 Octave, very lucky, but people are not always lucky, 
 especially fools. Remember that." 
 
 Octave made no reply, but watched the angry man 
 depart in awed silence, and when the door had closed 
 behind him, he heaved a great sigh of relief, and came 
 out from behind the counter quietly and stealthily, as 
 though afraid of the furious Numa s return. 
 
 132 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 AND A BOTTLE 
 
 MEANWHILE Numa had again mounted his 
 horse, and was riding slowly to the one bar 
 room of the little town. It was a low, white 
 washed building of two stories; in front was a tall fence 
 which served to hide its wicked interior from the femi 
 nine eyes of Landry. 
 
 As Numa rode the short distance which separated 
 this barroom, or coffee house, as it was called, from the 
 store of Monsieur Landry, his brain was in a tumult, 
 whirling dizzily from the many emotions which were 
 within him. He was angry, he was afraid, he was 
 penitent, and all because Octave had spoken a name to 
 him. A name that he had tried so hard to forget, and 
 had forgotten, burying it deep in the shadowy past; 
 too deep, he had thought, ever to rise again. And now 
 in an instant it had all come back again at the word of 
 a mere boy, a fool, a silly fool who should be punished. 
 Numa s hand fell upon the whip at his pommel, and he 
 half-turned his horse, but the sight of the low white 
 building changed his determination, and, striking the 
 animal cruelly, he went on. 
 
 At the bar he paused for a moment to buy a bottle 
 of whiskey, which he took with him into the poker 
 
 133 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 room upon the right. It was a small room, low-ceiled, 
 with dirty whitewashed walls upon which some one 
 had tacked a great many old French newspapers, and 
 in the center of it there was a round table covered with 
 faded green baize at which a group of men were seated 
 playing cards. 
 
 At Numa s entrance several of the players spoke to 
 him, asking him to join the game, but paying no heed 
 to them he dragged a chair into a corner of the room, 
 and tilting it back against the wall sat down, with the 
 bottle of whiskey in his lap, to think. 
 
 He thought of the little Madelaine, whom he had 
 been so unwillingly forced to remember, and as he 
 thought his mind went back to the days when he had 
 loved her, and the bottle in his lap went many times to 
 his lips, to drown the memories that came to him. 
 
 He thought of the house far out in the prairie, with 
 its trees and flowers that grew so lovingly about it, 
 making it an oasis in the great desert of green that 
 closed it in on every side. He thought of the garden, 
 with its odor of roses, of honeysuckle, where he had 
 met her in the softness of the summer evening, leaning 
 from his saddle to speak to her as she stood, shading 
 her eyes with her hand, to look up at him. He thought 
 of how he had spoken to her, asking for food, for a 
 place to rest his tired body, and of her answer of her 
 voice sweet and clear, and happy as the birds about 
 her. 
 
 He could see her plainly, standing slim and straight 
 under the great bushy china trees, her soft brown eyes 
 gazing questioningly into his, her cheeks rosy with 
 
 134 
 
AND A BOTTLE 
 
 blushes, her lips smiling at him as if in welcome. He 
 could see the big wooden rice mortar, and the heavy 
 wooden pestle with which she had been working, lying 
 idle in the shade at his interruption. 
 
 And now he could see the house with its cool rooms 
 and spotless floors and its tiny kitchen, where the girl 
 went to bring him meat and drink. He could see her 
 as she returned, bringing with her the old couple with 
 whom she lived, who had taken her to their hearts 
 when a child, and had raised her as tenderly as though 
 she had been their own flesh and blood, when in truth, 
 she had no kin. 
 
 And now he thought of the hot fierce love for this 
 girl that had filled his heart of the longing for her 
 by day and by night of the long rides into the prairie 
 to see her, when the sun would scorch and burn him, 
 and the little house with its clustering trees, would seem 
 but a dot in the shimmering waves of heat. 
 
 Now he was in the garden with his love, mid the 
 faint scent of the sleeping flowers, talking to her softly, 
 while the moonbeams made lights and shadows among 
 the roses until their leaves seemed a marvelous piece of 
 filmy lace, and the prairie lay about them a shining sea 
 of silver. He thought of how she had loved him, of 
 how she had trusted him, telling him of her simple life 
 and planning for the happy future that was never to 
 come. 
 
 And now he thought of the time when the days were 
 shorter and cooler, and the ride to the little house 
 would be quicker and more pleasant. He thought of 
 the time when the nights were cold in the little garden ; 
 
 135 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 as cold as his own heart had become, and the roses were 
 dead and withered upon the bushes, as his love 
 for the pretty Madelaine was dead and withered 
 the hot, fierce love that had burned itself away like the 
 summer. 
 
 He remembered the last night when he had seen her, 
 the night when he had decided never to return to the 
 little house so far in the prairie. He could see her as 
 she bade him farewell, waving her little hand long after 
 he had gone, with the lie that he had told her burning 
 upon his lip like a coal of fire. He seemed to feel again 
 the cold wind of the prairie blowing hard against him 
 on his long ride from the little Madelaine, he seemed to 
 hear again the soft mystic sounds of the woods as he 
 rode into them at dawn, and plunged into their cold 
 gray depths, seeking sanctuary and peace of mind from 
 his guilty conscience. 
 
 And now he heard again the stories that came to him 
 at Landry, the stories that told of the long waiting of 
 the little Madelaine, of her despair and sorrow. The 
 story of how she had left the little house and its gar 
 den one night and had gone far out upon the great 
 prairie, God knows where, leaving behind her the old 
 couple to break their hearts in the loneliness of her 
 going. He remembered how he had bragged one day 
 in his drunkenness of his conquest, and the silent scorn 
 with which his story had been received. He thought 
 now of what a fool he had been to speak of it, and 
 wondered vaguely whether it would harm him in his 
 quest for the girl he loved, the girl that he wished to 
 marry. 
 
 136 
 
AND A BOTTLE 
 
 He found it hard to have to remember the little 
 Madelaine after he had tried so desperately to forget 
 her and had succeeded so well. It had all happened 
 so long ago, years ago, and now to have it brought back 
 to him by this fool Octave. He cursed him madly 
 under his breath, and turned up the bottle to drink to 
 his endless perdition. It was empty, and flinging it 
 savagely to the floor he lurched unsteadily to his feet, 
 his brain reeling. One of the cardplayers called to him 
 asking him to join the game, as he staggered drunkenly 
 across the floor in quest of another bottle. 
 
 Numa cursed him savagely and staggered on toward 
 the door, when a figure suddenly appeared upon its 
 threshold that caused him to stop and cry out with 
 satisfaction, though in an angry tone. 
 
 "So it is you at last, is it?" he shouted fiercely. 
 " So it is you, is it, Jean Le Bossu? And where did you 
 come from? " 
 
 The one in the doorway eyed him quietly for a 
 moment. He was a strange-looking man was this Jean 
 LeBossu, with his humped back, his long, strong arms, 
 and his short, crooked legs which seem to have been 
 bent and twisted in the effort of carrying his heavy, 
 round body. As he stood in the doorway with the 
 shadows of the evening falling dark about him, he was 
 like a great spider about to emerge from its web, upon 
 some errand of destruction. But had one come closer 
 to him, and looking above his deformed body beheld 
 his white, peaceful face, he would have been reassured, 
 for the face of Jean LeBossu was pale and saint-like 
 and beautifully molded, like that of an angel. 
 
 137 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 It was said by some that God had given him this 
 beautiful face in compensation for his twisted, crooked 
 form and the priest had even preached a sermon about 
 it, but LeBossu had answered when they told him about 
 it, that his beautiful face could do him little good, and 
 that he would rather have a straighter body. He was 
 a silent man, living deep in the Grand Woods with his 
 friend and partner, Numa, whom he followed about 
 most of the time, and though this strange partnership 
 had puzzled many at Landry, its explanation was un 
 known. All that was known of him was that he was 
 often at his partner s side and that the latter in his 
 wildest, most drunken moments would never lay the 
 weight of his finger upon him, although he would 
 curse and rage at him furiously. 
 
 The little man, at Numa s angry greeting, stood in 
 the doorway and smiled placidly until his partner stag 
 gered up to him, when reaching out one of his long 
 arms he dragged the drunken man into the bar without 
 a word. Once inside he released his hold, and after 
 looking at the tall, ragged figure before him for a 
 moment, said in a low, soft voice: " So you are drunk 
 again, Numa ? You told me that you would not drink 
 to-day for the girl s sake." 
 
 At the mention of the girl Numa ceased his cursing, 
 and thrust a piece of money into the hunchback s hand. 
 " Buy some whiskey, Jean," said he, " and we will go 
 upstairs where it is quiet and drink it. I have some 
 thing to tell you." 
 
 Obediently Jean writhed upon his crooked legs to 
 the bar, while Numa, with many a lurch and stagger, 
 
 138 
 
AND A BOTTLE 
 
 led the way up the steep, narrow stairs. The room that 
 they entered was like the one below, save for the fact 
 that being beneath the eaves, it was much lower. It 
 was black and dark also, and Jean, after groping 
 about for a moment, found a piece of candle in a broken 
 tin candlestick, which he lit and put upon the table. 
 Numa, who leaned heavily against the wall, dragged a 
 chair to the table, and sat down with the bottle in front 
 of him. The hunchback stared at him from the other 
 side, his pale face upon a level with the soiled green 
 baize, looking for all the world as though it had no 
 body supporting it, and had been placed there as a 
 ghastly relic of some execution. " What is it that you 
 have to tell me, Numa? " asked he. 
 
 Numa smiled and pushed the bottle across the table. 
 " Drink," said he, " it is good news." 
 
 Jean placed his lips to the bottle and shoved it back 
 again. He seldom drank. "What is the news?" he 
 asked again anxiously. 
 
 Numa drank deeply and drew his hand across his 
 lips. " I sold my birds at Belrive," said he. 
 
 "Well?" urged Jean. 
 
 Numa drank again, and laughed stupidly, passing 
 his hand across his brow. 
 
 " There is an empty house at Belrive," said he. " A 
 place without a tenant, and I am going to make the old 
 man take it. Then we will live in Landry, Jean, we 
 will live there, eh? The woods are too far." 
 
 Jean seemed perplexed. " But why do you wish to 
 leave the woods?" he asked. "Why do you wish 
 Aline to be near Landry? " 
 
 139 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 The question seemed to arouse the stupid Numa, and 
 when he spoke his voice was low and earnest. " You 
 know that I love Aline, Jean, love her until I am sick 
 with it, and you know that I am going to marry her," 
 said he. The hunchback nodded. " But that is not 
 all, Jean. I want her to love me as I love her, to tell 
 me so and mean it. Why do you think I left the old 
 man s house and lived with you? Was it because I 
 wished to leave her? Would she love me if she saw me 
 come to the woods as I shall come there to-night, drunk 
 and crazy? No, Jean, no, she would hate me. I know 
 that she does not love me now as I wish her to, but she 
 shall some day, and on that day I will marry her if I 
 have to kill Telesse to do it. You know me, Jean; 
 you know that I mean what I say." 
 
 Numa s voice had risen in his excitement and Jean, 
 with a wave of his hand, motioned him to be quiet. 
 " Yes, I know all this, Numa," said he wearily. You 
 have told it to me a thousand times before. But 
 why do you wish Aline near Landry? How will 
 it help you? She will hear of your drinking, I am 
 sure." 
 
 Numa s eyes grew crafty, and he leaned far across 
 the table wagging his finger before the hunchback s 
 face. u I am no fool, Jean," chuckled he, " I know 
 women. How many girls are there in the woods, eh? 
 None. How many are there at Landry? A great 
 many. When Aline comes to Belrive I shall go about 
 with all the girls at Landry. I shall go in fine clothes 
 and they will follow me. One of them I shall make 
 love me, and of her I shall make a fool, for there is 
 
 140 
 
AND A BOTTLE 
 
 a debt between us. And will Aline hear of this? Will 
 she be jealous, eh? Am I a fool, Jean, when I want 
 Aline near Landry? " 
 
 The scorn upon the hunchback s face was lost upon 
 his drunken partner. " And what will you do about 
 the whiskey?" he asked. 
 
 Numa patted the bottle in front of him lovingly, and 
 took a deep draught of its contents. " I will see about 
 the whiskey, Jean," said he thickly. " I will see about 
 it. I am no fool, am I, Jean? Why don t you speak? 
 Are you dumb ? " 
 
 " No, Numa," said the little man slowly, " I am not 
 dumb, but I wish just now that I were blind." 
 
 " Do not talk like a fool," said Numa angrily, " I 
 heard one fool talk to-day and that is enough." Then, 
 the events of the afternoon coming back to him, he 
 became furious. Cursing the luckless Octave at the top 
 of his voice, he knocked the bottle to the floor, where 
 it broke, and lay a mass of shattered glass and reeking 
 spirits. 
 
 Numa gazed at this catastrophe in silence, his rage 
 increasing every moment. " I am going downstairs to 
 get another bottle," said he finally with an oath. 
 " Wait here until I come back." 
 
 The hunchback watched him stagger out of the 
 room, with a sinister smile upon his pale face, and in a 
 moment he heard the drunken man lurching heavily 
 down the narrow stairway. 
 
 " I wish to God you would fall and break your 
 wicked neck," said he in a whisper, his brown eyes 
 blazing. From the bar below there came a heavy 
 
 141 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 tramping of many feet, mingled with loud shouts and 
 drunken laughter. 
 
 The hunchback leaned his twisted body across the 
 table, stretching out one of his long arms before him. 
 " If one of you drunken men would only kill Numa," 
 he wailed, " how I would bless you. How I wish that 
 I could do so myself, but I cannot send my soul to 
 hell. No, no, I cannot do it ! I am not brave enough. 
 I am living my life in hell now, I cannot die to find 
 more suffering. It would be too much, too much," he 
 sobbed, burying his face in his hands, his poor, mis 
 shapen body quivering with grief and passion. 
 
 For a long time he sat thus in the flickering light of 
 the candle, and then a great tramping and shouting 
 upon the stairway outside caused him to spring to his 
 feet with a start. 
 
 " So Numa brings friends with him," said he to him 
 self. " His anger must have left him." 
 
 From the stairway came the voice of Numa calling 
 hoarsely. " Open the door, Jean," he was crying. u It 
 is dark and I cannot see. I have some friends who 
 wish to see you. Open the door, Jean, open the door." 
 
 The hunchback threw open the door and stood upon 
 its threshold bowing grandly in mock ceremony. 
 
 " Come in, come in, my friends," said he. " Le 
 Bossu is glad to see you." 
 
 Into the room there came the drunken Numa, fol 
 lowed by four great hairy men, whose dark, sunburned 
 faces told of a free life in the open air. 
 
 " These are my friends, Jean," said Numa. " They 
 are from the swamp, and we will drink with them." 
 
 142 
 
AND A BOTTLE 
 
 The four big men looked at the little hunchback, 
 who stood before them in silence, the pity that they 
 felt for him softening their frank, honest features. 
 
 " We are glad to meet Le Bossu," said one of them 
 gently. " We have come from the swamp to enjoy 
 ourselves. You will drink with us, I hope, and will 
 sing and amuse yourself." 
 
 Le Bossu nodded. " Let us sit at the table," said 
 he, " and be merry." 
 
 The four big men seated themselves clumsily, placing 
 their bottles before them, while the hunchback, with a 
 spring, seated himself upon the table where he might 
 see and be seen by all. 
 
 In a corner of the room Numa lay helpless, his head 
 upon his breast, his arms hanging loosely, in the last 
 stages of drunkenness. 
 
 " Come, Numa," called the swamper who had 
 spoken before, " give us a toast. It is growing late 
 and we must be riding soon." He filled a glass and 
 held it out toward the drunken man as he spoke. 
 
 The sight of the liquor seemed to revive the 
 helpless Numa, and, seizing the glass, he held it 
 aloft, his eyes rolling wildly. "I will give you 
 a toast," he cried with a shriek of laughter a loud, 
 fiendish shriek of laughter, so wild and so devilish that 
 the big men shuddered at the sound of it. " I will give 
 you a toast, but first let me tell you a story." 
 
 The swampers turned in their chairs and gazed at 
 him expectantly. The hunchback leaned forward, his 
 face twitching with emotion. Numa steadied himself 
 against a chair and set his glass upon the table. 
 
 143 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " Listen now," said he slowly, " to my story." And 
 there in the white, low-ceilinged room, with its dim, 
 smoky candle, he told the story of the little Madelaine. 
 Told it with the oaths and words that only his black 
 soul could know of, while the big men sat with the red 
 flush of shame flooding their swarthy features, and the 
 little hunchback gazed before him with a face that 
 was set and white, and still as death. 
 
 Never a sound disturbed the story of the drunken 
 man, and when he had finished all was silent save for 
 the quick breathing of the swampers. 
 
 Numa seized his glass, and again raised it high. 
 " Drink," he cried wildly. " Drink to the little Made 
 laine. Where she is, God knows, but drink to her 
 once, and then forget her as I shall do." 
 
 The big swamper knocked the glass from his hand 
 with an oath, and sprang to his feet. " Drink, do 
 you say," he cried, " drink with a dog like you? I 
 could not call myself a man if I were to do so." 
 
 For a moment Numa gazed at his glass, which had 
 rolled into a corner, in a dazed, stupid way, and then 
 the significance of it all coming to him, he drew a long 
 knife from inside his blouse, and sprang at the 
 swamper. 
 
 " I will kill you for that," he cried fiercely, as he 
 lunged forward. 
 
 The big man seized a chair and swung it about his 
 head. Straight and true he brought it down in the face 
 of the furious Numa, who, crashing to the floor, over 
 turned the table and left the room in total darkness. 
 
 The hunchback, who had retreated to a corner of the 
 
 144 
 
AND A BOTTLE 
 
 room, heard the crash, the scrambling of many feet 
 toward the door, the sound of hurrying footsteps upon 
 the stairway, the banging of a door downstairs, the 
 sound of galloping horses, and a shout borne back upon 
 the wind. The swampers had ridden on. 
 
 Le Bossu passed his hand across his face and tried 
 to think in the blackness of the room. It had all been 
 so sudden that he was dazed and breathless. He won 
 dered if they had killed Numa. He hoped, he prayed 
 that they had, and yet he feared to look. 
 
 Drawing a match from his pocket he scratched it 
 fearfully. As the little flame sprang into life, he saw 
 the candle which had rolled near him, and straightening 
 its flattened wick he lit it, glancing cautiously toward 
 the center of the room. 
 
 Sprawling amid the wreckage of broken glass, the 
 table pinning him down, lay Numa, his eyes closed, his 
 face covered with blood, which shone black in the 
 candle light. Under his head was a little black pool 
 that wound its way in a ghastly stream across the dirty 
 floor. 
 
 The hunchback drew a deep breath. " Thank God/ 
 said he. " Numa is dead." 
 
 Creeping softly to the silent figure he bent over it 
 and sank his head upon its breast, listening eagerly 
 amid the silence of the room. 
 
 Slowly he raised himself, his face white and drawn 
 with despair and disappointment, and crept painfully 
 to his place in the corner. Long he gazed at the pros 
 trate figure before him, the tears of sorrow on his 
 cheeks, until his glance rested upon something that lay 
 
 145 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 quite near him, gleaming softly in the shadow of the 
 table. It was the knife of the desperate Numa, lying 
 where he had dropped it in his downfall, its polished 
 blade dimly reflecting the soft light of the candle. 
 
 The hunchback gazed at it as though fascinated, 
 his long arm reaching out toward it as though drawn 
 there by some irresistible force; drawn toward it as 
 surely as -the magnet draws the steel. Picking it -up 
 with trembling fingers, he crept over to the still figure 
 again, and for a moment stood over it. 
 
 " Why should I not," he gasped, his throat parched 
 and dry. " He is nearly dead now. It would hardly 
 be killing him." 
 
 Slowly he fell upon his knees, and raised the knife 
 above the prostrate figure, his face black with hatred, 
 his breath coming in short, hard gasps. " For the little 
 Madelaine," he panted hoarsely. 
 
 Suddenly there came through the window a great 
 stream of moonlight, filling the room with a flood of 
 shimmering silver, that fell across the silent figure, and 
 made it less horrible with its softness. The knife fell 
 from the hunchback s uplifted hand, making a great 
 clatter in the silent room. He clutched the crucifix 
 inside his blouse with the strength of despair, his eyes 
 wide with fear and wonder. 
 
 " It is a warning a sign from Heaven may God 
 forgive," he murmured brokenly. 
 
 Outside, the wind, which had gone away at sunset, 
 came back again with renewed violence. On it went 
 past the little town of Landry, roaring and moaning 
 about the low, white house like some savage beast, 
 
AND A BOTTLE 
 
 causing Old Pierre, the proprietor, to tremble at its 
 fierceness, and the drinkers at his bar to pause in their 
 revelry and heed it for a moment; but in the little room 
 under the eaves, the hunchback, kneeling in his corner, 
 mumbled his prayer and heard it no more than the 
 figure that lay so stark and still in the cold, white 
 moonlight. 
 
 147 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 FAR down in the Grand Woods, set deep amid its 
 leafy solitude, was the home of old Telesse, a 
 tiny bit of civilization, of the work of man in 
 the wilderness of the forest. For years it had stood 
 there, the tall, live oaks that formed the outer edge of the 
 forest clustering about it thickly, as though they would 
 close in together and crush this feeble intruder, this 
 shaky, rotten thing of wood and clay that marred their 
 beauty, and stole from them the rich, sweet earth that 
 was their birthright. 
 
 But as the years went on the little clearing about the 
 cabin grew larger and larger, and the trees were forced 
 back farther and farther, until they stood now and 
 gazed at the little house from a distance, shaking their 
 tall tops angrily when the cold winter winds blew in 
 from the prairie, towering grim and silent in the still 
 summer days as though pondering upon some ven 
 geance that would be theirs in the years to come. 
 
 It was a very small house, set high upon four great 
 cypress logs, lest the rising waters of the swamp behind 
 should sweep it away from its clearing and hurl it 
 battered and broken at the feet of the live oaks that 
 
 148 
 
THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 longed for its destruction. It had also never been 
 painted save by the weather, which, taking compassion 
 on it in its first state of yellow barrenness, had colored 
 it with the softest shade of silvery gray, and had 
 trimmed and bordered it with the greenest and bright 
 est of lichens, leaving it as perfect in tone and color 
 as any tree in the forest. 
 
 In front of the house there was a little garden, where 
 a few vegetables and a great many wild flowers grew, 
 fighting hard for their lives amid the rank weeds and 
 grass that choked and oppressed them. Reaching out 
 from this garden was the clearing that the old man had 
 made, the outcome of many years of hard, endless 
 work in the open, stretching away to the border of the 
 woods, a long, flat sweep of plowed and furrowed land, 
 dotted about with the blackened stumps of the live 
 oaks that had grown there. 
 
 Here it was that the old Telesse planted his corn 
 and his cotton, which, rooting deep in the virgin soil, 
 grew strong and tall and straight, yielding richly to the 
 one that had planted them in this wilderness. Here in 
 the spring one found the dark expanse of forest broken 
 by a waving mass of tender green, while in the summer 
 the ground would be white with the cotton bolls that 
 grew as cool, as pure, and as fleecy as the clouds above 
 them. 
 
 A high rail fence enclosed the house and the clearing, 
 separating them from the road that ran alongside, and 
 across this road, stretching dark and silent as far as 
 the eye could see was the cypress swamp, a monstrous 
 forest of thickly growing trees, vast, impenetrable and 
 
 149 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 trackless; the home of the snake, the alligator and the 
 innumerable writhing, crawling things that hid in its 
 black sluggish waters from the light of Heaven. 
 
 Here one found the shiny cypress knees pushing their 
 way from the oily water, in emulation of their parent 
 tree, the green slime clinging closely about them, as 
 though to drag them back into the gloomy depths from 
 which they had arisen. Here one was aware of the 
 weird dead silence of the swamp, the silence which 
 leaves one lonely and afraid, unbroken save by the fall 
 of a branch in the murky water, or the dreary moan 
 ing of the wind; the silence which makes one long 
 to shout and scream aloud for the joy of hearing 
 something living, something human, in the deathly 
 stillness. 
 
 Running along the edge of the swamp, separating 
 it from the higher land ran the road, an indistinct 
 track amid the green carpet of the forest, and on this 
 road in the hazy light of the early morning was old 
 Telesse himself, his white head bent low as he studied 
 the ground before him. 
 
 All along the road the soft sod was trampled and 
 torn, showing great brown scars in the bosom of the 
 earth, scars that had been made by the heavy hoofs of 
 swiftly running horses. 
 
 " There were four of them, and they were going 
 very fast," said the old man aloud, as he straightened 
 up. " One was Numa, and one was Jean, but who 
 were the other two? " 
 
 He stood silent for a moment as though expecting 
 some one to answer his question, but the only response 
 
 150 
 
THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 to his query being the song of the birds he turned 
 toward the little house, his heavy shoes wet and glisten 
 ing with the dew of the early morning. 
 
 On he went through the sodden grass, until he came 
 to the stile that crossed the high rail fence, and mount 
 ing it he stood gazing far down the leafy road that 
 led to the open country. 
 
 Far away in the distance he could see the figure of a 
 girl moving slowly away from him, a tiny spot of blue 
 and white amid the green aisles of the forest. The old 
 man stood looking down the road long after the girl 
 had vanished from his sight, his wrinkled face troubled, 
 his hard, calloused hands plucking at the coarse cloth of 
 his blouse in his perplexity. Slowly he seated himself 
 upon the topmost step of the stile, and sat staring 
 before him in an attitude of utter dejection. 
 
 " Aline," said he to himself. " Aline Telesse, Aline 
 nothing, Aline nobody." He laughed harshly. " What 
 am I to do with her? Numa says that he will marry 
 her, he swears it, and if I prevent him he will tell. And 
 me, what becomes of me? But that will be no affair of 
 his. And what if I let him marry her? I shall break 
 my promise and my soul shall be damned. Again that 
 will be no affair of his." 
 
 He sat for a long time, his head bowed deep in 
 thought. A venturesome rabbit crept out of the grass 
 on the roadside, and hopping up to the stile, stood 
 fearfully gazing at the silent figure upon its top. 
 From the woods came the call of the birds, the sweet, 
 clear notes of the cardinal, the shrill scream of the 
 jay, the long, glorious trill of the mocking bird, rising 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 upon the air like some glorious hymn of thanksgiving 
 for the gift of the beautiful day. 
 
 The old man rose to his feet wearily, scaring the 
 rabbit into the crisp, dead weeds at the edge of the 
 field. 
 
 "Aline," said he bitterly. "Aline of the Grand 
 Woods! What is she? A Cajun. What does she 
 know? Nothing. Ah, M sieu," he cried, raising his 
 eyes to the blue sky above him, " I promised you so 
 much, and I have done so little, but I could do no 
 more. I had no money, no place to live. I could do 
 nothing. Forgive me, M sieu, forgive me, for there 
 is one promise left and I shall keep it. Numa shall 
 never have Aline, I promise you. Yes, I promise you 
 that, even though I die for it." 
 
 Once more he looked down the road, and then shak 
 ing his head he slowly descended the stile into his small 
 front yard, where he was soon busy among the few 
 withered plants that grew there. As he worked, his 
 active movements telling of a great amount of health 
 and strength despite his age, he seemed a very cheerful 
 old man, and not in the least like the disconsolate figure 
 that had so lately sat upon the top of the stile. 
 
 The old man s mind was at peace, for he had suc 
 ceeded in quieting his conscience for the time being, 
 had succeeded in putting his trouble away from him for 
 a little while, as he had done for years. Ever since his 
 master s death he had been troubled, thinking of the 
 promise that he had made, swearing that he would 
 keep it, and in his heart he would mean to do what 
 he had sworn. 
 
 152 
 
THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 For years he had seen the cunning Numa spreading 
 his nets to catch the pretty Aline, sly and cunning, giv 
 ing the girl no cause for finding harm in him, hiding 
 his wickedness as carefully as a miser hides his gold. 
 For years he had seen the cruel imposter come day by 
 day to the little house in the clearing, his handsome face 
 flushed with passion, smiling and talking to the girl 
 with many bits of idle flattery and words of praise that 
 fell upon her simple heart unheeded, leaving no harm 
 ful touch of vanity behind them. For years he had 
 sworn that Numa should come no more, that he would 
 tell the girl of his wickedness, of his hypocrisy, only to 
 break his oath, to cast his solutions from him in quak 
 ing terror at one word, one threat, from the tyrant. 
 
 And so the years had gone by, and the girl had 
 grown as fair and as beautiful as any of the flowers 
 that grew in the forest, and Numa was half crazy with 
 his love for her, bullying and threatening the old man 
 into angry silence whenever he opposed him ; while the 
 old man, swearing to keep his oath, from day to day 
 calmed and soothed his troubled conscience into an 
 angry silence not unlike his own. 
 
 The sun was high in the heavens, and the old man s 
 work was nearly done when the figure of a horseman 
 coming down the road arrested his attention. Lean 
 ing upon his hoe he watched this horseman approach, 
 an amused smile upon his wrinkled face. Perched 
 upon the back of a shaggy pony was a little dwarfed 
 man, whose short legs clutching desperately at the 
 pony s sides were unable to keep his heavy body in the 
 saddle, as his jolting from side to side and into the air 
 
 153 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 seemed to certify. Arriving at the garden he pulled 
 in his horse with a quick jerk that nearly unseated him, 
 and waving his hand cheeringly to the old man, " Com 
 ment qa va! " cried he. 
 
 The old man leaned over the fence and shook hands 
 with him, speaking to him in French. " How are you, 
 Jean? " said he. " Where is Numa? " 
 
 " Numa is up the road waiting," said the little man. 
 " He was drunk last night and was hurt. He does not 
 wish Aline to see him, so he sent me ahead to draw her 
 away when he passes by." 
 
 " Aline is not here," answered the old man slowly. 
 " She went early this morning to Madame Joe, who 
 is teaching her to spin. She will not be back until 
 near sunset." 
 
 Le Bossu smiled. " Then I will ride back with 
 her," said he. " Now I must call Numa." 
 
 Placing his fingers to his lips he whistled thrice, and 
 Numa came out from his hiding place among the trees, 
 his brown face swathed in bandages, between the white 
 edges of which his black eyes shone angrily. Pulling 
 up his horse next to Jean s, he addressed him shortly, 
 nodding carelessly to the old man, who stood eyeing 
 the white bandages in wonder. u Is Aline here? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " No," answered the old man, " she has gone to 
 Madame Joe s." 
 
 " I did not ask you," said Numa ungraciously, " let 
 Jean speak when he is spoken to. How long will Aline 
 be at Madame Joe s? " 
 
 " All day," answered the old man quietly. " You 
 
 154 
 
THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 are in a bad humor to-day, Numa. What is the 
 matter?" 
 
 Numa put his hand to his bandaged head, and then 
 pointed toward Landry. " Over there," said he, " I 
 was hurt, I was struck with a chair and beaten. 
 Beaten by four men, four big men, any one of whom 
 would have been enough for me. And all because I 
 asked a toast. Think of it. Four great men, four 
 swampers, the cowards. But I have sworn an oath 
 to make them pay for it, and pay for it they will. They 
 passed here, of course, their tracks are all around. 
 But come, Jean, we must be going. Aline is away and 
 the road is clear." 
 
 Gathering up his reins, he turned his horse prepara 
 tory to going, when the hunchback called to him. 
 "Mais Numa," cried he, " I thought that you wished 
 to speak to Telesse." 
 
 Numa swung his horse about quickly. "I am a 
 fool," said he. " I had forgotten. Since last night I 
 can think of nothing but my hurt. You know, Telesse, 
 that I have spoken to you about going to Landry to 
 live." 
 
 The old man nodded and his face grew grave. 
 
 " You told me that you had no house to live in 
 there," continued Numa. 
 
 Again the old man nodded his head, and his face 
 grew graver still. 
 
 " Well," cried Numa triumphantly, " I have found 
 you a place at Belrive, M sieu Gordon s plantation. 
 There is a big house there that is vacant with plenty of 
 land about it, and he will let you take the place on 
 
 155 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 shares. What do you say to that? You will 
 move, eh? " 
 
 The old man was silent for a long time, trying in 
 vain to call up his courage, to speak harshly and refuse 
 this question that was a command, and when he finally 
 spoke his voice was beseeching. 
 
 " I do not know, Numa," said he timidly, " I must 
 think about it. I must see M sieu Gordon. I must 
 have time, I must have time. Aline would be pleased, 
 for then she could go to school, but she would miss 
 the woods sadly. And me Ah ! Numa, all that I have 
 in the world is here. Give me time. Give me time." 
 
 Numa shrugged his shoulders indifferently. " Very 
 well," said he, " take your time. You will have until 
 the planting season to think the matter over. Take 
 your time, Telesse, and then decide whichever way you 
 think is best. I guess you know which way is best, eh? " 
 
 To this the old man answered nothing and for a 
 while the three men were silent; Numa thinking of the 
 life that would be his in Landry; Telesse praying for 
 some deliverance from this evil that was to befall him; 
 the little hunchback wondering what power it was that 
 made this strong old man obey his wicked partner as 
 though he were a little child. 
 
 Finally Numa picked up his reins. " I am going," 
 he announced with a yawn. " Tell Aline that I have 
 been thrown by my horse and hurt. Tell her that he 
 dragged me and cut my face against the ground. Do 
 you understand? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the old man dully, " I will tell 
 her." 
 
 156 
 
THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Numa suddenly thrust his hand into his pocket and 
 brought forth a package which he tossed to the ground. 
 " Give that to Aline also," said he. " I had almost 
 forgotten it. Tell her that I bought it for her and that 
 it cost a great deal of money. Do you understand? " 
 
 The old man nodded and thrust the package into 
 his pocket, his hands shaking nervously. " Why is it 
 that you wish me to go to Belrive? Why do you want 
 Aline to be there? " he asked timidly. 
 
 Numa laughed. u That is my business, " answered 
 he. " Jean knows, perhaps he will tell you some day. 
 But I will tell you one thing," he cried passionately, 
 " Aline is going to love me as I love her, I swear it. 
 Why should she not? Am I not tall and well-formed 
 and handsome? She shall love me, and on the day that 
 she tells me so I shall marry her. This I swear also 
 and this I will bring about even though it costs your life 
 to do it," and calling to Jean he rode away, leaving the 
 old man to stare wonderingly after him. 
 
 157 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 ANGELE OF ANSE LE VERT 
 
 THE sun was low in the western sky and the forest 
 aisles were gray when Le Bossu set out from 
 his cabin to meet Aline. Living as he did, deep 
 in the heart of the woods and far from the old man s 
 clearing, he yet found time to see the girl often, for he 
 loved her very dearly. 
 
 Silent and morose with others, he would follow her 
 about all day, telling her stories, making her many 
 things from bits of wood and of string, amusing her in 
 a thousand different ways. In all the world there 
 seemed to be no one for whom he cared as he did for 
 this girl. 
 
 The earliest flowers of the spring, the first snipe in 
 the marsh, the soonest ripened fruit of the muscadine, 
 were always hers, for Jean, little Jean Le Bossu, knew 
 the woods and all that was within them as did no one 
 in all that country. 
 
 No one knew where the best cherries grew as did 
 Jean ; no one knew where the big French ducks and the 
 little teals dived and swam in the early morning as did 
 Jean, and who but Jean could tell where the biggest 
 fish in the bayou lay, safe and snug in the cool black 
 
 158 
 
ANGELE OF ANSE LE VERT 
 
 water beneath the live oaks ? Who knew what the great 
 trees said when the strong wind moved them into voice ; 
 who knew of what the tall grasses of the marsh whis 
 pered when the salt winds murmured through their 
 greenness ; who knew the stories that the smoothly flow 
 ing waters of the bayou told as they made their way 
 noiselessly toward the sea; who knew all these things 
 but Jean, little Jean Le Bossu? 
 
 And all these things he told the girl, showing her 
 many secrets of the woods, and she in her turn loved him 
 dearly and thought that in all the world there was no 
 one like Jean, her Jean, with his face of an angel and his 
 body of a demon. 
 
 And so Jean rode on through the shadows of the 
 forest until he saw a spot of white coming down the 
 road toward him. Stopping his pony he climbed down 
 to the ground and waited for the girl to come up to him, 
 his face glowing with that greatest of all pleasures, the 
 pleasure of anticipation. 
 
 Near him, at one side of the road, lying like a great 
 jewel in the heart of the forest, was a little pond, its 
 blue bosom covered with dead and withered water lilies 
 that rustled softly when the wind passed among them. 
 Standing high amid the withered lilies, their round, 
 heavy seed pods upturned to the sun, their brown, wrin 
 kled stems cracked and peeling, were the graine-a-volee, 
 a bare, tattered memory of their former life and 
 sweetness. 
 
 The little hunchback, leaving his pony to browse 
 along the roadside, went over to the pond and plucked 
 a handful of them. 
 
 159 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 They may amuse Aline," said he to himself, rat 
 tling them loudly, " and I can make her a necklace of 
 the seeds." 
 
 Looking down the road he saw the girl, who was 
 now quite near, running toward him, and he waved his 
 withered graine-a-volee high above his head in greeting. 
 On she came, her head thrown back, her hands clenched 
 at her sides, as fresh and as sweet as the salt wind that 
 blew in from the marshes, as strong and as slim as the 
 young oaks of the forest, as fair and as beautiful as the 
 glorious day that was dying about her. 
 
 She was a small girl, straight and slender, with tiny 
 well-shaped hands and feet that were the marvel of 
 those who knew her. Her hair was brown, the dark, 
 glossy brown of the dead oak leaves beneath her feet, 
 gleaming with threads of gold where the sunlight fell 
 upon it, and her eyes were the deep blue of the wild 
 iris. Large and clear they were, and filled with a 
 simple faith and gentle trustfulness in all things, yet 
 having about them a look of shyness, the shyness of the 
 woods which is born of life among the wild things that 
 hide there. She was tanned and brown from her life 
 in the open, and as she stood bareheaded and panting 
 before the little hunchback, her hair blown in feathery 
 wisps across her face, her cheeks flushed, her eyes spark 
 ling, she seemed some fairy creature of the woods, 
 some sylvan nymph, who would vanish in a moment 
 among the great trees and be gone forever. 
 
 " Jean, Jean," she cried in French, " how glad I am 
 to see you. I was afraid that you would not meet me, 
 as you always do, and the walk is so long when I am 
 
 160 
 
ANGELE OF ANSE LE VERT 
 
 alone. But I have been alone almost the whole way, 
 as it is. Why were you so late, Jean? " 
 
 The little man caught his pony and lifted her into the 
 saddle before he answered. " I went to Landry last 
 night," said he, as he walked beside the slowly moving 
 animal. " I was there until morning, and I could not 
 sleep, for I missed the woods, and so when I closed my 
 eyes in the cabin to-day my sleep was like that of 
 the great black bear, who hides himself away in the 
 winter." 
 
 The girl smiled. " I see," said she. " My poor 
 Jean, no wonder you missed the woods, when you love 
 them so. But what is that you have in your hand? It 
 is the grain e-a-volee, is it not? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Jean, " it is the graine-a-volee, the 
 flower of Angele of Anse Le Vert." 
 
 The girl clapped her hands and dropped the bridle, 
 which in no ways disconcerted the stolid pony. " Oh, 
 Jean," cried she, " it is a story, is it not? Do tell it 
 to me, I want so much to hear it." 
 
 " I had not meant to tell you a story," replied the 
 little man. " I took the graine-a-volee so that I could 
 make you a necklace from its seeds, but if you wish me 
 to tell you the story, I will do so. I will tell you before 
 I begin, though, that it is a very sad one." 
 
 " I am sorry that it is sad," replied the girl, whose 
 heart was very tender, " but tell me, Jean, tell me the 
 story." 
 
 The little man turned the seed pods over in his hands, 
 caressing them with his long fingers. " Poor Angele," 
 said he. u You must know, Aline, that all of what I 
 
 161 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 am going to tell you happened many years ago at Anse 
 Le Vert, and that in those days there were no graine- 
 a-volee." 
 
 " No graine-a-volee! " exclaimed the girl in great 
 surprise. 
 
 " No," said Jean, " there were none in those days. 
 The story was told me by a very old man, and he said 
 that at that time he had never seen one. 
 
 " You must know that this Angele was a very beauti 
 ful girl about your own age, and that she lived with her 
 father and mother in a little house at Anse Le Vert. 
 You must also know that she was French Cajun like 
 ourselves. 
 
 " Now this pretty Angele had many sweethearts, and 
 there was not a man in all that country who would not 
 have given his life to marry her, but she would have 
 none of them. She knew of the kind of man that she 
 wished to marry, but she could not find him at Anse Le 
 Vert, so she dreamed of him for a long while and 
 prayed that some day he might come to her." 
 
 " And did he come, Jean, did he come? " asked the 
 girl breathlessly. 
 
 " Yes," answered the little man, " he came as you 
 shall see. You must know that near the place where 
 this Angele lived there was a great house with many 
 arpents of land about it, and that for many years this 
 house had been closed and empty. 
 
 " Now, one day it was opened, and it was told at 
 Anse Le Vert that a rich man had bought it, and would 
 live there with his son and with a girl who was his 
 cousin. In one corner of the land that lay about this 
 
 162 
 
ANGELE OF ANSE LE VERT 
 
 big house there was a great coulee, and in this coulee 
 there were many fish, so many that Angele would often 
 go there to catch them, for she was very poor and some 
 times there would be nothing to eat in the little home 
 where she lived. 
 
 " Now one day when she was fishing in the coulee 
 she heard some one behind her, and turning round she 
 saw a young man. As soon as she saw him, she knew 
 that he was the one that she had dreamed of, and this 
 young man thought that he had never seen so beautiful 
 a girl as Angele." 
 
 " And did the young man love this Angele? " asked 
 the girl eagerly. 
 
 " Yes," replied Le Bossu, " that is just what he did. 
 And now you must know that this young man was the 
 son of the rich one, who owned the big house, and 
 that he came from a great city far away. All through 
 the summer and all through the autumn did this young 
 man meet Angele at the coulee, and the fish swam 
 about in peace and were happy, for she caught them 
 no more. 
 
 " The people at Anse Le Vert now told it about that 
 the young man would marry the girl at the great house 
 that winter, but to this Angele paid no heed, for she 
 had found the lover of her dreams, and she was very 
 happy. And did not this young man tell her each day 
 that he loved her ? What more could she wish ? 
 
 " And now the days grew colder, and these two 
 would often find the big wild ducks diving in the coulee, 
 which you know is a sign that the winter has come. 
 And now there came a day on which it was said at 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Anse Le Vert that this young man would marry the 
 girl at the great house, but the pretty Angele shook 
 her head and smiled, for did she not know? 
 
 " All through the morning she went about her little 
 home singing, and when the evening came she took her 
 line and went out to the coulee, hurrying along that 
 she might see her lover the sooner and laugh with him 
 at what was said at Anse Le Vert. 
 
 " For a long time she waited, plucking the grass at 
 the water s edge and singing, wondering why her lover 
 did not come, fearful lest some harm had befallen him. 
 And now the sun went down, the water of the coulee 
 grew black and the pretty Angele ceased her singing, 
 while her heart grew cold with fear, as cold as the wind 
 that blew against her from the north. 
 
 " Across the fields she could see the great house, 
 blazing with lights from every window, and as she 
 looked her heart grew colder still, for any one could 
 have seen that there was a celebration going on at the 
 big place before her. 
 
 " And so this Angele started across the fields toward 
 the great house, to see if what was said at Anse Le Vert 
 was so, and as she went she prayed to God to give her 
 back her lover, and the pain in her heart grew greater 
 and greater at every step. 
 
 " Now, when she came to her lover s house she found 
 a great crowd of people about it, and to one of them she 
 spoke, asking why there was a celebration. 
 
 " The young master marries his cousin to-night, 
 answered the man to whom she spoke. 
 
 " So the poor Angele went away across the fields 
 
 164 
 
ANGELE OF ANSE LE VERT 
 
 toward her home, and many times did she fall to the 
 ground as she stumbled across the furrows, but never a 
 sound did she make, never a tear did she shed, for her 
 heart was broken. 
 
 " When she came to the coulee she did not pass 
 around it as she had done on her way to the great house, 
 but she stepped down into the cold black water and 
 went out toward the middle. And so she went on until 
 she came to that part of the coulee where the water was 
 very deep, and there she sank down and down to the 
 bottom, and nobody saw her go but the little stars way 
 up in the heavens above her. 
 
 " So that is the way that Angele of Anse Le 
 Vert died, and may the good God have mercy on her 
 soul." 
 
 The little man walked on in silence for a moment, 
 his hand upon the pony s mane. 
 
 " And the graine-a-volee, Jean," said the girl softly, 
 " what of them?" 
 
 " Ah," replied Le Bossu, " that is the strange part 
 of the story. The days went on, the cold winter passed 
 away, the beautiful spring came again, and in that 
 coulee at Anse Le Vert, where there had never before 
 been a flower, a great green stem thrust itself out into 
 the sunlight. Now the people wondered much at this, 
 and while they wondered this green stem brought forth 
 a bud that grew and grew, and then unfurled itself into 
 a great golden blossom that was the marvel of all that 
 country. 
 
 " And now you must know that when the young man 
 saw the flower his eyes were filled with tears and he 
 
 165 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 cried, That is the flower of Angele, the one I loved. 
 It springs from her as a memory of our happy days and 
 haunts me with my cruelty to her/ and before the winter 
 came again he was dead also, and the coulee was cov 
 ered with graine-a-volee, as it is covered with them 
 to-day." 
 
 The little man ceased speaking, and he and the girl 
 went on in silence until they came in sight of the 
 clearing. 
 
 " Thank you for telling me the story, Jean," said 
 Aline, whose eyes were wet with tears, " it is a pretty 
 one, but it is very sad." 
 
 " Yes," answered Jean as he stopped before the little 
 house, " it is very sad, but that is the story of Angele 
 of Anse Le Vert. Now I must be going home, for it 
 is late." 
 
 The old man came out of the house as the hunchback 
 was scrambling onto his pony. 
 
 " So you are here at last, Aline," said he. " I have 
 something for you that Numa left behind him." 
 
 The girl took the package that he gave her and tore 
 off its wrappings. Jean leaned forward in his saddle 
 and looked eagerly. Aline drew out the tarnished 
 brooch and held it in the dying sunlight. 
 
 " It is pretty, but I would not care to wear it," said 
 she simply. " I do not know why, but I would not 
 care to wear it." 
 
 The little man laughed and turned his horse. 
 
 " But my graine-a-volee," cried Aline. " You are 
 not going without giving them to me? " 
 
 " I thought that you had forgotten about them after 
 
 166 
 
ANGELE OF ANSE LE VERT 
 
 seeing your pretty present," said Le Bossu as he handed 
 them to her. 
 
 The sun set, the stars came out, the birds of the forest 
 were still, for the beautiful day was gone. In the little 
 cabin the old man sat nodding drowsily before the fire, 
 where the girl bent softly over him and kissed him 
 before she went to her tiny room to sleep. 
 
 The old man awakened, bent down to stir the dying 
 embers, when his eye was caught by something which 
 shone dully among the ashes of the hearth. Picking it 
 up he wiped it upon his coat and gazed at it thought 
 fully. It was the gaudy brooch of Numa s choosing, 
 lying where it had fallen from the shelf above the open 
 fire. 
 
 The old man smiled triumphantly as he put it back 
 again. " So much for you, Numa," he muttered. 
 
 Going over to the little room he peeped through the 
 half-open door, his wrinkled face calm and peaceful. 
 Inside the girl was placing something upon the shelf 
 above her bed, the little shelf which held her crucifix. 
 Suddenly she stood back, and the watcher saw what 
 she had placed there. It was the graine-a-volee. 
 
 The old man smiled at the girl as he drew back 
 from the little room, for he, too, knew the legend. 
 " Poor Angele of Anse Le Vert," he heard her whisper 
 as he softly closed the door behind him. 
 
 167 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 TOM BAYNE OF SUNNYSIDE 
 
 DOWN in the fields at Belrive rode Carey Gor 
 don, a look of great pleasure on his face as 
 he gazed about him. Before him the land 
 stretched away, a great brown sea of fertile, fragrant 
 earth, a troubled sea of long, even furrows that seemed 
 to roll and break in the misty haze that hung above 
 them as do the waves of the ocean. 
 
 Far away on the smoky horizon lay the prairies, 
 enclosing the fields in their setting of green, dotted with 
 little ponds that shone and sparkled in the waning sun 
 light and mirrored the blue sky above them amid their 
 tiny waves, as though they would bring the glories of 
 the heavens to earth that man thus seeing them so near 
 might rejoice in their beauty the more. 
 
 Across the brown furrows of the field ran the levees, 
 crossing and cutting and dividing the land into squares, 
 until it looked like a huge checkerboard, a great 
 earthen board fruitful and productive, upon which in 
 the months to come the game of life, of existence, 
 would be played; played by living, breathing men, to 
 whom the outcome of the game would be all or nothing. 
 
 Carey sat upon his horse and looked a bout him with 
 
 168 
 
TOM BAYNE OF SUNNYSIDE 
 
 a satisfied smile, and well might he do so, for his fall 
 plowing, that was to make the land more rich, more 
 yielding and more ready to receive its offering of 
 golden yellow seed, was done, and the torn, broken 
 earth would now be left to rest and heal its many 
 wounds. 
 
 " Well, Nick," said he exultingly to his overseer who 
 rode behind him, " we are all finished for the present, 
 aren t we? " 
 
 Nicholas Wilson nodded his head. " It sure looks 
 like it," he replied, but in his answer there was none of 
 the satisfaction that had sounded so clearly in the ques 
 tion of his companion. 
 
 Carey turned upon him and gazed at him curiously, 
 an amused look upon his face. 
 
 " Do you know, Nick," said he, " I believe that you 
 are sorry we have finished plowing? " 
 
 Wilson looked at him quizzically for a moment. 
 " I ll tell you, Mr. Gordon," he answered, " I feel 
 about this plowin as Bug Smith did when he licked 
 Bill Thompson." 
 
 " And how was that? " asked Carey, who knew that 
 a story was forthcoming and was anxious to hear it, as 
 Wilson s stories were generally good ones. 
 
 " Well," said Wilson, " I ll tell you as we go back 
 to the stables. You see, this here Bug Smith lived up 
 in Butler County, Nebrasky, and if he ever done any 
 thing but live, nobody ever caught him at it, for he 
 didn t have no very great reputation for bein indus 
 trious. How he come to be called Bug I don t know. 
 Some people said that they called him that cause about 
 
 169 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 the only thing bugs was good for was for killin pur 
 poses, and some people said that he was born durin 
 harvest and his paw didn t have time to call him naw- 
 thing else, but then Bug never would admit that What 
 they said was so, and even if he had no one would a 
 believed him, cause he was the biggest liar in the State 
 of Nebrasky. 
 
 " About all that this here Bug Smith did was to 
 worry about Bill Thompson, and if you can call worry- 
 in workin , why, Bug used to make watches at night. 
 Bill Thompson was a scrapper, and he was the bully 
 of Butler County, and Bill said that if there was any 
 body that thought he could lick him he would sure be 
 glad to show him that he was wrong. 
 
 u So this is what was botherin Bug Smith, cause 
 Bug was a pretty good man himself and he could lick 
 pretty near anybody he wanted to in Butler County, 
 but he didn t feel so sure about lickin Bill, and he 
 couldn t get up nerve enough to fight him. 
 
 " Well, one day he says somethin about Bill, and 
 Bill comes round to his shack to see him about it. Bill 
 talks and cusses round for a while till Bug sees that 
 he s got to fight, so he gets up his nerve and swarms 
 into him, and for a while there hain t nawthing much 
 around the shack but dust and profanity. 
 
 " After a little while things gets quieter and Bug s 
 surprised to see he s got Bill licked. Both of em s 
 beat up pretty bad and they hain t got enough clothes 
 between em to make a necktie out of, but Bill s licked, 
 and he knows it. 
 
 " * Well, says he, speakin kind of funny, cause he s 
 
 170 
 
TOM BAYNE OF SUNNYSIDE 
 
 lost considerable teeth. Well, says he, I guess you re 
 pretty proud now, hain t you ? 
 
 " Bug don t say nawthing, but he just stands there 
 lookin kind of sad and sour, and he looks so mighty 
 disappointed that he makes Bill mad again. 
 
 " Good God ! says Bill, hain t you satisfied? You 
 don t want to kill me, do you ? 
 
 " * No, says Bug mighty sorrowful, * it hain t that, 
 but I m damned sorry I licked you. 
 
 " What, says Bill, * you re sorry you licked me? 
 
 " * Yes, says Bug, I hain t got nawthing to worry 
 about now, and that s the way I feel about that plowin , 
 Mr. Gordon." 
 
 " Well," said Carey, after he had laughed heartily 
 at the overseer s story, u I m afraid that I m not like 
 you. I m glad to have a rest. If you want something 
 to worry about, Nick, you can start worrying about 
 planting any time that you get ready." 
 
 " No," replied Wilson, as he leaned from his saddle 
 to unlatch the gate of the stable lot, " I hain t investin 
 none of my time lookin for trouble. People who does 
 that generally draw about two hundred per cent, on 
 their investment." 
 
 " Right," answered Carey, " I mean to make the 
 time from now to planting one long holiday, and I m 
 going to start in before sunrise to-morrow morning with 
 a snipe hunt on the marsh. Tom Bayne is going with 
 me, so I guess if I hurry home I will about catch him 
 as he comes in" ; and putting spurs to his horse he loped 
 away to the big house, where he found Bayne just 
 dismounting at the front porch. 
 
 171 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Tom Bayne was a young man, tall and nice looking, 
 with the most sunny disposition imaginable. 
 
 It made no difference what ill-luck or trouble befell 
 him, he was always cheerful, and his power of impart 
 ing this cheerfulness to others made him beloved and 
 admired by all who knew him. He had lived all his life 
 at Sunnyside, his father s plantation, and this planta 
 tion being not very far from Belrive, he had known the 
 Gordons from childhood. 
 
 His first recollections went back to the days when he 
 had played with Carey Gordon, and he still felt a touch 
 of the reverence and awe that he had felt in those days 
 for the older boy. And then there was Marjorie also. 
 With her he had been more at his ease, being the elder, 
 and the days that they had spent together, playing from 
 dawn to dark with the tireless energy of childhood, 
 were the happiest memories of his life. 
 
 In those times he had called her his sweetheart and 
 had boasted that he would marry her when he grew 
 to be a man, and would live with her forever on an 
 enchanted isle, where the only food would be cakes and 
 candy. 
 
 Now that he was a man, Tom Bayne thought of 
 those days, and he envied the boy that he had been, 
 for he still wished to marry Marjorie Gordon, and he 
 could not boast of it to her, nor could he even call her 
 sweetheart, for he was shy and very bashful in the time 
 of his maturity. For months he had sworn that he 
 would speak to her, and for months had his courage 
 forsaken him. He could talk to her for hours, for long, 
 happy hours, of the old days, but once let him try to 
 
 172 
 
TOM BAYNE OF SUNNYSIDE 
 
 tell what was in his heart, and he was dumb and silent 
 and hated himself for the rest of the day. 
 
 Swinging down from his horse upon the broad, front 
 steps, he swore that he would go to her at once and 
 tell her everything. But Carey, suddenly riding up, 
 rudely interrupted his reverie by greeting him boister 
 ously and hurrying him off to his room, where he 
 declared they must instantly go and dress, if they would 
 be in time for dinner. 
 
 Tom went upstairs with him reluctantly, hoping to 
 catch a glimpse of Marjorie, hating to waste what he 
 considered precious time in talking to Carey, with whom 
 he would be all of the next day. When he finally 
 entered the dining room his greeting to those within 
 it was somewhat incoherent, for Marjorie, a vision of 
 beauty in a dress of darkest crimson, had smiled at him 
 so sweetly when he had shaken hands with her that she 
 had left him all but speechless. 
 
 Once seated at the table, however, he regained his 
 composure, and was soon answering the many questions 
 that were asked him about himself and the family at 
 Sunnyside. He had been placed next to Marjorie, and 
 he felt that could he but go on forever sitting next to 
 the glorious creature beside him he would ask for noth 
 ing more and would die content. 
 
 The talk at the table now turned to the hunt on the 
 morrow, and Tom was busy telling of dogs and guns 
 and where to shoot, when suddenly it drifted into a 
 discussion of Miss Lawrence s many charms, upon 
 which subject he became strangely silent. And it was 
 evident that Marjorie, noticing his reticence, approved 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 of it heartily, but she could not resist the temptation 
 of teasing him a little, which was her way of showing 
 her appreciation. 
 
 " Julia will be lucky in having two such nice beaux 
 as Carey and yourself," said she demurely, " and I am 
 especially obliged to you, Tom, for paying so much 
 interest to he r arrival." 
 
 " Which interest," observed Aunt Betty drily, " will 
 cause no withdrawal of the principal should you sud 
 denly cease paying it." 
 
 To this Marjorie answered .nothing, but blushed 
 so furiously and looked so confused and pretty that 
 Tom could do nothing but gaze at her in wide- 
 eyed admiration, utterly regardless of the food before 
 him. 
 
 " I am afraid," continued Aunt Betty, who had been 
 watching him closely, " that Tom is in love, as he has 
 hardly eaten anything. I know that it is not the fault 
 of the dinner, Tom, for I ordered it myself." 
 
 To this Tom made a stammering reply about a late 
 lunch, and became so exceedingly confused and nervous 
 that Aunt Betty took compassion on him and told him 
 that it was eminently proper that he should be in love, 
 and a great many other things which she thought would 
 put him at his ease, with the result that in a few 
 moments he was in a state closely bordering upon 
 insanity. 
 
 It was a relief to him when, the dinner over, he and 
 Carey sat at the table smoking their cigarettes; yet, 
 when a little later Carey arose, Tom followed him with 
 alacrity, for in the parlor was his divinity, and he 
 
TOM BAYNE OF SUNNYSIDE 
 
 % 
 
 already felt that he had been away from her for a very 
 long time. 
 
 The parlor at Belrive, a great high-ceiled room, 
 lighted by huge French windows, had been changed but 
 little since its palmy days before the war. Hanging 
 upon its walls were the same family portraits that had 
 been the admiration of those who had filled the great 
 house in the years gone by. The same chairs stood upon 
 its floors that had held the fairy form of many a belle of 
 bygone days, and the old sofa that hid so snugly in the 
 corner by the open fire could have told many a tale of 
 ancient love and passion. It was a room of faded 
 memories and pleasant thoughts, a room where love 
 and romance filled one s brain and made one dream of 
 olden days, of beaux and belles and of wooing. 
 
 No sooner did Carey enter the door than he was 
 captured at once by Aunt Betty, who led him away to a 
 table where a pack of cards and a cribbage board were 
 set forth. 
 
 " I am afraid that I am very rude," said the little 
 old lady as she began shuffling the cards, " but I really 
 do not think that I could sleep at night if I missed my 
 game of cribbage." And from that time on she was 
 silent, save for occasional remarks which she made 
 about the game. At times these remarks were unduly 
 violent. 
 
 Near the open fire sat Mrs. Gordon, a bit of fancy 
 work in her lap, and seated upon a little stool at her 
 feet was Marjorie, the firelight playing about the ruddy 
 glory of her hair, until it shone like molten gold. 
 
 Tom Bayne drew up a chair to the fireside and seated 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 himself. " f am going to ask you to let me stay here," 
 said he, " for Carey has driven me away, and if you 
 turn me out I am friendless." 
 
 Mrs. Gordon smiled and looked at him affectionately. 
 She was very fond of him, and she thought that in 
 all the world there was no nicer fellow than Tom 
 Bayne. 
 
 " You are very welcome, Tom," said she, " but I am 
 afraid that Marjorie will have to entertain you, for I 
 am going to my room to write some letters. I am sure 
 that you will excuse me." 
 
 Would he excuse her? Would he be sorry at being 
 left alone with Marjorie? Tom Bayne arose instantly, 
 and stood making the most desperate efforts to appear 
 disappointed, as Mrs. Gordon gathered up her sewing, 
 and with a good-night kiss from her daughter departed. 
 
 How Tom envied her that kiss. What would he not 
 have given for it, and yet Mrs. Gordon received it with 
 the utmost composure imaginable. He decided that 
 she lacked appreciation as he resumed his seat again. 
 
 Meanwhile Marjorie had taken possession of her 
 mother s armchair and was resting her feet upon the 
 little stool from which she had just arisen. 
 
 " Do you know, Tom," said she, " it s awful to be 
 so small. Why, if a chair is the least bit high my feet 
 won t touch the floor." 
 
 Tom objected to what she said. He did not think 
 that it was awful to be so small. He liked small people. 
 He wished that he was small himself. 
 
 Marjorie laughed at him. " I do believe, Tom," 
 said she, " that you are trying to pay me a compliment 
 
 176 
 
TOM BAYNE OF SUNNYSIDE 
 
 why, you are getting to be quite a beau. Who is the 
 lucky girl? Won t you tell me?" 
 
 Tom instantly became very savage. He declared 
 that there wasn t any lucky girl, that he was not paying 
 any compliments, but was simply telling her the truth. 
 
 Marjorie laughed at him the more and teased him 
 unmercifully. She asked him if it were not Kate, or 
 Jane, or Ethel, or one of a dozen other girls that they 
 knew, while Tom denounced each one fiercely, declar 
 ing that he would not marry her if she were the only 
 woman on earth. 
 
 " And just think, Tom," she continued, " Julia Law 
 rence will be here soon, and you can fall in love with 
 her. You don t know what a beauty she is, and you 
 ought to hear her play and sing. I am sure that 
 you will lose your heart the first day that you meet 
 her." 
 
 Tom swore that he would under no consideration 
 fall in love with Miss Lawrence. He felt sure that he 
 could never love her. 
 
 " Then, Tom," said Marjorie, " I give you up. I 
 can t seem to find a girl that suits your lordship. What 
 sort of a girl do you want anyway? " 
 
 Tom looked at her as she lay back in the big chair, 
 with the shadows of the firelight dancing across her 
 pretty face, and his heart gave a great throb. Summon 
 ing all his courage he leaned over her and spoke, his 
 voice low and earnest. 
 
 " The sort of a girl that I want," said he, " is an 
 angel, and her name is " 
 
 " Tom," called Carey from the card table, " the 
 
 177 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 game is over, and let s go to bed. We are going to 
 get up very early in the morning, you know." 
 
 Tom arose without a word, and as a vent for his ill- 
 humor fiercely kicked one of the logs in the fire. 
 
 " Good night, Margey," said he sullenly as he turned 
 to go. 
 
 " But you haven t told me the girl s name," whis 
 pered Marjorie, an amused smile upon her face. 
 
 Tom turned to her again, but the eyes of Aunt Betty 
 and of Carey were upon him, and his courage of a 
 moment before had vanished. 
 
 " You had better ask Carey what her name is," said 
 he angrily. " It was his fault that I didn t tell you." 
 
 For a long time after he had gone Marjorie sat 
 before the fire, thinking of What he had said. " Poor 
 Tom," said she to herself, as she finally rose from the 
 big chair. " How stupid he is. Why, I knew who the 
 girl was before he did, and he can t even see that she 
 cares for him." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 A FAIRY AND A GOBLIN 
 
 THE first faint streaks of dawn were beginning 
 to tinge the eastern sky when Carey and his 
 companion drove up to the spot which they 
 had chosen for their hunting. Through the heavy fog 
 of the morning they could see the marsh, a great muddy 
 flat, covered with grass and water, its long even stretch 
 unbroken, save by a dark mass of trees that pushed their 
 way into its level bareness. 
 
 On one side the Grand Woods closed it in, rising 
 against the horizon like some great wall. On the other 
 as far as the eye could see was the brown marsh grass, 
 stiff and straight and silent, stretching, it seemed, to 
 the end of the world. 
 
 " Now, Tom," said Carey, " you take the dogs and 
 hunt on this side of that point of trees. I know that 
 you will find snipe there. I m going to cut straight 
 across the point and shoot, for I ve never been there 
 and I want to see how it is. We ll meet here at three 
 o clock" ; and with a little shiver at the coldness of the 
 morning he started off to the point of woods. 
 
 It was very hard walking, for the marsh was full 
 of water, and as he went along he frequently sank above 
 his knees. Finally he reached the point of woods and 
 
 179 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 the higher land, and after stopping for a while to rest 
 himself, he crossed the narrow strip before him and 
 came out upon the open marsh again. It was very like 
 the one he had just left, save that between it and the 
 point of trees there ran a stream, a small brown stream 
 flowing between low banks of soft black mud. 
 
 Carey stood upon the bank of this stream and 
 frowned in a very angry way. On the other side of it 
 lay the marsh with its many hidden snipe, distant from 
 him but a few yards, yet impossible for him to reach, 
 for the stream was too wide for him to be able to jump 
 across it, and the cold wind that blew in from the sea 
 marsh changed his determination to wade to the other 
 side. 
 
 After vainly trying to think of some way in which 
 to overcome this obstacle, he went back to the strip of 
 trees and started in toward the Grand Woods in a very 
 bad humor. " I will see if this stream doesn t grow 
 smaller in the woods, or if I can t find a fallen tree to 
 cross by," he muttered angrily as he went along. 
 
 And so he went into the silent depths of the Grand 
 Woods, and the farther he went the wider grew the 
 stream, until he finally stood upon the banks of a little 
 river, fringed with the long green leaves of the wild 
 iris and almost hidden from sight by the thickly grow 
 ing trees that clustered about it. Its water now was 
 blue and clear, and in its placid depths Carey could see 
 pictured the vast panorama of the forest, with its sway 
 ing limbs and softly rustling leaves. 
 
 Along the sides of the little river grew the blackberry 
 bushes, with their thorny mass of branches, now dry 
 
 180 
 
A FAIRY AND A GOBLIN 
 
 and brown, waiting for the gentle touch of spring to 
 clothe them with their white and green. Along the 
 little river hung the great muscadine vines, strong and 
 brown and twining like great serpents, swaying softly 
 in the wind, waiting like all else in the woods for the 
 spring, the generous spring, that would give them their 
 harvest of dark, glossy fruit. 
 
 Carey gazed about him in admiration, the quiet 
 beauty of this tiny river driving away his bad humor. 
 " This is like the places that I used to read about in 
 the fairy tales," said he as he flung himself upon the 
 ground. " All that is needed to make it complete is a 
 fairy or a goblin." And as he spoke there came to him 
 the sound of a woman singing, the clear notes rising 
 sweet and true amid the silence of the forest. 
 
 Carey sprang to his feet and gazed curiously down 
 the little river, but just below him it made a sudden 
 bend, and he could see nothing. " Now I wonder who 
 that is? " he asked himself. " Perhaps it is my fairy," 
 and as he stood there looking about him a pirogue shot 
 suddenly around the bend and came swiftly toward him. 
 
 It was an old pirogue, battered and worn, hewn from 
 a single log, and in its stern, paddling with long, even 
 strokes was a girl, her head thrown back as she sang her 
 simple song that fell so sweetly on the woodland air. 
 
 On she came, her slender body swaying with the 
 motion of the paddle, her brown hair blowing about her 
 face in a cloud, her blue eyes gleaming with the joy of 
 the forest, the sharp prow of her pirogue throwing 
 back the water on either side in little waves that danced 
 and sparkled in the sunlight. The blue sky above her, 
 
 181 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 the warm sunlight that caressed her rosy cheek, the 
 fresh salt wind that tossed her silken hair, the little 
 waves of the river that lapped softly against the sides 
 of the pirogue, even the great trees themselves seemed 
 brighter and stronger and more beautiful as she passed 
 along. 
 
 . Carey gazed at her in astonishment, until the girl, 
 catching sight of him, stopped her pirogue and sat for 
 a moment with her paddle poised above the water, as 
 though undecided whether to wait for him to speak or 
 to keep upon her way. For a moment the two were 
 motionless, gazing at each other in silence, and then 
 the girl thrust her paddle into the water again. 
 
 " Wait, wait," called Carey in French as the pirogue 
 glided away. " I wish to cross." 
 
 The girl turned her frail craft and came paddling 
 back to him again. 
 
 "Did you not say that you wished to cross, M sieu? " 
 she asked in English as she grounded her pirogue gently 
 at his feet. 
 
 Her eyes met his squarely, trustingly, but in them he 
 saw a touch of shyness that made them the more per 
 fect. Carey still gazed at her in speechless amaze 
 ment, and found her, now that he saw her closely, 
 more beautiful than she had appeared when upon the 
 water. 
 
 " Did you not say that you wished to cross, M sieuf** 
 asked the girl again. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Carey, coming back to himself. " I 
 do want to cross. Excuse my staring at you. I thought 
 at first that you were a fairy." 
 
 182 
 
A FAIRY AND A GOBLIN 
 
 The girl shook her pretty head. " No, no," said she, 
 " I am no fairy. I am only Aline, M sieu." 
 
 "Aline," smiled Carey, "Aline? That is a very 
 pretty name for a very pretty girl." 
 
 The girl laughed at this, her face lighting up with 
 pleasure. " So you think that I am pretty, M sieu?" 
 she cried. "You really think so? Then I am glad. 
 Jean tells me that I am pretty, but my poor Jean would 
 say so if I were very ugly, for he loves me very much, 
 M sieu." 
 
 Carey looked at her quickly. " What vanity," he 
 thought, but the girl faced him squarely with naught 
 but a childish joy in her blue eyes, and he smiled at 
 her innocence. " And so you like people to think that 
 you are pretty? " he asked. 
 
 The girl nodded and stretched her arm before her. 
 " Oh, yes, M sieu" said she, " I do care for people to 
 think that I am pretty. See the bayou there before you 
 in the woods, is it not pretty? Do you not love to see 
 it? You are happy when you look at it, but if it were 
 ugly, M sieu? Then you would turn away and hate 
 it. And if I were ugly, M sieu, you would turn away 
 and hate me, and I do not wish to be hated. God has 
 made us love that which is pretty, and if you find me so, 
 I am happy." 
 
 And now that the girl had finished speaking, she 
 blushed and hung her pretty head at having said so 
 much, and Carey as he looked at her thought her more 
 beautiful than ever. " Was there ever any one so 
 nai ve? " said he to himself. 
 
 The girl now raised her head and pointed to the 
 
 183 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 pirogue. " I will take you across if you wish, M sieu" 
 she said shyly. 
 
 " I will go in a moment," answered Carey, " but 
 first, if you do not mind, I would like to ask you a few 
 questions." 
 
 " M sieu has but to ask," said the girl. 
 
 "Well, then, what is the name of this bayou?" 
 asked Carey, glad of an excuse for conversation. 
 " And can you tell me where it goes to? " 
 
 " This is Bayou des Arbres," answered the girl, 
 " and it runs into the big lake in the Grand Woods. 
 You will find that it is very narrow in the marsh." 
 
 " So I have found it, and yet it is a little too wide 
 to cross," said Carey laughing. " And now will you 
 tell me where you learned to speak such pretty 
 English?" 
 
 The girl s face clouded for a moment. " My father 
 taught me, M sieu," she answered slowly, and I have 
 never forgotten." 
 
 " And your father s name is " began Carey. 
 
 " Do not ask me, M sieu," cried the girl quickly, her 
 blue eyes full of sorrow. " My father died a long 
 time ago, and I do not know. It is tangled and twisted, 
 like the love vines are in the summer, and it makes me 
 sad when I think of it. Some day it will all come 
 straight, my uncle says so, but now I do not know. 
 My name is Aline, M sieu, that is all. Some call me 
 Aline of the Grand Woods, but again that is all." 
 
 The girl ceased speaking and drew her little hand 
 across her face, for there were tears in her eyes. 
 
 Carey turned to her and spoke softly. " I am sorry, 
 
 184 
 
A FAIRY AND A GOBLIN 
 
 Aline/ said he. " I did not mean to make you sad. 
 Will you forgive me? " 
 
 The girl drew her hand away and showed him a 
 smiling, tear-stained face. "It is all over now, M sieu 
 she answered brightly. " I have nothing to forgive. 
 It is I who should ask you to forgive me. We who live 
 in the woods are not like other people. We are strange 
 creatures, M sieu, and therefore you must not mind our 
 ways." 
 
 "And do you live in these great woods?" asked 
 Carey. 
 
 " Yes, M sieu" replied the girl, " I live here with 
 my Uncle Telesse." 
 
 " Telesse," cried Carey. " Ah, I see it now. He is 
 the old man whom I have sent word to come to my 
 plantation to live and you are the girl, the beautiful 
 girl, that the hunter told me about." 
 
 " And," said the girl, " you are M sieu Gordon, 
 M sieu Carey Gordon, who used to ride a pony many 
 years ago when you were a little boy." 
 
 For a moment the two were silent, thinking of their 
 strange meeting, and then Carey spoke to the girl 
 again. 
 
 "And is your uncle coming to Belrive? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, M sieu," replied the girl. " He will ride to 
 see you to-morrow and will ask you to send a cart so 
 that we may move in time for the planting. He does 
 not wish to leave the woods, but he will go that I may 
 be near the school at Landry. And I will try so hard to 
 learn, M sieu, I wish so much to learn. It will make 
 me so happy." 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 The girl ceased speaking, her pretty face bright with 
 joy. 
 
 " And have you ever been taught at school? " asked 
 Carey. 
 
 The girl shook her head. " No, M sieu," answered 
 she, " but long ago my father used to teach me, and I 
 have tried to teach myself. Wait a moment and I will 
 show you." 
 
 Going to her pirogue she brought forth a battered 
 book from beneath the seat and handed it to him. It 
 was an old primer, its cover worn almost away, its 
 pages dog-eared and torn and black from much turning. 
 
 Carey laid back the worn covers as tenderly as 
 though it were a living thing. " And you have kept 
 this little book all these years, and have tried to teach 
 yourself from it?" he asked softly. 
 
 " Yes, M sieu," replied the girl, " and I have had so 
 much pleasure in trying to learn. I take my book 
 everywhere, for I love it very dearly." 
 
 Carey looked out upon the forest before him and 
 frowned as he thought of the life of this girl. " Tell 
 your uncle," said he, " that I will move him to Belrive 
 whenever he wishes to go. Tell him to come to me 
 to-morrow, and when you come to Belrive, if you cannot 
 buy the books for the school let me know, and I will 
 get them for you." 
 
 " Thank you, M sieu" cried the girl, " you are very 
 kind, but I fear that the books will cost a great deal 
 of money." 
 
 Carey laughed. " Oh, that s all right," said he. " I 
 will get them for you anyhow, and in payment for them 
 
 186 
 
A FAIRY AND A GOBLIN 
 
 I am going to ask you to cross me over, and to tell 
 me if, when I am on the other side, I can get back 
 again." 
 
 " Yes," answered the girl as she seated herself in the 
 pirogue, and took up the paddle. " You will find that 
 the bayou is very narrow deep in the marsh, so narrow 
 that you will be able to jump across it." 
 
 The journey across the little bayou was accomplished 
 in a moment, and when the girl had grounded her 
 pirogue in the soft mud on the other side Carey thanked 
 her and jumped out among the iris plants, crushing their 
 tall, straight leaves into the muddy water. The girl 
 sat in the pirogue and watched him closely as he swung 
 his gun upon his shoulder and started away. 
 
 Suddenly he stopped and came back to the bayou s 
 edge. 
 
 " Do you know," said he, " I have been wondering 
 how you knew that I used to ride a pony. He has 
 been dead for years, poor fellow. I had forgotten him 
 myself." 
 
 " I have met you once before, M sieu," answered the 
 girl, " and you were on the pony. I have not for 
 gotten it." 
 
 "Where did you meet me? When was it?" asked 
 Carey. 
 
 The girl shook her head and smiled. " It was a long 
 time ago, M sieu," said she, " and you will not remem 
 ber. You have forgotten it as you did the pony. Be 
 sides, I see Jean coming for me and I must go to him. 
 He has been fishing and has waited a long time for 
 me to take him to the lake. Adieu, M sieu, and thank 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 you for the promise of the books. I know that I shall 
 be happy at Belrive with such a kind master." 
 
 Carey watched her as the pirogue glided away, and 
 as he gazed after it the freshness and the beauty of 
 the forest seemed to go with her. Suddenly he caught 
 sight of Le Bossu at the bend of the bayou, and an 
 amused smile overspread his features. 
 
 " The goblin, " said he as he walked away. " I had 
 better hurry and leave this enchanted forest before I 
 am called upon to fight a dragon." 
 
 188 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AUNT BETTY DRIVES OUT 
 
 THE sun shone warm and bright about Belrive, 
 and the air was touched with the first faint 
 traces of the approaching spring. In the gar 
 den the flowers and plants put forth their tender shoots 
 of green, which, bursting from the confines of dead and 
 withered wood, raised their tiny heads thankfully to the 
 blue sky above, that seemed to glow with warmer, 
 softer hues in welcome of them. 
 
 Down in the quarters the doors were thrown wide, 
 and the children rolling about in the dusty road raised 
 their voices in glad outcry at the promise of warmth and 
 comfort, joining their shrill chatter to the swelling 
 chorus of the birds, who heralded the fast-approaching 
 spring and sang in the same sweet tones the requiem 
 of the dead and departed winter. 
 
 All along the bayou there was a burst of misty green, 
 and the very water itself seemed to splash and sparkle 
 in pure gladness at the caress of the strong, warm sun 
 light, and to invite one to leave the hot, dusty earth to 
 find rest and comfort in the coolness of its rippling 
 depths. 
 
 At the big house the soft breezes blew joyously 
 through the open windows and filled the great rooms 
 
 189 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 with the strong, sweet odors of the budding fields and 
 forests. 
 
 In the dining room Aunt Betty, having finished her 
 breakfast, carefully folded her napkin, and sat for a 
 moment gazing out of the window before her. 
 
 " I think," said she, u that the winter is over, and I 
 also think that I shall go driving this morning." 
 
 Carey pushed back his chair from the table and 
 arose. " All right, Aunt Betty," said he, " I will order 
 your phaeton, and I will also order Nick to begin prepa 
 rations for planting immediately. I have only needed 
 this to convince me that the cold weather is over." 
 
 Aunt Betty smiled and nodded her head approvingly. 
 " You can begin safely whenever you wish," said she. 
 
 It had long been her custom to go out in her phaeton 
 on what she considered the first spring day of the year, 
 and so successful had she been in choosing that day that 
 she was now considered infallible. In all the country 
 about Belrive the appearance of Aunt Betty and her 
 phaeton was the signal that the winter was over and 
 the comforting assurance that the planter could plant 
 his crop, be it what it might, without fear of cold or 
 frost. 
 
 She never drove in the winter, as she hated the cold, 
 and her annual spring excursion was always a thing of 
 great joy and pride to her, although she always spent 
 a week or two in terror afterwards, fearing that a 
 norther, appearing unexpectedly, would spoil the crops 
 of those who had trusted in her, and ruin forever her 
 reputation as a weather prophet. 
 
 Therefore it was that a half-hour later she descended 
 
 190 
 
AUNT BETTY DRIVES OUT 
 
 the stairs, with the stern dignity of a judge, gazing 
 knowingly through a pair of heavy black eyeglasses, 
 which she put on only for this occasion. She would 
 liked to have smiled, as she was in a very good humor, 
 but the importance of her mission forbade it, and the 
 consequences of a norther coming suddenly to her, she 
 walked out upon the gallery in the most majestic man 
 ner imaginable. 
 
 Mrs. Gordon and Marjorie, who were waiting there 
 for her, received her in silence, as they always did upon 
 this occasion, and Aunt Betty, after having kissed them 
 gravely, after the manner of a person who is going 
 upon a long, dangerous journey, descended the steps 
 and was assisted into the phaeton by Carey. 
 
 Having arranged herself comfortably, she slapped 
 the reins upon the brown pony s back. " I shall be back 
 for lunch," she announced as the phaeton moved off, 
 and the true herald of the spring went upon her way 
 amid a cheerful chorus of good-bys from the gallery. 
 
 And so Aunt Betty drove away and went out on the 
 brown, dusty road toward Landry, bringing with her 
 the promise of the spring to all those who saw her, 
 and many were the tenants who went to examine care 
 fully their store of seed when she had passed. On 
 she went, sitting very straight in her phaeton, slapping 
 the lazy pony vigorously with the reins, until she came 
 to the store of Monsieur Landry, and there she stopped 
 and called for some one to come out to her. 
 
 Monsieur Landry came out himself, his face 
 wreathed in smiles. " Well, well, Miss Betty, we have 
 looked for you for some time," he cried as he came 
 
 191 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 hurrying down the steps of his porch. " And the win 
 ter, it is over now, is it not? We will all commence 
 to plant, I am sure." 
 
 Aunt Betty permitted herself a smile, just the faintest 
 trace of a smile, and surveyed the storekeeper through 
 the black eyeglasses in a very knowing way. " It is my 
 opinion that the winter is over, Monsieur Landry," 
 said she, " but then you know nothing is certain." 
 
 " Except yourself, Miss Betty," interrupted Mon 
 sieur Landry gallantly. 
 
 Again Aunt Betty smiled, this time a good, honest 
 smile that could not be repressed. " Thank you," said 
 she. " I hope that you are right. And how are poli 
 tics, Monsieur Landry? " 
 
 Monsieur Landry looked very wise and shook his 
 head in a most judicial manner before replying. " Poli 
 tics are all mixed up," he slowly answered. " It is 
 hard to find out much about them, but of one thing I 
 am certain, and that is that I shall support Paul Hebert 
 for sheriff." 
 
 As Monsieur Landry finished speaking he looked at 
 Aunt Betty in a way that plainly said, " You know as 
 well as I do that if I support Paul Hebert he will be 
 elected." 
 
 " I wish you and Paul Hebert all the luck in the 
 world," said Aunt Betty, " and I will speak to Carey 
 and ask him to help you. And now will you give me 
 the mail, if it has come in? " 
 
 Monsieur Landry retreated into his store and 
 returned in a moment with a bundle of letters and 
 papers. On top of the bundle was a square, thick let- 
 
 192 
 
AUNT BETTY DRIVES OUT 
 
 ter, and for a moment Aunt Betty gazed at it, an 
 amused smile upon her face. 
 
 " I ll declare," said she, " if she is not getting let 
 ters before she gets here. She will keep you busy, Mon 
 sieur Landry, with her mail." 
 
 " And who is that? " asked the storekeeper. 
 
 " Why, Miss Lawrence, of course," answered Aunt 
 Betty, " a young lady who is coming to visit at Belrive. 
 She will arrive to-day, and Marjorie has gone over to 
 Mouton to meet her." 
 
 " To be sure," said Monsieur Landry, " I had heard 
 that she was coming, and I noticed the letter. I have 
 heard of the name of Lawrence before, but I cannot 
 remember when or where I heard it. We old people 
 are always forgetful, you know." 
 
 " Nonsense," replied Aunt Betty. " You should be 
 thankful that you are alive. I think that every year 
 that we live over sixty is lagniappe. You would not 
 care for people to find fault with the lagniappe that you 
 give them at your store, would you? " 
 
 " You are right, Miss Betty," answered the store 
 keeper, " and I should not complain, but it is the habit 
 of old age to do so." 
 
 " It is the habit of all ages to complain," said Aunt 
 Betty. " My husband was the only man that I have 
 ever known who did not do so." 
 
 Monsieur Landry was silent for a moment, perhaps 
 in respect of the late Mr. Peters, perhaps because he 
 thought that the reason of his not complaining was 
 that he was not allowed to do so. Perhaps because 
 of some other reason, but nevertheless he was silent. 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 "Who is that man on the porch?" suddenly asked 
 Aunt Betty, whose keen black eyes had been roaming 
 among the motley throng of loungers that clustered 
 about the front of Monsieur Landry s store. 
 
 "Which of the men do you mean, Miss Betty?" 
 inquired the storekeeper. 
 
 " The handsome man with the torn coat," said Aunt 
 Betty. "What is his name?" 
 
 Monsieur Landry snorted in disdain. " Oh ! " re 
 plied he, " that is Numa Le Blanc. He is worthless, 
 Miss Betty, absolutely worthless. A regular vaga 
 bond." 
 
 " And yet," said Aunt Betty smiling, " he is some 
 thing of a curiosity. He tells the truth sometimes, 
 when a lie would do him very good service. Do you 
 know of any other vagabond who does that, Monsieur 
 Landry?" 
 
 The storekeeper shook his head. " He is a strange 
 creature," answered he. " He is a wild, bad creature, 
 never doing good, always doing harm. He drinks also, 
 Miss Betty." 
 
 " I know that he does," said Aunt Betty, " for he 
 told me himself that he did," and while she spoke 
 Numa came suddenly down from the store and 
 into the road, his steps pointing toward the coffee 
 house of old Pierre. As he passed the phaeton Aunt 
 Betty leaned a little forward and called to him in 
 French. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Hunter, when are you going to bring 
 me some more birds? " she asked. 
 
 Numa stepped up to the phaeton and took off his 
 
 194 
 
AUNT BETTY DRIVES OUT 
 
 hat " I will bring you birds to-morrow, if you will 
 buy them," said he. " I need money badly." 
 
 " To buy a present for your girl with, I suppose? " 
 inquired Aunt Betty. 
 
 Numa shook his head. " She shall care for me with 
 out any presents," said he. " She shall care for me 
 without anything. She shall care for me because of 
 myself." 
 
 " That is right," said Aunt Betty approvingly. " But 
 like all men, you have a very high opinion of yourself, 
 Mr. Hunter." 
 
 Numa shrugged his shoulders. " Some one must 
 think well of me," said he. " Who could be better for 
 such a thing than myself? " 
 
 " Nobody, I am sure," replied Aunt Betty drily. 
 " Any one else would lack the imagination necessary for 
 such a purpose. And how is your girl? " 
 
 " She is well," answered Numa. " To-day she goes 
 to Belrive to live." 
 
 Aunt Betty gave a little gasp and turned appealingly 
 to Monsieur Landry, who had listened to everything 
 that had been said with the greatest attention. " An 
 other girl coming to Belrive! " cried she. " What do 
 you think of that? If this keeps on, we shall have a 
 veritable lovers paradise. I must be going before I 
 hear that there is still another one coming. Good-by, 
 Mr. Hunter. Your conversation has been both star 
 tling and instructing. May you never think less of 
 yourself. I am sure that you cannot think more. And 
 good-by to you also, Monsieur Landry, and good luck 
 to Paul Hebert. Sometime you must tell me all about 
 
 195 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 him, for I am interested in your candidate. If you will 
 just turn my horse a little I shall be obliged to you. I 
 am going to drive toward Mouton." 
 
 Monsieur Landry took the brown pony by the bit and 
 turned him in the direction required. 
 
 " Good-by, Miss Betty," cried he, as she drove away. 
 " I hope that we shall see you soon again." 
 
 And so Aunt Betty went on through Landry, with 
 its scattered stores and dwellings, and presently she 
 came to the long line of Cherokee hedges that shut in 
 the road to Mouton on either side. Here she laid the 
 reins in her lap and began a careful inspection of the 
 mail, her eyeglasses upon the seat beside her that she 
 might see the better. Finally she came to the end of 
 the hedges and before her lay the open country, with a 
 long, white house standing out from the green fields 
 about it. This house was set deep in its yard, and from 
 its front to the gate that opened upon the road there 
 was a broad path closed in on either side by closely 
 growing rows of China trees. 
 
 Across the front of this house there ran a long porch, 
 and upon this porch, his chair tilted back, his feet rest 
 ing on the railing, sat a man deeply absorbed in a thick, 
 white pamphlet. He was a short, stout man with a 
 very red face, and as he read the pamphlet he glared 
 at it in a most ferocious manner, as though the words 
 that he was reading were being spoken to him. 
 
 " Light, sandy soil," he read aloud angrily. " Who 
 ever heard of such a thing? " 
 
 At this moment happening to glance over the top of 
 the pamphlet, he caught sight of the phaeton in which 
 
 196 
 
AUNT BETTY DRIVES OUT 
 
 Aunt Betty was slowly approaching his place. Instantly 
 his expression changed and he smiled as though very 
 much pleased. " Well, if it isn t Miss Betty herself/ 
 he cried as he shoved back his chair from the railing 
 and sprang to his feet. Hastily snatching up his coat, 
 he ran down the path toward the front gate, putting it 
 on as he went. He reached the gate just as the phaeton 
 was passing, and rushing excitedly into the road, wildly 
 waved the pamphlet about his head. 
 
 " Wait a moment, Miss Betty, please," he cried. 
 
 Aunt Betty pulled in the brown pony and smiled 
 graciously. She had been fully prepared to stop at the 
 house, and would have been very much disappointed if 
 she had not been called upon to do so. 
 
 " And how are you, Mr. Parker? " she asked as the 
 red-faced man came up to her, his face redder than 
 usual from his recent exertions. 
 
 Mr. Parker leaned an arm upon the side of the 
 phaeton, and panted a moment before replying. " I m 
 fine," said he, " but I m not much on running. I m 
 afraid I m getting old." 
 
 " Nonsense," exclaimed Aunt Betty. " Every one 
 that I have met to-day is getting old. It won t be long 
 before I shall think that I am getting old myself." 
 
 Mr. Parker shook his head. " You will never 
 grow old, Miss Betty," said he. " God forbid that 
 you should. And now I suppose that I can plant 
 safely?" 
 
 " As far as I know you can," replied Aunt Betty, 
 " but as you know we may have a norther." 
 
 " No norther would be rude enough to make its 
 
 197 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 appearance after you had driven out, Miss Betty, I am 
 sure," said Mr. Parker gallantly. 
 
 " Thank you, you are very complimentary," smiled 
 Aunt Betty. " You really ought to be complimented 
 upon your ability to make compliments and also upon 
 the particularly fine cane crop that I am told you made 
 last fall." 
 
 " Well," replied Mr. Parker, rubbing his chin 
 thoughtfully, " I did make a fine crop, and again I 
 didn t. You see, I stuck on here for years and couldn t 
 make a thing; in fact, I lost money, so last year I hired 
 a good overseer, and he made a fine crop. To be candid 
 with you, he was the one that made it, and do you know 
 there is a funny thing about it all. During the years 
 when I tried unsuccessfully to make a crop I thought 
 that if I could only succeed I would be the happiest man 
 alive. Last fall, when I did make a good one, I was 
 not half as much pleased as I thought I would be. 
 Why, when I went out in the field and saw all that cane 
 I hardly knew what to do with it. I suppose that I am 
 very peculiar, but that was just the way I felt about it." 
 
 Aunt Betty eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. 
 " My husband once knew an old darky," she said, 
 u named Uncle Roy. He was a very poor old darky 
 and he lived on a little patch of ground near Mouton. 
 Now, all Uncle Roy thought about was money, and it 
 was said that he used to pray to the Lord every night 
 to make him rich. He also used to tell the most remark 
 able stories about what he would do if he had a hundred 
 dollars. 
 
 " All of this happened when they were putting the 
 
 198 
 
AUNT BETTY DRIVES OUT 
 
 railroad from New Orleans through Mouton, and one 
 day a railroad official went to see Uncle Roy and told 
 him that the road would have to go through his place, 
 and that he wanted to buy it. 
 
 " So Uncle Roy saddled his pony and went over to 
 Mouton to see a lawyer, and in the end the lawyer sold 
 the place for two thousand dollars. 
 
 " Now, Uncle Roy, said the lawyer to him, when 
 he had received the check, just take this piece of paper 
 over to the bank and the gentleman there will give you 
 your money. 
 
 " So Uncle Roy went over to the bank and handed in 
 his check. * I d like to have my money in silver, if you 
 please, Boss, he said to the man at the bank. 
 
 " The man told him that he would give him as much 
 silver money as he could, and then he started counting 
 it out through the little gate before him. Uncle Roy 
 watched him with his eyes almost popping out of his 
 head, until finally he could stand it no longer, and then 
 he called to the man to stop. 
 
 " Well, what s the matter? he asked Uncle Roy. 
 4 Didn t you say that you wanted your money in 
 silver?" 
 
 " Yassir, said Uncle Roy, but don t tell me, Boss, 
 that all that money s for me. 
 
 " Why, of course it is, said the man, and you ve 
 got a whole lot more coming to you. So far I ve only 
 counted out two hundred dollars. 
 
 " Uncle Roy looked at him for a long time, to make 
 sure that he was not joking, and then he shoved the 
 money back through the little gate. 
 
 199 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " Here, Boss, said he, you take all this money. 
 I ain t got no use for it and I might lose it. Just give 
 me six bits, and I m gone. And now," concluded 
 Aunt Betty, " how do you feel about your cane? " 
 
 " Just as Uncle Roy felt about his money," said Mr. 
 Parker laughing. " You always hit the nail on the 
 head, Miss Betty." 
 
 "And what about this year s crop, Mr. Parker?" 
 inquired Aunt Betty. 
 
 " Oh, my overseer s attending to all that," replied 
 Mr. Parker. " I am busy with something else. I m 
 planting cantaloupes." 
 
 " Cantaloupes ! " gasped Aunt Betty. 
 
 " Why, yes," replied Mr. Parker placidly. " I think 
 there s money in them. Ship them to the city in carload 
 lots, you know, and all that sort of thing." 
 
 " Cantaloupes! " gasped Aunt Betty again, her voice 
 rising. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Parker. " It s all my own idea. 
 I ve only had one piece of bad luck, and that is after 
 planting all my seed in fine, rich ground, so as to get a 
 good yield, this book says that the seed should have 
 been planted in a light, sandy soil. Light, sandy soil," 
 he repeated, slapping the book disgustedly. "But there 
 is a chance of the book being wrong, and I am going 
 to leave the seed where it is." 
 
 Aunt Betty looked at Mr. Parker for a long time in 
 pitying silence. " You ought to get married, Mr. 
 Parker," said she finally. " You need some one to 
 look after you. You ought to get married and plant 
 
 rice." 
 
 200 
 
AUNT BETTY DRIVES OUT 
 
 Aunt Betty delivered this piece of advice as her 
 ultimatum. 
 
 "Rice is a good thing to plant, isn t it?" inquired 
 Mr. Parker innocently. 
 
 " It is better than cantaloupes," replied Aunt Betty. 
 
 " I am going to think of what you have said," 
 announced Mr. Parker after he had thought for a few 
 minutes. " Your advice is always good, Miss Betty. 
 But what am I going to do about the getting married 
 part of it? Is getting married in any way connected 
 with the planting of rice? " 
 
 " In your case it most assuredly is," replied Aunt 
 Betty. " Just keep your eyes open until you see a girl 
 that you like, and then come to me. If I don t arrange 
 matters for you I shall be very much surprised." 
 
 " By Jove! I ll do it," cried Mr. Parker enthusiasti 
 cally, " and when I find her I m coming to you right 
 away." 
 
 " Of course you are," said Aunt Betty, " and now I 
 must drive home, if I wish to get there in time for 
 lunch." 
 
 Mr. Parker bade her farewell, and the phaeton 
 moved away. 
 
 "Cantaloupes!" gasped Aunt Betty, slapping the 
 brown pony as though in punctuation, " who ever heard 
 of such a thing? " 
 
 " Get married and plant rice," said Mr. Parker 
 thoughtfully, as he walked slowly toward his house. 
 " I ll do it. Miss Betty is a remarkably intelligent 
 woman." 
 
 201 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 A few hours later, far down on the road from Mou- 
 ton, Marjorie was driving home with her visitor, Julia 
 Lawrence, and many and interesting were the subjects 
 upon which they talked on their long journey. 
 
 Miss Lawrence was a very pretty girl with a great 
 quantity of golden hair and a trick of smiling that was 
 charming in the extreme, for when she smiled her face 
 seemed to break into a myriad of dimples that would 
 have made an impression upon the most stony-hearted 
 of men. 
 
 And so these two young girls went on their way to 
 Belrive, and when they arrived at Landry the sun had 
 sunk behind the dark line of the Grand Woods and 
 the twilight was deepening fast. 
 
 " We must hurry if we wish to reach home before 
 dark," said Marjorie as the carriage turned the corner 
 past Monsieur Landry s store. Old Bill, who was driv 
 ing, whipped up the horses, and away they went until 
 they came to the road that led from the highway to 
 Belrive, and there they stopped, for the way was 
 obstructed. 
 
 Just ahead of them a huge cane cart, driven by an 
 old man, had turned into the road, blocking the way 
 with its great breadth. The cart was piled high with 
 furniture and bedding, and on the very top of the pile 
 there was a young girl holding fast to the mattress 
 upon which she was seated, her body swaying gracefully 
 with the jolting of the cart. 
 
 Miss Lawrence, looking out at her, declared that she 
 was quite pretty and that she had a very bright, intelli 
 gent face. 
 
 202 
 
AUNT BETTY DRIVES OUT 
 
 " Yes," said Marjorie, who had looked out also. 
 " She is pretty. She is the niece of the old man who 
 is driving the cart, and she is coming to Belrive to be 
 one of our tenants. Carey had told me that girl was 
 pretty, but she is prettier than I expected her to be. 
 Just think, she can neither read nor write." 
 
 " Poor thing, and she is so pretty," said Miss Law 
 rence softly, as the carriage, having come to a wider 
 part of the road, shot past the cart, and went upon its 
 way toward the twinkling lights of the big house. 
 
 The girl upon the mattress gazed after the carriage 
 until it was blotted out in the darkness of the live oaks. 
 
 " What a beautiful lady that was," said she to the 
 old man. 
 
 The old man turned and looked up at the girl, whose 
 figure was sharply silhouetted against the grayness of 
 the sky. " Yes, she was beautiful, but not so beautiful 
 as you, Aline," answered he jealously. 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Telesse," laughed the girl, "you are 
 joking. She is a fine lady and I I am a Cajun." 
 
 For a while she was silent, looking out toward the 
 west, where the Grand Woods lay a thin, hazy line in 
 the approaching darkness. Suddenly she gave a little 
 sob, and leaning down put her hand upon the old man s 
 shoulder. 
 
 " We shall miss the old cabin very much to-night, 
 Uncle Telesse," said she. " It is very lonesome here 
 without the woods, with all these great, bare fields 
 about us." 
 
 The old man s eyes filled and he nodded his head, 
 for he could not speak. 
 
 203 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 The girl slipped from the mattress, and coming down 
 beside him put her arms about him and laid her cheek 
 against his hard, wrinkled face. 
 
 " Ah, Uncle Telesse," she cried, " you have been so 
 good to me. How can I ever thank you. To think 
 that it was for me that you came to this great, lonesome 
 place. I will work so hard to learn, I will try so hard 
 to make you happy here." 
 
 The old man patted her softly with his great, rough 
 hand, and two big tears rolled down his weatherbeaten 
 cheeks. " It is nothing, it is nothing, Aline," he mut 
 tered brokenly as they jolted along through the dreary 
 stretch of fields. 
 
 Meanwhile at the big house all was hurry and bustle, 
 and the lights gleamed from every window, for Miss 
 Lawrence had come to Belrive, and there were many 
 who wished to give her welcome. In the great dining 
 room amid the soft light of the candles she sat in state, 
 and upon her the eyes of Carey Gordon were turned in 
 silent worship, for she had smiled upon him. 
 
 And thus it was that two young girls so close in blood, 
 so distant in station, came to Belrive in the dusk of the 
 spring twilight; and thus it was that Aline set out upon 
 another journey with the old man, her protector, while 
 far down in the Grand Woods the little cabin stood 
 dark and silent, as dreary and as lonesome as the cry 
 of the night birds that whirled their way in ceaseless 
 flight through the deserted forest. 
 
 204 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 OLD TELESSE MAKES A WISH 
 
 FAR down on the plantation road at Belrive, set 
 close upon the edge of outreaching rice fields, 
 was a low, white cabin, the very last of the long 
 line of quarters; standing distinct and separate and a 
 very long distance from the rest. There it stood in the 
 gray silence of the early morning, showing faint and 
 ghostly through the low trees that grew about it, the 
 tiny porch in front a mere blot upon its hazy whiteness, 
 the girl who stood upon it a mere shadow in the dark 
 ness of the little roof above her. 
 
 For a long time she had stood there, gazing out 
 upon the dim outline of the road, her head bent for 
 ward listening. Listening for some sound that would 
 break the deathly stillness about her, for some welcome 
 noise that would fall upon the ghostly quiet of the mist- 
 covered fields, where the very insects, harsh disturbers 
 of the night, were hushed and silent and made no cry. 
 
 Suddenly far up the road there came a sound, faint 
 and indistinct, but yet a sound, and the girl lifted her 
 head thankfully. " They are coming, Uncle Telesse," 
 she cried. " They are coming." 
 
 The old man stepped out upon the porch and looked 
 up the road. Out of the darkness there came a sound 
 
 205 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 of men s voices singing, the long, wailing notes made 
 soft and mellow by the distance. 
 
 " Yes, they are coming," said he. " They go early 
 to work at Belrive." 
 
 And now out of the darkness came a long, black line 
 of men and mules, and the sound of many hoofs beat 
 ing upon the hard road, while the voices of the men 
 grew stronger and louder as they sang, finishing one 
 verse only to sing another and yet another, as though 
 the song had no end. 
 
 "En er hongry man looked sad, 
 En er hongry man looked sad, 
 En er hongry man said, Lord! Lord! Lord! 
 En er hongry man looked sad. 
 
 "En er hongry man was fed, 
 En er hongry man was fed, 
 En er hongry man said, Lord ! Lord ! Lord ! 
 En er hongry man was fed. 
 
 The old man went down to the little gate, the girl 
 following him, and together they leaned upon it to 
 watch the long line as it wound its way toward the field, 
 the mules plodding along in sleepy indifference, the 
 negroes nodding their heads in time with the song, their 
 black faces showing dim and unnatural in the half-light. 
 
 At the rear of the teams rode Carey Gordon, who, 
 giving a few brief words of direction to his overseer, 
 stopped at the gate. 
 
 " Comment qa va? " said he to Telesse. " And how 
 do you like Belrive? " 
 
 " I like it very much, and the cabin is very large, 
 
 206 
 
OLD TELESSE MAKES A WISH 
 
 M sieu" answered the old man, " but I miss the woods 
 sadly. That will pass away, though. And my team 
 and plow, M sieu, what of them ? There is much grass, 
 and I would like to begin my work to-day." 
 
 " Your team is at the stables," said Carey, " and you 
 can get it now if you wish." 
 
 " Bien merci" replied the old man. " I will go and 
 get it now, and perhaps I can start my work before the 
 sun is very high. Bring me my coat and hat, Aline." 
 
 The girl went into the house and brought them 
 to him, helping him on with them with as much tender 
 care as though he had been a little child. 
 
 " And how do you like Belrive, Aline? " asked Carey 
 when she had finished. 
 
 The old man shook his head and went out upon the 
 road. The girl looked after him, and her eyes were 
 filled with tears, for she felt very strange and lonesome 
 in her new surroundings. 
 
 " And how do you like Belrive, Aline? " asked Carey 
 again. 
 
 The girl gave a little sob and laid her head upon her 
 arm. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter? " asked Carey. " Don t 
 you like the place and this house? I thought that you 
 wanted to come to Belrive?" 
 
 The girl raised her head and tried bravely to smile. 
 " Oh, yes, M sieu, I like Belrive," said she, " and the 
 house is fine, there is so much room. But I am lone 
 some, and I miss the woods. Ah! M sieu, I never 
 thought that I could miss them as I did but a moment 
 ago. It is all so dead and quiet here in the early morn- 
 
 207 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 ing, and I wish so for the trees. When the wind from 
 the sea marsh blows them, before the day had broken, 
 they make the sweetest music in the world. It is then 
 that they seem to talk to me, when all else is quiet and 
 asleep, and there is nothing to frighten them. The 
 trees are very large, M sleu, but like all things in the 
 woods, they are much afraid, and they will not tell 
 their secrets when the sun is shining bright and all about 
 may hear them. Jean has told me so. 
 
 " I did not miss them until this morning, for yester 
 day I was very busy putting the house in order, and I 
 did not have time to think of them, but now! Ah, 
 M sieu, forgive me, for I am very lonely." 
 
 Carey looked at the mournful little figure before him 
 in silence, and for a moment the gray dreariness of the 
 morning seized him also, causing a great flood of pity 
 for this lonely girl to rise up within him. From the 
 fields came the faint sound of the negroes voices : 
 
 "En er hongry man was fed. " 
 
 In some distant pasture a field lark sang joyously, 
 as though in welcome of the coming day. In the east 
 the sky was rosy, streaked with little points of fire. 
 
 "And the school, Aline?" said Carey softly. 
 " What of the school? It is gray and cold and lonely 
 now, and you miss the woods and are sad, but look at 
 the sun rising. In a little while it will be bright and 
 warm, and the birds will sing and you will go to school, 
 and what then? " 
 
 The girl bowed her head. " M sieu, I have been 
 
 208 
 
OLD TELESSE MAKES A WISH 
 
 ungrateful," said she. " It was very sad and lonely, 
 and I forgot the school. Forgive me." 
 
 Carey laughed. " Nonsense," cried he, " there is 
 nothing to forgive. I shall ask my sister to get the 
 books for you when she goes to Landry to-day, and you 
 can get them to-night if you will go to the big house." 
 
 " Thank you, M sieu," said the girl, her face bright 
 with smiles. You are very kind to me, and there is 
 something that I would like to ask of you, it is about 
 about " she paused timidly, blushing with confusion. 
 
 " About what? " asked Carey gently. 
 
 " About the books, M sieu," replied she. " I would 
 like to pay you for them. Not now, for I have no 
 money, but some day. I can work, M sieu, and can 
 make money, and I wish so to pay you for the books. 
 I would be very happy if I could do so." 
 
 " If you really wish to pay me for the books, Aline," 
 said Carey after a moment, " you can do so by making 
 coffee for me every morning, when I go to the field. 
 I should like that much better than your paying me in 
 money." 
 
 The girl smiled at him happily. " Thank you very 
 much, M sieu" said she softly. " You have been 
 kinder to me than I have deserved, and I will try to 
 make my coffee the best in the world, to pay you for 
 your kindness." 
 
 For a long time after he had left her she stood upon 
 the little porch and gazed about her as though to make 
 herself familiar with the place that was now to be her 
 home. The sun rose amid a mass of red and gold and 
 shone upon the dreary fields, transforming them into a 
 
 209 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 fairyland of sparkling dew and filmy cobwebs, touched 
 and sprinkled with tiny drops that gleamed and shone 
 like jewels. The heavy mist raised itself from the damp 
 black earth and hung in smoky clouds about it, for all 
 the world like the aftermath of some great battle with 
 nature. 
 
 From all sides came the call of birds, blending 
 down from the soft, pleading notes of the great brown 
 thrush that had made its home amid the pale greenness 
 of a willow to the shrill chatter of the tiny wren, who 
 had built her nest under the low, hanging roof of the 
 cabin. 
 
 Aline stepped down from the porch into the long, 
 dew-soaked grass of the little garden and sought for a 
 flower. The few rose bushes, rank and ragged as the 
 weeds about them, were bare of even a bud. With a 
 sigh she turned and picked her way carefully through 
 the wet grass toward the cabin. 
 
 Suddenly she gave a little cry of joy, and stooping, 
 picked from its hiding place amid the thick growth of 
 the garden, a pale, white flower, pure and sweet and 
 very delicate. 
 
 " Ah, my little friend, you have not left me, have 
 you? How is it that you are here alone, so far from 
 your friends, like myself? " said the girl as she pressed 
 the Cherokee rose to her lips. 
 
 Going through the cabin she came out into the little 
 orchard behind, where the rows of pear trees stretched 
 away in tall, straight columns of green, and the fig trees 
 twined their white and twisted branches in riotous con 
 fusion. Here in the cool greenness some one had placed 
 
 210 
 
OLD TELESSE MAKES A WISH 
 
 a great oaken bench, and Aline, seating herself upon it, 
 looked down the fragrant aisles of the orchard, her 
 heart filled with a quiet contentment. 
 
 And as she sat thus her thoughts went back to the 
 little cabin in the woods, and farther back to the days 
 when she had first come there to live amid the vast, 
 mysterious silence, amid the peace and quiet and the 
 soft whisperings of the great oaks, her friends. And 
 then her gaze, resting for a moment upon the 
 flower that lay still and white against the dark blue of 
 her cottonade skirt, her thoughts went back further 
 still, and she saw a scene that she seemed to have gazed 
 upon long years ago. A scene in which she had played 
 a part, when but a little child, in which she had strewn 
 a whole apronful of the fragrant white blossoms upon a 
 low green mound, while an old man had looked on 
 tearfully, and the birds had sung as joyously as though 
 there had been no sorrow in the world. Again she 
 raised the flower to her lips and her eyes were filled 
 with a quiet sorrow. Thrusting her hand into the 
 bosom of her dress she drew forth a ring that hung 
 from her neck by a slender golden chain, and gazed at 
 it long and thoughtfully. 
 
 " My poor father," said she softly. " This- is all 
 that I have to remind me of your love." 
 
 And then there came into her thoughts something 
 which she seemed to have heard many years ago. "You 
 must wear this ring with the chain always, and you 
 must never show it to any one, unless you are in a great 
 deal of trouble," said she slowly, as though repeating 
 a well-learned lesson. 
 
 211 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 u Ah, what does it all mean? What does it all 
 mean?" she asked herself again and again. 
 
 A long shadow fell upon the grass before her, and 
 she thrust the ring hurriedly inside her dress, turning 
 to look behind her as she did so. 
 
 " Oh! It is you, Numa, is it? " she cried. " How 
 you scared me." 
 
 Numa nodded. "Where did you get that ring, 
 Aline?" he asked slowly. 
 
 " I cannot tell you where it came from, Numa, so 
 do not ask me," replied the girl quietly, her cheeks 
 flushed from the sudden interruption of her thoughts. 
 
 Numa s face grew dark. " I should think that you 
 could not tell me," said he with a sneer. " I suppose 
 he gave it to you." 
 
 "He! Why, who do you mean?" asked the girl 
 bewildered. 
 
 " You know who I mean," said Numa, his voice low 
 and trembling. " You know well who I mean. Who 
 else but M sieu Gordon gave it to you? " 
 
 Aline broke into a loud peal of girlish laughter. 
 " Oh, Numa, you are so silly," she cried. " Why 
 should M sieu Gordon give me a ring? Me, a poor 
 Cajun girl? Whatever made you think of such a thing 
 as that? Is it a joke, Numa? " 
 
 Numa glared at her, his eyes blazing. " A joke? " 
 shouted he, his anger overcoming him. " Yes, it is a 
 joke, and a grim one, too. Why, indeed, should he 
 give you a ring. But I will make him sorry for this. 
 He will wish that he is dead before I am through with 
 him. I will " 
 
 212 
 
OLD TELESSE MAKES A WISH 
 
 " Stop ! " cried the girl, her laughter gone in a 
 moment, her face white, her little hands clenched. 
 " What is the matter with you, Numa? I have never 
 seen you act in this way before. I do not know what 
 you mean, but if you seek to hurt M sieu Gordon I 
 shall hate you. He has been very kind to me, and you 
 should like him for it. You are bad and wicked and 
 I will not talk to you to-day. Go away and do not 
 come again until you can speak more kindly." 
 
 The girl turned away from him and walked slowly 
 toward the cabin, tears of surprise and anger in her 
 eyes. 
 
 Numa ran after her. " Forgive me, Aline," he 
 cried. " I was only joking and am sorry that you took 
 
 me in earnest." 
 
 Aline shook her head. " No, no, Numa," said she, 
 " you were not joking. It is wicked to lie. Go away 
 now, or I shall hate you." 
 
 "But the ring?" pleaded Numa. "He did not 
 give it to you, did he? " 
 
 " No," answered the girl. " He did not. You are 
 very foolish to ask me such a question." 
 
 " Perhaps I am not as foolish as you think," said 
 Numa as he strode sullenly away. 
 
 When the old man returned with his team he found 
 Aline working silently in the kitchen, and there were 
 tears in her eyes. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter? " he asked. " Are you 
 still so lonesome for the woods?" 
 
 Briefly the girl told him of Numa s visit, of what 
 he had said and of how strangely he had acted, and 
 
 213 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 while she spoke the old man s face grew exceedingly 
 grave. 
 
 " Why did he talk and act so queerly, Uncle 
 Telesse? " she asked when she had finished. 
 
 The old man said never a word, but gazed for a long 
 time through the open door before him, thinking. Far 
 away in the fields he could see the men at work and a 
 figure upon a horse which he knew was Carey Gordon. 
 Back of the horseman and far away in the distance were 
 the Grand Woods, a long, dark streak along the hori 
 zon, half-hidden by the hazy mist that hung above the 
 field. 
 
 Aline came over to the old man and put her arms 
 about him. 
 
 " You have forgotten what I asked you, Uncle 
 Telesse," said she. 
 
 The old man shook his head. " No, no," he 
 answered. " I heard what you said. I was wishing." 
 
 "Wishing?" said the girl with a little smile. 
 " Wishing for what, Uncle Telesse? " 
 
 The old man looked at her and found her very 
 beautiful. " I was wishing that we had never left 
 the Grand Woods, Aline," said he sadly. 
 
 214 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 A RAIN 
 
 OF course," said Aunt Betty from her post at 
 the parlor window, " if you wish to get wring 
 ing wet, you had better go. But if you will 
 take my advice you will stay where you are and not run 
 the danger of catching your death of cold by riding 
 about in such weather." 
 
 Turning she faced the disconsolate group before her, 
 as though inviting some one to contradict the truth of 
 her statement. 
 
 " But, Aunt Betty," ventured Carey, " it isn t rain 
 ing yet, and it may hold off until night. Besides, the 
 horses have been saddled and we are all ready to go." 
 
 " And Julia wants to go so much," interposed Mar- 
 jorie pathetically. " She has been here a whole week, 
 and she hasn t even been in the field once. She has 
 never seen rice planted, either. Tom says it isn t going 
 to rain, anyhow." 
 
 " No, I didn t," cried Tom Bayne hastily. " I said 
 that I didn t think it would rain. Didn t I, Miss 
 Julia?" 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Lawrence uncertainly, " I believe 
 you did say so." 
 
 215 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 During this burst of explanations Aunt Betty had 
 preserved a stony calmness, waiting quietly until every 
 one had spoken, when she left the window and made 
 her way toward the door. Having reached it she 
 paused for a moment and delivered her parting shot. 
 " After you have all died of pneumonia you will wish 
 that you had taken my advice," said she prophetically. 
 
 The little group in the parlor listened to her in guilty 
 silence as she climbed the stairway, a smile of satisfac 
 tion broadening upon every face as they heard the door 
 of her room slam heavily above them. 
 
 Tom Bayne scratched his head reflectively. " I don t 
 just see how we can wish anything when we are dead," 
 said he. 
 
 " Perhaps she meant in some future existence," sug 
 gested Carey. 
 
 " I hardly think so," said Miss Lawrence, " when 
 you consider that in our future existence a rainstorm 
 would very probably be rather an inducement for going 
 out than otherwise." 
 
 " And she didn t say a word about uncle s going out 
 in the rain," added Marjorie, looking very much 
 surprised. 
 
 " Perhaps she didn t let him," replied Tom Bayne in 
 the tone of one stating a fact. 
 
 " Well," said Carey, moving toward the door, " it 
 is long past my time for going to the field, and I must 
 be off. If you are coming with me, come now or be 
 forever left behind." 
 
 And so it was that in a few moments the four were 
 loping swiftly down the plantation road, bound for the 
 
 216 
 
A RAIN 
 
 field and the planting, while the dark clouds spread 
 themselves swiftly overhead as though to punish them 
 for their rashness. Far away in the north, lying close 
 to the earth, was a great black cloud, its threatening 
 gloom broken by tiny flashes of lightning, while all 
 about it the sky was gray and dark and tinged with 
 inky blackness. 
 
 Way off in the distance there was the dull rum 
 ble of the approaching thunder, and the wind blew 
 cool and strong, touched with the freshness of the com 
 ing rain. 
 
 " It is worse outside than I thought," said Carey to 
 Miss Lawrence, who rode beside him. " Do you want 
 to turn back? " 
 
 Miss Lawrence laughed. " Of course not," 
 answered she. " It will not hurt me if it does rain. I 
 don t seem able to make you understand that I was 
 raised on a plantation myself, and am just as used to 
 such things as you are." 
 
 "And the pneumonia?" said Carey jokingly. 
 " Have you thought of that? " 
 
 " No," laughed Miss Lawrence, giving her pony a 
 touch with the whip. " I shall have ample time to 
 think of that in my future existence." 
 
 " Good Lord! " said Tom, to whom this last remark 
 had been borne on the wind. " Those people are still 
 talking about their future existence. I don t like it. 
 It gives me the creeps. I suppose that Aunt Betty 
 will be disappointed if we don t all catch pneumonia 
 and die." 
 
 " Well, I think that she will have the satisfaction of 
 
 217 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 seeing us wet through," said Marjorie, " but I won t 
 mind it a bit. It will be such fun. Just like old times, 
 Tom." 
 
 u Ah! the old times," began Tom. "How I 
 wish " 
 
 Marjorie, leaning from her saddle, touched his arm. 
 " That is where Aline, Carey s pretty coffee girl, lives," 
 said she as they flashed past a low, white cabin by the 
 roadside. 
 
 " Oh, does she? " replied Tom, grown sulky at this 
 interruption. " I suppose that she is as ugly and as 
 uninteresting as Carey thinks her beautiful and 
 clever." 
 
 " You should see her first, and then judge her," said 
 Marjorie rebukingly as they scrambled up the shallow 
 ditch that separated the road from the field. 
 
 And now, under the guidance of Carey, they made 
 their way over the puzzling maze of levees, and pres 
 ently they came to the series of cuts where the planting 
 was in progress. All about them, as they had ridden 
 down the plantation road, the fields had lain brown and 
 flat and silent, with never a sound, with never a move 
 ment to mar the quiet of their level barrenness; seem 
 ing to sleep in peaceful expectation until the tiny seeds, 
 so closely sheltered in their earthy bosoms, would 
 glorify them with life and color. 
 
 But here before them all was different, all was life 
 and sound and ceaseless movement, ending only when 
 the kindly night would softly draw her veil of darkness 
 above the torn, trampled earth and gently soothe it with 
 the warm, caressing breezes of the twilight. 
 
 218 
 
A RAIN 
 
 Here the teams went round and round inside the walls 
 of the levees that closed them in, ever moving in an 
 endless circle, from cut to cut, from acre to acre. On 
 and on they went, the great disk harrows in the lead, 
 their round, shining blades cutting and chopping the 
 earth into small fragments, slicing and tearing the 
 great grass-covered clods, until the dust from them 
 rose into the air like smoke, to be whipped away by 
 the wind. 
 
 And behind them were the drag harrows, great, 
 heavy frames of iron and steel, armed with a multitude 
 of long, sharpened spikes which, seizing upon the 
 smaller clods of earth that had escaped destruction by 
 the disks, dragged them torn and broken into the soft, 
 powdery seed bed. Last of all came the huge drill 
 with its many tiny wheels and disks and spouts press 
 ing its gift of golden grain into the warm, grateful 
 bosom of the earth, drawing over it a strong, rich cover, 
 through which in time the tiny shoots would force their 
 way to the welcome sunlight. 
 
 And so these great machines of steel and wood and 
 iron, these inanimate helpers of nature, made their 
 way in ever-decreasing circles around the cuts, each 
 pulled by its four mules, each driven by its dusky driver, 
 each taking its part in the work that was presently to 
 clothe the barren fields with the greenness and fresh 
 ness of the newborn crop. 
 
 All about the teams, hovering in the air above them, 
 pecking in the ground below them, hopping upon the 
 levees around them, were the birds; the tiny sparrows, 
 the large black birds, the great chalks, ragged and 
 
 219 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 rusty as though worn by wind and weather, all fighting 
 and chattering and digging for the tiny grains of rice, 
 forgetting in their excitement to shrink from their 
 common enemy, Man. And all about upon the ground, 
 running swiftly from one clod to another, dashing 
 terror-stricken between the hoofs of the mules, burrow 
 ing deep within the levees, were the tiny field mice, 
 fleeing panic-stricken from the huge iron monsters 
 which, having destroyed their homes, now sought with 
 an unquenchable ferocity to take their very lives. 
 
 For a while the little group looked at the busy scene 
 before them, while Carey explained to Miss Lawrence 
 the many details of the planting. 
 
 " And now," said he, " if you will come over this 
 way, I will show you how the rice is sown broad 
 
 cast." 
 
 So the four, turning their horses, came presently to 
 a cut, where, as in the one that they had just left, the 
 teams made their way in circles, but here the great drill 
 was missing, and in its place was a little two-wheeled 
 cart drawn by a small and very ragged mule. Seated 
 in the back of this cart, a large tin bucket of seed held 
 tightly between his knees, was Nicholas Wilson, and 
 ever and anon, as the cart rolled slowly behind the 
 harrows, he dug his hands into the bucket and scat 
 tered the seed in a glistening shower far and wide. 
 
 As the little party headed by Carey made their way 
 into the cut where he was planting, Nicholas Wilson 
 stopped the cart and pulled off his hat. 
 
 " Howdy?" said he. "I jest guess you all hain t 
 much skeered of rain, are you? " 
 
 220 
 
A RAIN 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Wilson, is it going to rain?" asked 
 Marjorie. 
 
 " It sure is," replied Wilson. " Jest look at the 
 sky if you don t think so. Besides, the ground hain t 
 been full of cobwebs for the last two days for 
 nawthing." 
 
 " This is Miss Lawrence, from New Orleans," ex 
 plained Carey. 
 
 " Glad to meet you," said Wilson. " I used to know 
 a man named Lawrence in Colorado. Buck Lawrence 
 they used to call him. He got all shot up rustlin 
 cattle." 
 
 " I don t think that I have any relatives in Colo 
 rado," said Miss Lawrence smiling. 
 
 " Sure you hain t," replied Wilson hastily. " And 
 even if you did I don t guess they d have to rustle cattle 
 for a livin . I jest happened to think of Buck, that was 
 all. He was a regular well, he was a pretty tough 
 proposition." 
 
 * We have been showing Miss Lawrence how to 
 plant rice," said Marjorie, laughing at the overseer s 
 apology, to his utter confusion. 
 
 " Well," answered Wilson, u I guess you ve seen it 
 all, except some rice that I m having soaked to plant in 
 the coulee. I ll have to drag it into the mud with a 
 harrow, you know," he added in explanation to Miss 
 Lawrence. 
 
 " And here s your rain, Margey," said Tom Bayne 
 as he slid from his horse and began to tug at the raw 
 hide things which fastened his slicker to the back of his 
 saddle. 
 
 221 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 While the four young people had been talking to 
 Wilson the sky had grown darker and darker, and when 
 at Tom Bayne s exclamation they now looked about 
 them they saw the storm approaching in all its fury. 
 
 In the north the sky was inky black, and in that 
 direction, coming swiftly toward them, tossing the 
 branches of the distant live oaks wildly, heralded by an 
 icy blast of wind, they could see the rain. 
 
 On it came, stretching across the field before them 
 in a thick white wall, beating down the weeds and grass 
 on the roadside, boring great holes in the soft earth of 
 the seed beds, running in broken, swiftly flowing streams 
 from the tops of the levees, leaving the cobwebs, which 
 had told of its coming, a mass of broken, twisted, spray- 
 lashed threads behind it. 
 
 On it came with a dull, even, roaring sound, driving 
 the negroes from the field, to ride swiftly in little 
 shelter-seeking groups far up the road; scaring the birds 
 from their feast of pilfered seed, to whirl away in 
 startled terror toward the wind-beaten woods ; hurrying 
 the tiny field mice into the twisting tunnels of the levees, 
 filling the air with the mist of the shattered, broken 
 raindrops. 
 
 Hastily wrapping the two girls in their saddle- 
 slickers, Carey and Tom Bayne hurried them across the 
 field toward the road, while Nicholas Wilson, follow 
 ing close behind them, raised his voice above the wind, 
 crying: "Line out for the old man s cabin, and I ll 
 keep on to the stables and see that the teams get in 
 all right." 
 
 And so they rode helter-skelter up the road toward 
 
 222 
 
A RAIN 
 
 the low, white cabin, with a great pounding of hoofs 
 and fluttering of garments, while the rain following 
 close behind them roared with a dull, sullen fury as 
 though angry at not being able to give them the drench 
 ing they so richly deserved. 
 
 223 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 MEANWHILE, in the little cabin toward 
 which the horses were making their way, 
 Aline had sat all afternoon spinning, her 
 wheel placed near the open window, through which she 
 looked, whenever her work permitted her, at the gather 
 ing darkness outside. Sprawling at her feet lay Jean 
 Le Bossu, his white face ever uplifted toward her as 
 he watched her at her task. 
 
 Swiftly went the rough, oaken wheel, urged by her 
 tiny foot, and swiftly grew the long, yellow thread 
 which she spun from the fluffy mass of nankeen cotton 
 held loosely in her hand. Nimbly her fingers guided 
 the saffron rolls into the swiftly turning thread that 
 spun and jumped and twisted in its short journey to 
 the reel. Lying by the side of Jean were the little 
 spike-covered paddles with which she had carded the 
 cotton, while a great corncob reel of heavy yellow 
 thread showed that her work that day had not gone for 
 nothing. 
 
 And so she sat in the dull, yellow light of the clouded 
 day, the low, mellow hum of her wheel sounding as a 
 soft accompaniment to the rumbling of the distant 
 thunder. 
 
 224 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 " Ah, Jean," said she, " you do not know how nice 
 it is to be able to spin. I shall thank Madame Joe all 
 my life for having taught me to do so." 
 
 Le Bossu gazed at her for a moment in silent admira 
 tion. " It is fine," he answered. " And one of these 
 days, when you have nothing to do, will you make a 
 little piece of cloth for me?" 
 
 Aline pointed to the huge homemade loom that filled 
 a corner of the room. " The first cloth that I weave 
 will be for my Jean," said she. 
 
 Le Bossu pressed the hand that she held out to him. 
 " And I shall wear the cloth until it is worn to rags," 
 he whispered softly. 
 
 " Tell me of the woods, Jean," said the girl. " I 
 miss them so, and none but you can tell me of them." 
 
 Le Bossu drew his knees up under his chin and 
 clasped his long arms about them. " The trees are all 
 covered with little green buds," said he. " The violets 
 bloom in the dead heart of the great oak by the coulee , 
 and the wood ducks dive there alone in the early morn 
 ing. The snipe fly slow in the sea marsh and the waters 
 of the bayou are blue with the flowers of the wild iris. 
 The fish lie deep in the lake and the prairies are white 
 with the pistaches sauvages. 
 
 " The leaves are sweet and fresh on the gum trees, 
 and the vines of the dewberry bloom in the new grass 
 of the forest. The spring has come, Aline. All of the 
 leaves are out, save those on the pecan trees, and even 
 they will come ere many days, for I have seen the buds 
 far up in their tops, where they hide from those who 
 wish to see them." 
 
 225 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " How I wish that I could be in the woods to see 
 the spring, Jean," said the girl wistfully, pausing in her 
 work to look fondly at the little man beside her. 
 
 Le Bossu stroked his knee softly. " And how much 
 do I wish that you were there? " asked he. " The sun 
 is not as bright, the air is not as sweet, the sky is not as 
 blue, since you are gone. The birds sing sadly in the 
 sunshine; the trees cry and moan through the long 
 nights, and when the great winds blow in from the sea 
 marsh the whole forest seems to cry Aline, Aline." 
 
 The little man sank his head upon his folded arms 
 that she might not see his look of utter desolation. 
 
 " And do you go often to the woods from Landry? " 
 asked Aline softly. 
 
 Le Bossu nodded. " I cannot stay away from them," 
 said he. u It is lonely there since you are gone, but it 
 is better than Landry. For two nights I lay in the 
 town, listening for the whispering of the trees, and 
 sleep would not come to me. On the third night I went 
 to the woods, and there I slept for many hours. I have 
 slept there ever since. Numa says that I am a fool, 
 but I cannot live in Landry." 
 
 "And Numa?" asked Aline. "Does he go often 
 to the woods? " 
 
 Le Bossu shook his head. " He has not been there 
 since we left," said he. And then he added sulkily, as 
 though saying something that he did not wish to say, 
 " Numa goes about Landry in fine, new clothes, and all 
 the girls are mad about him." 
 
 To this Aline answered never a word, but went on 
 with her spinning. 
 
 226 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 Le Bossu stared at her amazed, his heart cold with 
 fear. He saw again the look upon the crafty Numa s 
 face, the look that had been there when he had told him 
 what to say. He heard again the low, cunning laugh, 
 the short, triumphant question, " Will she be jealous, 
 Jean? Will she be jealous, eh? " 
 
 " Numa goes much with the daughter of Old Victor. 
 She is a pretty girl," ventured Le Bossu, eyeing the girl 
 furtively. 
 
 Aline stopped her spinning and leaned forward. 
 " There is one who wishes that he would marry her," 
 said she. 
 
 " And that one is? " asked Jean breathlessly. 
 
 " Aline of the Grand Woods," replied the girl, look 
 ing at the little man steadily. 
 
 Le Bossu sighed happily. " God is very good," 
 said he. 
 
 For a while the two were silent, the girl spinning out 
 the long cotton thread before her, Le Bossu rocking to 
 and fro at her feet, while the thunder grew louder and 
 nearer, and the cool, fresh wind blew in from the open 
 window. 
 
 " And now tell me of yourself, Aline," said the little 
 man. " Tell me of the school and of what you have 
 learned there." 
 
 " I am learning much," replied the girl brightly. 
 " It is all so new, and I love it so. When my spinning 
 is done I take my books that M sieu Gordon has given 
 me, and I work until it is late in the night. I call it 
 work, but it is not work, Jean. To me it is the greatest 
 of all pleasures." 
 
 227 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 "And the school? " asked Le Bossu. 
 
 " It is very nice there," answered the girl, " and the 
 teacher is very good and kind to me. She says that I 
 learn quickly, that in a few weeks I could go to the 
 convent at Mouton, where they would teach me many 
 things that she cannot teach me here. Ah, to go to the 
 convent, Jean, to the convent at Mouton ! " She paused, 
 her eyes sparkling at the mere thought of such good 
 fortune. 
 
 " At the foot of the great oak on Bayou des Arbres 
 I have cured some skins," began Lc Bossu. 
 
 The girl shook her head sadly, and leaning forward 
 patted the little man s shoulder. " It would not be 
 enough, dear Jean," said she. " Such a thing is some 
 thing to dream of. That is all." 
 
 "If I caught many fish, if I killed many deer?" 
 asked Le Bossu eagerly. 
 
 Again the girl shook her head. " No, no, Jean," 
 said she. " It would take a great deal of money. 
 More than we will ever have." 
 
 Rising, she went to the window and looked out, wip 
 ing away the tears of gratitude as she did so, that the 
 little man might not see them. 
 
 " The rain is almost here," said she. 
 
 u The swallows flew low this morning," replied Le 
 Bossu from his place on the floor. " They are like all 
 the other wild things of the forest. They never lie." 
 
 Going across the room the girl took down a book 
 from the shelf above the open fire, and went back to 
 her seat by the window. " If you would like me to, 
 Jean, I will read to you," she said timidly. 
 
 228 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 The hunchback moved his twisted body close beside 
 the chair, and looked up into her face. " I would 
 rather hear you read than listen to the sweetest music 
 ever played," said he. 
 
 Aline laughed. " Would you have me become vain, 
 Jean? " she asked. 
 
 Le Bossu shook his head. " Is the flower vain when 
 it lifts its head to the sunlight? Is the bird vain when 
 it sings its song in the forest? " he asked. 
 
 " You are a queer fellow, Jean," replied the girl as 
 she opened the book, u but I love you all the more 
 because of it." 
 
 Bending her pretty head she slowly read out the 
 words of the simple lesson, while the little man looked 
 up at her in rapt silence, his heart filled with pride, with 
 admiration and devotion. And as they sat thus, the 
 first heavy drops of rain began to fall, pounding loudly 
 upon the shingle roof overhead. 
 
 Suddenly they were startled by the sound of voices 
 calling loudly from the road, and the girl, putting down 
 her book, hurried to the door. 
 
 " It is M sieu Gordon! " she cried to Le Bossu as 
 she threw it open. 
 
 And now there burst into the room, with much 
 laughter and with many little screams of excitement, 
 Marjorie and Miss Lawrence, both of them being so 
 completely enveloped in the folds of the great slickers 
 which w r ere wrapped about them that it would have 
 been very difficult to tell them apart. Quickly throw 
 ing off the huge waterproof coat with which she was 
 encumbered, Marjorie ran to the back door of the 
 
 229 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 cabin, and there she watched with much amusement 
 the frantic efforts of Carey and Tom Bayne who, with 
 the assistance of Le Bossu, were trying to tie the four 
 struggling ponies beneath the tiny shed in the orchard. 
 Miss Lawrence hurried to the door also, and Aline 
 following timidly behind her, they stood there watching 
 until the last horse had been tied, and the three men 
 came running toward them through the rain, which was 
 now falling in a steady white sheet. 
 
 " My, but I m wet," gasped Carey as he stood pant 
 ing within the shelter of the cabin. 
 
 Tom Bayne, who had been ruefully patting his drip 
 ping garments, turned to Miss Lawrence. " What 
 wouldn t Aunt Betty give to see me now? " he inquired 
 whimsically. 
 
 " I think," replied she with a smile, " that Aunt 
 Betty would be so satisfied with your appearance that 
 she would forgive us all for having gone out." 
 
 This remark was greeted with a burst of laughter, 
 and Carey, suddenly catching sight of Aline, who had 
 withdrawn shyly into a corner of the room, went over 
 to her. 
 
 " I hope that you will excuse this invasion of your 
 home," said he. " I have been out in the field with 
 some friends, the rain caught us, and c est tout," he 
 finished, waving his hand about him. 
 
 " You and your friends are very welcome, M*sieu" 
 answered the girl blushing. 
 
 " Oh, Aline! " cried Marjorie, who had caught sight 
 of the spinning wheel. "Is that yours? Can you 
 spin?" 
 
 230 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 " Yes, Miss Marjorie," replied the girl. " Would 
 you care to see me do it? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," answered Marjorie. " It would be such 
 fun to watch you." 
 
 Obediently Aline took her place at the wheel and 
 spun out the long, yellow thread, while the others, 
 crowded about her, watched her with breathless 
 interest. 
 
 " Isn t it wonderful! " said Marjorie. 
 
 " I don t see how she keeps from breaking it," 
 exclaimed Tom Bayne. 
 
 " It is a perfect picture," cried Miss Lawrence. 
 
 Carey said never a word. His eyes were upon Miss 
 Lawrence, and he thought her the most beautiful crea 
 ture in the world. He felt that could he but call this 
 lovely girl his own his happiness would be complete. 
 
 Again and again he asked himself could he aspire to 
 such joy as this. Again and again he told himself that 
 such happiness could never be his. 
 
 And so he gazed at Miss Lawrence in silent admira 
 tion, and his heart was filled now with happiness, now 
 with pain; now with hope, now with despair; now with 
 joy, now with sadness; and all because, for the first 
 time in his life, Carey Gordon was in love. 
 
 " Carey tells me that you make the very best coffee 
 in the world," said Marjorie. 
 
 " M sieu is very kind to say so," replied the girl. 
 
 At the mention of his name Carey came suddenly 
 back from the paradise of his dreams, and the eyes of 
 the party being now turned upon him, he addressed 
 Aline in the greatest confusion, his face a fiery red. 
 
 231 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " It is not kind of me at all to say so," he exclaimed. 
 " The coffee is the best in the world, and if I had some 
 here I could show you." 
 
 "If you would care for it, M sieu, I could make you 
 some now, while you are waiting for the rain to cease," 
 said the girl, stopping her spinning. " It will take but 
 a few moments, and Jean can help me." 
 
 Rising, she went out to the little kitchen at the back 
 of the cabin, while Le Bossu left his place in the corner 
 from which he had silently watched the visitors, and 
 followed closely after her. 
 
 " She is indeed a very pretty and a very nice girl," 
 said Miss Lawrence as the door closed behind Le 
 Bossu. " And isn t that a funny little man who fol 
 lows her about so quietly? " 
 
 " That," replied Carey, " is Jean Le Bossu. This 
 girl Aline is the one thing in the world he cares for. 
 He is a curious little man, simple as a child, and yet 
 he knows and can tell you more about the woods and 
 what is in them than any one in all this country." 
 
 " And I suppose that this pretty girl has a great 
 many beaux who come to see her here and crowd this 
 little cabin," said Miss Lawrence, looking about the 
 neatly kept room with a smile. 
 
 " No," answered Carey. " Strange as it may seem, 
 she has not. She leaves this cabin very seldom, and 
 there are few that know her. In the woods she saw 
 nobody but Le Bossu and a hunter who they say is to 
 marry her. All this was told me by her uncle, for she 
 has been here only a week, you know." 
 
 " I ll declare," said Tom, pressing his face against 
 
 232 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 the glass of the window. " Here s some one coming up 
 the road in all this rain." 
 
 " And I ll declare," said Carey, " if here isn t Aline 
 already with the coffee." 
 
 As he spoke the girl cam? into the room carrying a 
 small tin waiter in her hand. Oh the waiter stood four 
 little white cups in a circle, and in the center of the 
 circle the coffeepot, hot and steaming, filled the room 
 with its sharp, aromatic odor. Behind Aline came Le 
 Bossu, carefully carrying the white china sugar bowl, 
 into which he had stuck the four tin spoons in a glitter 
 ing ring. 
 
 The girl came to Carey, but he smiled and shook 
 his head. " Miss Lawrence first," said he. " She is 
 my guest." 
 
 And so Aline went on to Miss Lawrence, and taking 
 one of the little cups from oft the waiter she held it 
 out to her. 
 
 Miss Lawrence reached forth her hand to take it. 
 
 Suddenly the girl gave a cry, and dropped the cup, 
 which broke into pieces, splashing the floor with its 
 little pool of coffee. 
 
 Carey sprang to his feet. " Why, Aline, what is 
 it? "he cried. 
 
 The girl stood with her hand pressed tightly to her 
 side, her face flushed, her breath coming quick and 
 short. " It is nothing, M sieu," she gasped. " It is 
 nothing. It is it is Numa coming up the road," 
 cried she, looking suddenly out of the window. 
 
 Carey took his seat again. " And does it always 
 affect you that way when Numa comes? " he asked. 
 
 233 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 The girl, who was upon her knees picking up the 
 broken china, shook her head. " No, no, M sieu" said 
 she. " It must be that I am not well to-day. If Jean 
 will but bring me another cup I will pass the coffee 
 before it grows too cold." 
 
 Le Bossu set down his sugar bowl and crept out to 
 the kitchen, his white face wrinkled with bewilderment. 
 " She said it was Numa, but it was not," mumbled the 
 little man shaking his head. " She fooled them all, 
 but she cannot fool Jean." 
 
 And so the four visitors sat in the cabin and drank 
 their coffee, declaring that never in their lives had they 
 tasted better. And so Aline stood and watched them, 
 her eyes ever upon Miss Lawrence, while Le Bossu 
 sat silent in his corner, his gaze never wavering from 
 the girl before him. 
 
 Suddenly there was a noise outside, the door was 
 flung hastily open, and those in the room, turning 
 quickly to see the intruder, beheld a man standing in the 
 rain. 
 
 H*e was a tall man, clad from head to foot in worn, 
 yellow oilskins, and he stood for a moment at the door 
 way gazing into the room as though to make sure of 
 those who were within before entering. Apparently 
 satisfied with his inspection he stepped over the thresh 
 old where, quickly removing his oilskins, he presently 
 emerged in all the poor vulgarity of cheap and flashy 
 clothing. 
 
 While he had stood in the rain outside, his brown, 
 handsome face enclosed in the cap of oilskin, his tall, 
 graceful figure outlined against the wet, gleaming coat 
 
 234 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 about him, he had presented a picture of wild and reck 
 less manhood very good to look upon. But as he stood 
 now within the room, clad in all the squalid ugliness of 
 his shoddy garments, a horrid look upon his simpering 
 face, half-smile, half-sneer; from the top of his greased 
 and oily head to the tip of his pointed yellow shoes, 
 from the dull stone in his gaudy necktie to the tar 
 nished ring upon his finger, he presented a picture of 
 mean, cheap vulgarity never to be forgotten. 
 
 Carey was the first to break the silence which fol 
 lowed his entrance. " Why, if it isn t the hunter," he 
 cried, laughing at the ludicrous appearance of the man 
 before him. u Isn t he fine, though. What have you 
 killed lately, Mr. Hunter, to have given you such beau 
 tiful garments? " 
 
 Numa glared at the speaker angrily. " I have not 
 killed anything yet," said he in a menacing tone. 
 
 The girl came hastily forward. " My uncle is not 
 here, Numa. He is in Landry," said she. 
 
 Numa laughed contemptuously. " Do you suppose 
 that I have put on these clothes to see your uncle, 
 Aline?" he asked. " Do you suppose that I rode in 
 all that rain from Landry just to see him? " 
 
 To this the girl made no direct reply, but looked 
 about her uneasily. 
 
 " It is strange that you have not seen him to-day," 
 she ventured. 
 
 Numa laughed. " I have been all day at Old Vic 
 tor s," said he meaningly. " Jeanne is a fine girl." 
 
 " I say he does, Tom, he looks just like a gypsy," 
 came audibly from the window in the voice of Marjorie. 
 
 235 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Numa turned about quickly. " I am no gypsy. I 
 am Spanish," said he. 
 
 Miss Lawrence was immediately interested. " But 
 you can tell fortunes, can t you? " she asked. 
 
 Numa shook his head. Miss Lawrence held out her 
 hand. " Please," said she. " It s such fun." 
 
 Numa looked at the outstretched hand scornfully. 
 " I do not " he began and stopped suddenly, with a 
 little gasp of astonishment. 
 
 Miss Lawrence withdrew her hand instantly. 
 
 " I do not mind telling fortunes sometimes," con 
 tinued Numa smoothly, " but when I have told one, I 
 can tell no more that day. I will tell your fortune, 
 Mademoiselle, if you wish me to, but I will have to tell 
 it in French." 
 
 Miss Lawrence held out her hand again. " That is 
 right," said she. " I knew all the time that you could 
 do it. I also understand French perfectly, which makes 
 everything exactly right." 
 
 Numa took the extended hand, and turning it palm 
 downwards, gazed at it for a moment. 
 
 " Why, that isn t the way to tell fortunes," cried 
 Miss Lawrence. " Are you trying to read the back of 
 my hand? " 
 
 Numa turned the hand palm upward, and examined 
 it closely, tracing the lines with his long, brown fore 
 finger. 
 
 " There are different ways of telling a fortune," said 
 he. " Yours is a good one." And then in a singsong 
 voice he began to tell the fortune, speaking the words 
 mechanically, with many pauses, as though reciting 
 
 236 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 some lesson which he had learned long ago and had 
 almost forgotten. 
 
 " You will marry young and die old. You will 
 travel much and see more. Your riches will only be 
 exceeded by your happiness. Your desires will be grati 
 fied only when they will be of benefit to you. Your 
 beauty will fade only with your life and " He paused 
 for a moment and looked at Miss Lawrence signifi 
 cantly. " Should you live for a thousand years you will 
 never puzzle man as you have puzzled him to-day." 
 
 He finished, released the hand and smiled. 
 
 " But the last thing that you said, all that about 
 4 puzzling man/ What do you mean by it?" ques 
 tioned Miss Lawrence. 
 
 Numa shrugged his shoulders. " It is the fortune, 
 Mademoiselle," said he. " I cannot explain it." 
 
 " And I owe you " began Miss Lawrence. 
 
 " Nothing," replied Numa. u I have been well paid 
 for telling your fortune." 
 
 " You are a strange man," said Miss Lawrence, 
 " and a stranger fortune teller. You are the first one 
 that I have ever heard of that didn t ask for money." 
 
 Numa bowed low. " Yours is the first fortune that 
 I have ever told, Mademoiselle," said he. " The next 
 time I shall ask enough for both fortunes." 
 
 " Hello," cried Tom Bayne from the door. " It 
 has stopped raining." 
 
 " Then we must go," said Marjorie rising. " We 
 have barely time to dress for dinner. I am very much 
 obliged to you, Aline, for the coffee and the shelter." 
 
 " And I am also," said Miss Lawrence, pausing in 
 
 237 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 the doorway. " Some day, if you will let me, I am 
 coming back to see you, and perhaps I may learn what 
 your fortune teller means by his talk of my puzzling 
 hand." 
 
 The little party went up the muddy road very slowly, 
 splashing their way through the many puddles that had 
 formed in the low places. 
 
 For a while Miss Lawrence rode along in silence, 
 and then suddenly stopping her horse she held out her 
 hand to Carey, who rode beside her. 
 
 " Do you see anything curious about my hand? " she 
 asked. 
 
 Carey took it, his heart beating high. He felt that 
 he would be contented to hold this hand forever. He 
 thought that he had never seen so beautiful a hand 
 before. 
 
 " I can see nothing peculiar," said he, " except that 
 it is the most " 
 
 Miss Lawrence shook her head. " No, no," she 
 cried. " I do not mean that. Do you remember how 
 the girl cried out, and dropped the cup when I reached 
 for it? Do you remember how the hunter refused to 
 tell my fortune? How he consented when he had seen 
 my hand? What he said about my puzzling man? He 
 was the man that I puzzled, and my hand was 
 what puzzled him. What made the girl cry out, 
 and why?" 
 
 Carey looked perplexed. " What you say is right," 
 answered he. " It was your hand. And the ring that 
 you wear. Perhaps " 
 
 Miss Lawrence took it off and handed it to him. 
 
 238 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 x 
 
 " It is a family ring," said she. " I cannot see how 
 it could possibly interest them." 
 
 Carey examined the ring closely. It was a chased 
 band of gold, set with a reddish-brown stone. The 
 stone was mottled with white, and upon it was cut a 
 crest. 
 
 He handed the ring to Miss Lawrence. " It cannot 
 be this," said he. " It is very strange." 
 
 " There is another ring, the exact counterpart of this 
 one," said Miss Lawrence, u and it belonged to my 
 uncle who is dead. He married beneath him and 
 my grandfather disowned him. I have often heard my 
 father speak of it. When my uncle died he left a child, 
 a girl, and in his will my father has left this girl the 
 property that should have been her father s. The girl 
 has never been heard of. We have tried in every way 
 to find her, but with no success, and I am afraid that 
 she too is dead. It could not be that this girl Aline? " 
 She paused excitedly. 
 
 Carey shook his head. " It could not be," answered 
 he. " She has lived all her life with the old man in 
 the Grand Woods." 
 
 Again they moved on in silence, while far up the 
 road went Marjorie and Tom Bayne unconscious of 
 their absence. 
 
 Suddenly they came to a little rise in the land, and 
 Carey stopping his horse pointed before him. " Isn t it 
 beautiful? " he asked. 
 
 In the west the dark clouds had broken and the sun 
 was setting in a flood of fire that tinged the darkened 
 heavens with a golden shadow. Before them lay the 
 
 239 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 rain-soaked fields, their tiny pools glowing in the fire 
 of the sunset. The air was fresh and sweet, redolent 
 with the odor of the rich, wet earth. 
 
 On every plant and tiny blade of grass the raindrops 
 shone and sparkled. The land from its recent bath lay 
 fresh and sweet and clean in the quiet of the evening. 
 
 Miss Lawrence turned to Carey and pointed at the 
 scene before her. "Aren t you proud?" she asked. 
 You are monarch of all you survey." 
 
 For a moment he looked at her and in his eyes there 
 was a great longing. 
 
 " I only wish that I were," said he. 
 
 240 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 NUMA MAKING ONE CONQUEST FAILS TO MAKE 
 ANOTHER 
 
 IT was Sunday at Landry, and on the broad, dusty 
 street the stores stood closed and silent. The 
 houses were deserted also, for the last bell had 
 rung from the square, wooden tower of the church, 
 and the people of the town, with those of the surround 
 ing country, now knelt within the sacred building at 
 mass. 
 
 From one end of the little town to the other the 
 buildings were deserted save one the drug store of 
 Doctor Lemaire. It was a long, barn-like structure with 
 a deep porch in front, and on this porch there now sat, 
 comfortably established in the very chair of the old 
 doctor himself, the one inharmonious figure in the quiet 
 of the Sabbath morning Jean Marie Lacour, the clerk 
 of the drug store. 
 
 He was a young man, short of stature and ungrace 
 ful of figure, with a brown, freckled face, saved only 
 from being commonplace by its great weakness. He 
 was dressed in the newest and flashiest of suits and the 
 brightest of patent-leather shoes, while upon his short 
 and closely curling hair he wore a small gray hat, orna 
 mented with a very blue ribbon. 
 
 241 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Lying back in the skin-covered chair, his feet ele 
 vated to the narrow railing of the porch, the clerk con 
 templated his brightly shining shoes with a smile of 
 gratified vanity, and then looking beyond them to the 
 great yellow church at the end of the street he shook 
 his head with an expression of violent indignation. 
 Jean Marie Lacour was angry. 
 
 For many months he had saved his paltry wages that 
 he might emerge upon some happy Sunday in the gor 
 geous raiment which now clothed him. For many 
 months he had dreamed of entering the church in the 
 dazzling splendor of his new garments, of the looks of 
 admiration from the women, of the looks of envy from 
 the men. 
 
 Above all he had dreamed of the admiring glances 
 of one in all that great congregation, of one who to 
 him meant everything, of one whose dark and regal 
 beauty had set his heart aflame, of Jeanne, the daughter 
 of Old Victor. 
 
 And now the long-hoped-for Sunday had arrived; 
 he had dressed himself carefully, with many a lingering 
 glance in his broken glass; he had been halfway down 
 the street on his journey to the house of the fair Jeanne 
 when Doctor Lemaire, coming out upon the porch of 
 his store, had called to him. He had come back sul 
 lenly enough, and the old doctor, smiling compassion 
 ately, had said: " I am sorry, Lacour, but you cannot 
 go to church this morning. There are some people 
 from the prairie who will ride in for medicine, and you 
 must give it to them." 
 
 So therefore it was that Jean Marie Lacour was 
 
 242 
 
NUMA MAKES ONE CONQUEST 
 
 angry, and therefore it was that his indignation became 
 greater every time he gazed at the church before him, 
 in which at that moment knelt his beautiful Jeanne. 
 
 Suddenly there came to him the muffled sound of the 
 organ, telling that the mass was over and that in a 
 moment the deserted street would be thronged with a 
 bustling crowd of home-going people. Rising from 
 his comfortable seat the clerk stretched himself lazily, 
 and after carefully arranging the folds of his flaming 
 cravat, he seated himself in one of the straight hide- 
 bottomed chairs that were scattered about him, for the 
 throne of the old doctor was sacred. 
 
 And now the broad street was crowded with the 
 hurrying throng of worshipers, while the dust from 
 many vehicles rose in clouds, shutting out the scene from 
 the watchful eyes of the clerk, who, sneezing and beat 
 ing at the air about him, became angrier than ever. 
 
 " And I shall see Jeanne pass by in a moment," said 
 he savagely, " and I will not be able to take her to 
 her home, because of those cursed people from the 
 prairie." 
 
 Jean Marie Lacour was indeed in a bad humor. 
 
 Rising to his feet with a cry he gazed eagerly 
 through the billowy clouds of dust. Far down the 
 street he could see moving slowly through the crowd 
 upon the sidewalk a man and a woman. The man was 
 tall and well-made and carried himself with a swagger. 
 The woman was tall also, with the proud, majestic 
 bearing of a queen. Her eyes were black and her 
 mouth, though full and red, had about it the hard, 
 straight lines of cruelty. 
 
 243 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 The clerk gazed at the pair in astonishment until 
 they came opposite the store, when he ran down the 
 steps and accosted them. 
 
 " I am sorry that I could not take you to mass this 
 morning, Jeanne, he cried. " I had important busi 
 ness and could not leave the store." 
 
 The woman smiled. " It is just as well," replied 
 she. " I had promised to go with Numa to-day." 
 
 Jean Marie Lacour opened his eyes very wide. 
 Numa gazed at him with a sneering smile. 
 
 "And this evening?" asked the clerk. "You will 
 walk with me then? " 
 
 Jeanne tossed her head. " I shall drive this evening 
 with Numa," said she as she moved away. 
 
 The clerk gazed after them with a dazed expression, 
 passing his hand before his eyes as though he expected 
 to awaken from a very unpleasant dream. Could it 
 be possible, he asked himself, that he, Jean Marie 
 Lacour, the clerk of the drug store at Landry, the one 
 who had been to school in the city for a whole year, 
 was to be cast aside for a vagabond and a drunkard 
 such as Numa Le Blanc? It was incredible. 
 
 He thought of how magnanimous he had felt when 
 he had given his love to the fickle Jeanne. He thought 
 of the great honor he had imagined she felt at the 
 bestowal of his affections upon such a poor ignorant 
 girl. And now she had jilted him with never a look 
 at the beautiful clothes that he had bought to please 
 her. Above all he was doubly exasperated by the 
 knowledge that never in his life before had he loved the 
 heartless Jeanne as he loved her now, at the moment 
 
 244 
 
NUMA MAKES ONE CONQUEST 
 
 of her perfidy. Jean Marie Lacour was in a state of 
 furious amazement. 
 
 He did not see the stream of people that passed him, 
 he did not speak to those that greeted him as they went 
 by, he was conscious of nothing until some one clapped 
 him upon the back with a heavy hand. Turning he 
 confronted the old doctor and Father Bertrand, who 
 were surveying him critically. 
 
 " Have you gone to sleep standing up, Lacour? " 
 began Doctor Lemaire, when catching sight of the 
 clerk s face he cried, " Why, what is the matter? Are 
 you sick? " 
 
 " No," replied he in a sulky voice. " There is noth 
 ing the matter with me. Why do you ask? " 
 
 But the old doctor knew that there was something 
 the matter, and after surveying the gaudy appearance 
 of the clerk for a moment he looked about him for the 
 cause of his discomfort. Suddenly he saw far up the 
 street a man and a woman walking. The woman 
 was very tall and straight, and there was no mistaking 
 her. 
 
 Doctor Lemaire broke into a loud laugh, and point 
 ing first at the angry clerk and then at the distant cou 
 ple, exclaimed, " Look, mon Pere, and see true jeal 
 ousy in all its wickedness. Observe what it has done 
 to poor Lacour. You should make a wonderful sermon 
 out of what you have seen to-day." 
 
 Father Bertrand shook his head at the clerk. " You 
 should not become angry, Lacour," said he. " Cannot 
 Jeanne walk with other people besides yourself? " 
 
 Jean Marie Lacour smiled with assumed indifference. 
 
 245 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " She may walk with whom she pleases," said he. " I 
 am done with her. Never again will I trust a woman. 
 Should she ask me upon her knees to forgive her I 
 would tell her no." 
 
 " You need not worry about that, Lacour," inter 
 rupted the old doctor. " She will not do so." 
 
 " And when I meet Numa," continued the clerk, his 
 voice rising, " I will " 
 
 But at this moment the arrival of Monsieur Landry 
 accompanied by Mr. Parker caused him to cease speak 
 ing and retire hurriedly into the store, leaving the fate 
 of the treacherous Numa forever undecided. 
 
 " Why, what s the matter with that boy?" asked 
 Mr. Parker, gazing wonderingly at the retreating 
 clerk. "What s he shouting about?" 
 
 Dr. Lemaire shrugged his shoulders. u He is young, 
 in love, and a fool," said he. " But come up and 
 sit down. It has been a long time since I have seen 
 you." 
 
 Mr. Parker, who had been greeted warmly by the 
 priest, ascended the steps and was soon seated with the 
 rest of the party upon the long, roomy porch of 
 the drug store. He was very much liked by the people 
 at Landry, and especially by the old doctor, but he was 
 always spoken of as the " Stranger," and he knew that 
 the title would cling to him forever. 
 
 "And how are the cantaloupes coming on?" ques 
 tioned Father Bertrand. 
 
 " Fine," replied Mr. Parker. " All up and doing 
 well." 
 
 " Monsieur Parker has something more important 
 
 246 
 
NUMA MAKES ONE CONQUEST 
 
 than cantaloupes to tell you of," said Monsieur Landry 
 mysteriously. 
 
 "Indeed?" cried the priest and Dr. Lemaire 
 together. 
 
 Monsieur Landry nodded his head. Mr. Parker 
 smiled rather sheepishly. " Yes," stammered he, u I m 
 I m thinking of getting married." 
 
 " To whom?" asked the priest and Dr. Lemaire 
 excitedly. 
 
 " That s just what I don t know," replied Mr. 
 Parker. 
 
 The two questioners gazed at him open-mouthed in 
 their astonishment. 
 
 " I see," said the old doctor finally, in a hurt tone. 
 " It is a joke. I am very stupid." 
 
 " No, it isn t a joke," cried Mr. Parker indignantly. 
 " Getting married is far too serious a thing to joke 
 about at least that s the way it looks to me." 
 
 " Then, may I ask," inquired Dr. Lemaire, " how it 
 is that you are going to get married when you do not 
 know whom you are going to get married to? " 
 
 " Why, you see, it s this way," replied Mr. Parker. 
 " I m beginning to get awfully lonesome at my place, 
 and it won t be long before I ll begin to get old. I 
 want some one to take care of me, and I don t much 
 care who it is, if she s good-looking and hasn t a bad 
 temper. I can love any woman who meets those require 
 ments, and as soon as I meet one that does and she s 
 satisfactory to a friend of mine, I m going to marry 
 her. That is, if she ll have me, of course." 
 
 Dr. Lemaire nodded, and his face, which had been 
 
 247 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 clouded by a frown, was now smiling. " You have 
 a very peculiar way of getting a wife," said he, " but 
 I should think that it will do just as well as any other. 
 Marriage, as you have said, is no joke. People are 
 finding that out every minute of the day. I found it 
 out before I had been married a year, but I am happy 
 to say that, unlike a great many other people, I did 
 not wish that I had found it out before I had ever mar 
 ried." And having paid this tribute to his dead wife, 
 the old doctor laid back in his chair and eyed Mr. 
 Parker keenly. 
 
 " And may I ask," inquired Father Bertrand, 
 " where you are going to look for this beautiful, good- 
 tempered girl that you wish to marry? " 
 
 Mr. Parker waved his arm about him. " Here in 
 Landry, in the country, everywhere," replied he. 
 
 " And he wishes us to help him find her," announced 
 Monsieur Landry. 
 
 The priest and Dr. Lemaire looked at Mr. Parker 
 inquiringly. 
 
 Mr. Parker nodded his head. " Yes," said he. 
 " That is just what I want you to do, if you will be so 
 kind. You both know most of the girls about 
 here, and I am sure that you could easily find the one 
 I want." 
 
 " And supposing we were to find a girl for you, and 
 after you had married her you found that we had 
 made a mistake. What would you do then?" asked 
 Dr. Lemaire. 
 
 Mr. Parker s face fell and he scratched his head 
 thoughtfully for a moment. 
 
 248 
 
NUMA MAKES ONE CONQUEST 
 
 " I ll run the risk," said he decisively, " and you can 
 rest assured that I won t blame you, whatever happens. 
 You see," he continued, " I have been thinking of this 
 matter for some time, and I came over to church to-day 
 to sort of look around, you know." 
 
 " And did you see any one that interested you?" 
 asked Father Bertrand. 
 
 " I saw one girl who was very pretty," replied Mr. 
 Parker, " but Mr. Landry told me that her temper " 
 He hesitated for a word. 
 
 " He is speaking of Old Victor s Jeanne," explained 
 Monsieur Landry. 
 
 Father Bertrand and Dr. Lemaire both said, " Ah! " 
 significantly. 
 
 " Of course, she would not do," finished Monsieur 
 Landry. 
 
 " Hardly," said the old doctor drily. 
 
 " She is a good girl, but I am afraid that she has a 
 very violent temper," added Father Bertrand, and as 
 he spoke he rose from his chair and started down the 
 steps. 
 
 " I wish to speak to that old man and his niece," 
 said he in explanation of his departure. 
 
 He had hardly taken his seat upon his return when 
 Mr. Parker questioned him excitedly. 
 
 " I say, who is that girl? " he asked. 
 That," answered the priest, " is Aline Telesse. I 
 have just been speaking to her about making her first 
 
 communion." 
 
 " She is certainly a beauty," cried Mr. Parker 
 enthusiastically. 
 
 249 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " She is very pretty," assented Father Bertrand. 
 
 " And her temper? " inquired Mr. Parker. 
 
 " She has no temper," replied the priest. " She is 
 sweet and gentle always." 
 
 " You have found your girl," said Monsieur Landry, 
 beaming. 
 
 " And now you have got to win her," added the old 
 doctor laughing. 
 
 Mr. Parker was silent for a moment, as he gazed at 
 the retreating figure of the girl. " Where does she 
 live? " he asked, turning to Father Bertrand. 
 
 " On Belrive plantation," replied the priest. 
 
 Mr. Parker arose from his chair, his face wreathed in 
 smiles, and held out his hand to Father Bertrand. " I 
 cannot begin to thank you," said he. " If you had 
 looked all over the world, you could not have found a 
 girl more suitable. So she lives on Belrive plantation, 
 does she? You remember my saying that the girl must 
 be satisfactory to a certain friend of mine, eh? Well, 
 that friend is Miss Betty Peters, and as this girl lives 
 at Belrive none can know her better than she does. 
 So everything is perfect, and I am going to get on my 
 horse right now and ride over to see Miss Betty. A 
 man can t be too quick about a thing of this sort. Some 
 other fellow is liable to get ahead of him and cut him 
 
 out." 
 
 " You are right," declared the old doctor as he shook 
 his hand. " You cannot set about a thing of this sort 
 
 too soon." 
 
 " I wish you all success," cried Father Bertrand. 
 " And nothing but failure for the other fellow," 
 
 250 
 
NUMA MAKES ONE CONQUEST 
 
 added Monsieur Landry as Mr. Parker started down 
 the steps. 
 
 " Of course," said Mr. Parker from the sidewalk, 
 " all of what I have said is between ourselves? " 
 
 " Of course," assented the three men upon the porch, 
 as Mr. Parker strode hurriedly down the street in quest 
 of his horse. 
 
 Meanwhile, inside the drug store, Jean Marie 
 Lacour, having divested himself of his many-colored 
 garments, was seated upon a high stool back of the 
 prescription counter, cursing his lucky rival, while 
 the subject of his maledictions, walking slowly down the 
 broad, shady street, laughed and joked in the best of 
 good humors. 
 
 " That boy Lacour," said he to Jeanne, " is very 
 angry because I am out walking with you." 
 
 Jeanne tossed her head. " Let him be angry," she 
 replied. " I am sure that I shall be none the worse 
 for it." 
 
 " Lacour is a smart boy. He is almost a doctor. He 
 has lived in the city," began Numa insinuatingly. 
 
 " And what if he has? " replied Jeanne. " There is 
 one with whom I would rather walk than Jean Marie, 
 even though he has not been to the city." She looked 
 at Numa meaningly. 
 
 Numa smiled and laid his hand upon her shoulder. 
 " And there is one," said he, " who would rather walk 
 with you than with any one else in the world. There 
 is one who thinks you the most beautiful woman in all 
 this country. There is one who has dreamed of you 
 many days." 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Jeanne blushed and drew away from him. " We are 
 on the street, Numa," she whispered. " All can see us." 
 
 Numa cast his eyes down. " Forgive me," answered 
 he. " When I am with you I forget everything." 
 
 And so he went on, whispering words of love and 
 devotion into the eager ear of the stately Jeanne, while 
 she looked up into his handsome face and thought that 
 never did woman have so perfect a lover as he. 
 
 Presently they came to the house of Old Victor, and 
 Numa, pressing the girl s hand, threw open the broken 
 front gate with a flourish. 
 
 " Farewell for a little while," he cried. " The hours 
 will seem like days until I am back again." 
 
 Jeanne looked at him shyly for a moment, and then 
 blowing him a kiss with her fingertips she turned and 
 ran swiftly down the brick walk to the house. 
 
 Numa gazed after her, an ugly, sinister smile upon 
 his face. " What a fool you are that you cannot tell 
 love from mockery," said he to himself. " You are a 
 proud girl, Jeanne, and there are many who will be glad 
 to see you humbled." 
 
 Turning away he walked down the street until he 
 came to the outskirts of the little town. Here in a 
 barren, grass-grown lot, strewn with broken glass and 
 rusty cans, there stood a small and dilapidated cabin. 
 
 It was a very scarecrow of a cabin, with its one 
 broken window, its sagging chimney and its rotten roof 
 of shingles, through whose ragged cracks and breaks 
 the rain and sunshine made their way into the single 
 room beneath. 
 
 Kicking open the door Numa entered this room and 
 
 252 
 
NUMA MAKES ONE CONQUEST 
 
 flung himself upon the ragged, dirty bed inside. Save 
 for the bed and a broken chair, the room had no 
 furniture. Above the fireplace ran a narrow, smoke- 
 blackened shelf upon which straggled a long row of 
 empty bottles, the silent reminders of many a drunken 
 orgy. 
 
 For a while Numa lay across the bed, his eyes closed, 
 and then, hearing a noise outside, he suddenly sat up 
 right. The door opened very quietly and a white face 
 thrust itself inside the room. 
 
 Numa -threw himself across the bed again with a 
 grunt of satisfaction. 
 
 "So you have come at last, Jean?" said he. "It 
 has taken you a long time to get here." 
 
 The little man came into the room and seated him 
 self upon the broken chair. " I walked home with 
 Aline from church," replied he. " It is a long ways." 
 
 " And I walked home with Jeanne," said Numa with 
 a chuckle. " She is the greatest fool. Ttold her that 
 I loved her, and she believed me. Why, she even loves 
 me herself in this short time. I am a terrible fellow 
 with the women, Jean." He laughed uproariously. 
 
 " You had best be careful, Numa," cautioned the 
 little man gravely. 
 
 Numa rose up and sat upon the edge of the bed, 
 eyeing the hunchback with a look, half of shame, half 
 of amusement. "What do you mean?" he asked. 
 
 " Jeanne has a bad temper," answered Le Bossu. 
 " When she is mad she is crazy. She will try to kill 
 you, Numa, if you deceive her." 
 
 Numa laughed contemptuously. " I am willing to 
 
 253 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 take my chances of that," said he. " When I told you, 
 before we came to Landry, that I would pretend to love 
 some girl to make Aline jealous, I had then made up 
 my mind who that girl would be. One day when I 
 came here to sell my birds a girl laughed at me because 
 of my torn clothes. She laughed at me and mocked 
 me because I was poor, because I was ragged. The girl 
 was Old Victor s Jeanne. When I came to Landry in 
 all my fine clothes she did not remember me, she did 
 not know who I was, but I remembered her and I picked 
 her out for the girl that I am going to make a fool of. 
 For every laugh, for every sneer that she cast at me 
 when I was ragged, tired and dirty, I am going to 
 make her pay double. She is a proud girl, Jean, but 
 I am going to humble her. She has had many lovers, 
 and she has treated them all badly. It is her turn now, 
 and a hard turn I am going to make it." He ceased 
 speaking and began to roll himself a cigarette. 
 
 " You wish to speak to me about something this 
 morning, I suppose," said Le Bossu, breaking the 
 silence that followed Numa s denunciation of the proud 
 Jeanne. 
 
 Numa puffed his cigarette thoughtfully for a 
 moment. " Yes," he answered. " Do you remember 
 the day that I told a fortune for the young lady at 
 old Telesse s cabin?" 
 
 Le Bossu nodded. " Yes," replied he. " You sur 
 prised me very much. I did not know that you could 
 tell fortunes, Numa." 
 
 Numa laughed. " I cannot tell them," said he. 
 
 " But you told one that day," persisted Le Bossu. 
 
 254 
 
NUMA MAKES ONE CONQUEST 
 
 " It sounded fine, just as though you had gotten it out 
 of a book." 
 
 " That is just where I did get it," replied Numa. 
 " I learned it long ago, when I was a boy, and I have 
 never forgotten it. I read many of the books that my 
 father had with him in the woods. Do you know why 
 I told that fortune? " 
 
 Le Bossu shook his head. 
 
 " I wished," said Numa, " to see a ring that the 
 young lady had upon her finger." 
 
 " I see," cried Le Bossu. " And that was the reason 
 why. you first looked at the back of her hand." 
 
 " It was," replied Numa. " Her ring was the same 
 as the one that Aline wears about her neck upon a chain. 
 Have you ever seen this ring of Aline s? " 
 
 Le Bossu nodded. 
 
 " I do not know the meaning of these two rings being 
 alike," continued Numa, " but of one thing I am cer 
 tain. It can mean no good for me. Therefore, Jean, 
 I must get Aline s ring away from her. How I am 
 going to do it I cannot say. What I wished to see you 
 about this morning was to ask you to help me get it. 
 Do all that you can to get it, Jean, for I must have it." 
 
 The little man was silent for a while, stroking his 
 chin softly with his long, white hand. 
 
 " How did you come to see this ring of Aline s? " 
 he asked finally. " She shows it to no one." 
 
 " I crept up behind her when she was looking at it 
 alone in the orchard," replied Numa. " She was angry 
 because I saw it. And how did you come to see it, 
 Jean?" 
 
 255 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " She showed it to me herself," replied the little 
 man. 
 
 " And did she tell you who gave it to her? " asked 
 Numa eagerly. 
 
 Le Bossu nodded. 
 
 " Who was it, Jean? " cried Numa. 
 
 " That," replied the little man, " I cannot tell you. 
 I have promised her that I will tell no one." 
 
 Numa looked surprised. " Come, Jean," said he in 
 a wheedling tone, " you are going to tell me, I am 
 sure." 
 
 Le Bossu only shook his head. Again Numa asked 
 him. Again Le Bossu refused. 
 
 For a long time Numa begged and pleaded, using 
 every means within his power to overcome the obstinacy 
 of the little man, but to no avail. Finally he lost his 
 temper. u I have asked you kindly, Jean, to tell me, 
 and you will not answer," he cried with an oath. 
 " Now I am going to make you tell me." 
 
 Le Bossu smiled grimly. " You can never make me 
 tell you, Numa," said he, " for I have given my promise 
 not to do so." 
 
 Numa became furious. " We shall see about that," 
 he cried, springing to his feet and advancing threat 
 eningly toward the little man with clenched fists and 
 blazing eyes. 
 
 With a bound Le Bossu left his chair and retreated 
 to a corner of the room where he stood with his back 
 against the wall, one hand fumbling uncertainly inside 
 his blouse. 
 
 "Will you tell me now, Jean?" raged Numa, rais- 
 
 256 
 
NUMA MAKES ONE CONQUEST 
 
 ing his clenched fist above the misshapen figure be 
 fore him. 
 
 The little man waved him back with his free hand. 
 " Do not come any closer. Do not come any closer," 
 he gasped. " If you do I swear to God that I will 
 kill you." 
 
 There was a look in his white, drawn face that 
 caused the furious Numa to draw back for a moment 
 and lower his arm. There was a gleam in his great 
 brown eyes that caused the bully to smile in a sheepish 
 way and to beg his pardon. 
 
 " I am sorry, Jean," he mumbled. " I lost my tem 
 per. You know that I would never have struck you." 
 
 Very slowly Le Bossu withdrew his hand from inside 
 his blouse and walked to the door. Standing upon its 
 threshold he spoke very quietly, his voice low and 
 earnest. 
 
 " I am going to the woods until you are in a better 
 humor," said he. " You are very foolish, Numa. But 
 once before in your whole life have you been as close 
 to death as you were but a moment ago." 
 
 "And when was that?" asked Numa, his bravado 
 all gone, his voice trembling. 
 
 Le Bossu laughed scornfully. " That," said he, 
 " like the name of the one who gave Aline her ring, 
 you shall never know." 
 
 257 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 AUNT BETTY DECIDES 
 
 THE spring had burst in its full glory upon Bel- 
 rive, and far and wide the land was a wilder 
 ness of tender green and fragrant blossoms. 
 
 Down in the field the brown stretch of the cuts was 
 dotted with innumerable tiny shoots of green with a 
 multitude of slender blades; of long, tender sprouts 
 blending down from the palest of green to the softest 
 of gleaming white. 
 
 All day long the big pumping plant upon the bayou 
 worked and throbbed and panted in the hot sunlight. 
 All day long the wheels went round and round with tire 
 less energy, turning the pump that, having seized the 
 brown muddy water from its intake, hurried it through 
 the big discharge pipe and hurled it a mass of foam and 
 spray into the long wooden flume that waited to 
 receive it. 
 
 And here the water, released again into the clear open 
 air, rushes merrily along between the yellow cypress 
 walls, its tiny waves and ripples dancing and sparkling 
 in the sunlight, madly waving the long, green slime at 
 the bottom of the flume until it is dashed once more, 
 with a roar and a burst of misty white, into the cavern 
 ous depths of the main canal. 
 
 258 
 
AUNT BETTY DECIDES 
 
 And now the water, its journey almost ended, flows 
 peacefully along between the high, grass-covered levees 
 of the main canal and from there into the laterals, 
 whence it is presently floated into the cuts and sinks deep 
 into the loose, dry earth that has waited so eagerly for 
 its coming. 
 
 Here it lies in placid contentment, lazily rustling the 
 tiny spears of rice, tenderly cooling and soothing its 
 delicate blades, until they are fresh and strong and 
 green again. 
 
 All day long the water-tenders go among the cuts 
 with sodden clothes and dripping shovels, cutting floats 
 in the field levees, through which the brown water 
 rushes in torrents, damming up other floats with heavy 
 walls of earth, behind which the imprisoned water 
 swirls angrily, ever guiding the cool, life-giving stream 
 from the great flume in its journey over the dry, thirsty 
 fields. 
 
 And so the great wheels turn, the water flows, the dry 
 canals are filled to overflowing and the water-tenders 
 rush madly from one cut to another, for the new crop 
 has come and all must work to save it; must strive to 
 help it through its infancy; must feed it with the water 
 that is its life. 
 
 It was very gratifying to Mr. Parker, this scene of 
 growth and activity, and as he rode along toward the 
 big house his smile was one of great satisfaction. He 
 had found Aunt Betty away for a week at Sunnyside 
 when he had called after his talk upon the old doctor s 
 porch, and he had utilized the time of her absence in 
 seriously considering the question of matrimony. 
 
 259 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 And now he had come to a decision, Aunt Betty was 
 back at Belrive and he was on his way to get her opinion 
 upon this momentous question. 
 
 She answered his ring at the door in person, and 
 greeted him warmly. 
 
 " I am glad to see you," said she as they shook hands, 
 " and I am sorry that I missed you last Sunday. Come 
 into the parlor and tell me who she is, for I am sure 
 that that is what you have come to see me about." 
 
 Mr. Parker nodded his head. " Yes, Miss Betty," 
 replied he. " That is what I have come to tell you." 
 
 " And her name? " began Aunt Betty impatiently. 
 
 " Aline," replied Mr. Parker. 
 
 Aunt Betty gave a little jump of surprise. " You 
 can t mean the Aline that lives here?" she cried. 
 
 " She is the one that I mean," answered Mr. Parker. 
 "What do you think of it?" 
 
 Aunt Betty thought for a few moments. " I sup 
 pose that she will do," said she finally. " I have only 
 seen her once, but from what Marjorie tells me, she 
 must be a nice, sweet-tempered girl. She is pretty also ; 
 I had hoped, though, that you would fly a little higher. 
 She has no kin but her uncle, you know, who works in 
 the field." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Parker. " I know all that, but I 
 don t mind it. She is a pretty girl and a nice one, and 
 that s enough for me. My father worked in a field, 
 too, up in Vermont, and it wasn t half as good a field 
 as Aline s uncle s field is, for it was full of rocks as big 
 as your head. If you are satisfied with her, and she 
 will have me, I will marry her to-morrow." 
 
 260 
 
AUNT BETTY DECIDES 
 
 Aunt Betty nodded her head approvingly. " That is 
 the way to look at it," replied she. " Where did you 
 meet this girl? " 
 
 " I haven t met her yet," answered Mr. Parker. 
 
 Aunt Betty s face grew dark. " You are not trying 
 to joke? " she began. 
 
 Mr. Parker shook his head emphatically. " No, no, 
 Miss Betty," he cried. " I wouldn t think of such a 
 thing. I have only seen this girl once and that was 
 last Sunday. She was so pretty that I asked about her 
 and found out that she had a good temper, which is my 
 chief requisite in a wife. When I found out also that 
 she lived here I came straight over to see you, for I 
 felt sure that as she was one of your tenants you would 
 know all about her." 
 
 " Of course I know all about her," interrupted Aunt 
 Betty, who was angry with herself for allowing her 
 ignorance concerning the girl to become so manifest to 
 Mr. Parker. " I know more about this girl than you 
 will ever know about her. I have simply been drawing 
 you out, that is all. When do you expect to meet her? " 
 
 " To-night," replied Mr. Parker. " There is going 
 to be a dance at Eloi Beaudoin s, and Carey has prom 
 ised to drive me over to it. I hear that she is going 
 with a man named Numa Le Blanc." 
 
 " My truthful hunter! " exclaimed Aunt Betty. 
 
 " Indeed? " said Mr. Parker. " He doesn t look in 
 the least truthful." 
 
 " There is such a thing as sarcasm," replied Aunt 
 Betty. " He told me the truth once, probably for the 
 first time in his life, and he did it for no reason in the 
 
 261 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 world, except to be contrary. He will be a dangerous 
 rival, Mr. Parker." 
 
 Mr. Parker smiled grimly. " No more dangerous a 
 rival to me than I shall be to him," replied he. 
 
 For a while the two were silent, and then Aunt Betty 
 gave her shoulders a little shrug and sat up straight in 
 her chair, which was a sign that she had made up her 
 mind. 
 
 " Go to the dance to-night and meet the girl," said 
 she. " If you are satisfied with her, ask her to marry 
 you. Should she refuse you, I tell you candidly that I 
 will help you no further in the matter for two reasons. 
 The first is, that she is one of the tenants here and I do 
 not wish to annoy her and make her dissatisfied with 
 Belrive. The second is that, although I am not opposed 
 to your marrying her, I think that there are any number 
 of girls about here more suitable for you than she is. 
 Should she accept you, I shall do all in my power to help 
 you, and now let us dismiss this matter entirely until 
 you have spoken to her, for we have said all that ought 
 reasonably to be said about it." 
 
 " Very well," replied Mr. Parker. " The next thing 
 that I shall say to you about it will be the result of my 
 proposal." 
 
 Again the two were silent, each thinking of the for 
 bidden topic of conversation, each waiting for the other 
 to speak of something else. 
 
 Finally Aunt Betty broke the silence. " How are the 
 cantaloupes?" she asked disdainfully. 
 
 Mr. Parker gave a little jump as though he were 
 coming out of a reverie. 
 
 262 
 
AUNT BETTY DECIDES 
 
 " They came up and grew all right, and made what 
 the seed book calls fine, strong plants," said he. " The 
 weather was favorable, and there was no frost. You 
 certainly are a weather prophet, Miss Betty, and one 
 that the most careful gardener might go by with per 
 fect safety." 
 
 " Thank you," said Aunt Betty, remembering with 
 a shudder her fears and apprehensions of a few weeks 
 before. 
 
 " Well," continued Mr. Parker, " as I have said, I 
 have fine, strong plants and they are simply crowded 
 with little melons. I have never seen such a crop in 
 all my life." 
 
 " And I suppose," said Aunt Betty, " that you will 
 make an enormous fortune." 
 
 Mr. Parker shook his head sadly. " No," answered 
 he, " I won t make anything. You see, I didn t look up 
 the freight rates on cantaloupes until a few days ago, 
 and then I found that by shipping them to the city I 
 would lose a cent on each one of them. It is very dis 
 couraging, especially when you consider what a fine 
 crop I have, but I am going to ship some just as an 
 experiment. I feel that I owe it to the cantaloupes 
 to do so." 
 
 Aunt Betty regarded Mr. Parker curiously for a 
 moment. 
 
 " My husband once knew an old negro named Per- 
 rot," said she, " and one day he met him after not 
 having seen him for quite a long while." 
 
 " Well, Perrot, said my husband, * What are you 
 doing now for a living? 
 
 263 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " * I m trading horses, answered Perrot. * I sold 
 four Cajun ponies last week. 
 
 " What did you pay for them? asked my husband. 
 
 " Eight dollars, replied Perrot. 
 
 " t And what did you get for them? 
 
 " Six dollars, replied Perrot. 
 
 " Of course, said my husband, you ought to know 
 what you are doing, but I can t exactly see how you 
 can make much money in such a business as that. 
 
 " * Well, Boss, answered Perrot, a man s got to do 
 something to support his family. 
 
 Aunt Betty ceased speaking. Mr. Parker laughed 
 and rose from his chair. 
 
 "Come now, Miss Betty," said he. "That story 
 can t apply to me. I haven t any family." 
 
 " No," replied Aunt Betty grimly. " I beg your 
 pardon. It cannot. You haven t even that excuse." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Parker as he prepared to leave, 
 " I am very much obliged to you for your advice and I 
 will let you know how my future happiness is to be 
 arranged just as soon as I find out myself." 
 
 " Do," replied Aunt Betty, who had come out upon 
 the front gallery with her visitor, " and remember, not 
 a word about it until everything is settled." 
 
 With a smile of great amusement upon her sharp, 
 clever face she watched him mount and ride away. 
 
 " Did any one ever hear of such a man," said she 
 to herself as she finally went into the house again. 
 
 264 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF 
 
 TRUE to his promise, Carey stopped by for 
 Mr. Parker and found that usually sedate 
 gentleman in a state of pleasurable excitement. 
 As they drove along he held forth volubly upon the 
 beauty of Aline until, finding his companion strangely 
 unresponsive, he relapsed into silence, thinking of what 
 he would say to her w r hen he had met her. 
 
 The night was a beautiful one, with a full moon 
 and a cloudless sky dotted with innumerable twinkling 
 stars that seemed to have been strewn from one end of 
 the heavens to the other. A little breeze had sprung 
 up at nightfall and the tall weeds on the roadside 
 nodded grotesquely, bending aside for a moment that 
 one might see the dark stretch of the fields, and farther 
 away the black line of the forest, all white and hazy in 
 the moonlight, picked out here and there with a tiny 
 dot of light from some cabin window. 
 
 Presently they came to a byroad barred by a high 
 wooden gate, behind which a long avenue of china trees 
 stretched away interminably. Back of the trees a vast 
 number of twinkling lights told of a house illuminated 
 for some occasion, while the sound of music borne 
 
 265 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 faintly on the wind left but little doubt as to what the 
 occasion was. 
 
 Driving through the gateway they went up the 
 avenue of china trees which, being in bloom, filled the 
 air with the fragrance of their lilac blossoms; and com 
 ing out into a little grove the dance hall was before 
 them. 
 
 It was a long, heavy structure, built on one side of 
 the small frame house in which its owner lived, made 
 of bare, unpainted cypress boards, and raised from the 
 ground upon heavy blocks of oak. The lights streamed 
 from its open windows, mingled with the sound of 
 laughter, of high-pitched voices, chattering in French, 
 and the shuffling of many feet. 
 
 Carey, getting out of the buggy, led the way toward 
 the dwelling, closely followed by Mr. Parker, who was 
 all impatience to meet the maiden of his choice. Upon 
 the low porch of his house stood Eloi Beaudoin him 
 self who greeted them warmly and led the way into 
 the dance hall, where their appearance was the signal 
 for a sudden hush to fall upon the dancers. 
 
 They all paused for a moment to look at the in 
 truders; some with surprise, some with indifference and 
 many with suspicion, for the Cajun is a wary soul, ever 
 distrustful of strangers. 
 
 The dance hall, a long board room, its floor smooth 
 and glossy with beeswax, was lighted by a number of 
 lamps fastened to the wall and hanging from the ceil 
 ing. Along both sides ran a long row of benches upon 
 which the dancers rested themselves, while at one end 
 was a little wooden platform for the musicians, three 
 
 266 
 
HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF 
 
 in number, playing upon the violin, the clarionet and the 
 accordion. 
 
 A dance had just ended as Carey and Mr. Parker 
 entered, and they stood for a moment in the doorway 
 watching the couples as they slowly promenaded about 
 the room or sat upon the benches talking and laughing 
 with much waving of fans and mopping of hot, flushed 
 faces. 
 
 It was here that one saw these people in all the 
 heterogeneous mixture of their different kinds and sta 
 tions. Here was a well-to-do farmer from the prairies, 
 his clothes strong and good, yet old-fashioned, speaking 
 solemnly with his neighbor of the price of cotton, of 
 corn or of rice. 
 
 Here was an old man from far away up the bayou, 
 white-haired and bent, treated with deference by all, 
 wholly ignorant and illiterate, brought down from his 
 distant home to see the wonders of Landry. 
 
 Here was a young man from Landry itself, gorgeous 
 as to apparel, patronizing as to manner, passing the 
 girls with many a smirk and toss of his head a verit 
 able gilded youth of the village in which he belonged. 
 
 Here was a swamper, brown and hairy, powerful of 
 arm and broad of shoulder, his clothes old and torn; 
 bringing with him, it seemed, a breath of the great 
 woods in which he lived. 
 
 Here was a merchant from some distant country 
 store, cool and suave, dressed in white linen trousers 
 and shiny alpaca coat, talking blandly of business with 
 many a shrug of the shoulders and raising of the eye 
 brows. 
 
 267 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 And here above all were the girls, bright and pretty 
 every one of them, with their dark hair, their great 
 black eyes and their fresh, rosy cheeks. 
 
 It was a happy, pleasure-seeking throng that, having 
 for a moment laid aside its cares and worries, sought 
 to enjoy itself as best it could. 
 
 For a while Carey stood in the doorway with his 
 companion looking for Aline, and then, suddenly catch 
 ing sight of her, he called to Mr. Parker to follow him, 
 and went over to where she sat with her partner upon 
 one of the benches against the wall. 
 
 Very sweet she looked in her simple dress of white, 
 and when she saw Carey coming toward her she rose 
 to her feet with a smile of welcome. 
 
 " I did not expect to see you at the dance, M sieu" 
 said she. 
 
 " I didn t expect to come myself," answered Carey, 
 " but I was induced to by my friend here, Mr. Parker, 
 who, by the way, is very anxious to meet you." 
 
 The girl held out her hand. " I am glad to meet one 
 of M sieu Gordon s friends," said she. 
 
 Mr. Parker took the little hand that was held out 
 toward him, and (as he afterward told Carey) was " a 
 goner from the start." 
 
 The musicians began to tune their instruments; a 
 man suddenly sprang upon the little platform and smote 
 himself upon the chest. He was a tall, broad-shoul 
 dered man, and his face was flushed as though from 
 drinking. 
 
 " Messieurs et Mesdames," he cried. " Moi suis 
 maitre du bal. La premiere chose, ca va etre une valse. 
 
 268 
 
HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF 
 
 La seconde chose, ca va etre une polka. La troisieme 
 chose qa va etre une contradance, et la quatrieme chose 
 qa va etre une gavotte" 
 
 He ceased speaking and the music began; a low, 
 plaintive wail at first, rising louder and louder, devoid 
 of time or harmony, yet having a certain rhythm about 
 it that set one longing to be up and dancing. The 
 musicians beat upon the floor in time to the music, the 
 couples arose from the benches and began to dance. 
 
 Mr. Parker turned to Aline. " Shall we try this 
 one? " he asked. 
 
 " If you wish to, M y sieu Parker," she replied, and in 
 a moment he had whirled her away, leaving her late 
 partner to stare after her in astonishment. 
 
 Carey watched them for a moment as they dodged 
 their way in and out among the crowd of dancers that 
 thronged the floor, and then turning away he found a 
 man whom he wished to see, and was soon talking with 
 him, seated at one of the tables that crowded Eloi 
 Beaudoin s dwelling. For a long time he sat there talk 
 ing in French and drinking cup after cup of fragrant 
 black coffee, for your Cajun, no matter how temperate 
 he is in matters of liquor, is ever a coffee toper, and you 
 must drink with him when he invites you or he will 
 be offended. 
 
 The dancing went on, the musicians playing piece 
 after piece with tireless energy. Eloi Beaudoin finally 
 thrust his head into the hall with a shout. 
 
 " Gumbo pare! " he cried. 
 
 The musicians ceased playing, the men took the girls 
 upon their arms and marched slowly into the dwelling, 
 
 269 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 for it was the custom that each man must treat his part 
 ner to a plate of gumbo. 
 
 Mr. Parker followed along with the crowd, his collar 
 wilted, his face purple in his efforts to converse with his 
 partner, a slip of a girl of fifteen, who spoke not a word 
 of English. 
 
 " Je ne non parley Franqais" he kept repeating 
 pathetically. 
 
 Carey smiled at him as he came into the room. 
 "Where is Aline?" he asked. 
 
 " I don t know," sighed Mr. Parker dejectedly. " I 
 was dancing with this young lady when they stopped 
 for refreshments," and hurrying to a table he was soon 
 making amends for the scarcity of his French with the 
 lavishness of his entertainment. 
 
 Carey looked about the crowded room for Aline, but 
 could not find her. Suddenly he felt a tug at his coat, 
 and turning he saw Le Bossu, who was beckoning to 
 him frantically. 
 
 " Come quickly, M sieu" cried he, " or you will be 
 too late. The little man s eyes were wide with terror 
 and he shook with excitement and impatience. 
 
 Carey followed him curiously as he trotted away, and 
 in a moment found himself outside in the grove with Le 
 Bossu hurrying along beside him. 
 
 " See," gasped the hunchback, pointing toward a dim 
 figure among the trees. " There he is, M sieu. Hurry, 
 hurry, or you will be too late." 
 
 And so Carey quickened his pace and came in a 
 moment upon a sight that caused him to cry out in 
 anger, for there before him in the moonlight, amid the 
 
 270 
 
HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF 
 
 lace-like shadows of the china trees, stood Numa, wild 
 and drunk and crazy, holding in his arms a strug 
 gling white figure that called out to him weakly 
 for mercy. 
 
 " It is Aline, M sieu," cried the hunchback. " Hurry, 
 for the love of God." 
 
 With a spring Carey was upon the drunken man and 
 struck him to the ground. The girl seized her rescuer 
 with a grip of terror and cowered against him 
 trembling. 
 
 " Save me, M sieu, save me," she cried. 
 
 Carey put his arm about her and spoke to her very 
 quietly. " Do not be afraid, Aline," said he. " I will 
 not let him touch you again." 
 
 For a moment Numa lay where he had fallen as 
 though he was stunned, and then with an oath he 
 sprang to his feet. 
 
 " I have owed you a debt for a long time, M sicu, 
 and now I am going to pay you," he panted. 
 
 His knife flashed for an instant in the moonlight. 
 
 Le Bossu sprang forward. 
 
 Carey put his hand behind him and motioned to the 
 little man to move aside. " Stand away, Jean," he 
 cried. " I am going to shoot him." 
 
 With a cry the girl seized his arm. " Do not kill 
 him, M sieu," she gasped. " It is murder. Let him 
 go, M sieu, let him go." 
 
 Carey lowered his arm. " Throw down your knife," 
 said he. 
 
 Numa obeyed him sullenly. 
 
 " Now go," said Carey, " and if ever you touch this 
 
 271 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 girl again I will kill you, as sure as there is a God in 
 heaven." * 
 
 For a moment Numa stood irresolute, and then 
 without a word he plunged into the darkness of the 
 trees. 
 
 Carey turned to the girl who was now weeping softly. 
 " You are nervous and excited, Aline," said he. " You 
 should go home, and I will take you." 
 
 He found his buggy and, helping the girl into it, 
 drove for a while in silence, Aline sobbing softly beside 
 him, her face buried in her hands. After a time she 
 was quiet and he turned to her. " Tell me how it 
 happened, Aline," said he gently. 
 
 The girl gave a little shudder and choked the sob 
 that came to her lips. 
 
 " It was when they all went out for the gumbo, 
 M sieu," replied she. u Numa called that Jean wished 
 to see me and I went out to him. When I reached the 
 grove I found that he had been drinking and I started 
 to go back to the house again, but he seized my arm 
 and told me that I must kiss him. I tried to get away 
 from him, but he only held me tighter, saying that he 
 would make me kiss him. It was then that I called for 
 help and Jean came. He is so small and weak that he 
 could do nothing, M situ, and so he went for you and 
 and that is all." 
 
 " Yes," said Carey. " That is all, for I promise you 
 that he will never trouble you again. I shall see myself 
 that he does not." And then he set about to soothe and 
 calm the girl as best he could. 
 
 Finally they came to Belrive and went down the 
 
 272 
 
HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF 
 
 plantation road to where the little cabin stood all silvery 
 in the moonlight. About it lay the fields, sleeping 
 snugly beneath their soft, white coverlet of mist. 
 
 Carey helped the girl to the ground, where she paused 
 for a moment and gazed up at him with tear-filled 
 eyes. " I do not know how to thank you, M y sieu" 
 said she. " I shall never forget what you have done for 
 me. It is little to say I thank you, but it is all that I 
 can do. So good night, M sieu, and again thank you." 
 She held out her hand. 
 
 As she spoke to him her face lit softly by the moon 
 light, her blue eyes filled with tears, her lips trembling, 
 Carey had a mad desire to take her in his arms, to kiss 
 her and soothe her like the child that she was; but he 
 only held the little hand in his for a moment, as he 
 bade her good night. 
 
 As he drove back along the plantation road he 
 thought of the girl as he had never thought of her 
 before. He could feel the despairing grip of her little 
 fingers as she had held him but a short while ago. He 
 could feel her slender body trembling against his, the 
 feathery wisp of her hair that had blown against his 
 cheek. 
 
 He could hear her cry of joy as he had come to her, 
 her sigh of relief as she had cowered against him. A 
 strange feeling possessed him. 
 
 And then he thought of Numa and his anger flared 
 up to a white heat. He wished that he had killed him. 
 How could he dare to touch such a beautiful girl, to 
 think that she should care to kiss him? 
 
 Suddenly he gave a harsh little laugh, and sat up 
 
 273 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 very straight, his shoulders squared, his chin thrust 
 forward defiantly. 
 
 " Carey Gordon, don t be a fool," said he to him 
 self severely. " Of what possible interest can this girl 
 be to you? She is a Cajun and one of your tenants. 
 She is no more to you than any of the others at Bel- 
 rive. You must be dreaming. It must be the moon. 
 This shall not happen again." 
 
 And so true to his resolution he drove along for 
 quite a while, his thoughts far away from any disturbing 
 influence, but when at last he came to Eloi Beaudoin s 
 and went up the fragrant avenue of china trees he was 
 dreaming again, dreaming in the witchery of the moon 
 light. 
 
 274 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 ALINE MAKES A SACRIFICE 
 
 IN the big yellow church at Landry Father Bertrand 
 was dismissing his catechism class for the last 
 time, and upon his patient face there was a look 
 of quiet joy, for the children had done well. 
 
 His pupils, their lessons over forever, trooped out 
 of the church in joyful silence, and once outside gave 
 vent to their happiness in many shouts and shrill 
 screams of laughter. 
 
 The girls, gathering together in little groups, 
 solemnly discussed some question of vast importance, 
 shaking their heads knowingly and pointing about their 
 persons as though they were going about the operation 
 of putting on a vast amount of imaginary clothing. 
 
 And why should they not, for in every store in Lan 
 dry were there many yards of soft white cloth; in 
 every window was there wreath upon wreath of cool, 
 white flowers; in every house was there sewing and 
 cutting and trying on of filmy white dresses: for in 
 seven days these girls would make their first com 
 munion, and they must be dressed according to custom, 
 in the finest, the nicest, the whitest of garments that 
 the purses of their parents could afford. 
 
 275 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 And so the boys played and shouted, the girls talked, 
 together joyously of their new dresses, and all were 
 happy at the prospect of their approaching good for 
 tune. All save one, a girl, who, creeping away from the 
 rest as soon as they had left the church, sadly went her 
 way up the long, dusty road. 
 
 She had not gone very far, however, when there came 
 the sound of wheels behind her and a voice called out 
 cheerily, " Wait a minute, Miss Aline, and I ll drive 
 you home." 
 
 Turning, she saw a man in a low-covered buggy 
 who was smiling pleasantly at her. Without wait 
 ing for her to accept his invitation he drove up, got 
 out of the buggy and very gallantly helped her 
 into it. 
 
 " Now," said he, as he got in beside her, " I think 
 that you ll find this much better than walking." 
 
 " You are very kind, M sieu Parker," gasped the 
 girl, who was all but breathless from her quick ascent 
 to the broad leather seat. " It is a long walk and I 
 have much to do at home. But am I not taking you out 
 of your way? " 
 
 " Not in the least, not in the least," cried Mr. Parker 
 beaming. " I was on my way to Belrive when I met 
 you. I stopped at the church thinking that I would 
 find you there, but I was told that you had left, and so 
 I came on as quickly as I could, hoping that I would 
 catch up with you. And now tell me all about the 
 catechism. You will make your first communion, will 
 you not? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Aline, and then in her simple way 
 
 276 
 
ALINE MAKES A SACRIFICE 
 
 she told him of how she had worked and of how Father 
 Bertrand had helped her, while Mr. Parker beamed 
 and smiled and listened in rapt attention. 
 
 Finally they came to the little cabin and Mr. Parker, 
 helping Aline from the buggy, got out himself and tied 
 the horse. 
 
 " Can I come in and talk to you for a while?" 
 asked he. 
 
 " Certainly, M sieu Parker," answered the girl, " but 
 I must ask you if you will mind my spinning while you 
 talk, for I have much work to do." 
 
 Inside the cabin she looked about the room for a 
 moment undecided and then pointed through the open 
 door to the orchard at the back of the house. 
 
 " It is very cool and nice out there," she began. 
 
 Mr. Parker seized the spinning wheel and hurried it 
 outside. Aline followed him, carrying a chair and the 
 fluffy mass of cotton. 
 
 The little orchard was delightfully cool and it was 
 also delightfully sweet, for the pear trees were in 
 bloom and the tall, white shafts of blossoms filled the 
 air with their delicate fragrance. Beneath the trees 
 the ground was covered with a snowy mass of fallen 
 leaves and the aisles between the rows were a miracle of 
 chasteness. 
 
 Here amid the fragrant silence, unbroken save by the 
 fall of the tiny petals or the lazy humming of the bees, 
 Mr. Parker placed the spinning wheel and seated him 
 self upon the great oaken bench near-by. 
 
 " I guess you re a good deal surprised at my visit, 
 aren t you, Miss Aline? " he asked. 
 
 277 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 The girl carefully started her wheel, and then 
 answered him frankly. 
 
 " Yes, M sieu, Parker," she replied. " I am sur 
 prised." 
 
 " Well, you see," said Mr. Parker, " I want to ask 
 you something." 
 
 The girl stopped her spinning and stared at him in 
 amazement. " You wish to ask me something, M sieu 
 Parker? " she cried. 
 
 " Yes," replied Mr. Parker, fumbling in his pocket. 
 " You don t mind my smoking, do you? " 
 
 The girl looked puzzled. " Why should I mind your 
 smoking, M sieu Parker?" she asked. 
 
 Mr. Parker drew a cigar from his pocket and en 
 deavored to light it. Match after match broke in his 
 trembling fingers and his face grew purple with embar 
 rassment. He seemed very nervous. 
 
 Aline watched him curiously, a smile of amusement 
 hovering about her lips. 
 
 " Was it about the cigar that you wished to ask me? " 
 she inquired. 
 
 Mr. Parker flung the cigar away and shook his head 
 violently. " No, no. I wanted to ask you if if " 
 He stopped short and wiped his face, which was cov 
 ered with perspiration. He seemed very nervous indeed. 
 
 "If what, M sieu Parker?" asked the girl in 
 bewilderment. 
 
 " If er if er " Mr. Parker stopped again and 
 fumbled in his pocket nervously. " Let me get a 
 cigar," he pleaded. " I can always talk better when 
 I m smoking." 
 
 278 
 
ALINE MAKES A SACRIFICE 
 
 Again he struggled with the matches only to give up 
 in despair, as he had done before. 
 
 Aline looked worried. " Are you sick, M sieu Par 
 ker? " she asked. 
 
 Mr. Parker looked at her, blushed, cast his eyes upon 
 the ground and dug in the soft earth with the heel of 
 his shoe. 
 
 " No," answered he. " I am not sick. I want to 
 ask you if if if you will marry me." He blurted 
 out the last part of his speech in a trembling voice, and 
 without raising his eyes waited for his answer. 
 
 The girl rose from her chair, her cheeks flushed, her 
 eyes filled with angry tears. 
 
 " You would mock me, M sieu Parker," she cried. 
 " For shame ! " 
 
 Mr. Parker raised his head hurriedly. " When I 
 ask you to marry me, Miss Aline, I mean it," said he 
 simply, and his voice rang true. 
 
 Slowly the girl seated herself, and for a long time 
 she sat looking out upon the snowy whiteness of the 
 trees before her, her eyes shining with a softness that 
 was new to them. 
 
 Mr. Parker was the first to speak. u What is it to 
 be, Miss Aline?" he asked gently. 
 
 When the girl answered him her voice was soft and 
 low and filled with a tenderness that made his heart 
 throb wildly. 
 
 " You have honored me very much, M sieu Parker," 
 said she. " Me a poor girl with no parents, without 
 even a name, and I thank you. But it is not for me to 
 marry you. It would not be right. Some day when 
 
 279 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 you went among your own people you would be 
 ashamed of me, you would wish that you had never 
 married me." 
 
 Mr. Parker interrupted her hastily. " No, no," 
 cried he, " I have thought of that. It is I that would 
 be honored, and I would be proud of you all my life, 
 prouder than any one in all the world." 
 
 The girl shook her head. " You are wrong, M sieu 
 Parker. You do not know," said she. u And even 
 were it not for that I could not leave my uncle. I 
 have my work to do here and I am very happy. Marry 
 some one else and do not think of me, for it would not 
 be right." 
 
 " But, Miss Aline," urged Mr. Parker, " your uncle 
 could live with us." 
 
 Again the girl shook her head. " It is as I have 
 said," she answered. " Again I thank you. Please do 
 not say any more, M sieu Parker, for it makes me sad 
 to refuse you." 
 
 Mr. Parker got upon his feet and held out his hand. 
 His red face was very grave and the hand that he held 
 outstretched trembled a little. 
 
 " Good-by, Miss Aline," said he. " I am going, for 
 I know that it will only annoy you to have me stay any 
 longer. I m not much of a talker, but I want to tell 
 you something and I hope that you ll remember it. I 
 don t know but what I m feeling a little sad, and I ve 
 got an ache here in my chest that I haven t had for a 
 long time. The last time I had it was when my mother 
 died, and I guess it s the ache you have when you lose 
 something that you want a whole lot. 
 
 280 
 
ALINE MAKES A SACRIFICE 
 
 " I know from what you ve said that there isn t any 
 chance for me, and I m not going to ask you again, but 
 we can be friends, and that s what I want you to remem 
 ber. If you ever need a friend or want anything, just 
 send for me, and I ll remember the day that you do 
 so as the happiest one in my life." 
 
 As Mr. Parker finished speaking his voice was husky, 
 and he turned away his head. 
 
 The girl s eyes were soft with tears when she held out 
 her hand. " Good-by, my friend," said she. 
 
 " Good-by, Miss Aline," replied Mr. Parker as he 
 pressed the little hand tenderly. 
 
 " No, no," whispered the girl. " Good-by, Aline. 
 We are friends, you know." 
 
 Mr. Parker coughed violently. " Good-by, Aline," 
 he cried, and turning sharply away he hurried from the 
 orchard as fast as his legs could carry him. 
 
 Aline sat staring before her long after he had left, 
 her spinning wheel standing idle in the petal-strewn 
 grass at her feet, and when she at last took up the 
 neglected thread she spun mechanically, looking down 
 the white and green aisles of the pear trees, her 
 thoughts far away. 
 
 Suddenly there w r as a step behind her and turning 
 she beheld Numa coming down the path. 
 
 With a cry she sprang to her feet, her face scarlet, 
 her eyes blazing angrily. 
 
 " Go away! Go away! " she cried loathingly. " I 
 hate you." 
 
 Numa came on, his eyes cast down penitently, and 
 stood before her. 
 
 281 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " Will you not forgive me, Aline? " he pleaded. " I 
 am truly sorry, and I have come to ask your pardon." 
 
 The girl drew away from him with loathing, and 
 pointed toward the road. 
 
 " Go," cried she. " Go, before I call for help to 
 drive you away. Were you to ask me a thousand times 
 I would never forgive you for what you have done. I 
 can never forget it. Sometimes I wake at night and 
 think of it until I am cold with fear. Go ! Go, Numa, 
 for the love of God ! You are a cruel, wicked man, 
 and I fear you." 
 
 She ceased speaking and cowered behind the great 
 oaken bench, her eyes wide with terror, her hands 
 pressed to her heaving bosom. 
 
 Numa smiled reassuringly. " Do not fear me, 
 Aline," said he. " Of all the men in the world I would 
 be the last one to harm you. Let me explain this mat 
 ter to you. They gave me liquor at the dance, Aline 
 raw, hot whiskey that burned my throat like fire. They 
 gave it to me because I had never drunk it before, 
 because they wished to make a fool of me. Instead they 
 made a beast, a wild, bad beast, Aline. I do not 
 remember what I did I was crazy. It is all like some 
 horrid dream. Had I not been mad with the liquor I 
 would never have done what I did. What I have told 
 you I swear, and if you will forgive me I swear also 
 that never again in my life will I allow any one to give 
 me whiskey. And now will you not forgive me ? " 
 
 Numa sank upon his knees and held out his hands 
 imploringly. 
 
 The girl came out from behind the bench reassured 
 
 282 
 
ALINE MAKES A SACRIFICE 
 
 by the penitence in his voice, but she still pointed to 
 the road and shook her head. 
 
 " What you say may be true, Numa," answered she, 
 " but I cannot forgive you. Some day in the years to 
 come I may do so, but do not ask me now. Go away, 
 Numa. Go away." 
 
 Numa did not rise from his knees, but bent his head 
 lower, and into his downcast eyes there came a gleam of 
 hope, the hope of one who stakes all upon a final 
 desperate play. 
 
 " In seven days, Aline," said he slowly, " you will 
 go for the first time to holy communion. Would 
 you kneel at the altar upon that day with your heart 
 filled with hate for one who loves you as I do ? Think 
 of it, Aline. You would go to the altar with my sin 
 unforgiven by yourself, with your sins forgiven by 
 God. Think of it and forgive me, or you will do a 
 great wrong." 
 
 Slowly the girl came forward, her anger all gone 
 from her, her look as penitent as that of the man who 
 knelt before her. 
 
 " Here is my hand, Numa," said she. " I forgive 
 you even as I hope God will forgive the wrongs that I 
 have done." 
 
 Numa seized the hand joyfully and pressed it to his 
 lips. " You are an angel, Aline," he cried. " When 
 you come to church in your new white clothes you will 
 need but a pair of wings to make you more perfect 
 than any of them in heaven." 
 
 Aline smiled sadly as she again took up the neglected 
 thread of her spinning wheel. " There will be no new 
 
 283 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 white dress when I go to the church with the other 
 girls," said she. " You will see no angel, Numa," 
 
 " No new dress for your first communion?" cried 
 Numa in astonishment. 
 
 The girl shook her head. " No," she answered. 
 We are too poor to buy one. I must wear my old 
 white dress that I have worn for so long." 
 
 " But I can " began Numa eagerly when, his face 
 lighting up, he suddenly ceased speaking and endeav 
 ored to hide the satisfaction which his whole appearance 
 suggested. 
 
 Now Numa had been about to say that he would 
 lend her the money, for he had been gambling a great 
 deal at the coffee house in Landry and of late he had 
 been lucky, but a thought suddenly striking him that 
 here might be a chance for him to gain the much- 
 coveted ring of Aline, he did not finish the generous 
 offer that he had so eagerly commenced. 
 
 " But you can what, Numa? " asked Aline, curious 
 at his stopping so abruptly in what he was saying. 
 
 " I can try and think of some way in which you can 
 get the new dress," replied Numa quickly. 
 
 To this the girl made no answer, and for a while 
 the orchard was silent, save for the low, deep hum of 
 the spinning wheel. Numa sat with his brows drawn 
 together as though he were thinking, shaking his head 
 from time to time and muttering, " No," as though he 
 were rejecting some fruitless plan that he had made. 
 
 " Is there nothing that you can sell to get the money 
 for the dress? " he asked finally. 
 
 Aline shook her head. " There is nothing," an- 
 
 284 
 
ALINE MAKES A SACRIFICE 
 
 swered she. " We need every poor thing that we 
 have." 
 
 Again Numa pretended to think. 
 
 " The ring that you wear upon the chain about your 
 neck/ he began. 
 
 The girl turned upon him fiercely, thrusting her hand 
 into her bosom where the ring lay as though she feared 
 that he would take it from her. 
 
 u How can you ask me to sell my ring? " she cried. 
 " You know that I will never do it. 7 
 
 Numa waved his hand blandly. " You do not sup 
 pose that I thought you would really sell it, did you? " 
 asked he. " Of course I knew that you would not. I 
 mean that you could sell it for a little while that you 
 could borrow the money on this ring. There is a man 
 in Landry who will lend me the money if I bring it to 
 him. You are poor now, but in a little while Telesse 
 will sell his crop and you can get it back again. It will 
 be perfectly safe, I promise you. This is the only good 
 plan that I can think of. What do you say, Aline, eh? " 
 
 " It is not a good plan and I will never sell my ring, 
 Numa," cried the girl passionately. 
 
 Numa spread out his hands. " Very well," replied 
 he. " Do not be angry. I was only trying to help 
 you. I knew that you would like to have your ring, 
 but I thought that as it was your first communion you 
 would wish to go to it dressed as you should be." 
 
 For a long time the girl was silent, torn by the con 
 flicting emotions that were within her. Over and over 
 again she repeated the words which she had heard so 
 long ago, the words which she had never forgotten. 
 
 285 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " You must keep this ring with the chain always, and 
 you must never show it to any one unless you are in a 
 great deal of trouble." 
 
 Was she in trouble, she asked herself. Should she 
 trust her only keepsake from her dead father, her only 
 treasure, to the care of some unknown one in Landry? 
 No, no. She would not do it. 
 
 And then again she asked herself, should she not 
 make this sacrifice that she might go to her first com 
 munion as she ought to. Was it not her duty to do 
 this thing, was it not the wish of God that she should 
 do it? Was it not one of the sacrifices that she must 
 make to save her soul? 
 
 And so she thought and tortured herself with many 
 questions while the wicked Numa sat and smiled in 
 silent triumph, for he knew well that he would have 
 his desire. 
 
 Finally the girl gave a little sigh of weariness, and 
 reaching inside the bosom of her dress brought forth 
 the ring. Slowly she unclasped the chain that held it 
 and slipped it into her hand. Looking at it for a 
 moment she pressed it to her lips and handed it to 
 Numa. 
 
 " Take it to your friend and get the money," said 
 she. " It is my duty to wear the new dress. Be very 
 careful of the ring, Numa, and tell the man to be 
 careful also. It is all that I have and I love it dearly. 
 Go now, and go quickly or I shall take it back again. I 
 cannot help it." 
 
 Numa, who needed no second bidding, sprang to his 
 feet and hurried away. 
 
 286 
 
ALINE MAKES A SACRIFICE 
 
 " I will bring you the money to-night," he shouted 
 over his shoulder. 
 
 Aline sat for a moment where he had left her, and 
 then she suddenly gave a little sob and hurried after 
 him. 
 
 "Numa! Numa ! " she cried, "I cannot bear it. 
 Give me back the ring. Give it back to me." 
 
 Around the cabin she went and found Numa about 
 to ride away. Loudly she called to him, but he did not 
 seem to hear her and loped away in a cloud of dust. 
 
 Slowly and sadly she went back to the spinning wheel, 
 and, laying her head upon it, sobbed as though her heart 
 would break, while the pear trees showered their snowy 
 petals about her as though they, too, wept in sympathy. 
 
 287 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 OLD TELESSE ASSERTS HIMSELF 
 
 THE sun had just raised its red rim above the 
 mist-covered stretch of the rice fields and the 
 birds in the orchard were beginning to chatter 
 softly when Aline awoke upon the morning of her first 
 communion. Going over to her little window she stood 
 for a long time gazing out at the fast-growing light, 
 her face radiant with peace and happiness, and then 
 as the sunbeams lit up the darkness with their golden 
 rays she went stealthily across the room and drew 
 from its hiding place in an old cupboard a long, flat 
 bundle wrapped carefully in cottonade. 
 
 Quickly laying back the coarse blue and yellow cover 
 ing she drew forth a soft mass of fleecy white and 
 spread it triumphantly before her. It was her new 
 dress, the work of her own hands, the dainty piece of 
 spotless muslin for which she had sacrificed her one 
 treasure. 
 
 Lovingly she fingered the snowy ruffles, the long 
 silken ribbons ; lovingly yet timidly as though she feared 
 to touch so delicate a thing, her eyes filled with a quiet 
 joy at the thought of its fitness for the ceremony before 
 her. 
 
 288 
 
OLD TELESSE ASSERTS HIMSELF 
 
 " How beautiful it is," she whispered. " How sur 
 prised Uncle Telesse will be." But as she stood smil 
 ing at the prospect of his surprise and pleasure her face 
 clouded and her hands went up to the chain about her 
 neck, for the memory of what she had lost came back 
 to her in a moment of her happiness. 
 
 Ever since she had given her ring to Numa her mind 
 had been tortured with fears as to its safety, fears which 
 the most reassuring stories from her wicked lover failed 
 to banish. In vain did he tell her of how the ring lay 
 safe and snug, tightly locked within the strong box of 
 his friend at Landry. She would shake her head 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " It must be as you say, but I wish that I had my 
 ring once more," she would reply. " I do not know 
 why it is, but I feel that I shall never see it again. 
 Could you not ask your friend to let me have it for 
 just a little while that I may see that it is safe? For 
 only a little while, Numa, for a day, an hour. I prom 
 ise you that I will send it back to him again." 
 
 But Numa would only look distressed and tell her 
 that such a thing was impossible, while at that very 
 moment the ring lay deep within his pocket, for, trust 
 ing no hiding place, he carried it with him wherever he 
 went. 
 
 And so it was that upon the morning of her first 
 communion, Aline in the midst of her happiness 
 thought of what she had paid for it, and into the blue 
 eyes that gazed so admiringly at the new dress there 
 came for a moment a great longing. 
 
 The old man called her as she was wrapping up the 
 
 289 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 bundle again, and thrusting it hurriedly into its hiding 
 place she went out to him, all blushing and confused 
 at her innocent deception. 
 
 " You are late this morning, Aline," said he as she 
 kissed him. " It does not matter, though, for I will do 
 no work to-day. Go now and get the breakfast while 
 I fix my harness for our drive to Landry." 
 
 He did not seem to notice the girl s confusion, but 
 when she had turned to go to the little kitchen he looked 
 at her curiously, muttering to himself. 
 
 " Red cheeks that fade quickly to white arc evil 
 things," mumbled he. " Eyes that twist and turn away 
 tell of no good. For seven days Aline has acted 
 queerly. She is keeping something from me and 
 if to-day she does not tell me what it is, I will 
 ask her." 
 
 When a little later he sat silent at the breakfast table, 
 his food untouched before him, Aline was worried. 
 
 " What is it, Uncle Telesse? " she asked. " Are you 
 not well? Why do you look so sad? " 
 
 The old man laughed mirthlessly, with a poor effort 
 to appear indifferent. 
 
 " It is nothing, Aline," replied he. " I am quite 
 well and I am happy. Do you not see me laughing? 
 Should I not be happy upon the day of your first 
 communion? " 
 
 " But you have eaten nothing," persisted the girl. 
 " You have not touched your breakfast." 
 
 The old man pushed his plate away and rose from 
 the table. " I ate something before you were awake," 
 said he. And then before she could question him again, 
 
 290 
 
OLD TELESSE ASSERTS HIMSELF 
 
 he went over to where his coat hung upon a peg and 
 began to fumble in one of its pockets. 
 
 Presently he returned with a package which he 
 handed to her. 
 
 " Here is something that I have bought for you," 
 said he. " It is for your first communion." 
 
 Quickly she untied the package, a smile of pleased 
 surprise upon her pretty face, and drawing forth its con 
 tents she laid them upon the table before her a small 
 black prayerbook, a rosary made of tiny glass beads, 
 and a long yellow candle tied about with white ribbon. 
 
 The old man stood beside her watching her closely, 
 a quizzical look upon his wrinkled face. With a little 
 cry of pleasure the girl reached up her arms and draw 
 ing him down toward her kissed him tenderly. 
 
 " How can I thank you, Uncle Telesse," she cried. 
 " It is so good of you to give me these things when we 
 have so little money." 
 
 The old man shook his head sadly. " It is not 
 enough," said he. " You should have the new dress 
 such as the other girls will wear. I have tried hard to 
 get the money, but I can find no one to lend it to me. 
 I am sorry, Aline, very sorry, but I could do no better." 
 
 The girl stroked his cheek softly and turned her face 
 away that he might not see her look of triumph. " Do 
 not think of the dress," she replied, " for I shall be 
 very happy to go as I am. And just think of how proud 
 I shall be of my new prayerbook and beads. I am 
 sure that none of the other girls will have any as nice 
 and as pretty as mine are." 
 
 The old man. patted her upon the head and for the 
 
 291 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 first time that day his face lost its troubled look. " You 
 are a good girl, Aline," said he, " and you are bearing 
 your disappointment bravely. It is a pity that there 
 are not more like you in the world. Go now and put 
 on the old dress, for le Pere Bertrand has said that 
 he wishes all of the children to come early to the 
 church." 
 
 " I shall be ready in a very little while," said Aline 
 as she went to her room, her face wreathed in smiles 
 at the thought of how surprised the old man would be 
 when he saw her again. 
 
 Old Telesse went out to the little stable behind the 
 cabin and took down his harness from the wall. Going 
 back to the cabin he seated himself in the doorway and 
 fell busily to work upon a broken strap, knitting his 
 brows from time to time as though he were thinking 
 deeply. 
 
 Before him the rice stretched away, an undulating sea 
 of green, to the edge of the distant forest. Thick and 
 rank it lay, slowly waving in the breeze, rustling softly 
 cut after cut of rippling blades and long, slender 
 stalks from which the newly born grain was bursting 
 joyously, for the rice was in the boot and the pale green 
 heads were beginning to peep forth cautiously from the 
 close embrace of their protecting leaves. 
 
 The air was heavy with the coarse, rank odor of the 
 stagnant water that filled the cuts almost to overflowing, 
 while a vast assemblage of cranes and herons flapped 
 lazily overhead or stalked in solemn dignity along the 
 levees. The old man gazed at the big, long-necked 
 birds and smiled with satisfaction, for well he knew 
 
 292 
 
OLD TELESSE ASSERTS HIMSELF 
 
 that they were in search of crawfish the tiny nuisance 
 to the rice planter, who bores his tunnels through the 
 walls of the levees and lets out from the cuts the water 
 which it has taken so much trouble to put there. 
 
 From afar came the muffled report of a gun, and a 
 great cloud of birds showed for a moment against the 
 blue of the sky, driven by some watchful keeper from 
 their feast of stolen grain. A straggling line of boys 
 moved shoulder deep through the heavy stools of rice, 
 pulling out the tall indigo plants whose delicate tops 
 showed pale and feathery in the sunlight. 
 
 A water tender walked slowly along the levee, eyeing 
 it critically, testing the little dams that he had made 
 with his long-handled shovel. 
 
 The old man heard a step inside the cabin and turn 
 ing quickly stared in speechless astonishment, for there 
 before him stood Aline, radiant and smiling, clad in 
 the spotless white of her first communion dress. 
 
 A wreath of snowy flowers encircled the glossy dark 
 ness of her hair and in her hands she held the prayer- 
 book, the rosary and the long yellow candle with its 
 silken ribbon. As she stood in the dark, poorly fur 
 nished room, her happy, peaceful face smiling through 
 the gauzy folds of the veil that fell softly about it, she 
 seemed some beautiful creature from another world 
 come down for a moment to glorify this earth with her 
 presence. 
 
 The old man pointed a trembling finger toward her. 
 "That dress, Aline!" he cried. "Where did you 
 get it?" 
 
 She laughed at him teasingly. " Ah, can you guess, 
 
 2 93 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Uncle Telesse? " she asked. " Is it not pretty? Are 
 you not surprised? " 
 
 The old man did not seem to hear her. " So that is 
 what you have been hiding from me," said he. " Where 
 did you get that dress, Aline? Did M sieu Gordon 
 give it to you? " 
 
 There was something in his voice that caused the 
 smile to leave her face, that caused her lip to tremble 
 and the tears to start to her eyes. 
 
 " Why, Uncle Telesse," she cried. " How strangely 
 you speak. I thought that you would be so happy, so 
 surprised, and instead you are angry. Why do you 
 ask if M sieu Gordon gave me the dress, when you must 
 know well that he did not? " 
 
 The happiness was all gone from her face and her 
 eyes were piteous. 
 
 " But the dress, Aline?" the old man persisted. 
 "Where did you get it?" 
 
 Very slowly she came over to him and, standing in 
 the doorway, told him all about it. Told him of her 
 sacrifice, of her longing for her ring, of her work upon 
 the dress at night after he had fallen asleep, of her 
 happiness at the thought of his glad surprise, of her 
 disappointment at the way he had spoken to her, while 
 he listened in silence, a little smile of satisfaction lurk 
 ing at the corners of his mouth. 
 
 When she had finished he rose and kissed her, his eyes 
 beaming with love and affection. 
 
 " You are a good girl, Aline, and I did wrong to 
 mistrust you," said he. " I should have known that 
 you did not get the dress from M sieu Gordon." 
 
 294 
 
OLD TELESSE ASSERTS HIMSELF 
 
 " But why should M sieu Gordon give me the 
 dress? " she asked wonderingly. 
 
 The old man shook his head. " You would not 
 understand if I were to tell you," answered he. " You 
 are as a child, Aline, and you know nothing of the world. 
 You are young and beautiful, fit to be the mistress of 
 the big house over there among the oak trees, yet you 
 are but a poor Cajun girl upon M sieu Gordon s 
 plantation. He is your master and you are his servant. 
 He seems to have taken a great interest in you, and it 
 has worried me, but I will worry no more, for you are 
 a good girl and I can trust you. And so you gave up 
 your ring that you might have a new dress for your 
 first communion? That was brave in you and I am 
 pleased and happy at what you have done. But we 
 must get back the ring. It would never do to lose it. 
 I will see Numa about it to-day and will get the 
 money from M sieu Gordon, who I am sure will not 
 refuse me." 
 
 The girl gazed at him with shining eyes. " Oh, 
 Uncle Telesse," she cried. " Will I really get back my 
 ring to-day? I shall be the happiest girl in all this 
 world." 
 
 " Yes," replied the old man. " I promise you. And 
 now I must go and harness the horse, or we shall be 
 late at Landry." 
 
 Picking up the mended strap he went out to the stable 
 leaving the girl behind him, a picture of quiet beauty 
 framed in the heavy timbers of the doorway. 
 
 And so it was that presently they set out upon their 
 journey in the old man s jumper and went out past 
 
 295 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 the waving fields of rice to the public road, where they 
 met a long string of vehicles making their way through 
 the heavy dust clouds toward Landry. Falling into line 
 with the rest they came finally to the little town where 
 the broad streets were thronged with people and the 
 various conveyances that had brought them there. 
 
 So crowded indeed were the streets that the old man 
 was obliged to drive on past the church and almost to 
 Dr. Lemaire s drug store before he could find a place 
 to tie his horse. Having found a gap between two 
 jumpers he made the pony fast and started back toward 
 the church, the girl walking by his side. 
 
 As they were passing the coffee house of Old Pierre 
 a man darted quickly through the opening in the high 
 white fence and entered the building. 
 
 Aline gave a little cry. " See, Uncle Telesse, there 
 is Numa," said she eagerly. u Go inside and ask him 
 for my ring, and I will wait for you here." 
 
 The old man started away obediently. " I will be 
 back in a moment," said he. " We are late." 
 
 He was indeed late, for the people were pouring into 
 the church in a great stream and the street was almost 
 deserted. 
 
 Within the coffee house he met Numa, drunk and 
 surly and dressed in a wonderful array of gaudy cloth 
 ing, the center of a group of young men from the 
 prairie. The old man went up to him and drew him 
 aside. 
 
 " There is something I wish to ask you about, 
 Numa," he said. 
 
 Numa answered him sullenly. " Well, what is it? " 
 
 296 
 
OLD TELESSE ASSERTS HIMSELF 
 
 growled he. " Speak quickly, for I wish to get back 
 to my friends again." 
 
 " Aline told me this morning of how you got her 
 ring away from her so that she could buy her first 
 communion dress," answered the old man. " I want 
 the ring back, Numa." 
 
 Numa shrugged his shoulders. " Have you the 
 money to pay to the man who has it in keeping?" 
 he asked. 
 
 The old man shook his head. " You are the man 
 who has it in keeping," replied he. u Give me the ring, 
 Numa." 
 
 Numa s face flushed angrily. " What do you mean 
 by saying that I have it?" he cried. " You lie when 
 you say so. What should I want with it? " 
 
 Again the old man shook his head. " You know 
 that you have the ring, Numa," said he doggedly. 
 " You took it for some bad purpose of your own. You 
 know that it is the only keepsake that Aline has from 
 her dead father, and that she prizes it more than any 
 thing else in all this world. You do not know how 
 much she wants it. She would never have parted with it 
 if she had not thought that it was her duty to do so. 
 Will you not give me the ring for her sake? Will you 
 not make her happy, Numa, on this the day of her first 
 communion? " 
 
 For a moment Numa did not answer, while the 
 significance of the old man s words penetrated his 
 liquor-clouded brain. 
 
 Suddenly he smiled triumphantly. " No," he cried. 
 " I will not. So this ring was her father s, was it? 
 
 297 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Now that I know this I promise you that she will never 
 see it again." 
 
 He turned away toward his companions. 
 
 The old man laid a detaining hand upon his shoulder. 
 " Wait, Numa," said he. " You must give Aline back 
 her ring. If you do not I shall tell her of all your 
 wickedness and drunkenness and of the lies that you 
 told to get it away from her." 
 
 Numa turned upon him fiercely. " If you tell her 
 that I will tell something that I know," replied he 
 meaningly. 
 
 The old man s face went white, but he answered him 
 bravely. " You may tell, Numa," said he, " Aline must 
 have her ring. There is a reason why she should." 
 
 He turned away as he spoke, well knowing that to 
 argue further was useless. 
 
 Numa barred his way. " You will not tell her," 
 cried he furiously. " Do you hear? You will not tell 
 her. I will make you keep your mouth shut." 
 
 The old man attempted to pass him. " I will tell 
 her," he answered. " You cannot stop me." 
 
 With a cry of rage Numa sprang upon him and bore 
 him to the ground. 
 
 " I will choke the breath out of you, you old fool! " 
 he shouted, grasping for the old man s throat. 
 
 Telesse fought him weakly. " Send for Pere Ber- 
 trand," he gasped, " or Numa will kill me." 
 
 Two men seized Numa and strove to drag him from 
 the body of his victim. He fought and kicked at them 
 desperately, one hand still groping for the old man s 
 throat. 
 
 298 
 
OLD TELESSE ASSERTS HIMSELF 
 
 Old Pierre hobbled outside wringing his hands and 
 calling for help. In the road near the coffee house 
 stood Aline waiting patiently for the old man s return, 
 her eyes cast wistfully toward the church, the steps of 
 which were now crowded with the overflow from inside. 
 
 Old Pierre called to her shrilly. " Run quickly for 
 Pere Bertrand," he cried. " Numa is choking Telesse, 
 and we can do nothing with him." 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth before 
 Aline was speeding down the dusty road, running 
 blindly toward the church, her cry of terror falling 
 loudly upon the silence of the deserted street. Once 
 she stumbled and fell, but she was upon her feet again 
 in an instant and sped on breathlessly toward the great 
 yellow building before her. 
 
 299 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 FATHER BERTRAND LOSES HIS TEMPER 
 
 MEANWHILE, within the church a vast 
 assemblage had gathered together. A vast 
 assemblage of fathers, of mothers, of friends 
 who had come for miles around to see their loved ones 
 go for the first time to holy communion. 
 
 They filled the seats, they packed the broad aisles 
 and the great open space behind the long rows of pews; 
 yet outside there were many who could find no place to 
 stand or kneel and must wait there patiently in the sun 
 light until the great ceremony was over. 
 
 Far up in the front pews near the altar sat the 
 communicants the girls upon the right side, the boys 
 upon the left: two great blots of white and black, all 
 streaked and colored with the light from the stained- 
 glass windows. Behind them sat the smiling, happy 
 mothers, the proud fathers, the multitude of friends, 
 all of them dressed to a state of misery; conversing 
 in hoarse whispers, nodding encouragingly toward the 
 front pews, gazing expectantly toward the sacristy for 
 the coming of Father Bertrand. 
 
 High up in the choir sat Le Bossu, his white face 
 peering above the railing in search of the absent Aline. 
 
 300 
 
FATHER BERTRAND LOSES HIS TEMPER 
 
 Every now and then there would be a movement in the 
 crowded aisle below him and the little man would lean 
 forward eagerly only to sink back in bitter disappoint 
 ment. 
 
 " I cannot understand it," he kept repeating. " She 
 must be with the other girls in front." And then he 
 would stare again at the white mass of communicants 
 until his eyes were blurred and dim. 
 
 A sudden hush fell upon the congregation, and the 
 little man looking before him saw a long, red line of 
 acolytes entering the chancel. Behind them came 
 Father Bertrand clad in a gorgeous robe of bright, 
 shimmering gold. 
 
 The organ rumbled, the acolytes stood in a great 
 half-circle. Father Bertrand mounted the steps of the 
 altar. The people rose to their feet. 
 
 Suddenly Le Bossu heard a stir in the crowd and he 
 leaned far over the rail with a cry, for there in the aisle 
 below him the people were falling away upon either 
 side to make a narrow lane through which a white, 
 terror-stricken figure was rushing madly toward the 
 altar. 
 
 It was Aline, her dress torn and dirty from her fall, 
 her veil streaming out behind her, breathless and pant 
 ing and nearly spent from her long run to the church. 
 On she went between the two staring lines of people 
 until she came to the chancel steps, and there she fell in 
 a white heap utterly exhausted. 
 
 "Pere Bertrand," she gasped, " hurry to the coffee 
 house and save my uncle, for Nurna is killing him. 
 Hurry, hurry, mon Pere y if you would save him." 
 
 301 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 She gave a little sigh and the church went black 
 before her. 
 
 For a moment Father Bertrand gazed at her in 
 astonishment, and then he plucked the golden robe from 
 off him and laid it on the altar. Out through the little 
 chancel gate he strode and down the crowded aisle 
 where the people fell back against the pews to let him 
 pass, and stared breathlessly at his set face and glow 
 ing eyes. Monsieur Landry and a little group of 
 the older men hurried out behind him in great 
 excitement. 
 
 Down the road they went, Father Bertrand walking 
 before them, his white robes flapping wildly in the 
 breeze. 
 
 When at last they came to the coffee house they found 
 the furious Numa struggling wildly in the grip of the 
 men who held him. In a corner of the room the old 
 man lay silent, his eyes closed, his face white, his clothes 
 all disheveled and torn. Beside him knelt Old Pierre 
 trying vainly to force some brandy between his clenched 
 teeth. 
 
 Father Bertrand went up to the men who held the 
 struggling Numa and waved them aside. 
 
 " Let him go," said he. " I will attend to him." 
 
 They let him go willingly, for he had handled them 
 roughly in his efforts to break their hold. 
 
 No sooner was Numa free than he made a rush 
 toward the silent figure in the corner. Father Ber 
 trand seized him by the collar and spun him around as 
 a child does a top. 
 
 " Are you mad? " he cried. " Would you kill this 
 
 302 
 
FATHER BERTRAND LOSES HIS TEMPER 
 
 old man? You coward. You low, brutal coward, to 
 strike one so old and feeble." 
 
 He flung the man from him with a force that sent 
 him staggering against the wall. 
 
 With a cry Numa sprang toward the priest. " You 
 go too far, Pere Bertrand," raged he furiously. " You 
 are a priest I know, but you shall not turn me from my 
 purpose to-day. Stand aside or I will strike you." 
 
 He dashed forward again as he spoke, his mouth 
 foaming, his eyes wild and bloodshot, mad with rage 
 and from the liquor that he had been drinking. 
 
 Father Bertrand seized his arm as he drew it back 
 to strike him and pinned it to his side. In a moment 
 more he had seized the other arm also, and bringing his 
 great strength to bear upon Numa he forced him slowly 
 to his knees. 
 
 Suddenly he let go his hold and stood above the kneel 
 ing man in silent, white-faced anger, his hands clenched, 
 his eyes blazing. 
 
 " Kneel there and ask God to forgive you for what 
 you have done," he thundered. " If you attempt to 
 rise I will strike you to the ground again. I am a 
 priest of God, I know, but I am also a man. You have 
 attempted to strike me and it is given to every one to 
 defend himself." 
 
 For an instant Numa seemed about to rise in furious 
 anger, but the eye of the priest was upon him, cold and 
 hard and unmerciful, and he slowly bowed his head, 
 while the anger left his face and was replaced by a look 
 of deepest shame. 
 
 Father Bertrand, seeing this, relaxed his set muscles 
 
 303 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 and drew a deep breath, for he knew that the man 
 before him was conquered. 
 
 " At last you have come to your senses, Numa," said 
 he. " Pray to God to forgive you, for you have been 
 very wicked." 
 
 Numa raised a white, penitent face for an instant and 
 humbly bowed his head, for he could not stand the 
 cold, piercing gaze of the man before him. 
 
 " And you, mon Pere" he pleaded, " will you for 
 give me ? I must have been mad, crazy. It is the liquor 
 and my bad temper, mon Pere, that does it. Forgive 
 me, for I knew not what I was doing." 
 
 Father Bertrand pointed toward the open door. 
 " Go," said he, " for I cannot forgive you now. You 
 have made me too angry. Come to me to-morrow when 
 my anger has gone, and I will forgive you. But go now 
 before I forget that I am a priest of God and 
 inflict upon you the punishment which you richly 
 deserve." 
 
 He paused, his great frame shaking with suppressed 
 rage, his breath coming short and hard in his anger. 
 
 Again Numa raised his eyes and looked at the priest 
 entreatingly. 
 
 Father Bertrand shook his head. " Go," said he 
 once more. 
 
 Numa crawled to his feet and slunk out of the coffee 
 house a trembling, shame-faced creature that crept 
 through the great crowd that had gathered in the road 
 with drooping head and downcast eyes. No one 
 touched him or spoke to him as he went along, the 
 people shrinking from him as though he were stricken 
 
 304 
 
FATHER BERTRAND LOSES HIS TEMPER 
 
 with the plague, and when he came to where his horse 
 was tied he mounted him and rode away unmolested 
 toward the west where the Grand Woods stretched 
 across the horizon in a long black line. 
 
 Meanwhile, Father Bertrand having conquered the 
 furious Numa now turned his attention to the innocent 
 victim of his wrath. 
 
 The old man had regained consciousness and was 
 seated at one of the tables in the card room where 
 Monsieur Landry strove with poor success to straighten 
 his torn, rumpled clothes. 
 
 " He is all right again, mon Pere," cried the store 
 keeper brightly. " Numa only succeeded in choking 
 him unconscious before they pulled him away. I was 
 afraid at first that he had killed him." 
 
 Father Bertrand laid his hand kindly upon the old 
 man s shoulder. " I am indeed glad, Telesse, that you 
 are not badly hurt," said he. " What was the cause of 
 the trouble between Numa and yourself? " 
 
 " It was nothing, mon Pere," answered the old man 
 evasively. " It was only a few words that I said about 
 some land." 
 
 He spoke hurriedly and his face was troubled, for 
 Aline had told him of what her father had said to her 
 so many years ago and he did not wish the story of the 
 ring to become public property. 
 
 " What was it that you said to Numa about the 
 land?" asked Monsieur Landry. 
 
 The old man shook his head violently. " I do not 
 remember what it was," answered he. " I have for 
 gotten it." 
 
 305 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Monsieur Landry was puzzled. " But if you have 
 Numa arrested for what he has done you will have to 
 remember what the quarrel was about so that you can 
 tell the judge," he persisted. 
 
 The old man rose to his feet weakly and hobbled 
 to the door. " I am not going to have Numa arrested," 
 said he. " I do not wish to see the judge. I am going 
 to find Aline, for she will be worried about me." 
 
 Monsieur Landry looked at Father Bertrand signifi 
 cantly as he followed the old man out of the card room. 
 " There is more to this than I suspected," he whispered. 
 
 As he was passing through the bar his foot struck 
 upon something hard, and picking it up he thrust it 
 absently into his pocket, his eyes fixed curiously upon 
 the aged figure before him. 
 
 The crowd in the road cheered lustily as the old man 
 came out of the doorway, and a white figure shot sud 
 denly forward to seize him with a cry of joy. 
 
 It was Aline, her face all white and drawn with the 
 pain and anxiety of her waiting. 
 
 " Ah, Uncle Telesse, are you very badly hurt? " she 
 cried, holding the old man fearfully. " They told me at 
 first that you were dead, and I thought that my heart 
 would break. How could Numa have been so 
 wicked?" 
 
 The old man. soothed her with many tender pats and 
 caresses. " Do not fear, Aline," answered he. u Numa 
 did not hurt me. I am only a little bruised and shaken, 
 that is all." 
 
 Again the crowd cheered and Father Bertrand held 
 up his hand for silence. 
 
 306 
 
FATHER BERTRAND LOSES HIS TEMPER 
 
 " God is good," said he, u for he has spared this old 
 man s life even as he will punish the wicked one who 
 sought to take it. It is an awful thing, my children, to 
 see a young man strike an old one, so awful that it 
 caused me to do something to-day that I have not done 
 since I have been a priest. It caused me to lose my 
 temper. I know that it was wrong for me to do so, but 
 I could not help it, and I hope that you will all forgive 
 me as I am going to ask God to forgive me in my 
 prayers. Be as lenient with me as you can, my children, 
 and remember that although I am a priest I am a man 
 also, and that I cannot witness unmoved such a sight 
 as I saw to-day. 
 
 " We will go back now and continue the mass that 
 Numa has committed such a sacrilege in disturbing." 
 
 He turned away toward the church as he spoke and 
 the people followed behind him in a great crowd, Aline 
 and the old man going along with the rest. 
 
 And so they all went back into the church again, 
 the organ rolled and the acolytes trooped into the 
 chancel once more. Again Father Bertrand followed 
 behind them in his golden robes and again the people 
 rose to their feet as the singers in the choir chanted 
 their responses, while far back in a pew near the door 
 Monsieur Landry pondered deeply upon the old man s 
 clemency toward Numa. 
 
 " I would give something pretty to know the cause of 
 their trouble," said he to himself. " Telesse was try 
 ing to deceive me when he said that it was on account 
 of some land." 
 
 Suddenly he remembered that he had picked up some- 
 
 307 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 thing in the bar, and reaching down into his pocket he 
 drew it forth and looked at it curiously. 
 
 It was the cause of all the trouble the ring that 
 Numa had dropped from its hiding place in his strug 
 gles to reach the old man. 
 
 Monsieur Landry turned it about in his hands and 
 gazed at it for a long time. 
 
 "If you could only speak you would tell me all that 
 I wish to know," was his comment as he finally thrust 
 it back into his pocket again. 
 
 308 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MONSIEUR LANDRY TRIES TO REMEMBER 
 
 IT was upon a bright morning in the early summer, 
 some seven days after the events narrated in the 
 last chapter that the quiet of the big house at 
 Belrive was disturbed by a most unusual hurry and 
 bustle. The great hall upstairs was noisy with the 
 pattering of footsteps and the incessant babble of girlish 
 voices, while from the back steps there came the heavy 
 bumping of some ponderous object borne slowly to the 
 lower floor, mingled with the sullen growling of Uncle 
 Bill, who declared that the trunk must have been 
 loaded with brick for the sole purpose of increasing his 
 labors. 
 
 And had one been curious enough to investigate he 
 would have found that this disturbance even extended 
 into the sacred precincts of the kitchen where Aunt 
 Felonise was preparing a tremendous lunch, for at 
 twelve o clock that day Marjorie Gordon and her friend 
 Miss Lawrence were to start upon a journey to the 
 seashore, and Belrive was striving its utmost to give 
 due honor to their departure. For three days there 
 had been a marvelous amount of preparation and now 
 the final arrangements had been made, the last trunk 
 
 309 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 had been packed, and all that remained was the long 
 drive to Mouton where the two fair travelers were to 
 start upon their journey. 
 
 In her sunny room upstairs Marjorie clicked together 
 the clasps of her bulging valise and arose from the task 
 with a sigh of satisfaction. 
 
 " There," said she, u it s over at last, thank heavens, 
 and all that we have to do now is to wait until train 
 time. Aren t you glad, Julia?" 
 
 Miss Lawrence from her seat by the window said 
 that she was. " But I do hate to leave Belrive," she 
 added, smiling rather wistfully. 
 
 " Every one hates to see you go also," said Mar 
 jorie, " and there will be a general rejoicing when you 
 come back Christmas. I think that I ll write a note 
 before we go down to lunch," she added, going over 
 to her desk. 
 
 " To Mr. Bayne? " inquired Miss Lawrence. 
 
 Marjorie blushed. " Yes," answered she, u I want 
 to send him my address, you know. He has promised 
 to write me all the home news." 
 
 This last was said very indifferently. 
 
 Miss Lawrence looked out of the window. Mar- 
 jorie s pen scratched over the paper. 
 
 Suddenly Miss Lawrence gave a little jump and a 
 smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. 
 
 " Don t you expect to see Mr. Bayne before you 
 leave? " she asked. 
 
 Marjorie turned upon her a disappointed face drawn 
 up into an angry frown. 
 
 " No," answered she, " I do not Tom doesn t 
 
 310 
 
MONSIEUR LANDRY TRIES TO REMEMBER 
 
 seem to be very much interested in my going away. I 
 have a great mind to tear up this note and not send 
 him my address at all." 
 
 Miss Lawrence nodded. " If I were you I would 
 tear it up myself," said she. 
 
 Instantly Marjorie became aggressive. " I would 
 like to know what makes you say that," she cried. 
 
 " Look out of the window," commanded Miss 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Marjorie looked and saw Tom Bayne riding slowly 
 up the avenue of trees, a picture of utter dejection. 
 Instantly she was all smiles and good humor, arranging 
 her dress and hair with many little pats and pulls/ and 
 dancing about the room in a flurry of excitement. 
 
 " Now be sure and come right down, Julia," said she 
 as she hurried from the room. 
 
 Miss Lawrence looked after her with a smile of 
 amusement. " I shall do just as you asked me to, my 
 dear, and stay where I am," said she. 
 
 At the front door Marjorie met Tom Bayne, the look 
 of happiness upon her face having now changed to one 
 of great demureness. 
 
 " I have come to see you off," he announced, " and 
 I am going to invite myself to luncheon and a seat in 
 the surrey to Mouton and back, so you will have to 
 put up with me whether you want to or not." 
 
 " That will be nice," replied Marjorie. " The drive 
 to Mouton is always tiresome and we shall be glad to 
 have you, Tom. Aren t you going to miss Julia, 
 though?" 
 
 " I guess I ll miss some one else a whole lot more 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 than I will her," said Tom, casting a beseeching look at 
 Marjorie. 
 
 That young lady smiled. " Of course you ve got to 
 say that out of politeness," replied she. 
 
 Tom looked indignant. " I didn t mean it that way 
 at all and you know that I didn t," said he. " I don t 
 expect to come back to Belrive again until you come 
 back yourself, and that won t be for " 
 
 " Two months," smiled Marjorie. 
 
 Tom groaned, for he was desperate. Ever since he 
 had heard that Marjorie was going away he had pic 
 tured to himself the attentions that she would receive 
 in the little summer colony where she was to visit Miss 
 Lawrence, and the picture of these attentions had been 
 a perpetual torment to him. He had made up his mind 
 that the only course left open to him was to declare his 
 love before Marjorie left and so win or lose her. 
 
 He had nerved himself that morning to speak to her 
 and had repeated a carefully made speech during his 
 entire journey to Belrive, but now that he was with her 
 his courage failed him and he could not think of a word 
 that he had intended to say. The fact that this was 
 his last opportunity only made the matter worse and 
 he sat for a while in silence, divided between anger and 
 despair. 
 
 Finally he gathered together the remnants of his 
 courage and made a feeble attempt. 
 
 " There is something that I want to tell you before 
 you leave, Marjorie," said he. 
 
 Marjorie looked at him with a fair attempt at curi 
 osity. " What is it? " she asked. 
 
 312 
 
MONSIEUR LANDRY TRIES TO REMEMBER 
 
 Tom leaned forward in his chair and fastened his 
 eyes upon a spot on the floor. 
 
 " I want to tell you," began he, " that I " 
 
 Marjorie sprang to her feet with a little cry. " Oh, 
 Tom," said she, " isn t that Carey coming through the 
 gate?" 
 
 Tom looked out before him. " Yes, it Is," he replied 
 slowly. 
 
 Marjorie sank back into her seat again. " I m so 
 glad that he has come in early," said she. " I am going 
 to miss him awfully." 
 
 Tom looked at her half-angry, half-amused. 
 
 " You did that on purpose to break me up, my lady," 
 said he to himself. " Now I am going to tell you or 
 die in the attempt." 
 
 His blood was up and his shyness had all left him, 
 driven away by her interruption. A quick glance 
 toward the gate showed him that Carey had stopped 
 to speak to a negro. It was now or never. 
 
 He looked at Marjorie. Her head was averted, but 
 he could see that she was watching him out of the 
 corner of her eye. 
 
 " As I was about to tell you a moment ago," said 
 he, " I came over this morning to tell you that I 
 love " 
 
 " That you love what, Tom?" asked Aunt Betty, 
 who had come out unheard upon the gallery. 
 
 Tom sprang to his feet, his face crimson. " That I 
 love the seashore," he gasped explosively. 
 
 Aunt Betty smiled quietly. " I should think you 
 would," said he. " Every one loves the seashore. My 
 
 313 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 husband once knew a man who liked it so well that 
 he fooled about it until he was drowned. But then he 
 was a poor swimmer, Tom, and he was afraid. It 
 doesn t pay to be afraid at the seashore. One must 
 have plenty of courage to get along there." 
 
 She nodded her head knowingly. 
 
 A great light broke upon Tom and he gave the little 
 old lady a look of deepest gratitude. 
 
 " I m very much obliged to you for your sermon, 
 Aunt Betty," said he, " and I promise you that I will 
 profit by it. I don t think that I will ever be afraid 
 of the seashore again." 
 
 " Of course you won t," replied Aunt Betty deci 
 sively, " and I am also sure that if you inquire in the 
 proper manner you will find that Marjorie is not half as 
 much afraid of the seashore as you are yourself." 
 
 Having delivered this parting shot she went into the 
 house again. 
 
 No sooner was she gone than Tom turned to Mar 
 jorie. " I am going to the seashore," he announced 
 triumphantly. 
 
 She was silent for a moment before she answered him, 
 her cheeks flushed, her fingers beating a silent tattoo 
 upon the arm of her chair. 
 
 " Of course you are the best judge of what is good 
 for yourself, Tom," said she finally, " but if you were 
 to ask me about the matter I should advise you to post 
 pone your trip to the seashore until some time this 
 winter." 
 
 Tom gave a start of joyful surprise. " And if I wait 
 until this winter, what then? " he asked breathlessly. 
 
 3H 
 
MONSIEUR LANDRY TRIES TO REMEMBER 
 
 " That," answered Marjorie, " I cannot say. You 
 will have to wait until this winter to find out." 
 
 Tom s face, which had been radiant, took on again 
 its look of despair. 
 
 " But, Margey," he pleaded, " that isn t fair. Won t 
 you say just a little something to ease my mind? " 
 
 The tinkle of the lunch bell came from inside the 
 house. Marjorie arose from her chair. 
 
 " Come on, Tom," said she. " If we are late Aunt 
 Betty will never forgive us. She has been trying to 
 start us off to Mouton ever since six o clock this 
 morning." 
 
 Tom followed her in sullen silence to the dining 
 room, where they found Aunt Betty fluttering about in 
 a state of the wildest excitement. 
 
 " Now you sit right down, Tom Bayne," said she as 
 that gentleman was shaking hands with Miss Law 
 rence, " and don t keep that girl standing about talk 
 ing or she ll miss her train. I don t want to see her 
 leave, the Lord knows, but if she s going she might as 
 well get off to-day." 
 
 " But, Aunt Betty," said Marjorie, " we have a 
 world of time. We are not going to leave here until 
 twelve o clock, you know." 
 
 " People who have plenty of time are always the 
 ones who miss their trains," said Aunt Betty. " Now 
 can any of you tell me where Carey is that he is so 
 late to-day?" 
 
 As though in answer to her question Carey at that 
 moment pushed open the door. 
 
 " Hello, Tom," he cried, " I m glad to see you. I 
 
 315 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 suppose we ll have to keep each other company now 
 that the girls are going away." 
 
 " If you don t sit down and eat your luncheon they 
 won t get away," said Aunt Betty emphatically. 
 
 Carey laughed and took his seat. " Very well, Aunt 
 Betty," said he, " I ll speed the parting guest," and 
 he fell to eating his lunch in the most ravenous manner 
 possible, while Aunt Betty eyed him keenly, a puzzled 
 look upon her face. 
 
 Ever since the day, several months before, when she 
 had predicted that Carey would fall in love with Miss 
 Lawrence, she had watched him closely for a sign that 
 her prediction had been fulfilled, and so many and 
 different had been the signs she had perceived that upon 
 this, the last day of Miss Lawrence s visit, she was as 
 uncertain as to the outcome of her prophecy as she had 
 been upon the day when she had first made it. At one 
 time she had been certain that Carey had fallen a victim 
 to the fair visitor s charms, but his apparent devotion 
 had been followed by a relaxation of great indifference, 
 and again Aunt Betty found herself a victim of un 
 certainty. 
 
 Now had she known the real state of affairs she 
 would have found that she had been all along very 
 near the truth, for at one time Carey had been as much 
 in love with Miss Lawrence as a man could very well 
 be, and then suddenly his feelings had changed. 
 
 Why they had changed he could at first hardly say 
 himself. There had been no quarrel, Miss Lawrence 
 had lost none of her charms and had instead become 
 more captivating every day. 
 
 316 
 
MONSIEUR LANDRY TRIES TO REMEMBER 
 
 But nevertheless there had been a change, and Carey, 
 groping in the dark for some reason, saw a light, a 
 faint light indeed, but a light for all that, and with 
 a laugh of derision he had turned his back upon it 
 and had refused to look again. At first he would not 
 even give this light a name and had fought away 
 from it desperately, arguing with himself that if he 
 looked at it no more it would slowly flicker out for 
 want of attention and vanish from his thoughts 
 forever. 
 
 And so he had gone his way in fancied security until 
 in the witchery of a moonlit night he had looked at this 
 light again and it had blinded him for a moment, hav 
 ing grown strong and bright in the days of its neglect 
 and banishment. Again he had turned away from it, 
 but this time he had been forced to speak its name, and 
 he had whispered " Aline " in a voice that trembled 
 fearfully. 
 
 And now that he knew and recognized this light he 
 only fought against it the harder, telling himself that 
 such a thing was madness, promising himself that he 
 would never look again, trying to divert his mind by 
 paying Miss Lawrence the most marked attention. 
 
 So therefore it was that Carey in the grip of the con 
 flicting emotions was an enigma to Aunt Betty, and 
 as she gazed at him now across the lunch table she shook 
 her head despairingly. 
 
 11 He has most certainly been attentive to her for the 
 past few weeks," said she to herself, " but he may have 
 been trying to make the last part of her visit as pleasant 
 as the first, and he most certainly does not seem very 
 
 317 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 downcast at her departure. Now if he looked half as 
 glum as Tom Bayne I should not have the slightest 
 doubt as to what his feelings are." 
 
 Carey had indeed none of the appearance of a down 
 cast lover, and he laughed and joked with the two girls 
 about their visit to the seashore until Aunt Betty inter 
 rupted with a sharp, " And now, my dears, if you 
 really want to catch the train you had better make a 
 start." 
 
 As she spoke she pointed to the clock upon the man 
 tel, the hands of which were closely approaching the 
 hour of twelve. 
 
 Instantly there was a scraping back of chairs from 
 the table, a hurried putting on of hats and forcing of 
 forgotten things into overpacked valises as the travelers 
 prepared themselves for their journey. 
 
 It took quite a while to say good-by, for the kisses 
 had to be repeated many times, and when at last the 
 two girls were seated in the back of the surrey with 
 Tom Bayne before them and old Bill had started his 
 horses down the avenue of live oaks, they waved their 
 hands and gazed back at the little group upon the front 
 gallery until the trees hid it from their view. They 
 drove through the fields with never a word, and when 
 at last they came out upon the public road, Tom Bayne, 
 who had been rummaging in his pockets, was the first to 
 break the silence. 
 
 "I say," said he, " do you know what I ve done? 
 I ve come off without a single thing to smoke. Stop in 
 Landry for a moment will you, Uncle Bill? I want 
 to buy some cigarettes." 
 
 318 
 
MONSIEUR LANDRY TRIES TO REMEMBER 
 
 Uncle Bill nodded solemnly. " Yassir," answered 
 he, and true to his promise he stopped the surrey in 
 front of Monsieur Landry s store. 
 
 Tom jumped out and ran quickly inside. Monsieur 
 Landry came forward to meet him. 
 
 "What can I do for you, Monsieur Bayne?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " I want a pack of cigarettes," answered Tom, throw 
 ing the money on the counter. " Please give them to me 
 quickly, for I am on my way with some young ladies 
 to catch the train at Mouton." 
 
 Monsieur Landry handed him the cigarettes and 
 walked with him to the door, curious to see who it was 
 that was leaving. When he saw who the occupants of 
 the surrey were he came out into the road. 
 
 " And do you mean to tell me that you are going to 
 leave us, Miss Marjorie? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," answered Marjorie, " I am going to spend 
 the summer with my friend here, Miss Lawrence, but 
 I m coming back again, so you needn t feel so badly 
 about my leaving, Monsieur Landry." 
 
 Monsieur Landry laughed and turned to Miss Law 
 rence. 
 
 "And you?" he inquired. "You will come back 
 with Miss Marjorie, will you not? " 
 
 Miss Lawrence shook her head. " No," answered 
 she, " you will not see me again until Christmas. I 
 am going to spend the fall at my home on Lawrence 
 Hall plantation." 
 
 Monsieur Landry looked puzzled. " So," said he, 
 " Lawrence Hall plantation, eh? " 
 
 3*9 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " Yes," replied Miss Lawrence, " that is what I 
 said." 
 
 " I don t want to hurry you people," called Tom 
 Bayne from the seat in front, " but if you want to catch 
 your train, we had better be moving." 
 
 Miss Lawrence held out her hand. " Good-by, Mon 
 sieur Landry," said she, " and the best of good luck 
 to you until I see you again at Christmas." 
 
 Monsieur Landry gave a sudden start of surprise and 
 gazed at the outstretched hand in amazement. 
 
 " Good-by," said Miss Lawrence again. 
 
 Monsieur Landry took the hand and bowed low. 
 " Bon voyage/ he cried, and the surrey rolled away in 
 a cloud of dust. 
 
 For a long time he stood in the road gazing after 
 it, his forehead wrinkled in a frown, his eyes wide and 
 staring in speechless astonishment. Suddenly he gave 
 himself a little shake, like a man coming out of a 
 dream, and hurrying into the store went quickly to 
 his desk that stood in the little space enclosed by the 
 railing. 
 
 Unlocking one of its drawers with trembling fingers 
 he drew forth something and gazed at it long and curi 
 ously. It was the ring that he had picked up in the 
 coffee house the week before. 
 
 " They are the same in every detail," said he to 
 himself. " It is wonderful, marvelous. How can it be 
 that this ring which I found in the coffee house is exactly 
 like the one that I have just seen upon this Miss Law 
 rence s finger? And she lives at Lawrence Hall planta 
 tion. Lawrence and Lawrence Hall," he repeated 
 
 320 
 
MONSIEUR LANDRY TRIES TO REMEMBER 
 
 slowly. " Where have I heard of those two names 
 before?" 
 
 He beat his hands upon the sides of his head as 
 though he sought to awaken his slumbering memory. 
 
 " Ah," he cried, " what a cruel thing is this fever. 
 It either brings you death or plunges you into everlast 
 ing forgetfulness. Here am I with the secret of what 
 may be a great discovery upon the very tip of my tongue 
 and I cannot remember." 
 
 He bowed his head upon his hands, while the ring 
 upon the desk, catching a beam of sunlight, seemed to 
 smile at him mockingly. 
 
 u And I cannot remember," said he again, in a voice 
 that was almost a whisper. 
 
 321 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS 
 
 IN the office of his huge store at Mouton Monsieur 
 Edmond Varain sat in silent perusal of a letter 
 which he had spread open upon the desk before 
 him. 
 
 He was a sturdy, rugged old man, tall and strong 
 and heavy of build, and he bore the weight of his 
 eighty years with the ease and dignity of one but yet 
 in the prime of life. As he sat with his gray head 
 bent over the letter, his dark eyes glancing out keenly 
 from beneath their ragged, overhanging brows, his 
 strong, masterful face a study of force and strength 
 of will, he reminded one of the tall, aged oaks that 
 one sometimes sees in the forest. 
 
 Those great monarchs of the woodland kingdom 
 that, stripped by time of their youth and greenness, 
 still rear their bare, white branches proudly amid the 
 life and freshness about them, and stand all bearded 
 with moss and crowned with lichen, the patriarchs of 
 the forest unconquerable by nature, their iron-like 
 wood impervious to the ax of the woodsman, holding 
 high their hoary heads through all seasons, to bid defi 
 ance to wind and weather. 
 
 And yet for all the strength and sternness in the face 
 
 322 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS 
 
 of Monsieur Varain there was a look of sadness about 
 it that was ever a marvel to the people at Mouton, for 
 why should Monsieur Varain be sad? they asked 
 themselves. 
 
 Was he not the owner of the biggest store in 
 Mouton ? Was not his wealth the envy of every man in 
 town? Was he not the most important man in all that 
 country, the one whose advice must always be asked 
 upon questions of grave moment? Why, then, should 
 he wear this look of sadness? 
 
 It is true that it was said by some of the women that 
 Monsieur Varain was lonely, for in his great house at 
 Mouton he dwelt by himself, with neither kith nor 
 kin about him, but this idea was scoffed at as ridiculous. 
 Surely so stern and businesslike a man as Monsieur 
 Varain could never know the pangs of loneliness. 
 There was no room in his scheming, calculating brain 
 for any such feeling as that, depend upon it. 
 
 But this matter of his living alone gave cause to 
 another speculation among the people at Mouton more 
 engrossing to them than the cause of his apparent sad 
 ness. To whom would he leave his fortune? 
 
 That he had no kin to claim it was well known. 
 Some said that he would leave it all to Felix, his head 
 clerk, a man who had been with him for years, who 
 had been his one assistant in the days when he had 
 kept a little country store at Coulee Croche, a tiny set 
 tlement far away from Mouton. Of the fact that he 
 was fond of Felix there was no doubt, and so the head 
 clerk was looked upon with much respect as the possible 
 heir of Monsieur Varain. 
 
 323 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 And then again it was said by others that the greater 
 part of the money would go toward the founding of a 
 school, for Monsieur Varain was greatly interested in 
 the cause of education, and many and liberal were the 
 endowments which he gave toward it. 
 
 Of course there were other theories besides these two, 
 the chief ones, but in all their speculation the people of 
 Mouton had come to no conclusion, and Monsieur 
 Varain, as he sat at his desk upon the morning that 
 begins this chapter, was as much a mystery to them as 
 ever. 
 
 Having read his letter, he rang a small bell set in the 
 wall at his side, and, lying back in his chair, waited for 
 the person that he had summoned. 
 
 In a moment the glass door of the office opened 
 quietly and the head clerk entered. Monsieur Varain 
 waved his hand toward a chair. 
 
 " Sit down, Felix," said he. " I have something that 
 I wish to tell you." 
 
 Felix took the proffered seat and looked at his 
 employer expectantly, his whole person speaking of the 
 respect and obedience that he felt for him. 
 
 He was a small, wiry man with a bright, humorous 
 face, ever joking and laughing except in the presence 
 of his employer, who to him was the most wonderful, 
 the most infallible, the most masterful person in all 
 the world. 
 
 Monsieur Varain picked up the letter from his desk 
 and tapped it lightly with his forefinger. 
 
 " I have here," said he, " a letter from the teacher 
 of the school at Landry, in which she tells me that she 
 
 324 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS 
 
 will conduct the final exercises of her classes to-morrow. 
 There will be a picnic in the woods on Bayou Portage 
 near Landry at which the children will sing and recite 
 and in other ways give proof of the progress that they 
 have made in the past year, and I have been asked to 
 be present. As a member of the School Board I feel 
 that it is my duty to go to these exercises and therefore 
 I have decided to drive over to Landry to-morrow." 
 
 He paused for a moment while Felix nodded his 
 approval of this decision. 
 
 " And I have also decided," continued Monsieur 
 Varain, " to take you with me." 
 
 A little smile showed for a moment on Felix s face 
 and was instantly repressed. 
 
 " Yes," repeated Monsieur Varain, " I have decided 
 to take you with me. You have not had a holiday for 
 some time, Felix, and the drive will do you good. The 
 store can surely get along without us for one day. What 
 do you say to my plan, eh? " 
 
 Felix permitted himself a smile of the most exquisite 
 gratification. 
 
 " Fine," said he, " fine. HT t ink hT make myself 
 some fun sure h ad dhoze picnic." 
 
 Monsieur Varain s eyes twinkled at this announce 
 ment. The peculiar English of his head clerk was as 
 amusing to him, who spoke it perfectly, as it was annoy 
 ing to Felix, who, strive as he might, could never mas 
 ter the difficult language, and became more unintelligi 
 ble day by day, despite the fact that he never spoke a 
 word of French unless it was absolutely necessary to 
 do so. 
 
 325 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Monsieur Varain turned to his desk again. " Very 
 well, Felix," said he. " We will consider the matter 
 settled. I will meet you here to-morrow morning at 
 seven o clock. You may go back now into the store 
 again." 
 
 " T ank you, M sieu," said Felix as he went through 
 the glass door, absorbed in contemplating the all- 
 important question of what he should wear upon the 
 morrow. 
 
 So therefore it was that upon the following morning 
 the two of them set out toward Landry behind Mon 
 sieur Varain s pair of blacks that could, according to 
 Felix, " Burn dhe win h as you dhon never seen 
 before." 
 
 The day was a glorious one with a cloudless sky and 
 a fresh, light breeze that seemed bent upon enjoying 
 itself in its soft-whispering journey across the dusty 
 earth before the fierce rays of the noonday sun should 
 put it roughly to flight. 
 
 The road ran between high banks of Cherokee and 
 wild honeysuckle, behind which were the fields all white 
 with the newly opened bolls of cotton or golden with 
 the ripened heads of rice, while on every side as far as 
 the eye could see the cane cut the horizon sharply in a 
 long line of misty green. 
 
 The air was redolent with the perfume of the wild 
 flowers that grew upon the roadside great blots of 
 glowing red, yellow and white against the dark back 
 ground of the hedges, through whose breaks and open 
 ings one could see the tiny gray cabins, each teeming 
 with its busy throng of inmates. 
 
 326 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS 
 
 Monsieur Varain threw back his head and drew in 
 great breaths of the fresh, morning air. 
 
 " This is nice, this driving about so early, is it not, 
 Felix? " he asked. 
 
 Felix, immaculate in a new black suit, gave a smiling 
 assent to this query. 
 
 " Yas," said he. " H it make me feel lik when h l 
 waz dhoze lil boy h ad Coulee Croche. Me h l use 
 to pass by dhoze coulee earlier h an dhis h an kill dhem 
 duck. H l see her swim roun h all black, h an h l 
 say ping wid my gun, h an whad you spoze h l fin 
 me when h l pick her h up? " 
 
 " A big French duck," ventured Monsieur Varain. 
 
 Felix shook his head. u H l fin dhoze poule d eau," 
 said he. " H alwayz dhoze poule d eau. Dhen h l coss 
 h an go home me." 
 
 Monsieur Varain nodded his head gravely. " Yes, 
 that is always the way, Felix," said he. " That is the 
 way of the world. We all of us go after the duck and 
 work hard to get him, only to find after he is ours that 
 he is a poule d eau. The wise people are the ones who 
 go after the poule d eau, for when they pick him up they 
 are not disappointed. I have shot at many ducks, Felix, 
 but I have never picked one up. They have all been 
 poule d eau. All poule d eau," he repeated sadly while 
 Felix looked at him curiously, at a loss to understand 
 the philosophy of his observation. 
 
 The road turned into a narrow lane, lined upon either 
 side with groves of china trees stripped now of their 
 purple blossoms and hung thickly with little, hard, 
 green balls that twinkled cool and inviting in the sun- 
 
 327 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 light, as though to tempt some unwary traveler to taste 
 the bitterness that was within them. 
 
 The fields had now given place to long stretches of 
 pasture land all soft and green with thick, velvety grass 
 and mottled with great yellow patches of camomile. It 
 was here that the drowsy cattle lay beneath the ragged 
 willow trees, or stood knee-deep in the tiny ponds that 
 dimpled the smiling land on every side. 
 
 The buggy rumbled over a bridge with a noise as of 
 distant thunder, leaving behind it a coulee that cleft 
 the green pasture land like a huge knife of glittering 
 silver. Before them stretched a long expanse of hedge 
 and field behind which a great square church tower 
 stood out against the skyline. 
 
 Monsieur Varain pointed toward this tower with 
 his whip. " Landry," said he laconically, and presently 
 they drove into the little town itself and pulled up 
 before Monsieur Landry s store with a flourish. 
 
 Monsieur Landry came hurrying out into the road, 
 his face wreathed in smiles, for he and Monsieur Varain 
 were old friends. 
 
 " Why, Varain," he cried, " so you have come at 
 last? We had almost given you up." 
 
 " Am I then so late?" asked Monsieur Varain, 
 saluting the storekeeper cordially. 
 
 Monsieur Landry shrugged his shoulders. " A little 
 late, yes," said he. " Most of the people have left for 
 the woods. We in the country start early, you know, 
 but wait a moment and I will get my buggy and drive 
 down with you." 
 
 Monsieur Varain turned to Felix. " How would it 
 
 328 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS 
 
 be for you to drive down in Monsieur Landry s buggy 
 and let him come with me? " he asked. " I have not 
 seen him for some time and there is much that I would 
 like to tell him." 
 
 Felix was out in the road before Monsieur Varain 
 had finished speaking. 
 
 " Fine," said he as Monsieur Landry took his seat 
 " Me h l bin whish to drive dhem horse h all day." 
 
 " You will find my horse hitched and ready in front 
 of my house," called Monsieur Landry as he started 
 away. 
 
 " Yas," said Felix, meditatively scratching his head. 
 " Now h l fin dhoze girl me h an take him long, too." 
 
 " I say," called a voice behind him, " isn t that 
 Felix?" 
 
 Turning quickly he beheld Mr. Parker driving up 
 the road toward him and he smiled and waved his hand, 
 for he was very fond of that gentleman, who never 
 failed to come to the store and see him when he was 
 in Mouton. 
 
 Mr. Parker drove up to Felix and stopped. 
 
 " What in the world are you doing out there in the 
 road by yourself? " he asked. 
 
 Felix explained his desertion by Monsieur Varain. 
 
 Mr. Parker moved over to one side of his buggy 
 seat. " Get in," he commanded. " I m going to the 
 picnic myself and I ll take you along. You can come 
 back with me or with old Varain, whichever you wish." 
 
 Felix climbed into the buggy and they started off. 
 
 " And now," said Mr. Parker, " what have you been 
 doing with yourself since I saw you last? " 
 
 329 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " H l bin sol dhem mezendice," answered Felix 
 promptly. 
 
 "What? "asked Mr. Parker. 
 
 " H l been sol dhem mezendice," repeated Felix in 
 the voice of one speaking to a deaf man. 
 
 Mr. Parker thought for a moment. " You have been 
 selling merchandise, eh? " he ventured. 
 
 Felix nodded complacently. " Dhaz whad h l say," 
 answered he. 
 
 Mr. Parker looked at him admiringly. " Gad," said 
 he to himself, " you speak my language almost as badly 
 as I do yours." 
 
 Felix now turned to him, his face beaming. " Did 
 h l done tole you dhad my sis come home termorrer? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Mr. Parker looked surprised. " Why, no," an 
 swered he. " I didn t know that you had a sister, 
 Felix. Where has she been all this time? " 
 
 Felix waved an arm westward. " H ad Noo Leens," 
 said he dramatically. " H ad dhoze conven. He bin 
 dhere two year." 
 
 Mr. Parker looked interested. " How was it that 
 she didn t go to the convent at Mouton? " he asked. 
 
 Felix gave him a look of the deepest scorn. " Hah ! " 
 he cried. " Why he dhon go to dhem conven h at 
 Mouton, you h ask? Hahl he go to dhoze conven 
 h ad Noo Leens h an see h all dhem sight. Dhoze 
 big house so high h as dhoze tree. Dhem crowd whad 
 you fin h alwayz on dhoze street. He seen im h all 
 h an he learn everyt ing. He play dhoze piana lik 
 lik hell, h an he sing Hah! jez lik dhoze bird. 
 
 330 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS 
 
 H im goin tak you h aroun h an see him w en you 
 come to Mouton. He de finez girl whad you never 
 did see." 
 
 Mr. Parker looked pleased. " I shall be delighted 
 to meet her," said he as they finally came to Bayou 
 Portage and the long strip of woodland where the 
 people had gathered together for the picnic. 
 
 It was an ideal spot which they had chosen, a tiny 
 open glade thickly grown with grass and strewn with 
 wild flowers, overhung by the great branches of the 
 trees that grew about it. Here in the silence of the 
 forest a great crowd had congregated, filling the quiet 
 air with their shouts and laughter, scaring the birds 
 from their nests until they flew about and screamed 
 discordantly at this unwonted noise and clamor, while 
 the tall, live oaks looked on in silent bearded dignity 
 and seemed to frown angrily at this rude disturbance 
 of their sanctuary. 
 
 At one side of the little glade was the Bayou Por 
 tage, a quiet, limpid stream, flowing lazily along be 
 tween low, rush-grown banks bordered upon either side 
 with cypress trees and great overhanging masses 
 of muscadine, that cast their shadows all twisted 
 and distorted upon the smooth, brown bosom of the 
 stream. 
 
 Close into the banks the water lay black and cool 
 in the shadow of the oaks, while out toward the middle 
 it slipped along all gold and amber in the sunlight, 
 touched here and there with tiny patches of blue or 
 white where it mirrored the sky above it. And here 
 again it was green and brown, laced with a myriad of 
 
 331 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 softly moving shadows as it passed along beneath the 
 great green vault of the forest, ever gliding along 
 toward the far-distant sea marsh. 
 
 As. Mr. Parker drove up to the glade the exercises 
 were just beginning, and the proud mothers and fathers 
 had grouped themselves in a circle about the open space 
 in which the children were huddled in a bashful, fright 
 ened crowd. 
 
 Their teacher, a timid, shrinking little woman, flut 
 tered about among them in a fever of excitement, en 
 couraging them with many nervous nods and smiles, 
 repeating the simple pieces they were to say, with heavy 
 emphasis laid upon forgotten words. 
 
 " Remember, my dears," said she again and again, 
 " that Monsieur Varain has come all the way from 
 Mouton to see you and you must do your very best to 
 please him." 
 
 In the center of the ring of spectators Monsieur 
 Varain sat in the seat of honor a great armchair 
 brought out for the occasion, draped with moss and gar 
 lands of wild flowers. 
 
 The teacher having arranged the children in a square 
 came over to him. 
 
 " We are all ready if you are, Monsieur Varain," 
 said she timidly. 
 
 Monsieur Varain rose to his feet and bowed gravely. 
 " I wait your pleasure, Madam," replied he. 
 
 Monsieur Landry, who was master of ceremonies, 
 stepped out before the waiting people and spoke in 
 French. 
 
 " For the first number," said he, " the children will 
 
 332 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS 
 
 sing America, accompanied by the band from 
 Landry." 
 
 The band stepped forward a clarionet, an accor 
 dion and a triangle, the musicians red and embarrassed 
 at their unusual prominence. 
 
 The teacher raised her little baton. 
 
 Instantly they broke into the wildest discord, the 
 clarionet shrieking madly above the other instruments 
 as though it were in agony at the terrible sounds that 
 were being drawn from it. The children moved slowly 
 in a great circle singing mechanically the words of the 
 song, half of which they did not understand. 
 
 The accordion faltered and stopped, likewise the 
 triangle, but the clarionet kept on until the bitter end, 
 its owner blowing away with puffed-out cheeks and 
 distended eyes as though his very life depended upon 
 his finishing the piece that he was playing. 
 
 The children posed in a carefully arranged group, 
 waving tiny American flags, the solitary musician low 
 ered his instrument and stood purple-faced and panting. 
 The first number was over. 
 
 Monsieur Varain applauded heartily, and the others, 
 following his example, made the forest ring with the 
 evidence of their appreciation. 
 
 The man who played upon the clarionet came for 
 ward bashfully, pushed from behind by his two 
 companions. 
 
 " H i would lik to say for dhem band," he 
 gasped, " dhad dhey have not practice dhoze music 
 bud once." 
 
 He retired in an agony of confusion. 
 
 333 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Monsieur Landry came forward and announced the 
 second number. 
 
 A tall, lank boy stood forth and groped his way fear 
 fully through a recitation. 
 
 And so the exercises went on, number following num 
 ber in endless sequence until Monsieur Landry came 
 forward for the last time. 
 
 " The final number will be a song by one of the young 
 ladies of the school," he announced. 
 
 Monsieur Varain gave a sigh of relief, for the exer 
 cises had been too long. What had at first amused him 
 now tired him, and he welcomed this final number as a 
 release from a very wearisome proceeding. 
 
 A girl came forward and, throwing back her head, 
 began to sing. Monsieur Varain eyed her languidly. 
 
 She was a slim, straight girl all clad in snowy white, 
 and as she stood beneath the great trees, the sunlight 
 filtering through their heavy branches about her, she 
 was very beautiful. 
 
 Monsieur Varain leaned forward and looked at her 
 curiously, putting on his glasses which he had until now 
 kept in his pocket, but her face was at an angle and he 
 could not see it clearly. 
 
 The girl sang on, her voice rising clear and sweet 
 in the notes of an old Acadian lullaby, and as she sang 
 Monsieur Varain s thoughts went back to the time when 
 he had been a child, and he could hear again his mother 
 crooning softly by the cradle in the firelight while the 
 fierce north wind roared angrily out of doors. And 
 then he could hear his young wife singing about 
 her work while their little child lay sleeping quietly 
 
 334 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS 
 
 in the yellow sunlight. His eyes were dim and 
 misty. 
 
 The girl ceased singing and turned away. Monsieur 
 Varain looked at her eagerly. Suddenly he gave a 
 hoarse cry and smote the arm of his chair in amaze 
 ment, for it was as though his daughter had risen from 
 her grave and stood before him. He hurried from his 
 chair and went over to where the little teacher was 
 bestowing generous words of praise upon her pupils. 
 
 She came forward to meet him, her gentle face glow 
 ing with pride and happiness. 
 
 " How did you like the exercises, Monsieur Varain ?" 
 she asked eagerly. " Were you pleased, or were you 
 disappointed? " 
 
 " I was very much pleased," answered Monsieur 
 Varain mendaciously. " They were very good indeed. 
 That last song was especially good and I enjoyed it 
 very much. The girl has a good voice. Can you tell 
 me her name? " 
 
 The teacher smiled. " That was Aline Telesse who 
 sang the last song," answered she. " She is the bright 
 est and quickest of all my pupils. Although she only 
 started school this year she has left the others far behind 
 her. She is a poor girl and a good one, Monsieur 
 Varain." 
 
 Monsieur Varain nodded gravely, his heavy eye 
 brows drawn down over his eyes as though he were 
 greatly perplexed. 
 
 " And you say that she is very quick and bright? " 
 he asked. 
 
 The little teacher answered him eagerly. " Oh, yes," 
 
 335 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 cried she, " she is wonderfully bright. She can enter 
 the convent at Mouton now, but she is so poor that she 
 cannot even buy the books for her studies there. It is 
 a pity, for she is so willing and anxious to learn." 
 
 Monsieur Varain took off his glasses and silently 
 polished them as was his habit when thinking deeply. 
 
 " I would like to meet this Aline," said he, " for I 
 am interested in what you have told me. Perhaps I 
 may be able to help her." 
 
 " I shall bring her in a moment," cried the teacher, 
 and she was off like a flash in search of the girl, whom 
 she found talking to the old man. Without a word of 
 explanation she hurried her before Monsieur Varain. 
 
 " This is Monsieur Varain from Mouton, who wishes 
 to meet you, Aline," explained the little teacher, all but 
 breathless from the hurried way in which she had dis 
 patched her errand. 
 
 Monsieur Varain held out his hand. " It is a pleas 
 ure, my child," said he, " to meet one who is eager and 
 willing to learn. Your teacher has told me that you 
 are anxious to go to the convent at Mouton. Is 
 that so? " 
 
 The girl looked at him timidly. " Ah, yes, M sieu" 
 answered she, " it is so. If I could but go to the con 
 vent I would be the happiest girl in the world, but you 
 know, M sieu, that I am too poor and I must not even 
 think of such a thing." 
 
 She smiled sadly and Monsieur Varain gazed at her 
 with a tenderness in his eyes that was wholly foreign 
 to them. 
 
 " Listen, my child," said he, " for I am going to tell 
 
 .336 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS 
 
 you something. When I was your age I was as poor 
 as you are. My father worked in the field and I worked 
 with him. The only chance that I ever had to go to 
 school was when the crops were laid by and there was 
 no work to do, and I used then to go to a little school- 
 house not half so large as the one in Landry. It was 
 there, my child, that I got what learning I have ever 
 had, and I got it through hard work by day and by 
 night. What success I have had in life has been due 
 to that learning, scanty as it was, and I believe that 
 could I have gone to a better school my success would 
 have been all the greater. It is, therefore, that I am 
 anxious to help any one who really wishes to learn, for 
 I feel that it is my duty to do so, and it gives me great 
 pleasure to tell you that I am going to send you to the 
 convent at Mouton." 
 
 The girl gave a gasp of incredulity. " Ah, M sieu," 
 she cried, " do you really mean it? You are not joking? 
 Do you really mean that you will send me to the con 
 vent at Mouton? " 
 
 Monsieur Varain nodded. " I do," said he. " I 
 never joke. The convent is closed now on account of 
 its being vacation, but I am sure that if I see the good 
 sisters they will take you and teach you until the next 
 term starts again. I wish you to go as soon as possi 
 ble, for it will all be very strange and new to you and 
 I would like you to be accustomed to it when the other 
 girls arrive." 
 
 The little teacher beamed with happiness. Aline s 
 eyes were sparkling as she tried to thank him. 
 
 " I do not know what to say, M sieu," she faltered. 
 
 337 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " If I were to speak a year I could not tell you of the 
 thankfulness that is within my heart. I will try and 
 show you by my work, M sieu, how much I think of 
 what you have done for me." 
 
 Monsieur Varain waved away her thanks with a 
 smile. " There, there, my child," said he. " You have 
 nothing to thank me for. I have only done a kindness 
 that it has given me a great deal of pleasure to do. 
 Come to my store at Mouton in two weeks from to 
 day, and I will enter you at the convent, for by that 
 time I will have made the necessary arrangements. And 
 now good-by until I see you again at Mouton." 
 
 He turned away as he spoke, and Aline with a cry 
 of thanks hurried off to tell the old man of her good 
 fortune. 
 
 While this conversation had been going on the women 
 had been busy setting out the lunch, and as Monsieur 
 Varain looked about him he found that the little glade 
 had been transformed into a huge dining table, gleam 
 ing with snowy cloths, upon which was spread out a 
 tempting array of good things to eat. 
 
 Monsieur Landry hurried up to him and seized him 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Come, Varain," he cried, " you are just in time. 
 You shall sit here with me and eat some of the best 
 gumbo that you ever tasted in your life." 
 
 Monsieur Varain shook his head. " I am sorry," 
 said he, " but I have just remembered that I have an 
 important business engagement at Mouton this even 
 ing, and I must hurry back or I shall be too late to 
 keep it." 
 
 338 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN DOES A KINDNESS 
 
 Monsieur Landry looked disappointed. " You will 
 surely eat a bite before you leave," he urged. " You 
 will be hungry before you get home again." 
 
 But Monsieur Varain was firm in his determination 
 to leave. 
 
 " I have only time to keep my engagement as it is," 
 said he, " and I am going to hurry away before the 
 temptation of the delicious gumbo becomes too strong 
 for me. I will not take Felix, as he is enjoying himself 
 and he needs a holiday. He can surely find some one 
 to drive him home to-night. So good-by, Landry, and 
 I am going to ask you to thank every one for the 
 pleasant morning that I have had." 
 
 Monsieur Landry watched him as he strode away to 
 his buggy, a very puzzled man. " Varain is a strange 
 person," said he to himself. " He told me but an hour 
 ago that he was taking a little holiday to-day and that 
 he would be with me until to-night. I wonder what 
 could have caused him to change his mind so 
 suddenly?" 
 
 Monsieur Varain was puzzled also as he drove home 
 wards, and when he came at last to Mouton he did not 
 stop at his store, but drove directly to his house. Going 
 to his office upon the lower floor he took from a secret 
 drawer in his desk a square of cardboard, and propping 
 it up before him he sat for a long time in silence, study 
 ing it carefully. 
 
 It was an old photograph, a photograph of a young 
 girl, all faded and worn and mottled with great brown 
 patches of damp. 
 
 The sternness of Monsieur Varain s face relaxed as 
 
 339 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 he gazed at it and his eyes were soft and tender and 
 filled with tears. 
 
 " The likeness is remarkable," said he slowly, " and 
 her name is Aline. Is this a mere coincidence, or am I 
 at last to make a feeble restitution to my daughter? 
 Ah, Aline, Aline, would to God that I could do some 
 thing in atonement for my cruelty to you. I will see 
 the sisters to-morrow, and when this girl is at the con 
 vent I will send Felix to Landry to make inquiries con 
 cerning her parentage. Yes, Felix is the one to send. 
 He is bright and witty, and he could learn more in a 
 day than most people could learn in a year." 
 
 Suddenly he thought of what the head clerk had said 
 to him that morning and he sprang to his feet, his eyes 
 glowing with an eagerness almost boyish. 
 
 " Again I have shot at a duck," cried he. " Perhaps 
 this time I shall pick him up, who knows?" and the 
 face in the photograph smiled at him happily as though 
 it had easily solved this difficult question. 
 
 340 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 ALINE SAYS GOOD-BY 
 
 IT was harvest time at Belrive, and from morning 
 to night the big plantation was a scene of endless 
 activity, for the busy season of the year had 
 arrived the time when the rice must be cut and 
 threshed and safely stored away from the ever-threaten 
 ing danger of winds and rain. 
 
 The fields were a carpet of green and gold, a mar 
 velous blending of color, from the pale, misty green of 
 the newly formed grain to the rich, golden yellow of 
 the heavy, ripened heads that drooped upon their slen 
 der stems, bowed down by their own fruitfulness. 
 
 And here where the rice was ripe and ready to har 
 vest the cuts were dry and cracked and filled with loose, 
 peeled earth all covered with thick, green slime, for 
 the water had been taken away that the negroes might 
 come in with their reap-hooks and cut the crop for the 
 thresher. 
 
 All day long the cutters ate their way through the 
 high green walls of the rice, seizing the grain by the 
 armful, cutting it with a single quick stroke of their 
 reap-hooks, spreading the severed stalks upon the short, 
 thick stubble to dry in the sunlight, there to await the 
 coming of the stackers. 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 These, quick of grasp and nimble of finger, tied the 
 rice into great ragged bundles which were presently 
 taken by the shockers and built into tall, pointed shocks, 
 each one carefully thatched with leaves and straw to 
 keep out the ever-destructive rain. 
 
 Here among the shocks the carts made their rounds, 
 each with its complement of loaders, who pitched the 
 bundles into the carts with their long-handled forks and 
 left behind them nothing but the dry, yellow stubble to 
 tell of the crop that had been made that year. 
 
 And now the bundles, being safely loaded into the 
 carts, were driven down the plantation road to where 
 the big red thresher roared and groaned and rumbled 
 ever calling for more rice and were presently pitched 
 upon its carrier and borne into its gaping black mouth, 
 that gobbled them up like some savage, hungry mon 
 ster. And here within this great machine, with its 
 twisting belts and swiftly turning wheels, the rice was 
 separated and made ready for the market: the leaves 
 and straw blown out of the wind stacker in a whirling 
 brown cloud, the grain pouring from the bagger in a 
 thick, golden stream that was caught in sacks and was 
 driven away to the storeroom, all ready now for 
 shipment. 
 
 Far out in the field, near the edge of the woods, old 
 Telesse was cutting a trail for one of the binders, paus 
 ing every now and then in his work to gaze at the huge 
 machine behind him, with its white canvas carrier and 
 its slowly moving reel, the like of which he had never 
 seen before. It was a marvel to him to see the tall 
 stalks of rice cut and tied and left behind in a long 
 
 342 
 
ALINE SAYS GOOD-BY 
 
 row of bundles by this wonderful piece of mechanism, 
 and he never tired of watching it. 
 
 He had worked hard in the rice ever since the begin 
 ning of the harvest, for his own little crop of cotton and 
 corn had been laid by, and as he looked every now and 
 then across the fields to where the cabin shone a tiny 
 spot of white in the vast ocean of green, he smiled with 
 satisfaction, for his crop, though small, was a good 
 one. 
 
 And yet whenever he gazed at the cabin there came 
 also upon his wrinkled face a look of sadness which, 
 strive as he would, he could not drive away, for upon 
 the morrow Aline was to go to Mouton to the convent 
 and he knew that he would miss her sorely. 
 
 Ever since the eventful day of the first communion 
 the old man had done a great deal of thinking, more 
 in fact than he had ever done in his life before, and the 
 only result that he had achieved by all this mental labor 
 was to find himself a greatly puzzled man. 
 
 He had fully expected that Numa, true to his prom 
 ise, would tell of the man that he had killed so many 
 years ago, the man that he had shot by mistake, and he 
 had gone about for days in fear and trembling, expect 
 ing every moment to find himself in the relentless grasp 
 of the law. But Numa, after an interval of hiding in 
 the Grand Woods, had come back to Landry subdued 
 in body as well as mind, had spoken to him humbly, 
 begging his pardon, and the old man had forgiven him, 
 rejoicing at his deliverance from the fear that had for 
 so long oppressed him. 
 
 And at all this he had marveled greatly, little know- 
 
 343 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 ing that Numa was only striving to enter his good 
 graces again for the better accomplishment of his own 
 wicked purposes. 
 
 And after this had come the picnic and the kindness 
 of Monsieur Varain, all of which had been to the old 
 man a mystery fully as great as that of Numa s silence. 
 It was true that Monsieur Varain had sent many a 
 poverty-stricken child the books for its schooling, and 
 he had even sent one or two boys to the great school 
 at Baton Rouge, but then he had known these children 
 well and had watched carefully their work and progress 
 before he had done anything for them. And now he 
 had come to Landry, had seen Aline but a short hour 
 and had promised to send her to the convent; had prom 
 ised to send her there long weeks before the opening 
 that she might become accustomed to the place, and 
 therefore be unembarrassed when the other girls 
 arrived. 
 
 It was incredible and the old man could do naught 
 but puzzle over it, arriving at one conclusion only to 
 reject it for another, until he finally dismissed the affair 
 as too complex for his simple brain. And so to him the 
 last few weeks had been a period of wonder, and as he 
 cut his way through the cool green rice he shook his 
 head from time to time as though to drive away the 
 thoughts that so troubled him. 
 
 When he saw Carey, who had ridden up to inspect 
 the binder, he stuck his reap-hook through his belt 
 and went over to him. 
 
 Carey waved him a friendly greeting. " How does 
 the rice come on, Telesse? " he asked. 
 
 344 
 
ALINE SAYS GOOD-BY 
 
 The old man pointed to where he had been working. 
 " If you will look where I have cut, M sieu" said he, 
 " you will find no red rice or indigo. This part of the 
 field is as clean as the blue sky above it." 
 
 " Well," answered Carey, " it ought to be. I have 
 spent enough money pulling indigo and red rice this 
 year to have the field entirely clean from one end to 
 the other. I shall want you to drive a cart to-morrow, 
 Telesse. The binders won t run again until next week, 
 you know." 
 
 " I will not be here in the morning, M sieu/ replied 
 the old man. " I am going to Mouton to-morrow to 
 take Aline to the convent. The two weeks will be up 
 then." 
 
 Carey s face clouded. " That s so," said he. " In 
 the hurry at the thresher I had forgotten all about it. 
 I shall miss Aline almost as much as you will miss her, 
 Telesse. I don t know what I am going to do without 
 my coffee and my little talk with her in the morning." 
 
 The old man tried to smile, but his lip trembled and 
 he turned away his head quickly. 
 
 " I do not like to think of how much I am going 
 to miss her, M sieu," said he, and without another word 
 he hurried back to his work, ashamed of the suspicious 
 moisture in his eyes. 
 
 Carey rode away with a heavy heart, for in the busy 
 days of the harvest he had found time to see a great deal 
 of Aline, and he had come to care for her a great deal 
 more than he liked to admit even to himself. 
 
 That he would ever come to really love her was, he 
 often told himself, out of the question. He was a 
 
 345 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 gentleman, a planter, and she was his tenant, a poor, 
 ignorant girl as far beneath him as any one could very 
 well be, and yet there was about her some indefinable 
 charm that he had never found in any other woman. 
 
 In their talks at daybreak, when the world lay about 
 them a sea of mist and leaden sky, he had learned many 
 things that he had never known before. He had learned 
 that a simple, untaught girl could tell of the things that 
 filled her humble life and make them appear beautiful 
 in the telling, things that to him had always seemed 
 drear and squalid and wholly uninteresting. He had 
 learned also that people could be happy without riches, 
 without honors or position, and that this girl with her 
 pure thoughts, unwarped by the knowledge of the 
 world, could tell him of love, of honor, of fidelity of 
 purpose, of a happiness in simple things that he had 
 never dreamed of before. 
 
 And so he learned from her of the many things that 
 made her world, and in return he told her of that other 
 world of which she knew so little, while she listened to 
 him in silent wonder, awestruck at the greatness of it all. 
 
 It had been an education for both of them, and as 
 Carey rode away from the old man it pained him to 
 think that these pleasant lessons were now at an end. 
 A dozen times that day he started toward the little 
 cabin only to turn back angry at his weakness, for he 
 had promised himself that now that Aline was going 
 away he would forget her and that he would not go to 
 her to say good-by. 
 
 If she came to him it would be a different thing, and 
 she did come at sundown, walking up the plantation 
 
 346 
 
ALINE SAYS GOOD-BY 
 
 road to where he stood upon the levee of the main 
 canal, watching the last few minutes of work that day. 
 
 " I have come to say good-by, M sieu" said she 
 simply. 
 
 Carey held out his hand, and his voice shook a little 
 as he answered her. 
 
 " Good-by, Aline," said he. " I shall miss you more 
 than I can tell you. It will be very lonesome for me in 
 the mornings now that you are going away." 
 
 For a moment she looked at him with a soft light in 
 her eyes that he had never seen there before. 
 
 " And I shall miss you also, M sieu" said she. " I 
 shall miss your many kindnesses, for which I thank you 
 from the bottom of my heart. You have been very 
 good to me and I shall never forget it." 
 
 Carey smiled and shook his head. " You have noth 
 ing to thank me for," he answered. " What I have 
 done for you has been a pleasure to me, and I want 
 you to promise me that if you ever need anything in 
 Mouton you will let me know about it." 
 
 " I promise you, M sieu, thank you," replied the girl. 
 
 Carey thrust his hand into his pocket and brought 
 forth a gold coin. 
 
 " I want you to take this, Aline," said he as he 
 handed it to her, " not as a piece of money, but as a 
 keepsake from me." 
 
 " I shall keep it forever, M sieu," replied the girl 
 softly. 
 
 Again Carey held out his hand. " Good-by, Aline," 
 said he, " and may you have all the success in the world 
 with your studies." 
 
 347 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 She watched him mount his horse in silence, the gold 
 piece tightly clasped in her little hand. 
 
 He took off his broad-brimmed hat and waved her 
 farewell as he galloped up the road, while she stood 
 upon the high levee and gazed after him, her blue eyes 
 filled with a longing and a tenderness that would have 
 troubled him much to have seen. 
 
 The sky was a sea of golden fire where the sun had 
 sunk below the dark unbroken line of the rice. The 
 fields lay before her black and still in the short twilight, 
 overhung with mist, where the water still stood in the 
 cuts of unripened grain. Up the wide road the negroes 
 went in a straggling crowd toward the quarters, their 
 day s work done. Some of them were singing and the 
 sound of their voices came faint and sweet from the 
 distance : 
 
 " Bin wuck on de levee all day, 
 Bin wuck on de levee all day, 
 Bin wuck on de levee Lord, Lord, Lord, 
 Bin wuck on de levee all day. * 
 
 The air was fragrant with the odor of the sun-dried 
 rice that they had been shocking. 
 
 Aline stood upon the levee, a dim white figure in the 
 gathering darkness. 
 
 The fire in the west faded to a dull, leaden gray and 
 the night fell quickly upon the fields, for the twilight 
 in Louisiana is short and there is little or no afterglow. 
 The stars came out and twinkled bravely, as though to 
 make the most of their faint light before the coming of 
 the moon. 
 
 348 
 
ALINE SAYS GOOD-BY 
 
 Aline looked far up the deserted road toward the 
 big house and raised the gold piece to her lips. Her 
 eyes were filled with tears. 
 
 Suddenly she gave a little sob and fell upon her 
 knees in the long grass and tie vines that grew upon 
 the top of the levee. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes 
 were bright and her head was bowed as though in 
 shame. 
 
 " Ah, Mon Dleu! help me," she cried, " for I am like 
 Angele of Anse Le Vert," and her voice trembled with 
 fear; but when a moment later she went back toward 
 the little cabin, in the starlight, she was smiling softly 
 like one who has come upon a new happiness. 
 
 349 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 LE BOSSU MAKES A JOURNEY TO THE CONVENT AT 
 
 MOUTON 
 
 IN a quiet corner at Mouton, set far back within the 
 shady limits of the trim garden which surrounded 
 it, stood the convent of the good Sisters of Mount 
 Carmel. It was a very old building, being in fact one 
 of the landmarks at Mouton, and in all the town there 
 was no man who could tell of the time when it had not 
 stood cool and white and stately amid its grove of oak 
 and china ball, seeming to hold itself aloof from the 
 petty strifes and discords of the busy life about it. 
 
 It was here in the peaceful quiet of this convent that 
 Aline, through the kindness of Monsieur Varain, had 
 spent four happy months ; four months of patient work 
 and study which had borne good fruit and had given to 
 her the knowledge for which she longed so eagerly, 
 while the gentle, black-robed sisters had watched her 
 progress with smiles of satisfaction and had striven in 
 every way to help her. 
 
 Coming as she had, during the time of vacation, she 
 had at first been regarded curiously, had been looked 
 upon as one incapable of following the other girls upon 
 the devious paths of learning and therefore sent before 
 them to acquire what knowledge she might before their 
 
 35 
 
LE BOSSU MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 arrival, but her unceasing work, her rapid progress, 
 and above all her gentle, loving nature, had won for 
 her a place in the esteem of the good sisters that had 
 never been occupied before, and when the other girls 
 had finally arrived there was not one among them so 
 beloved by all. 
 
 And so the days had passed on happily, each one 
 bringing some new wonder through the medium of her 
 studies, each one endearing her more to the sisters and 
 to all about her. 
 
 It was now her chief delight to read, an accomplish 
 ment perfected by her stay at the convent, for at Lan- 
 dry she had only been able to find her way through the 
 simple pages of her primer. From the shelves of the 
 convent library she drew great dusty volumes that had 
 lain there undisturbed for years, lives of saints and of 
 martyrs, histories of ages long past and forgotten, and 
 plunging into them eagerly she read their musty pages 
 with a delight that must have pleased those ancient 
 chroniclers, stern and ascetic though they were. 
 
 It was a pleasant sight to see her in the short autumn 
 afternoons when, her studies done for the day, she sat 
 beneath the great oaks in the convent garden, her head 
 bent low over some ponderous volume of ancient lore. 
 Here she would sit for hours, her pretty face alive with 
 the many emotions with which the book inspired her, 
 her little hands turning the faded pages eagerly, impa 
 tiently, her whole being following the fortunes of some 
 long-dead saint or martyr with breathless interest. 
 
 It was during these pleasant hours in the garden 
 that Monsieur Varain came often to see her, and his 
 
 35 1 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 visits increased as the weeks passed on, until now he 
 had become a familiar figure at the convent. 
 
 His interest in the girl had become the subject of 
 much discussion at Mouton, and the chances of Felix s 
 becoming Monsieur Varain s heir had been reduced by 
 the gossips to a minimum. It was also noticed by many 
 that the sad look upon Monsieur Varain s face was 
 slowly yet perceptibly fading away and that he was 
 beginning to look almost young again. " Who, besides 
 this girl," they asked themselves, " could have caused 
 such a change? " 
 
 And so Aline became an object of curiosity, and was 
 for a long time besieged with innumerable questions by 
 the carefully primed day scholars from Mouton. How 
 ever, knowing nothing herself, her answers shed but 
 little light upon the mystery, and the curious ones were 
 forced to abandon this source of information and turn 
 as a last resort to Landry. 
 
 But here again they were baffled by the taciturnity 
 of old Telesse, and so they abandoned their pursuit for 
 the solution of this mystery and waited patiently, hoping 
 that in the days to come it would finally force itself 
 upon them. 
 
 Now, had these curious ones known all that Monsieur 
 Varain himself knew, they would still have been very 
 much in the dark, for the repeated visits of Felix to 
 Landry had yielded him but little information to bring 
 back to his employer. In vain had he questioned old 
 Telesse. The old man had answered him evasively with 
 mumbled replies that told but little. 
 
 He had said that Aline had been given to him when 
 
 352 
 
LE BOSSU MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 but a little child to raise. That he did not know her 
 father and mother, who were dead. The child had been 
 given to him, that was all. Things like that happened 
 every day. He was thankful to Monsieur Varain for 
 what he had done for the girl, and he would like to tell 
 him about her, but he did not know, he never had 
 known, and why should he know now ? 
 
 And all of these things old Telesse told Felix because 
 he was suspicious, because his master had told him many 
 years ago not to speak to outsiders of himself or of 
 his child, and he had never forgotten. 
 
 Monsieur Varain was greatly disappointed. He had 
 hoped easily to learn the parentage of this girl of whom 
 he had become so fond, and he had hoped also to find 
 that she was the girl he was seeking, his granddaughter. 
 
 When, many years ago, in his anger at her secret 
 marriage, he had disowned his only child, he had felt 
 a savage delight in his cruelty to her. In those days 
 the memory of his life as overseer had clung to him 
 tenaciously, warping his kindlier nature with all of its 
 lessons, of stern, unbending obedience, of cold, unsym 
 pathetic severity, of hard, bitter punishment for faults 
 and misdeeds, and he had felt no remorse in casting 
 his daughter from him. 
 
 But in the years that had followed years of wealth, 
 of ease and of comfort, years in which his mind had 
 been broadened by contact with his fellowmen Mon 
 sieur Varain had come slowly to realize his cruelty to his 
 child, and the fact that this realization had come too 
 late for any reparation on his part had saddened the 
 years of his wealth and influence. 
 
 353 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 It was true, as some of the women said, that in his 
 great house at Mouton Monsier Varain was lonely. Its 
 huge, empty rooms seemed to mock him with their 
 eternal silence and hurried him away each morning to 
 seek refuge from his loneliness in the busy life at the 
 store. He could, of course, have found many who 
 would have been glad to brighten this loneliness for 
 him, but such a thing as that had never entered his 
 brain. He had been married once, and to him that 
 chapter of his life was closed beyond the possibility of 
 being ever opened again. 
 
 And so he had lived at Mouton a lonely, repentant 
 old man, saddening his life with memories of the past, 
 until he had met Aline. She had come to him as a mes 
 sage of forgiveness from his daughter, a means by 
 which he could make a partial restitution for his harsh 
 ness to her, and he had sent Aline to the convent and 
 had cared for her as a matter of duty, hoping and 
 praying that here at last was an opportunity to make 
 atonement for his cruelty in the days gone by. But as 
 the weeks passed on Monsieur Varain, won by the 
 girl s love and gratitude, grew very fond of her, 
 and he came to wish that she might be his grand 
 daughter, not so much for her mother s sake as for her 
 own. 
 
 And so it was that the fruitless visits of Felix to 
 Landry were a source of great disappointment to him, 
 even as his frequent visits to the convent were a great 
 pleasure. 
 
 It was now his habit to go every evening to the 
 convent garden and have Aline read to him, a thing 
 
 354 
 
LE BOSSU MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 which to her was a never-ending delight, for she felt 
 that in this way she could in a manner repay him for 
 his kindness to her. Many and pleasant were the hours 
 that they spent together under the great oaks, the girl 
 reading in a low, clear voice, her face flushed with 
 happiness, the old merchant following every word in 
 silent approval, his stern gray eyes filled with a tender 
 ness whenever he gazed at her, his cold, hard voice 
 touched with a softness and a gentleness whenever he 
 spoke to her, that if known to the people at Mouton 
 would have caused much comment among them. 
 
 It was during one of these meetings in the convent 
 garden, upon an afternoon early in November, that 
 Monsieur Varain first spoke to Aline of her father. 
 The girl, who had been reading to him, paused for a 
 moment at the ending of a chapter, and Monsieur 
 Varain laid his hand kindly upon her shoulder. 
 
 " Wait for a moment before you begin again, my 
 child," said he. " There is something that I would 
 like to speak to you about." 
 
 Aline closed the book and turned to him expectantly. 
 
 "Yes, M sieu?" she asked. 
 
 " It is of your father that I wish to speak to 
 you," answered he. " Do you remember anything of 
 him?" 
 
 For a moment the girl was silent, her fingers straying 
 slowly over the great book in her lap, and then she 
 turned to Monsieur Varain with a curious look upon 
 her face, a look half-puzzled, half-sad, yet filled with 
 the love and gratitude that she felt for the man beside 
 her. 
 
 355 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " In my whole life," said she, " I have spoken to no 
 one of my father save only my Uncle Telesse and my 
 little friend, Jean Le Bossu, and in all this world I 
 do not think that there is any one else to whom I would 
 speak of him save you, M sieu. You have been so 
 good and kind to me that I will tell you gladly what I 
 know of my poor father, but what I know is little, and 
 it is very sad. 
 
 Her voice broke a little as she finished speaking. 
 
 Monsieur Varain patted her upon her shoulder 
 reassuringly. 
 
 " There, there, my child," said he, " I do not wish to 
 make you sad. I do not ask you of your father from 
 motives of pure curiosity. I ask you for your own good, 
 and believe me when I tell you that I will repeat what 
 you have to say to no one." 
 
 For a moment the girl gazed before her thought 
 fully, as though she was summoning up the scenes of 
 the past, and then she answered him slowly, telling 
 him the little that she remembered of her life at Lan- 
 dry, of her father and the ring that he had given her, 
 of his death and of her life in the Grand Woods which 
 ended with her going to Belrive. 
 
 When she finally finished Monsieur Varain was 
 silent for a long time, thinking of what she had told 
 him. 
 
 " And the ring that your father gave you," said he 
 at last. " You will show it to me, will you not? " 
 
 Aline smiled sadly. " I would show it to you if I 
 had it, M sieu/ 9 answered she, " but I do not even know 
 where it is." And then she told him of how she had 
 
 356 
 
LE BOSSU MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 given it to Numa for the money with which to buy her 
 first communion dress and of how the old man had 
 been beaten in his attempt to get it for her, while 
 Monsieur Varain scowled and knit his heavy brows 
 at the cruelty of her wicked lover. 
 
 In the meantime, while these two were talking, a 
 man had driven up to the convent to ask for Aline, and, 
 his business being urgent, he was taken at once to the 
 garden, where the girl, catching sight of him, hurried 
 forward to meet him, her face beaming. 
 
 " Oh, Jean," she cried, " is it really you? I am so 
 glad to see you. And how is my uncle, Jean? And 
 does he miss me and want me to come home again? I 
 have been reading to M sieu Varain, reading to him out 
 of a great book, Jean, the sight of which I am sure 
 would scare you, and I shall read to you also if you 
 would like it." 
 
 She seized the little man eagerly and led him over 
 to Monsieur Varain before he could say a word in 
 reply to her many questions. 
 
 " This is Jean Le Bossu of whom I have told you so 
 often, M sieu" she cried. " In all this world there is 
 no one who loves me as he does." 
 
 Monsieur Varain held out his hand and smiled kindly 
 at the little man. 
 
 " I am indeed glad to meet you, Jean," said he. 
 " Aline has spoken to me of you so often that I have 
 almost felt that I knew you. Have you come all the 
 way from Landry to see her? That is truly kind of 
 you and shows that you love her, even as she says 
 you do," 
 
 357 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 The little man shook the proffered hand and stood 
 eyeing Monsieur Varain respectfully. 
 
 " I have come to see Aline for her uncle s sake, 
 M sieu" said he. " I bring sad news from the old man. 
 For many days he has been sick with the fever, and he 
 calls for Aline all the night long, for he cannot sleep. 
 M sieu le Doctaire Lemaire has said that she must 
 come to him or he will die." 
 
 For a moment the girl stood silent, as though dazed 
 by this unexpected misfortune, and then she turned 
 upon the little man with a sob. 
 
 " Ah, Jean! " she cried, u why did you not come to 
 me before this, when he wished for me so. Wait but a 
 moment while I get some clothes and we will go to him 
 at once. But why, Jean, did you not come before? " 
 
 " He would not let us send for you until to-day," 
 answered the little man as she hurried off toward the 
 convent. 
 
 Monsieur Varain turned to Le Bossu. " This is 
 indeed sad, my friend," said he. " And is there a 
 chance for the old man s recovery? " 
 
 " Le Doctaire Lemaire has said that if Aline comes 
 to him he may be saved," replied the little man. " She 
 alone can soothe him to sleep. If he can be made to 
 sleep the fever will leave him." 
 
 Monsieur Varain nodded gravely. " I see," said he. 
 " God grant that Aline may save him, as you think she 
 will." 
 
 " Oui, M sieu" replied the little man simply. 
 
 For a while the two were silent, each of them looking 
 toward the convent where Aline had disappeared from 
 
 358 
 
LE BOSSU MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 their sight, and then suddenly Monsieur Varain leaned 
 forward in his chair and spoke to the little man 
 earnestly. 
 
 " There is something that I wish very much to know, 
 Jean," said he, " and you of all men are the one that 
 I think can tell me. As you must know, I am very 
 much interested in Aline, and this evening, just before 
 you came, for the first time since I have known her, 
 I asked her to tell me of her childhood and of her 
 father. She told me all that she remembered, which in 
 a way was a great deal, and which in a way also was 
 nothing. There are many gaps in her story, Jean, 
 which must be filled up before it is complete, and I 
 had counted upon old Telesse to fill them up for me. I 
 had intended driving over to Landry to-morrow to see 
 him, but now that he is so sick the gaps must remain 
 unfilled until he is well again. However, there is one 
 gap which you alone can fill, and I am sure that you will 
 fill it for me when I assure you that I am making the 
 inquiries solely for Aline s good and not from any 
 motives of curiosity. 
 
 " When she told me her story a while ago she spoke 
 of a ring that her father had given her and told me 
 that this ring had been obtained from her by a man 
 named Numa, under circumstances which you of course 
 must know. She further told me that she does not now 
 know where the ring is and that you know this Numa 
 better than any one else in Landry. Now this is the 
 very important gap that I wish you to fill for me, 
 and you can fill it by telling me the whereabouts of 
 Aline s ring." 
 
 359 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 He ceased speaking and eyed the little man ex 
 pectantly. 
 
 Le Bossu shook his head. " I am sorry, M sieu" 
 said he, " but I cannot fill the gap for you. Neither 
 could Numa himself, for he has lost the ring and is 
 fully as anxious to know where it is as you are." 
 
 Monsieur Varain looked disappointed. " Are you 
 sure that he has lost it?" he asked sharply. "Are 
 you sure that he is not deceiving you? " 
 
 " If I were not sure, M sieu, I would not have told 
 you what I have," replied the little man slowly. 
 
 Monsieur Varain saw the hurt look in his brown eyes 
 and hastened to apologize for the brusqueness of his 
 question. 
 
 " There, there, Jean, forgive," said he. " I might 
 have known that such a friend of yours as I hear Numa 
 is would have told you nothing but the truth." 
 
 The little man shrugged his twisted shoulders and a 
 curious look came over his pale face. 
 
 " Such a friend of mine as Numa is, did you say? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Why, of course," answered Monsieur Varain. 
 " He must certainly think a great deal of you, his 
 best friend." 
 
 The little man gave a curious laugh. u Ah, yes, 
 M sieu," said he. " I am his best friend. His very 
 best friend. So every one will tell you. And what is a 
 best friend anyhow, M sieu? Deep in the forest you 
 will find the tiny wild flowers pushing their way through 
 the long grass. Who is their friend, their very best 
 friend? The spring, is it not? The soft, gentle spring 
 
 360 
 
LE BOSSU MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 with its warm winds and its strong, hot sunlight. It 
 nourishes the wild flowers tenderly and raises them 
 green and straight toward the blue heavens, and then, 
 M sieu, all of a sudden it changes. The sun hides him 
 self behind the gray clouds, the wind comes wild and 
 cold from the north, and what of the wild flowers? 
 They wither and droop and finally fall all dead and 
 brown to the cold black earth again, and the tall grass 
 closes over them like a grave, hiding them from the 
 light of heaven. That is the sort of friend that the 
 spring is to the wild flowers and that is the sort of 
 friend that I am to Numa." 
 
 The little man ceased speaking and stood for a 
 moment with blazing eyes and quivering body, over 
 come by the emotions that filled him. 
 
 Monsieur Varain looked puzzled. " But I do not 
 understand," said he. " Is Numa, then, your enemy? " 
 
 The little man smiled bitterly. " Ah ! No one 
 understands, M*siu" he replied. " No one in the 
 world knows save myself, but you shall all know some 
 day, I promise you." 
 
 Monsieur Varain shook his head slowly. " You are 
 a curious fellow, Jean," said he, " and I cannot pre 
 tend to understand you. You will let me know if ever 
 you see this ring again, will you not? " 
 
 " I will, M sieu," answered the little man. " I 
 promise you." 
 
 " And here comes Aline," said Monsieur Varain, 
 rising to his feet. " I will go with you to the gate and 
 see her leave." 
 
 The girl came toward them quickly, her little bundle 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 of clothes clasped under one arm, her head turned 
 every now and then to nod farewell to the dark group 
 of sisters who were watching her from the convent 
 doorway. Her eyes were red from recent weeping, 
 but she smiled bravely when Monsieur Varain spoke to 
 her. 
 
 1 You will come back again when your uncle is bet 
 ter, will you not? " he asked as they hurried out toward 
 the jumper. 
 
 " Yes, M sieu" answered the girl, " I shall be glad 
 to come back again." 
 
 " I shall miss you very much while you are gone, my 
 child," said Monsieur Varain gruffly, to hide the tone 
 of sadness in his voice. 
 
 When they came out of the convent yard onto the 
 banquette Le Bossu jumped down into the road to untie 
 the horse. 
 
 Monsieur Varain approached the girl awkwardly and 
 for a moment his stern face was flushed with embarrass 
 ment. 
 
 " There is a favor that I would ask of you, my 
 child," he faltered. " If you would not mind kissing 
 an old man like myself it would please me it would 
 please me more -" 
 
 In a moment the girl s arms were about his neck and 
 a pair of warm lips met his own, flooding him with a 
 wave of peace and happiness that was like strong wine 
 to his cold, lonely old heart. 
 
 " Farewell, M sieu" said Aline. " I shall be very 
 lonely for you, and I thank you for your love and kind 
 ness from the bottom of my heart." 
 
 362 
 
LE BOSSU MAKES A JOURNEY 
 
 Monsieur Varain helped her into the battered 
 jumper with as much ceremony as though she had been 
 a princess. 
 
 " Farewell, my child," said he as she drove away. 
 u May God keep you until we meet again." 
 
 He stood upon the high wooden banquette and gazed 
 after the jumper long after it had reached the end of 
 the street and passed from his view. Then he turned 
 and walked slowly toward the business part of the town, 
 and the old look of sadness and of loneliness came back 
 gradually upon his face as he went along. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 NICHOLAS WILSON GIVES A WARNING 
 
 THAT Dr. Lemaire prophesied correctly in the 
 matter of Aline s return to Belrive was proved 
 soon after her arrival, for the old man, under 
 her soothing influence, sank into a deep sleep that went 
 far to break the violence of his fever. However, he 
 recovered slowly on account of his age, and the chances 
 of Aline s returning to the convent before the Christ 
 mas holidays were small indeed. 
 
 In these days she saw a great deal of Marjorie, who 
 was back from the seashore, bringing news of Miss 
 Lawrence s engagement to a young man from New 
 Orleans, and hinting vaguely of a similar affair herself, 
 for the sole purpose of torturing Tom Bayne. 
 
 Tom, writhing under this torture, began to haunt 
 Belrive, riding over at all hours of the day with many 
 strange excuses for his doing so, until he discovered that 
 Marjorie went each morning to the old man s cabin 
 with some delicacy from the big house. After this he 
 always joined her upon these expeditions, and he would 
 have even gone as far as to help in the preparation of 
 the delicacies if Marjorie had let him, such was his 
 apparent interest in the old man. 
 
 364 
 
NICHOLAS WILSON GIVES A WARNING 
 
 Carey was also interested in the old man s illness, 
 but he visited the cabin seldom. Why this was he 
 hardly knew himself, except that there now lurked 
 within him a vague fear that he might see too much of 
 Aline. 
 
 The news of Miss Lawrence s engagement had come 
 to him without one pang of regret, and this, he told 
 himself, was truly a strange state of mind for one who 
 had been but recently in love with that charming young 
 lady. There must surely be some reason, he argued, 
 and although he could have found it, could have found 
 it easily in fact, he did not care to think of it. 
 
 Therefore he shunned the old man s cabin, striving 
 vainly to prove to himself that what was so was not 
 so. Filled with a strange unrest he rode moody and 
 silent about the plantation all day, spending his evenings 
 with gun and dog at Belrive s little lake, where the 
 incoming flights of duck were beginning to afford some 
 excellent passe shooting. 
 
 One cold November evening as he was walking, gun 
 in hand, down the plantation road, his overseer called 
 to him from a distant part of the field. Carey sat down 
 upon one of the levees and waited for Wilson to come 
 up to him, which he finally did after a spirited con 
 troversy with his horse concerning the crossing of the 
 main canal. 
 
 " I jest don t guess you expected to see us doin any 
 plowin this afternoon, did you? " asked Wilson cheer 
 fully, as he pulled up in the road before Carey. 
 
 " No," answered Carey. " I thought that it would 
 be too cold." 
 
 365 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " The niggers thought so, too," replied Wilson, " but 
 I didn t. We d call this sort of weather a mild summer 
 up in Nebrasky, and the children d be goin round bare 
 footed and talkin bout takin in the swimmin hole." 
 
 He leaned forward in his saddle, chuckling at his 
 joke. 
 
 " Well," said Carey, " I m going to my old swim 
 ming hole myself this evening, but I don t think that 
 I ll go in. I m after duck." He tapped the gun that 
 lay across his knees significantly. 
 
 " S that so?" asked the overseer. "I thought 
 mebby you was gunnin for some one," and then sud 
 denly his face took on a serious look. u See here, Mr. 
 Gordon," said he slowly, " speakin bout your gunnin 
 for somebody brings me to what I want to say to you. 
 Now I don t want you to think that I ve been meddlin 
 in your affairs, but I ve been hearin a whole lot of 
 things and I feel like it s my duty to tell you about em. 
 There s a Spanish-Mexican sort of feller named Numa 
 Le Blanc over to Landry who s been makin all sorts 
 of threats against you, and I want to tell you to watch 
 out for him. From what I hear which has been 
 mostly from the niggers he s gotten it into his head 
 that you re stuck on his girl, old Telesse s Aline, and he 
 swears that if you don t leave her alone he s goin to 
 shoot you. Now of course I know all that he s said 
 is foolishness pure and simple, but from what I ve 
 heard he s a pretty bad proposition and it won t hurt 
 you to keep an eye on him. If I was you I d dress up 
 in a gun for a while until I found out whether he means 
 business or not." 
 
 366 
 
NICHOLAS WILSON GIVES A WARNING 
 
 The overseer laughed as he finished speaking, but 
 his voice was earnest and there was a look in his eye 
 which meant that, to him, the matter was a serious one. 
 
 Carey sat for a moment in thoughtful silence and 
 then, rising to his feet, he went over to Wilson and held 
 out his hand. 
 
 " Thank you, Nick," said he. " YouVe done me a 
 kindness, and I ll keep my eyes open. I don t mind 
 telling you that I ve had trouble with this fellow some 
 time ago, and it was about the old man s niece also." 
 And then he told the overseer about the dance and his 
 fight in the moonlight with Numa. 
 
 When he had finished Wilson put his hand behind 
 him and drew forth a revolver. It was an old frontier 
 " Colt s," long and heavy and worn bright from many 
 years usage, and the overseer, laying it upon the pom 
 mel of his saddle, patted it fondly. 
 
 " Do you see that gun? " he asked. " I ve carried 
 it for thirty years, and if I was to go out without it 
 I d feel as if I was undressed. That gun s saved my 
 life a good many times, and I remember once in par 
 ticular when it kept me from bein put away by jest 
 such a sneakin devil as that feller Numa is. 
 
 " It was when I was little more n a boy, and I was 
 drivin sheep over the old South Trail from Mexico 
 to Freemont, Nebrasky. On that trip I was foreman 
 of the ewe herd, and perhaps you don t think I had my 
 hands full. 
 
 " One of the things that used to bother me most was 
 
 the way the boys d steal from the different homesteads 
 
 .we used to pass on our way north. There was a Mexi- 
 
 36? 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 can in the outfit that was the worst of the lot, and I laid 
 out to ketch him and make an example of him for the 
 rest. 
 
 " Well, one day I come in camp from herdin , jest 
 about sundown, and there was that Mexican with a big 
 pile of potatoes he d stole that day. You see, potatoes 
 was somethin of a luxury, as we didn t have no room 
 for none in the trail wagon, and this here Mexican was 
 kneelin before a little fire he d made, peelin potatoes 
 with a big butcher knife and fixhV to have the time of 
 his life. 
 
 " I was so mad when I seen him that I couldn t think 
 of a cuss word to save my life, and when I lit into him 
 I was tremblin like an old man. 
 
 1 Now you jest take them potatoes back where you 
 got em, says I, and if the man you stole em from 
 shoots the hell out of you before you can explain things 
 to him I won t have a word to say. 
 
 " He looked at me for a second or two out of his 
 little beady eyes, and then he jumped at me quick like 
 a cat with that big butcher knife in one hand. But 
 I was too cute for him, I threw my gun on him and he 
 stopped short, like his works had sort of run down, 
 and then he smiled sort of sickly and made out like 
 he d only been foolin . 
 
 " Ah, Senor Wilson, says he, you don t think I 
 mean to hurt you ? 
 
 " And then he come at me with both arms wide 
 open, like he was goin to hug me, grinnin for all he 
 was worth, and I ll be damned if he didn t have the 
 butcher knife still in his hand. 
 
NICHOLAS WILSON GIVES A WARNING 
 
 " This time I beat him over the head with my gun, 
 good and hard, and he went down at my feet all in a 
 bunch. When he come to, I give him his money and 
 some mighty good advice. 
 
 " Pull out, says I, and don t show up around me 
 again unless you want to get shot up for keeps. And 
 there s jest one thing more I want to tell you. The 
 next time you want to hug a man with a butcher knife, 
 put it up your sleeve. You might run across some mis 
 guided sport some day who wouldn t understand your 
 motives and would shoot you up under the mistaken 
 idee that you meant to whittle his spine. 
 
 " And that s the way it is with these Spanish-Mexi 
 can sort of people, Mr. Gordon. You want to watch 
 out for em when they re smilin and friendly, for that s 
 the very time they re fixin to do you up." 
 
 He ceased speaking and thrust the revolver back into 
 its holster again. 
 
 Carey, who had followed the story closely, swung his 
 gun across his shoulder with a laugh. 
 
 " All right, Nick," said he. " If Numa tries to hug 
 me with a butcher knife I ll knock him over the head, 
 just as you did. And I ll carry a gun and look out for 
 him, as you advise," he went on more seriously. 
 
 Wilson nodded approvingly. " That s right, Mr. 
 Gordon," said he. " You can t be too keerful when 
 you re mixin up with people like this here Numa. I 
 guess I ll go back to the plows now unless you have 
 somethin else for me to do. The niggers are liable 
 to start rattin , and it won t do to let em get into the 
 habit" And with a cheery " So long," he rode across 
 
 369 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 the field to the plows, his horse stumbling and tripping 
 over the rough, uneven clods of earth. 
 
 Carey started off down the plantation road, and walk 
 ing briskly (both on account of the lateness of the hour 
 and the coldness of the wind) he arrived upon the 
 borders of the lake just as the shadows of the night 
 were beginning to fall softly about him. 
 
 This lake, as it was called, was a long, shallow piece 
 of water, lying in a slight depression of the pasture 
 land at Belrive, grown thick in some places with great 
 clumps of rushes, flowing smooth and clear in others, an 
 ideal spot for duck and other waterfowl. In the soft, 
 muddy ground upon its borders a quantity of snipe were 
 always to be found, and as Carey splashed his way 
 toward the clump of rushes upon the water s edge they 
 darted out from under his feet, and flying close to the 
 ground whipped away with a tantalizing u scape," well 
 knowing that he could not ^see to shoot them in the 
 half-light. 
 
 Crouching down in his shelter of rushes Carey waited 
 for the duck and swore softly to himself, for he had 
 forgotten to bring his dog and he knew that should he 
 kill anything he would be forced to wade out waist-deep 
 in the icy water to get it. 
 
 For a long time he knelt in the damp, muddy blind 
 waiting, while the darkness fell, and the scene before 
 him became indescribably drear. 
 
 The water stretched away in a long, pale sheet cold 
 and gray, like steel mirroring the dull, leaden sky 
 that caused it to shimmer in a faint, uncanny way. The 
 scattered clumps of rushes rose white and ghostly in the 
 
 370 
 
NICHOLAS WILSON GIVES A WARNING 
 
 thin cloud, half-fog, half-mist, that hung low above 
 the water. 
 
 The duck now began to arrive, swishing across the 
 lake in ones and twos quick and sure, like a flash of 
 white light against the darkness of the sky. Carey fired 
 again and again, the reports rolling out like thunder 
 in the silence about him, but the wind was strong, the 
 light was poor and the duck flashed away to the distant 
 sea marsh and safer feeding grounds. 
 
 After a time, growing tired of his ill-luck, he rose 
 from his cramped position and stretched his aching 
 limbs. For a moment he stood in the rushes beating the 
 warmth into his numb body, and then as he looked out 
 across the little strip of marsh that separated the lake 
 from the pasture he saw a man splashing his way toward 
 him, his figure sharply silhouetted against the sky-line. 
 
 The man had a gun thrown carelessly across one 
 shoulder, and as Carey gazed at him his heart suddenly 
 gave a great throb and his nerves stretched tight and 
 tingling, for in the dim half-light he saw that it was 
 Numa. In a moment his conversation with the overseer 
 came back to him with its warning and tale of treachery, 
 and his hand fell quickly upon the breech of his gun, 
 throwing back the hammers with a faint, metallic click. 
 
 The sharp ears of Numa caught the sound and he 
 halted a few feet from Carey with a low, scornful 
 laugh. 
 
 " Do not be afraid, M sieu" said he, laying his gun 
 upon the ground. " I have come to talk, not to fight. 
 See, I have put my weapon down. Now I will come to 
 you and tell you what I have to say." 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 He came a little forward. 
 
 Carey lowered his gun, but he eyed the man before 
 him carefully, one finger curled in readiness about the 
 trigger. 
 
 " Say what you have to say and do not come any 
 closer," said he. " I have heard of the threats that you 
 have made against me in Landry, and I have also been 
 warned against your treachery. Do not try any tricks 
 with me, for I tell you frankly that if you do I will 
 shoot you where you stand." 
 
 Reaching down Numa broke off a spear of the long 
 marsh grass and twisted it coolly about his finger before 
 replying. 
 
 "So you have heard of my threats, M sieu?" he 
 asked. " I thought that you would. It is true that I 
 made them, and I will not deny to you that you are my 
 enemy. I hate you, M sieu. My God, how I hate 
 you ! " 
 
 His eyes blazed and he clenched his brown hands 
 desperately in his fury. 
 
 Carey s gun was up in a moment, but the man before 
 him stood as immovable as a statue, and he slowly low 
 ered it again. 
 
 Numa shook his head. " No, no, M sieu" said he. 
 " I meant nothing. It was my bad temper, that is all. 
 That is over now, and I will tell you what I have to 
 say. It is about the girl Aline, M sieu. I love her 
 ah, God ! how I love her and she will have nothing 
 to do with me. Ever since the day when I hurt her 
 uncle at Landry she has hated me, she has despised 
 me. It was my bad temper, M sieu. I knew not what 
 
 372 
 
NICHOLAS WILSON GIVES A WARNING 
 
 I was doing. I have begged her to excuse my weakness, 
 I have promised her to lead a better life, but she only 
 shakes her head and sends me away without a word. 
 You do not know how I love her, M sieu. Since she 
 has refused to speak to me my life has been as dark 
 and cold as the lake before you." 
 
 He bowed his head in the bitterness of his despair 
 and his breath came short and sobbing. 
 
 Carey looked at him curiously and let his gun down 
 until its stock rested upon the ground. He knew that 
 for the time being he had nothing to fear from the man 
 before him. 
 
 " This may all be very hard upon you as you say 
 it is," he replied, " but it seems to me that you have 
 brought it upon yourself by your own wickedness. Also 
 I cannot imagine why you are telling me this, as I can 
 in no way help you." 
 
 " But you can, M sieu! cried Numa. " You can 
 speak to Aline for me and she will forgive me." 
 
 Carey laughed. " Do you suppose," he asked, " that 
 Aline will forgive you the wrong that you have done 
 her simply because I ask her to? " 
 
 " I know that she will," replied Numa slowly. " She 
 loves you, M sieu. That is why I hate you so." 
 
 His voice was low and full of pain, as though it tor 
 tured him to say the words that he was speaking. 
 
 Carey s face went white and he caught his breath 
 sharply. A feeling of happiness seized him and he 
 fought against it angrily. 
 
 * You say that she loves me? " he gasped. " Why 
 do you say that, when you know that it is not so? " 
 
 373 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " It is so, M sieu," answered Numa slowly. " I have 
 seen it in her eyes when she was speaking of you. A 
 jealous lover is the most watchful of all people." 
 
 " And do you suppose," asked Carey angrily, " that 
 even if Aline were to listen to my defense of you I 
 would speak to her? Do you think that I would help 
 to bind her to a wild, drunken creature like yourself? 
 You must be mad, crazy, to ask such a thing." 
 
 Numa smiled sadly. He had himself well in hand 
 now and he spoke quietly. 
 
 " You are wrong in what you are saying," replied he. 
 " I know that I am a wild, bad creature, but it is all on 
 account of this girl. If I had her love I would be a 
 different man. I am a creature of passions, M sieu, of 
 fierce, bad passions, and I am mad with love. Some 
 times I am even afraid of myself. There is but one 
 person in all this world that can save me, and that per 
 son is Aline. Ah, M sieu, if you only knew how I love 
 her you would speak for me, you would indeed. It is 
 the only thing that will save me, the only thing. Will 
 you not speak, M sieu? For the love of God say yes 
 to me." He stretched out his arms imploringly. 
 
 Carey shook his head. " I cannot do it," said he. 
 " It would not be right. There is no use to ask me any 
 more, for I cannot do it." 
 
 Numa s face grew dark and his voice rose angrily. 
 " Ah, I see," he cried. " You love her also, M sieu. 
 You wish her for yourself." 
 
 He paused, his rage now too great for words. 
 
 In an instant Carey stood over him, his face white 
 as death, his arm half-raised as though for a blow. 
 
 374 
 
NICHOLAS WILSON GIVES A WARNING 
 
 " If ever you speak to me like that again I will kill 
 you," said he slowly. " Now go before I forget myself 
 and shoot you for the lie that you have just told." He 
 turned away as he spoke, but Numa called to him 
 beseechingly. 
 
 " M sieu, M sieu," he cried. " Forgive me. For 
 give me. I swear to you that I meant nothing. It was 
 my jealousy that made me speak to you as I did. If 
 you do not love this girl why then will you not speak 
 for me ? I swear to you upon the cross, upon the grave 
 of my father, that if she forgives me I will lead a differ 
 ent life, that I will never touch liquor again. She is the 
 only one that can save me, can make me the man that I 
 ought to be. Will you not speak for me, M sieu? It 
 is nothing for you to do and it will mean so much 
 for me." 
 
 Again Carey shook his head and turned to go. " I 
 have told you that I cannot do it," said he. 
 
 Numa ran after him and seized him by the arm. He 
 was sobbing now and his eyes were wild. Far away in 
 the distance shone the lights of the big house, tiny dots 
 of yellow that came and went fitfully as the wind swayed 
 the trees before them, and Numa pointing to these 
 lights made his last passionate appeal. 
 
 " See, M sieu," he cried pitifully. " There are the 
 lights of your home. In a few moments you will go to 
 them, to warmth, to wealth and comfort. There you 
 will see the ones that you love, that love you, and they 
 will cheer you and make you happy. And what becomes 
 of me? " He pointed to the wild, dreary scene behind 
 him. 
 
 375 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 u I shall go out there, M sieu," he wailed, " far out 
 there in the cold, the wet and the dark, to the Grand 
 Woods. I shall go to my empty cabin, and there will 
 be no voice to greet me, no loving ones to cheer me. 
 There will be nothing but the moaning of the wind and 
 the rustling of the trees. Think of what you go to and 
 of what I go to, M sieu. You have all and I have 
 nothing. God ! Can you wonder that I wish for one to 
 cheer my loneliness? Ah! M sieu, do not refuse me, 
 for if you do I am lost." 
 
 He fell upon his knees and buried his face in his 
 trembling hands. 
 
 There was a ring of truth, of pain in his voice that 
 went straight to Carey s heart and he raised the kneel 
 ing man to his feet, speaking to him kindly. 
 
 " Listen, Numa," said he. " I am going to do what 
 you ask, because I believe that you really mean what 
 you say. I did not think that you loved this girl as 
 much as you do, and I am sure that through this same 
 love you will be kind to her if she forgives you. Now 
 I am going to make a bargain with you, and if you will 
 do what I ask you I will speak to Aline." 
 
 u I will do anything, anything, M sieu," answered 
 Numa brokenly. 
 
 " Well, then," said Carey, " here is the bargain. For 
 one week you will not see Aline or you will not com 
 municate with her in any way. During that time I 
 will speak to her for you and will do all in my power 
 to make her forgive you. A little before sunset on the 
 last day of the week you will go to see Aline. I will 
 tell her that you are coming and she will see you. You 
 
NICHOLAS WILSON GIVES A WARNING 
 
 will ask her then if she will forgive you and if she 
 will marry you. Should she say yes I wish you all 
 the luck in the world. Should she say no you must 
 promise me that you will never see her or speak to her 
 again, for it would only annoy her and make you 
 unhappy. This is my bargain and if you will promise 
 to carry out your part of it I will promise to carry out 
 
 mine." 
 
 Numa held out his hand. " I have wronged you in 
 thinking you my enemy, M sieu" said he. " Forgive 
 me. I promise you that I will carry out my part of 
 the bargain." 
 
 Carey took the hand which was extended toward 
 him. " And I promise you that for one week I will 
 do all in my power to exonerate you in the eyes of 
 Aline," he replied. " On the morning of the eighth 
 day I will go to the cabin and learn of your success or 
 of your failure, whichever it may be. And now good 
 night and and good luck to you." 
 
 He pronounced the last words haltingly, as though 
 it cost him an effort to say them. 
 
 Numa lifted his hand to his hat for a moment, an 
 homage that in all his life he had paid to no man. 
 " You have a kind heart, M sieu," said he, " and in the 
 days to come I shall look upon you, whom I have 
 thought my enemy, as my friend. Good night, M sieu, 
 and thank you." 
 
 As he strode away Carey followed him with his eyes, 
 until he had picked up his gun and disappeared in the 
 darkness, for, fearing treachery, he did not care to turn 
 his back upon this man. 
 
 377 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " It is a pity," said he to himself as he gazed at the 
 vanishing figure, " that a man who can love a woman 
 so should be so unworthy of her." 
 
 As he walked back toward the big house his mind 
 was in a tumult. What had he done, he asked himself. 
 Would he be the instrument by means of which this 
 girl would throw away her life upon the wicked, worth 
 less man to whom he had given his promise? Had he 
 in a fit of compassion, in a moment of pity, brought 
 about by a carefully worded tale of sorrow, promised 
 to destroy the peace and happiness of Aline, to whom 
 he had always been as a protector? If Aline loved him 
 as Numa said she did, would she not forgive this man 
 by reason of her love for him? And if she did forgive 
 Numa, would he lead a better life as he had promised 
 to do? 
 
 He was furious with himself for falling into the trap 
 that had been so cleverly laid for him. 
 
 And then again he asked himself, should Aline for 
 give Numa and should he lead a better life as he had 
 promised, had he not done a good deed? Would he 
 not make two people happy? Would he not be happy 
 himself at having brought about this happiness to 
 others ? 
 
 He paused suddenly aghast at the cold fear that 
 came over him. " Would it make such a difference 
 to him if Aline were to marry Numa? "he asked 
 himself. 
 
 The time had now come when he must answer this 
 question. 
 
 For a long while he stood silent, fighting this fight 
 
 378 
 
NICHOLAS WILSON GIVES A WARNING 
 
 with himself, and then he raised his face to the dull 
 sky above him. 
 
 u Oh, God!" he cried, " let her refuse him. ^ Let 
 her refuse him. Numa was right in what he said, if 
 not in what he meant, for I do love her, and I want 
 her for myself." 
 
 379 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 NUMA SETTLES AN OLD SCORE 
 
 IT was late the next morning when, after a night of 
 drunkenness at the coffee house, Numa set out from 
 Landry. 
 
 It was later still when he rode away from the house 
 of old Victor, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he thought 
 of the mission of vengeance that he had accomplished. 
 
 Passing the place a short while before he had seen 
 Jeanne and had called to her to come out to him. Then, 
 sullen and angry from the effects of his debauch, the 
 sight of her had aroused the cruelty that ever lay dor 
 mant within him, and he had determined to vent his 
 spite upon her. He had also thought of his bargain 
 with Carey, of his last desperate chance for happiness, 
 and he had determined that he would humble this girl 
 and so settle the matter for good and all before he 
 received Aline s final answer. 
 
 So he had told her of the time she had mocked him 
 when he had tried to sell his birds in Landry, of his 
 pretended love for her and of his real love for Aline, 
 while she had listened to it all, white and speechless, 
 unable in her despair to utter a word of protest. Then 
 he had thanked her for her usefulness to him as a foil 
 
 380 
 
NUMA SETTLES AN OLD SCORE 
 
 in his quest for Aline, and with a mocking smile had 
 ridden away for his stay in the Grand Woods. 
 
 Jeanne leaned over her little front gate and watched 
 him until he vanished up the street. Then she turned 
 away with a sob and very slowly went to her room, 
 where she threw herself across the bed and wept with 
 mingled shame and disappointment. 
 
 When the first wild rush of her grief was over she 
 arose and sat upon the edge of the bed to think. The 
 blow was a hard one, for, despite his treachery, she 
 knew that she still loved Numa and would love him for 
 all time. Women such as she give their love but once, 
 and then give it so thoroughly that they can never take 
 it back again. 
 
 So it was by reason of this very love that she could 
 not bring herself to the thought of harming Numa. 
 Yet this insult must be revenged. To punish him and 
 yet have him come to no harm, that was the question. 
 
 And now she thought of the girl Aline, and her eyes 
 snapped viciously. Here was the solution. She was 
 the one upon whom her vengeance would fall, and it 
 would fall upon Numa also, if he really loved her. 
 Would not any harm that came to her trouble him more 
 than any that could possibly come to himself? And 
 would she not also be revenged upon this girl who 
 had stolen her lover away from her? 
 
 In her excitement Jeanne sprang to her feet, pacing 
 up and down the room like a caged animal, and her face 
 at this moment was not pleasant to see. 
 
 Suddenly she dropped back upon the bed again in 
 limp despair, for another thought had come to her. 
 
 381 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 How was she to punish Aline? How could she harm 
 this girl, who, unknown to most of the people at Lan- 
 dry, was almost unknown to her? This was the ques 
 tion that she asked herself again and again, as with 
 wrinkled brows and tear-stained eyes she sat upon the 
 edge of the bed in thoughtful silence. 
 
 "Who could help her in this matter?" she asked 
 herself, for she knew that alone she could do but little. 
 If she could have the assistance of some man it would 
 help her greatly, but who was there that would give her 
 such assistance? 
 
 There were many it was true who would willingly 
 face Numa in an open fight, but whom could she find to 
 do this other thing? Who would help her to harm a 
 weak, defenseless girl that had but an old man to pro 
 tect her? Such a man must be mean and cowardly, a 
 man too craven to fight by any fair means, too clever to 
 be discovered by those he fought, and yet too stupid 
 to discover the deception that she would practice upon 
 him in her pretended love. Where could she find such 
 a man? 
 
 And so she sat and racked her brain until (happening 
 to glance out of the window) she saw a figure that 
 caused her to spring to her feet with a cry and hurry 
 outside. 
 
 Jean Marie Lacour was returning from his dinner 
 to the drug store. 
 
 Jeanne called to him from the doorway. " Wait a 
 moment, Jean Marie," she cried. " I am going to the 
 store and I will walk with you." 
 
 Jean Marie stopped instantly, and coming to the 
 
 382 
 
NUMA SETTLES AN OLD SCORE 
 
 fence leaned over it with an expectant smile. He had 
 seen but little of Jeanne in the past few weeks, and what 
 little he had seen of her had given him but small satis 
 faction. He had told himself that his quest was hope 
 less and it had hurt him, for he really loved her. There 
 fore when she called to him and asked for his company 
 he was at a loss to understand it. 
 
 " Wait for me, I shall be ready in a moment," called 
 Jeanne, and hurrying into the house she left the aston 
 ished clerk to stare after her in pleased amazement. 
 
 When she reappeared a few moments later her face 
 bore none of the signs of her recent emotion, and she 
 smiled upon the amazed man so sweetly that he was 
 instantly transported to the seventh heaven of delight. 
 
 " Ah, Jean Marie," said she, " I am indeed glad 
 that I caught sight of you. It has been some time 
 since I have seen you." 
 
 Jeanne Marie assumed an air of injured innocence. 
 " Whose fault has it been? " he asked. 
 
 " You must know that I have been very busy lately," 
 answered Jeanne, " and it has been some time since I 
 have come out to walk upon the streets." 
 
 Jean Marie looked at her curiously for a moment, as 
 though he was not quite certain that she was in earnest. 
 He wondered at her pleasant treatment of him and, 
 like the crafty creature that he was, he determined to 
 take advantage of it. There were several things that 
 he wished to find out, and he saw no better time for 
 finding them out than the present. 
 
 " Of course you have been busy," said he. " Every 
 one in Landry knows that." He smiled meaningly. 
 
 383 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Jeanne looked surprised. " Of what are you speak 
 ing? " she asked. 
 
 Why, of your coming marriage to Numa," an 
 swered Jean Marie smoothly. 
 
 Jeanne gave a scornful laugh. " You are joking, 
 surely," said she. " I did not expect the people at 
 Landry to understand what I have been doing, but you, 
 Jean Marie you who have been to the city I thought 
 surely that you would understand." 
 
 Jean Marie assumed an air of great wisdom. " Of 
 course," he replied, " I have seen more than the people 
 here, but I have not exactly understood you. You have 
 been " 
 
 He paused and looked at her vaguely. 
 
 " I have been playing with Numa," answered Jeanne 
 slowly. " I have been playing with him, as I have 
 played with men all my life. You did not think that 
 I loved him, did you? What fools men are. They 
 think in their own conceit that every woman that smiles 
 upon them is in love with them." 
 
 Jean Marie nodded sagely. He was beginning to 
 understand. " I see," said he. " You do not love 
 Numa. You have been fooling him, just as you have 
 fooled the rest." He paused and his face was lit with a 
 smile of great satisfaction, for there was in this news 
 just a little of the punishment that he feared to inflict 
 upon his rival. 
 
 " Of course I have been fooling him," continued 
 Jeanne sweetly. " You did not think that I would 
 throw myself away upon a man like Numa, did you? 
 Ah ! No. I will look a little higher, I promise you. I 
 
 3B4 
 
NUMA SETTLES AN OLD SCORE 
 
 will marry a man who has seen something, who knows 
 something." 
 
 She eyed Jean Marie nervously, for her attack had 
 been very direct, and she feared that he might become 
 suspicious, but one glance at his face, radiant with his 
 own shallow egotism, reassured her, and she gave him 
 a look that set his heart to thumping in a terrible 
 manner. 
 
 Jean Marie swallowed the bait eagerly. " What a 
 girl you are, Jeanne," sSid he with a sigh of admira 
 tion. " I should have known that you would look 
 higher." 
 
 " I will look higher," answered Jeanne insinuatingly. 
 
 The clerk turned upon her a look of bashful uncer 
 tainty and she cast down her eyes demurely. 
 
 " As you know, Jeanne, I have been to the city and 
 I have seen many things," said Jean Marie haltingly. 
 " I offered you my love before, and you cast it away 
 as a worthless thing. What if I were to offer it to you 
 again? " He looked at her expectantly. 
 
 " If you were to offer it to me again I would accept 
 it," began Jeanne slowly, and then she paused. 
 
 Jean Marie gave a glad cry and started forward. 
 
 u Upon one condition," finished Jeanne. 
 
 Jean Marie s face fell. " And the condition?" he 
 asked. 
 
 They had now come within a short distance of the 
 drug store, where Jeanne knew that it would be impos 
 sible to speak to the clerk as she wished, so she laid her 
 hand lightly upon his arm. 
 
 " Let us walk past the store," said she, " for I have 
 
 385 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 much to tell you, and I do not wish to speak of what 
 I have to say before other people." 
 
 She turned as she spoke and led the way down a side 
 street that opened out upon the road to Mouton, where 
 the two walked along in silence until the town was left 
 behind them and the houses had given place to the 
 hedges that shut in the road with their high green 
 walls. 
 
 Jean Marie was the first to break the silence, his 
 impatience having by now become unbearable. 
 
 " And the condition, Jeanne?" he asked anxiously. 
 u What is the condition? " 
 
 Jeanne turned to him with her sweetest smile and 
 spoke to him in the most coaxing tones imaginable. 
 
 " I have a grievance against a certain person," said 
 she, " and this grievance has made me revengeful. I 
 cannot hope to gain my revenge alone, Jean Marie, 
 and I wish you to help me. If you do help me I will 
 believe that you really love me, and then I will love 
 you also. That is the condition, and now it is for you 
 to say whether you will help me or not. There arc 
 many who would jump at the chance." 
 
 Jean Marie s face was a study of conflicting emotions, 
 and he gazed at Jeanne in silent appeal. His love for 
 the girl was battling with his cowardliness, and the 
 struggle was a fierce one. 
 
 When he finally answered her, his voice trembled as 
 much with fear as with disappointment the disappoint 
 ment of one who, having his most cherished ambition 
 within his grasp, is suddenly, through his own weakness, 
 forced to relinquish it. 
 
 386 
 
NUMA SETTLES AN OLD SCORE 
 
 " I am sorry, Jeanne," said he slowly, " but I do not 
 think that I can do what you wish me to. I am a busi 
 ness man and I know nothing of fighting. I would 
 stand no chance against this man upon whom you wish 
 to be revenged. Also, if I am not mistaken, the man 
 that you wish me to harm is Numa. I have seen him 
 shoot, and that is enough. What good would it do me 
 to have you love me after I am dead. No! No! 
 Jeanne, I cannot do it." 
 
 Jeanne turned away her face for a moment that he 
 might not see the scorn that was pictured upon it. 
 
 " You have not let me tell you all," said she. " When 
 I said that I had a grievance against a person I did not 
 say whether that person was a man or a woman." 
 
 Jean Marie gave a joyful start. " Ah! If it were 
 only a woman now " he began. 
 
 " It is a woman," interrupted Jeanne, " and if you 
 are careful no one need know that you have had any 
 thing to do with the matter. You have heard of the 
 girl at M sieu Gordon s plantation that is called 
 Aline?" 
 
 Jeanne Marie nodded. 
 
 " She is the one," said Jeanne in a low voice. 
 
 "And why do you wish to harm her?" began the 
 clerk. 
 
 " That is my affair," interrupted Jeanne. " Will you 
 do it?" 
 
 Jean Marie looked puzzled. " What is it that I 
 must do to harm her? " he asked. 
 
 " That is for you to decide," answered Jeanne. " I 
 only wish that I knew what to do. She will be a hard 
 
 387 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 one to injure, Jean Marie, and my poor head is too 
 empty to think of any plan, so I have turned to you. 
 Surely a person such as you are, who has traveled and 
 seen the world, can settle a little matter like this." 
 
 " Of course you do not wish me to injure her 
 bodily? " inquired the clerk anxiously. 
 
 " Of course not," answered Jeanne. " What I wish 
 you to do is to spread some report about her that will 
 harm her. I would do it myself and gladly, but who 
 would believe me? They would laugh at me and say 
 that I was jealous. But they will believe you, Jean 
 Marie, because you are a man, and you are not sup 
 posed to be jealous. Ah! Why will they ever treat us 
 as though we were children? If I were but a man for 
 a day, an hour, I would show them whether I am a 
 child or not." 
 
 She clenched her hands and turned upon the clerk 
 with blazing eyes. 
 
 " Well, what do you say? " she cried fiercely. " Will 
 you do it? Is it yes or no? " 
 
 Jean Marie, assuming a most solemn air, motioned 
 her to be silent. " I am thinking," said he and then 
 suddenly he gave a cry of satisfaction and turned to 
 her triumphantly. " I have it! I have it! " cried he 
 excitedly. " The store is a great place for talk, as you 
 must know, and I hear there many things of many peo 
 ple. I have heard it said that this Aline is a great favor 
 ite of M sieu Gordon s and that he goes often to her 
 cabin to see her. That he has even given her money 
 gold money, Jeanne. What if I were to have something 
 to say of them, of those two, the next time that they are 
 
 ^88 
 
NUMA SETTLES AN OLD SCORE 
 
 talking at the store? Do you understand? You know 
 what I mean, eh? " 
 
 Jeanne looked at the clerk admiringly. " What a 
 clever fellow you are, Jean Marie," said she. " I would 
 never have thought of it myself." 
 
 She did not think it necessary to tell him that she 
 had given him the key to this idea in what she had said 
 to him, or that she had thought of this plan as soon 
 as she had seen him. 
 
 Jean Marie pulled out his big silver watch and looked 
 at it guiltily. 
 
 " My," said he, " I am over half an hour late. The 
 doctor will be very angry, and I must think of some 
 excuse. I am going to hurry back and you must come 
 along a little later, for I do not wish the doctor to see 
 us together. I have my excuse to make, you know. 
 And now, will you not give me a kiss, Jeanne, as a little 
 advance for what I am going to do for you? " 
 
 The road stretched away before them deserted and 
 the tall hedges shut them in on either side from the 
 sight of any possible intruder. Jean Marie put up his 
 lips. 
 
 With a sigh Jeanne bent down and kissed him, barely 
 hiding the shudder that passed over her as their lips 
 met. She had begun this thing and she must see it to 
 the bitter end. 
 
 She watched the clerk as he hurried away, a look of 
 deepest contempt upon her face. 
 
 " Ah, what a miserable creature you are," said she. 
 "* The hardest thing that I have ever done is to pretend 
 to love you. But you will pay dearly for it all when 
 
 389 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 your turn comes, and it will come the moment that I 
 am through with you." 
 
 When Jean Marie reached the drug store he found 
 the old doctor absent upon a sick call, and he found 
 also a girl who was waiting for a prescription. He 
 gave a guilty start when he saw that it was Aline, and 
 hurrying behind the counter he handed her the medicine. 
 
 " Is that all, M sieu? " she asked as she paid him. 
 
 " Yes," answered Jean Marie, " that is all. All for 
 the present I mean," he added under his breath as she 
 turned to go. 
 
 390 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 LE SAUVAGE 
 
 TRUE to his promise, Carey, in the days that 
 followed his interview with Numa, paid many 
 visits to the little cabin on the edge of the 
 field. To do all that he had agreed to do was, he told 
 himself, his solemn duty, and the defense that he made 
 for Numa was both eloquent and hearty in the extreme. 
 
 It was no easy task for him to do this thing, for now 
 that he had acknowledged to himself his love for Aline 
 every word that he said in favor of Numa was a blow 
 aimed against his own happiness. It would have been 
 hard for him indeed had it not been for the girl her 
 self, who, listening to his defense of Numa, always in 
 respectful silence, had, when he had finished speaking, 
 but one answer to give him. 
 
 " What you say, M sieu, must of course be true," 
 she would always reply, " but I cannot forgive Numa. 
 You do not know all and I cannot tell you, but if you 
 only knew you would not blame me." 
 
 One day she asked a question that he found it hard 
 to answer. He had just finished a long speech in 
 Numa s defense when the girl turned upon him with a 
 curious look in her eyes. 
 
 ; Why is it that you are so anxious to have me for- 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 give Numa?" she had asked. " Do you wish me to 
 marry him, M sieu? That is the only thing that I 
 would not do for you." 
 
 Carey had not answered her at first, but had thought 
 a long time before replying. He had felt that to inti 
 mate to her in the slightest degree the love that he 
 felt for her would have been a gross breach of the 
 trust that Numa had reposed in him. 
 
 " I cannot answer your question, Aline," he had 
 finally said to her, " but one of these days I will explain 
 to you all that I wish." And without giving her a 
 chance to question him further, he had left the cabin, 
 enraged at his ever-ready sympathy that had of late 
 caused him so much trouble. 
 
 And so the days had passed slowly for him, each one 
 endearing the girl more to him, each one making him 
 regret more keenly his agreement with Numa. He was 
 not unconscious of the fact that his frequent visits to 
 the cabin were the cause of much speculation among the 
 people at Belrive, and he had laid much stress upon 
 the old man s sickness, using it as an excuse for the many 
 hours spent in Aline s society. 
 
 But the old man was now much better, was up and 
 working about a little in his garden, and Carey saw that 
 this excuse would no longer answer his purpose. There 
 fore he was greatly worried at the thought of the possi 
 ble construction that people would put upon his actions, 
 and these thoughts, together with certain rumors that 
 lhad come to him faintly from Landry, filled him with 
 a foreboding and a restlessness to tell of his love that 
 was well-nigh unbearable. 
 
 392 
 
LE SAUVAGE 
 
 It seemed to him that the week would never pass, 
 and he hailed the coming of each day with delight, as 
 the time grew nearer when his fears and worries would 
 be at an end. He wished a thousand times that he had 
 limited the time of Numa s probation to a day, and he 
 felt that the ending of the week would find him the 
 happiest man alive. What he meant to do then he 
 could not fully decide. 
 
 That the announcement of his love for Aline would 
 cause an endless amount of trouble with his family 
 he knew only too well, and he could not bear to think 
 of the pain that it would give them. They would think 
 him mad and would send Aline away in disgrace to the 
 Grand Woods, where he could not help but acknowledge 
 she rightfully belonged. How, he asked himself, could 
 they see in her the many perfections that to him were 
 so apparent? And when they sent her away what was 
 he to do ? Would it not be better for them all if Aline 
 were to forgive Numa and marry him? Surely this 
 would be the easiest solution of the matter. And then 
 his love for the girl would cry out fiercely against such 
 a thing, and he would forget his family, his troubles 
 and all in thoughts of Aline. 
 
 Therefore when the morning of the seventh day 
 arrived he had come to no decision. 
 
 As he rode to the stables in the gray dusk of the 
 November daybreak he told himself that the time had 
 now come when he must act; the time when he must 
 choose between the duty that he owed his family and 
 his love for Aline. His visit to the cabin that morning 
 was a short one, and when, the day s work over, he 
 
 393 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 came out upon the plantation road and started up 
 toward the big house he had come to his decision. 
 
 If Aline, for some untold reason, should change her 
 mind and marry Numa this incident in his life was 
 closed, he told himself, and closed in a manner that was 
 best for all, himself not included. 
 
 If on the other hand Aline should refuse Numa (as 
 he felt sure she would) he decided to keep his love for 
 her a secret, for a time at least. He would let her finish 
 at the convent and gain what education she could, while 
 he would try by degrees to break to his family the news 
 that he loved her. 
 
 He was very well satisfied with this plan, especially 
 as it gave him time in which to perfect his affairs for 
 the future, and as he rode slowly homeward his heart 
 was lighter than it had been since the night of his 
 meeting with Numa. 
 
 He wondered what Numa would say to Aline when 
 she had refused him and where he would go when he 
 left her, for he knew that such a man as he could not 
 stay near the girl he loved and keep from seeing her. 
 In the honesty of his own heart he did not think of 
 the possibility of Numa s breaking his given word. 
 
 And then he thought that perhaps Aline, won by 
 Numa s pleading (as he had been) might change her 
 determination to refuse him, and he found himself by 
 this strange chain of circumstances, praying for the 
 failure of the very thing that for the past week he had 
 striven with all his power of speech and influence to aid. 
 
 As he drew near the big house he saw a horse tied to 
 the rack in front, and he rode forward eagerly, hoping 
 
 394 
 
LE SAUVAGE 
 
 that it might be Tom Bayne, whose cheerfulness would 
 help him to forget the many troubles that harassed him. 
 The visitor, however, proved to be Mr. Parker, who 
 was just preparing to take his leave after a long and 
 glowing description of his new girl to Aunt Betty. This 
 girl, the beautiful and accomplished sister of Monsieur 
 Varain s head clerk, had so occupied the thoughts of 
 Mr. Parker that he did not remember the real object 
 of his visit until Carey s arrival. 
 
 " You re just in time," cried he as Carey entered the 
 doorway. " I stopped by on my way to Landry to get 
 you to come over to the political meeting. We ve just 
 got to re-elect Paul Hebert for Mr. Landry s sake, if 
 for no other reason, and old Varain is coming over to 
 give us the latest news from Mouton. We ll have a big 
 powwow sure enough, and you ve just got to come." 
 
 Carey agreed readily enough, any diversion being 
 welcome at this time, and in a very few moments he 
 was in the saddle again, bound for Landry and the old 
 doctor s drug store, where the politicians were to meet. 
 
 They found the old doctor waiting for them upon his 
 front porch, and he hurried out into the road with a 
 smile of welcome. 
 
 " I am glad that you both came over," said he, " for 
 your standing with us in this election will help us a great 
 deal. I have just had a message from Varain saying 
 that he will arrive a little later than he expected, on 
 account of some unforeseen business, but he assures me 
 that he will be here before dark. Let us sit upon the 
 porch and wait for him." 
 
 And so they sat upon the porch and talked of poli- 
 
 395 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 tics, while quite a little crowd of idlers gathered upon 
 the steps below them, waiting eagerly for the stories 
 and anecdotes that they knew would be forthcoming. 
 
 For a time the talk upon the porch held straight to 
 the course of the political situation, and then suddenly 
 it veered to the merits of the candidate himself, Paul 
 Hebert. 
 
 Well, if good, cool nerve and grit stand for any 
 thing, he ought to win hands down," declared Mr. 
 Parker vehemently. 
 
 The old doctor smiled. " He is a plucky man," said 
 he. " Almost as plucky as his father." 
 
 "And was he a deputy sheriff also?" asked Mr. 
 Parker. 
 
 The old doctor shook his head. " No," he replied, 
 " he was a sheriff, and there was only one man in all 
 this country as brave as he was." 
 
 " And that man was Le Sauvage," added Monsieur 
 Landry. 
 
 One of the listeners on the steps gave a sudden start 
 and the old doctor, whose quick eyes took in everything, 
 called out to him. 
 
 " What is the matter, Jean? " he asked. 
 
 Le Bossu (for it was he) shrugged his twisted shoul 
 ders and spread out his hands in a gesture of weariness. 
 
 " It is nothing, M sieu le Doctaire," answered he. 
 " Nothing but one of the sudden pains that I have so 
 often." 
 
 " And who was this Le Sauvage? " asked Mr. Par 
 ker. " From his name I should judge that he was a 
 pretty savage person." 
 
 396 
 
LE SAUVAGE 
 
 Doctor Lemaire nodded. " He was savage to his 
 enemies," he answered. " He was quite a celebrated 
 character in this part of the world some years ago, and 
 his memory is still green in the thoughts of the old 
 people like myself. I suppose that I remember him 
 better than most people, as I happened to see quite a 
 good deal of him at one time." 
 
 The old doctor paused and drew a cigar from his 
 pocket. He knew that he would be called upon to tell 
 of his experiences with Le Sauvage, and he could always 
 talk much better when he was smoking. 
 
 " Would you mind telling me about this savage 
 gentleman?" asked Mr. Parker. "You have aroused 
 my curiosity to the highest pitch by what you have said 
 already." 
 
 The old doctor lit his cigar and tucked it into the 
 corner of his mouth. 
 
 " It is rather a long story," said he, " and one that 
 most of the people here have heard many times, but 
 as we have nothing to do until Varain arrives and as 
 you have never heard it, I will tell it to you. 
 
 " I must begin by telling you that all of these things 
 took place shortly after the war, when this country was 
 in a state of lawlessness. At that time the courts at 
 Mouton (which were for the most part filled with 
 Republican carpet-bagger officials) were so corrupt that 
 the conviction of a criminal was almost impossible, and 
 crime after crime was committed, the culprits receiving 
 no other punishment than a short stay in the parish 
 prison. 
 
 " Now you must understand, my friend, that the 
 
 397 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 reason for this was very plain to the better element at 
 Mouton. They knew that the public officials, being 
 more or less criminals themselves, could not afford to 
 antagonize their friends, and in some instances their 
 partners the apprehended criminals. Such a state of 
 affairs as this could not, as you can understand, be 
 borne forever by the better element, and so finally they 
 determined to take the law into their own hands. 
 
 " Accordingly they organized what was known as 
 1 Le Comite des Vigilantes, and Hebert, the father of 
 our candidate, was one of its leaders. It is needless to 
 say that I myself was a member, as was also your friend 
 here, Monsieur Landry. 
 
 " The purpose of this organization was to punish 
 those criminals who had escaped their just dues through 
 the dishonesty of the courts at Mouton, and so well did 
 we perform our duty that in a short time we had driven 
 all of these criminals from the town. With them went 
 also a great many of the public officials, and they took 
 refuge in a place near here called lie des Cypres. Now 
 this He des Cypres was almost an impregnable place. 
 It was a succession of small cypress islands lying far 
 out in the open sea marsh a place where one might 
 lie well hid in the close cover of the islands and 
 have at his mercy the enemy on the open marsh 
 before him. 
 
 " So here, for some time, the outcasts dwelt in safety, 
 and it is probable that they would have stayed there 
 for the rest of their lives had they been content to leave 
 well enough alone. But it seems that when one is once 
 dishonest he is dishonest forever, and that is the way 
 
 398 
 
LE SAUVAGE 
 
 that it was with these people. No sooner were they 
 left in peace on their islands than they began to start 
 their old tricks again. Coming out from the marshes 
 in a great crowd they would terrorize the country 
 around them, robbing, burning, stealing the women, and 
 in some instances committing murder, and then with 
 the Vigilantes close upon their heels they would retreat 
 to their stronghold, there to defy us. 
 
 " Now the leader of the criminals in these raids was 
 a man who, on account of his fierceness, the people had 
 named Le Sauvage. He was of tremendous height and 
 stature, as strong as two ordinary men and possessed of 
 a courage and fearlessness that was the marvel of all 
 who saw him. 
 
 " He was the heart and soul of the fugitives, and we 
 felt that could we capture him or kill him, the taking of 
 the rest of them would be comparatively a simple mat 
 ter. It is useless to say that we tried in every way 
 to capture Le Sauvage, but all our efforts failed, and the 
 fugitives grew bolder every day, committing robberies 
 and stealing women almost under our very noses. 
 
 " I had been very anxious to see this man, the stories 
 of whose bravery made a deep impression upon me, and 
 being much younger than I am now I was foolish 
 enough to pray one night that I might meet him. My 
 prayer was answered the very next day. 
 
 " I had been to see a sick person who lived far out in 
 the country, near the sea marsh, and I was returning 
 home in my buggy, tired out by a very long drive. My 
 road lay through a very desolate lane, bordered upon 
 either side by thick Cherokee hedges, and I was driving 
 
 399 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 along a little before sunset when suddenly a loud voice 
 called to me to halt. 
 
 " Now, as I have told you, the times were trouble 
 some, and we were all of us prepared for danger, so 
 I pulled in my horse quickly and slipped down one of 
 my hands to where my pistol lay upon the seat 
 beside me. 
 
 " Instantly the voice called to me again. Throw up 
 your hands, Doctor, it said, and do not attempt to 
 reach your pistol. I do not wish to kill you, but you 
 will force me to in a moment. 
 
 " You may be sure that I threw up my hands at this, 
 and as I did so, a man stepped out from where he had 
 been hiding in the hedges and came toward me. 
 
 " In one hand he held a pistol that was pointed 
 directly at my heart, and it needed but a glance from me 
 to tell that the man who stood before me was the one 
 that I had longed so to see Le Sauvage. He was a 
 large man, larger than I ever expect to see again in my 
 life, and his face, although it had about it an almost 
 indescribable look of sadness, was handsome in the 
 extreme. It was one of those faces that we seldom see : 
 strong and clear-cut, and having about it a certain win 
 ning air that was almost irresistible. 
 
 u He came to the buggy and without a word took up 
 my pistol from the seat and thrust it into his pocket. 
 Having done this he climbed into the buggy and, taking 
 the seat beside me, started the horse. 
 
 " I must have presented a strange picture of fright 
 and astonishment at this unexpected proceeding, for 
 he turned upon me with a laugh. 
 
 400 
 
LE SAUVAGE 
 
 " Do not be afraid, Doctor, said he. If you will 
 but do what I ask you to, you will come to no harm, I 
 assure you. 
 
 " His voice was strong and clear; the voice of a born 
 leader, and yet it was touched with the same sadness 
 that his whole person suggested. 
 
 " Being somewhat reassured by the tone of his voice 
 and the friendly way in which he looked at me, I 
 answered him with as fair an attempt at indifference as 
 I could. 
 
 " * And what is it that you wish me to do? I asked. 
 
 " He pulled at his mustache for a moment as though 
 he was choosing carefully the words for his answer, 
 and then he turned and met my eyes squarely with 
 his own. 
 
 " * I have a sick wife, Doctor, said he slowly, and 
 if she does not have medical attention soon she will 
 die. He pointed an arm before him. She lies out 
 there in the sea marsh, where none can go to her and 
 where none would go to her, if they could. Like myself, 
 she is an outcast. Therefore as no one will come to 
 her I have been forced to come out from my hole and 
 bring some one to her. Have you a wife, Doctor? 
 
 " I nodded. 
 
 " * And do you love her? asked he softly. 
 
 " Again I nodded. 
 
 " * Then, said he, you can understand my position. 
 Can you truthfully say that you blame me for stopping 
 you as I have done ? 
 
 " I shook my head. No, said I, I do not blame 
 you, and I will do all in my power to save your wife. 
 
 401 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 As you must know, I am one of the Vigilantes, and if 
 I meet you again I assure you that I will do my best 
 to kill you. But for the present I am going with you 
 as a physician, and I would be a sorry creature were I 
 to do anything that is not just and right. Had you 
 sent for me I would have gone to see your wife just as 
 I would have gone to see any other woman. We doc 
 tors cannot choose our patients. And now, my friend, 
 until we are back here again in the road and on equal 
 footing, I want you to remember that I am not a Vigi 
 lante, but a physician, and I shall expect you to treat 
 me as such. 
 
 " Le Sauvage held out his hand. * You are a real 
 man, Doctor, said he, * and to show you that I trust 
 you, I am going to give you back your pistol. 
 
 " He handed it to me as he spoke, and we drove 
 along in silence until we came to the thin strip of forest 
 that borders upon the sea marsh. 
 
 " Here Le Sauvage got out of the buggy and tied 
 the horse. I will have to blindfold you, Doctor, said 
 he. The way to my hiding place is a secret one and I 
 cannot let you see it. 
 
 " And how am I to cross the marsh blindfolded? 
 I asked him. It is difficult to make your way when 
 you can see. 
 
 " * I will carry you, was his answer, and before I 
 could laugh at the idea, he tied a cloth about my eyes, 
 and picking me up as though I had been a child, started 
 away with me through the woods. 
 
 " Of that journey through the marsh I can tell you 
 but little. It will be sufficient to say that it was a long 
 
 402 
 
LE SAUVAGE 
 
 one and that Le Sauvage never faltered. I have never 
 heard of such strength as his. 
 
 " When he finally set me down upon my feet and took 
 off the bandage I found that it had grown almost dark, 
 and the sight that met my eyes was one that I will 
 not forget to my dying day. I was upon a little island 
 far out in the sea marsh an island thickly grown with 
 shrubs and underbrush and having upon its eastern edge 
 a single huge live oak. The ground about this oak had 
 been cleared away to make room for a rude hut, built 
 of cypress logs and roughly thatched with reeds and 
 mud, and Le Sauvage, pointing to this hut, bade me 
 enter. 
 
 u You will find her inside, Doctor, said he. * It 
 is not much of a home, and the fact that my wife is 
 living in it will give you some idea of the love that 
 she bears me. 
 
 " Pushing open the shaky door of the hut I entered, 
 to find myself in a bare, cheerless room, the floor of 
 which was the hard, uneven ground of the island. A 
 wood fire burned in one corner, laid on a shallow hearth 
 of brick, and by its feeble light I could see the figure 
 of a woman the patient that I had come so far to see. 
 She lay upon a ragged mattress that was stretched out 
 against the wall, and when I bent over her I found 
 that she was a young woman, scarcely more than a girl, 
 still beautiful despite the ravages of care and sickness. 
 That she was very ill I saw at a glance, and after hav 
 ing done what I could for her I went outside to her 
 husband. 
 
 " He was standing at the foot of the oak tree talking 
 
 403 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 to another man, and as soon as he saw me he dismissed 
 him and came forward to meet me. He did not speak 
 to me, but I could read the unspoken question in his 
 eyes and I laid my hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " * Your wife is very ill, I told him. And if you 
 do not get her away from this place she will die. 
 
 " I pointed toward the edge of the island, where 
 through the openings in the brush you could see the 
 mist that lay above the marsh like a great white cloud. 
 
 " * That is what is killing her, said I. She cannot 
 live here two days longer. 
 
 " Le Sauvage said nothing to this, but turned his 
 face away. After a moment he again faced me with the 
 blindfold in his hand. 
 
 " You have done all that you can for her? he 
 asked. 
 
 " * Everything, I answered. 
 
 " Without a word he put the blindfold over my eyes 
 and picking me up in his arms began the journey across 
 the marsh. When we reached the buggy he took off the 
 blindfold and untied the horse. He drove me away in 
 silence, and it was not until we had arrived at the place 
 where he had stopped me that he uttered a sound. Here 
 he stopped the horse and turned to me with a sad smile 
 upon his careworn face. 
 
 " I am afraid that I have been poor company, said 
 he, but you will have to excuse me. 
 
 " He climbed slowly into the road and held out his 
 hand. 
 
 " I had intended offering you money for your visit, 
 Doctor, he continued, * but from what I have seen of 
 
 404 
 
LE SAUVAGE 
 
 you I do not think that you would take it, and I know 
 that it would hurt me now to offer it to you. There 
 fore, I am only going to thank you. We may never 
 meet again, but I want to ask you to think as kindly 
 of me as you can. I will not attempt to tire you with my 
 story, but I will tell you two things, which I hope you 
 will not forget. I have been a gentleman, and I have 
 also been greatly wronged. Perhaps if you knew my 
 story you would not think as badly of me as you do now, 
 but no matter. Good night, Doctor, and again, thank 
 you. 
 
 " And your wife? I asked him, what are you 
 going to do with her? 
 
 u * I will move her to-morrow, answered he. * There 
 is an old house between here and Landry that is empty 
 and I will take her there. 
 
 " Now when he said this I sprang from my seat with 
 surprise, for I knew the house of which he spoke, and 
 I also knew that hunted as he was it would be certain 
 death for him to go to it. With the whole country alive 
 with watchful Vigilantes he would be seen and cap 
 tured before he had been in the house a day. 
 
 " * You must be mad, I cried. Do you not know 
 that the house is in an open field not three miles from 
 Landry? The Vigilantes will be swarming about you 
 before you have been there an hour. Do you suppose 
 that it would be possible for any one to see you and 
 mistake you for another person? 
 
 " I was so much in earnest that I caught his arm 
 and fairly shook him in my excitement. He put my arm 
 aside with a smile at my vehemence. 
 
 405 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 41 I know all that you say, Doctor/ said he, and I 
 thank you for your interest, but it is the only thing that 
 I can do. I knew that the marsh was killing my wife 
 before you told me, and I have thought of this thing 
 for a long time. There is not a house in all this country 
 that would receive me. I know that it is a big risk, but 
 I am going to take the chance. I could have my men 
 guard me, but after all it is none of their affair. I stole 
 my wife, Doctor, stole her from her quiet home in the 
 prairie, and she loves me for having done it. It was 
 I who brought her into the poison of the marsh, and 
 it is only just that I should take her out again. 
 
 " He turned away as he spoke, and again I seized his 
 arm. 
 
 " It is certain death, my friend/ I cried, * and your 
 wife has but a small chance of living if you do bring 
 her out. 
 
 " He laid his hand for a moment upon my shoulder, 
 and the sadness in his face was pitiful to see. 
 
 " She is my wife, Doctor, and I love her, answered 
 he. And besides, if it does turn out wrong, I sha n t 
 care very much. I am tired, Doctor, tired of it all. 
 Do you not understand? Good night, and God bless 
 you. I know that you will not betray me, and giving 
 my shoulder a little squeeze he plunged into the hedges 
 and left me. 
 
 " I drove home that night with my brain in a whirl, 
 amazed at finding that I, a member of the Vigilantes, 
 was in sympathy with the leader of the fugitives, a man 
 who but a few hours ago I would have killed like a 
 dog. It was monstrous, and yet, my friend, such was 
 
 406 
 
LE SAUVAGE 
 
 the power of Le Sauvage that I do not think any one 
 who knew him could have kept from loving him." 
 
 The old doctor paused for a moment to light his 
 cigar, which he had let go out long ago, and Mr. Par 
 ker smote the arm of his chair enthusiastically. 
 
 " I don t blame you for liking him," he cried. " He 
 was what you might call a real man. And did he bring 
 his wife to the empty house?" 
 
 " Yes," answered the old doctor, " he did. It could 
 not have been later than four o clock the next evening 
 when I heard a terrible knocking at my front door, 
 and on opening it I saw a large crowd of Vigilantes 
 waiting upon their horses in the road outside. They 
 did not need to explain their mission, and when they 
 called to me that they had trapped Le Sauvage I could 
 not help but feel sad. It took but a moment to saddle 
 my horse, seize my rifle and join them, and as we rode 
 along they told me that which I knew only too well 
 would happen. 
 
 " Le Sauvage had been seen to enter the empty house, 
 the place was now surrounded to prevent his escape and 
 all that remained was to wait the arrival of re-enforce 
 ments (as a guard against a possible ambush) to decide 
 whether they would take him dead or alive. 
 
 " When we reached the house we found it sur 
 rounded by the Vigilantes, who were in command of 
 Hebert, and upon our arrival he gave the order to 
 advance and secure our prisoner. 
 
 " The house stood in what had once been a cornfield, 
 and taking advantage of the shelter that the rows 
 afforded us, we lay behind them and crawled toward our 
 
 407 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 prey, Hebert leading us. It would have been madness 
 to have tried to take the house by a rush, for Le 
 Sauvage would have shot us down like sheep. And so 
 we crawled along, each of us expecting to receive a 
 bullet, until we were within a short distance of the 
 house. It was then that Hebert rose to his feet and 
 called to Le Sauvage to surrender. 
 
 * Come out, Le Sauvage, he cried, and I promise 
 you that you shall have a fair trial by jury. If you 
 refuse to surrender we shall kill you, if it takes the last 
 man of us to do it. 
 
 " As he finished speaking the door of the house 
 swung open and Le Sauvage stepped out upon the porch. 
 I have never in my life seen a few short hours make 
 such a change in any one as they had in him. 
 
 " He seemed an old man, and his broad shoulders 
 were bowed as with the weight of many years. In the 
 hollow of one arm he held a tiny, newborn infant, 
 wrapped in an old bit of blanket, and holding it up that 
 all might see it, he raised his haggard face to address us. 
 
 " A dozen rifles were aimed at him as he stepped 
 out, but at sight of the child Hebert ordered them to 
 be lowered. 
 
 " As he looked at the armed men about him the face 
 of Le Sauvage was lit with a scornful smile, and he 
 straightened himself for a moment with his old gesture 
 of pride and defiance. 
 
 " * Your numbers compliment me, gentlemen, said 
 he scornfully. * I see that it has taken the fighting men 
 of two cities to capture me. But we will not argue 
 that. You have come, however, gentlemen of les Figi- 
 
 408 
 
LE SAUVAGE 
 
 lanles, at a very inopportune moment. I have in a 
 few short hours become two things a father and a 
 widower. My wife lies dead in the room behind me, 
 my son I hold in my arms. Now I do not wish to 
 deprive you of the pleasure of killing me, neither do I 
 wish to be taken alive, but I have a favor to ask of you. 
 It is a strange one, and I hope that you will grant it, 
 if only for its strangeness. Give me but a few hours 
 in which to bury my wife and make provision for my 
 child, and I promise you that I will come back to this 
 house and fight it out with you. My wife was a good 
 woman, even as I am a bad man, and she deserves a 
 Christian burial. My child is but a poor, weak thing 
 and he has never harmed you. Give me the rest of this 
 day (it is but a few short hours at most) and I promise 
 you that I will meet you here at sunrise. There is one 
 among you who will answer for my being here in the 
 morning, and now, gentlemen of les Vigilantes, I throw 
 myself upon your mercy as a generous foe. I shall 
 await your decision inside/ 
 
 " He bowed as he finished speaking and went into 
 the house again. 
 
 " I knew that he had meant me when he had said 
 that there was one who would answer for his return, and 
 rising to my feet I made my friends a little speech. I 
 told them of what had happened on the preceding day, 
 and then, fired by this man s sad position, I made the 
 one great speech of my life. When I had finished 
 Hebert turned to the Vigilantes. 
 
 " All of those who are going back to Landry will 
 follow me, said he. 
 
 409 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " When I tell you that I was sixth in the line that 
 formed you will understand how eagerly the men fol 
 lowed him. At the bend of the road I turned and for 
 the last time saw Le Sauvage. He was leading his 
 horse, upon which he had placed the body of his wife, 
 and in the hollow of his arm he still held the child." 
 
 The old doctor paused, pulled at his cold cigar and 
 threw it into the road. 
 
 "And did Le Sauvage turn up in the morning? " 
 asked Mr. Parker breathlessly. 
 
 " Yes," answered the old doctor, " he did, but I did 
 not see him. I asked Hebert to excuse me, and he did 
 so willingly. When the Vigilantes arrived at the house 
 they found Le Sauvage waiting for them on the porch, 
 and they say that he looked like death. 
 
 " * I have kept my promise, gentlemen of les Vigi 
 lantes? said he, and I have much to thank you for. 
 
 " He started to enter the house, but Hebert called 
 to him to stop. 
 
 " You are a brave man/ he cried, and I will not 
 see you pulled out like a rat and shot to death. If 
 you will go inside the house and promise me safe 
 entrance alone I myself will settle this matter with you/ 
 
 " Le Sauvage, so it is said, bowed at this. 
 
 " * You are a man after my own heart, answered he. 
 
 " * I shall be in in two minutes, and we will begin to 
 shoot as soon as I have closed the door, said Hebert as 
 Le Sauvage went inside. 
 
 " When the two minutes were up Hebert went inside 
 and closed the door behind him. Those outside heard 
 a single shot and then Hebert came out again. 
 
 410 
 
LE SAUVAGE 
 
 " The Vigilantes began a great cheer, but Hebert 
 stopped them. 
 
 " 4 There is nothing to cheer about, my friends, said 
 he. * I have killed an unarmed man, that is all, and 
 when they searched the body of Le Sauvage they found 
 that he had spoken the truth. They found the arms 
 afterwards lying outside the window, where Le Sauvage 
 had thrown them. 
 
 " And so that is the story of Le Sauvage, and after 
 his death the Vigilantes had but little trouble in driving 
 out the criminals from the He des Cypres. Hebert was 
 the first sheriff elected by the new government at Mou- 
 ton, and he served his people well until his death some 
 years ago. And now, if Varain is going to keep his 
 promise about getting here before dark, he will have 
 to hurry." 
 
 The old doctor spoke truly, for the twilight was 
 thickening fast and the stars were already beginning to 
 come out. 
 
 Mr. Parker lay back in his chair and stretched him 
 self. " He was a brave man Le Sauvage," said he, 
 following the trend of his thoughts. 
 
 " Yes," answered the old doctor, " he was and " 
 
 But a voice interrupted him. 
 
 " He was something else also, M sieu le Doctaire," 
 said the voice. 
 
 The old doctor turned sharply about and beheld Le 
 Bossu, who was standing up on the steps and eyeing 
 him eagerly. 
 
 " And what else was he, Jean? " asked the old doctor 
 kindly. 
 
 411 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 "He was my father, M sieu le Doctaire," answered 
 the little man. 
 
 His words caused the greatest excitement among the 
 group upon the porch. A dozen questions were asked 
 him in as many seconds, but the little man only shook 
 his head. 
 
 " I am sorry, but I cannot tell you, and besides, Mon 
 sieur Varain is coming up the road," said he as he 
 slipped away in the gathering darkness. 
 
 412 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 ALINE GIVES HER ANSWER 
 
 IN the meantime, while the old doctor was deciding 
 the fate of Le Sauvage, the fate of another man 
 had been decided, and in almost as unsatisfactory 
 a manner. 
 
 The shadows of the evening had barely fallen upon 
 the vast wilderness of the cypress swamp when Numa 
 saddled his pony and set out from the Grand Woods 
 toward Landry. 
 
 That his mission was important one could have told 
 by a glance at his face, which was now smiling, now sad, 
 and now black with hate, according to the emotion that 
 for the moment possessed him. 
 
 The week that he had spent in the woods had been a 
 sore trial to him, and never did prisoner welcome his 
 release from confinement as did Numa the arrival of 
 the seventh day. If the time had passed slowly for 
 Carey it had passed twice as slowly for him. 
 
 Alone in the solitude of the forest, save for an occa 
 sional visit from Le Bossu, he had chafed fretfully at 
 the tedious dragging of the hours, cursing himself, his 
 love and all else in his impatience. It was true that he 
 could have gone to Landry, but he knew that to do so 
 
 413 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 would mean a long period of drunkenness, which, if 
 heard of by Aline, would forever ruin what chances he 
 had of winning her, and so he had passed the time of 
 his probation deep in the forest, hunting and fishing, 
 thinking always of the day for which he was waiting 
 so eagerly. 
 
 When it finally arrived it found him in a strange 
 mood. He was hopeful one moment, despondent the 
 next one moment he was cursing his love, the next 
 he was blessing it as the one bright spot in his dreary 
 life. Long before the sun had pushed itself above the 
 dark line of the trees he was out in the forest searching 
 for the late wild flowers, and when at noon he returned 
 to his hut his arms were laden with them. From the 
 very heart of the forest he had stolen these treasures, 
 the flowers Aline loved great masses of white and 
 pink and yellow blossoms that filled the air with the 
 fragrance of the forest from which they had come. 
 
 He held them in his arms now as he rode along, and, 
 shrewd schemer that he was, he knew that their silent 
 appeal would prove a stronger plea for him than all of 
 the eloquence in the world. 
 
 On his way to Belrive he racked his brain for a 
 speech that he could make to Aline, but the words 
 would not come, and he decided to leave what he would 
 say to the chance of the moment. 
 
 Aline opened the door of the cabin for him, as he was 
 about to knock upon it. 
 
 " M sieu Gordon told me that you would come this 
 evening, and I have been expecting you," said she as 
 she stood aside to let him enter. 
 
 414 
 
ALINE GIVES HER ANSWER 
 
 When he had come inside the living room of the 
 cabin Aline closed the door and faced him expectantly. 
 Numa held out his mass of flowers. 
 
 " They are from the Grand Woods, and are the last 
 this year," said he simply. " I thought that you might 
 like to have them." 
 
 With a cry of joy the girl took them and laid her 
 cheek lovingly against them. 
 
 " In all this world, Numa, there is nothing that you 
 could have brought me that would have pleased me 
 more, save only my ring," she cried. " I have been 
 very angry with you, but these flowers have brought 
 you your pardon, Numa. You have touched my heart 
 by this simple thing as you have never touched it 
 before." 
 
 She smiled at him and held out her hand. 
 
 Numa s face was flushed with happiness as he took 
 the hand and held it for a moment in his own. 
 
 " How kind and good you are, Aline," said he. 
 " The woods lost its fairest flower when you came to 
 Belrive. If I could have found the ring I would have 
 brought it to you long ago, I assure you, but as I have 
 told you, it is lost and I know not where it is. And 
 you say that M sieu Gordon told you that I would come 
 this evening? That is strange, for I did not know that 
 he ever gave me a thought. Who am I, though, that 
 M sieu Gordon should think of me? 
 
 " It is true that I said I was coming to see you, where 
 he could hear me, but who would have imagined that 
 he would have spoken to you of the matter? " 
 
 As he threw out this feeler Numa eyed the girl 
 
 415 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 keenly. He was anxious to know of the manner in 
 which Carey had kept his promise, and he knew that 
 in her answer the girl would tell him all that he wished 
 to learn. 
 
 A puzzled look came over Aline s face, and she sat 
 for a moment staring before her in thoughtful silence. 
 
 " M sieu Gordon has taken a strange interest in you 
 of late, Numa, and I cannot understand it," said she 
 slowly. " For the last week he has spoken often and 
 kindly of you, and he has asked me many times to for 
 give you. It is all very strange, for, as you well know, 
 he has had trouble with you on account of myself, and 
 at that time he told me to beware of you." 
 
 Numa rose and going over to where the girl sat by 
 the hearth, leaned an elbow upon the mantle and bent 
 over her. 
 
 " Perhaps he has seen that I really love you, Aline, 
 and he wishes to help me," he suggested softly. 
 
 Aline nodded her head. " I have thought of that 
 also, Numa," said she, " and I spoke to him of it one 
 day. I told him that I could never marry you, 
 and I asked him if he wished me to. He did not 
 
 answer." 
 
 Numa s face was ashen gray as she finished speak 
 ing, and the arm that rested upon the mantle trembled 
 painfully. 
 
 " You told him that you would never marry me," 
 he cried. " Ah ! Aline, you do not mean it. Tell 
 me that you do not mean it." 
 
 He turned upon the girl entreatingly, his eyes filled 
 with an unutterable longing. 
 
 416 
 
ALINE GIVES HER ANSWER 
 
 Aline laid her hand soothingly upon his arm. 
 
 " Do not speak like that, Numa," said she gently. 
 " You must know that I cannot marry you, for I have 
 told you so often. Come, do not be foolish. I have 
 forgiven you, and let us be friends, good friends like 
 Jean and me. Cannot people love one another as 
 friends, as well as they can as lovers? Come, Numa, 
 do not let us talk of love again." 
 
 She spoke to him rebukingly, as one would speak to a 
 spoiled child. 
 
 Numa drew himself up to his full height and stood 
 before her. 
 
 " Listen, Aline," said he. " What you ask is impos 
 sible. We cannot be friends, for I love you too well, 
 and I have come to-day for my answer my final 
 answer. In all this world you will find no man that 
 loves you as I do. And now I ask you, will you 
 marry me? " 
 
 He stood before her a silent statue of despair, wait 
 ing for the words that he knew would come. 
 
 Aline shook her head. " I gave you your 
 answer the first time that you asked me," she answered 
 slowly. 
 
 With a cry Numa fell upon his knees before her. 
 
 " You cannot refuse me," he gasped. " You cannot 
 do it. All my life I have loved you, even from the 
 day when as a little boy I told you that I would come 
 some day and marry you. Many times I have asked 
 you, and your answer has always been the same. Now 
 you must say yes, Aline. You must say yes. If you do 
 not say so, I am lost. 
 
 417 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " Do you know what your refusal means to me? It 
 means that I must leave here, that I must go away from 
 Landry an outcast and a broken man. It means that I 
 will lose all love of life, all interest in the few things 
 that have made my little world. It means that I am 
 doomed to a life of bitter, hopeless despair. A life in 
 which there will be no gleam of hope, no care for the 
 future only the torturing thoughts of the past and of 
 what might have been. Have pity on me, Aline, and 
 do not send me away to what I have told you of. If 
 you refuse me now, I am a lost man. You are the one 
 person in all this world who can save me, and you will 
 not do it. Save me, Aline, save me, for the love of 
 God." 
 
 He raised his haggard face to hers and stretched 
 forth his arms imploringly. 
 
 Aline laid her little hand upon his head and stroked 
 it soothingly. 
 
 " You must not speak like that, Numa," said she. 
 " It is wicked. I know that you think that your life 
 will be very hard, but you are mistaken about what you 
 have told me. You will soon forget me, Numa, and in 
 the days to come, when you have married some good 
 woman, you will think of this time and wonder how you 
 could have said such foolish things." 
 
 She laughed as she finished speaking, as though to 
 lend force to her words; and Numa, whose temper lay 
 ever near the surface, sprang to his feet, his face aflame 
 with anger. In the bitterness of his own heart he 
 could not see the tender sympathy that filled Aline s, 
 and his anger flared hot within him, for he 
 
 418 
 
ALINE GIVES HER ANSWER 
 
 thought that she was mocking him in the moment 
 of his misery. 
 
 " I see," he cried furiously, " you would mock me, 
 would you? You would drive me away with a laugh 
 at my unhappiness? You are a hard, cruel girl, Aline, 
 and God will punish you for what you have done this 
 day. And, do you wish me to tell you why you have 
 refused me? It is because you love another man, and 
 that man is M sieu Gordon and he " 
 
 But Aline had turned upon him with a look in her 
 blue eyes that caused him to halt and stammer in what 
 he was saying. 
 
 " Stop! " she cried. " Stop! I tell you, Numa. It 
 is you who are hard and cruel. Is this the way in which 
 you pay me for having forgiven you? I strove to 
 soothe you, Numa to drive away the unhappy 
 thoughts that filled your brain and you in the wicked 
 ness of your heart have not understood me. I have 
 given you one more chance for my friendship, and 
 again you have proven unworthy. Had you been good 
 and kind and gentle, in the days to come you might have 
 gained that for which you tried so hard. I did not 
 know how much you really loved me until M sieu Gor 
 don spoke to me, and I determined to give you a 
 chance. I was trying you this evening, Numa, and 
 had you been patient you might in time have taught me 
 to love you. But you have had your chance, and 
 through your own bad temper you have thrown it away. 
 Now go, and I pray that we may never meet again." 
 
 She went over to the door, and opening it waited 
 for him to leave. 
 
 419 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Numa stood for a moment in puzzled silence, the 
 significance of it all coming to him slowly. The anger 
 had all left his face, and his tall figure was bent and 
 shaken. 
 
 " Aline," he began, " I did not know. I 
 promise " 
 
 But the girl shook her head. 
 
 u It is too late, Numa," answered she. " You have 
 thrown your chance away." 
 
 Again Numa s anger rose, fierce and burning. Anger 
 at himself for his blindness, anger at Aline for the test 
 that she had subjected him to, and above all, anger at 
 the thought of the chance that he had lost, and of what 
 might have been. 
 
 " So you tried me, Aline, did you? " cried he fiercely. 
 " You have put me to the test, and I have failed. But 
 I would have failed always. It would have been the 
 same thing a year from now, two years from now. 
 You love M sleu Gordon, as I have said. I know it, 
 and you know it, and we both have known it for a 
 long time. But you are doing a mad thing in loving 
 him, Aline. He will not marry you as I would. He 
 has been kind to you and has given you many things, 
 things that a poor man like myself cannot give you, but 
 he does not love you." 
 
 He paused for breath, and catching sight of the 
 flowers in Aline s arms, he tore them rudely from her. 
 
 " See," he cried with a bitter laugh. u See my poor 
 present." 
 
 He dashed the blossoms to the floor and set his heel 
 upon them. 
 
 420 
 
ALINE GIVES HER ANSWER 
 
 " That," he cried, " is what this M sieu Gordon will 
 do with your love when he is tired of you. Why, he 
 is tired of it now, you fool. You poor, blind fool. Do 
 you not know why he wishes you to forgive me? He 
 hoped that I would marry you, that I would free him 
 of you. Now do you understand it all? " 
 
 He towered over the girl triumphantly, filled with a 
 mad exultation at the pain that he had caused her. 
 
 For a moment Aline gazed at him numbly, as though 
 his words had stunned her, and then she turned upon 
 him fiercely, pointing to the open door. 
 
 " What you have said is a wicked falsehood, Numa," 
 said she slowly. " In all this world there is not another 
 as wicked and as cruel as you are. Go, as I have told 
 you to, and pray to God to forgive you for what you 
 have done this day." 
 
 She picked up the crushed flowers and gave them to 
 him. 
 
 " Take them with you," said she, " for they are no 
 longer sweet since you have touched them." 
 
 Numa walked to the open door and, turning, leaned 
 against the heavy oaken sill. Raising the flowers 
 with a gesture of contempt he cast them angrily from 
 him. 
 
 " So they are no longer sweet since I have touched 
 them, are they?" he sneered. "And who are you to 
 say such a thing? Who are you to refuse the honest 
 love of an honest man? It seems to me that you should 
 be proud to have my offer of marriage after what is 
 said of you at Landry, Aline. After what is said there 
 of you and M sieu Gordon," 
 
 421 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Aline s face was gray with dread as she turned to 
 him. 
 
 " After what is said of me in Landry, Numa? " she 
 faltered. " I know not what you mean. It has been 
 a long time since I have been to Landry. What do 
 they say there, Numa? " 
 
 She looked at him anxiously, the fear that was at 
 her heart making her voice sound hard and dull. 
 
 Numa laughed harshly. 
 
 " Yes, what do they say? " he sneered again. " Can 
 you not guess, Aline? Can you not imagine what has 
 been said of the attention that M sieu Gordon has 
 shown you? Do you suppose that when a man like 
 M sieu Gordon is attentive to a girl like yourself people 
 will think nothing? If you wish to know what the 
 people at Landry have to say of you go to them and 
 ask them. Then perhaps you will think better of what 
 I have said to you to-day. And tell your uncle that in 
 the days to come they may have something to say of 
 him also." 
 
 He flung himself furiously out of the cabin as he 
 spoke, leaving the girl to stare after him in silent, 
 white-faced agony. 
 
 When old Telesse returned from the field at sunset 
 he found her sitting in the open doorway, with set face 
 and burning eyes. 
 
 "What is the matter, my child?" he asked her 
 gently, as he took a seat beside her. 
 
 u Ah! Uncle Telesse, I have waited for you so long, 
 I have wished for you so much," she cried, and then 
 she told him all. Told him of what had happened that 
 
 422 
 
ALINE GIVES HER ANSWER 
 
 day and of what Numa had said to her, her voice break 
 ing pitifully as she went along. 
 
 When she had finished the old man bowed his trou 
 bled face upon his trembling hands, for the blow was 
 a hard one. 
 
 " This is a bad affair, my child," said he sadly, " and 
 there is still more trouble to come for me. I do not 
 know what we are to do." 
 
 He stared out across the fields in pathetic silence, 
 the picture of despair. 
 
 The girl rose to her feet, and standing before him 
 raised her head proudly. 
 
 " I know what we will do, Uncle Telesse," said she 
 steadily. " To-morrow at daybreak we will go to Lan- 
 dry and hear what they have to say of us. Numa was 
 right when he told me that I should go. We will show 
 them that we are not afraid to face them, like the 
 honest people that we are. And then we will come 
 back and " 
 
 Her voice broke and she turned away with a sob. 
 
 " We will come back, and what? " asked the old man, 
 looking at her hopefully. 
 
 " And go away," answered Aline in a quiet voice. 
 
 The old man gave her a curious look out of his gray 
 eyes. 
 
 " And where will we go, my child? " asked he. 
 
 Aline came over to him, and putting her arms 
 about him laid her head upon his shoulder like a tired 
 child. 
 
 " We will go back to where we belong," said she 
 softly. " We have come out into the world, and it has 
 
 423 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 not understood us. We are forest folk, Uncle Telesse, 
 and in the forest we belong. Let us go back to the 
 place where we are understood, the place that we 
 love to the birds and the trees and the sweet, blue 
 sky to our home in the woods." 
 
 424 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 MONSIEUR VARAIN PICKS UP HIS DUCK AT LAST 
 
 THAT the political meeting at Landry was a 
 complete success was a fact agreed upon by 
 all that took part in it, and to Monsieur 
 Varain in particular it was so eminently successful that 
 he never forgot it to the day of his death. 
 
 Being detained by unexpected business he did not 
 reach the drug store until it was quite dark, and imme 
 diately upon his arrival with the faithful Felix the little 
 party went for their discussion to the store of Monsieur 
 Landry, which had been brilliantly lighted for the 
 occasion. 
 
 Here, in the ghostly silence of the great building, 
 amid the fragrant odors of the groceries, with which 
 the air was laden, the politicians sat and laid their 
 plans for the coming election. 
 
 It was late when they finally adjourned, and Mon 
 sieur Varain, who had presided as chairman, was glad 
 to dismiss the meeting, for he had had a long day and 
 he was tired. 
 
 Monsieur Landry, who was the soul of hospitality, 
 insisted that the whole party should follow the example 
 of Monsieur Varain and his clerk by spending the night 
 with him. 
 
 425 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 But his guests insisted that they must leave. Carey 
 had to be in the field at daybreak, Mr. Parker was 
 obliged to go to Mouton early in the morning, and the 
 old doctor, who lived just across the street, assured him 
 that he felt equal to the journey. 
 
 So Monsieur Landry saw them off, with many expres 
 sions of regret, and closing the store went with his two 
 remaining guests to his house. 
 
 * You are tired, Varain," said he as they stopped 
 for a moment in his comfortable dining room. 
 
 Monsieur Varain nodded. 
 
 " Yes, I am," he replied. u I have had a long day 
 of it. But if it is not too much trouble, I am going 
 to ask a favor of you. I am accustomed to drinking a 
 cup of coffee before I go to bed, and I do not think that 
 I could sleep without it." 
 
 Monsieur Landry assured him that it would not 
 trouble him in the least. 
 
 " I drink a cup myself sometimes," said he, " and I 
 have an oil stove in the store that I warm it on. If 
 you will wait a moment I will fetch it so that we can 
 make our coffee here," and waiving aside Monsieur 
 Varain s protestations that it was too much trouble he 
 hurried out to the store. 
 
 As he was hunting for the stove he discovered the 
 old doctor s glasses lying where he had left them 
 upon his chair, and he locked them in his desk with a 
 smile. 
 
 " Lemaire is getting absent-minded," said he to him 
 self as he turned away to look for the stove again. 
 
 When he finally unearthed it and returned to the 
 
 426 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN PICKS UP HIS DUCK 
 
 dining room again he found Monsieur Varain waiting 
 there for him alone. 
 
 " Felix was tired and so I sent him to bed/ explained 
 Monsieur Varain in answer to the query of his host. 
 
 Monsieur Landry lit the stove and put the coffeepot 
 upon it. 
 
 " I shall have your coffee in a moment " he began, 
 when he was interrupted by a knock upon his front 
 door. 
 
 " Now I wonder who that can be, knocking at this 
 time of night? " muttered he as he left the room. 
 
 In a moment he returned with the old doctor. 
 
 Monsieur Varain looked surprised. " Have you 
 reconsidered your refusal to spend the night with us, 
 or has your housekeeper refused to let you in at this 
 late hour? " he asked. 
 
 Dr. Lemaire shook his head. " Neither," answered 
 he. " I am paying the penalty of old age by becoming 
 absent-minded, that is all. I have left my glasses here, 
 and without them I can see nothing." 
 
 " If you will come with me I will get them for you," 
 said Monsieur Landry. " I saw them when I went into 
 the store just now, and I put them in my desk for safe 
 keeping. Then you must help us drink our coffee before 
 you return home, Lemaire." 
 
 The old doctor agreed to this, and as he went out 
 with Monsieur Landry, Monsieur Varain followed be 
 hind him. 
 
 " I will keep you company," said he, " and inci 
 dentally rob Landry of one of his cigars." 
 
 When they entered the store, Monsieur Landry led 
 
 427 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 them to his little office and set the lamp that he carried 
 upon the desk. Unlocking his private drawer he 
 reached inside for the glasses and handed them to the 
 old doctor with a laugh. 
 
 " There," said he. " You should thank heaven that 
 they fell into honest hands." 
 
 Monsieur Varain, who stood behind him, leaned for 
 ward curiously. 
 
 " Where did you get that ring, Landry? " he asked. 
 " There seems to be something about it that is familiar 
 to me." 
 
 Monsieur Landry took the ring out of the drawer 
 and held it up in the lamplight that his friend might 
 see it. 
 
 " That ring has puzzled me greatly," answered he, 
 u and I should like to get your opinion concerning it. 
 Suppose we take it back to the house with us and look 
 at it while we are drinking our coffee." 
 
 " A capital idea," agreed Monsieur Varain. And 
 so they took the ring back to the dining room with 
 them, and putting it on the table in the glow of the 
 lamp drew their chairs about it, waiting for the coffee 
 to boil. 
 
 After he had examined the ring closely, Monsieur 
 Varain turned to his host. 
 
 " Where did you get it? " he asked again. 
 
 " I found it," answered Monsieur Landry, " and in 
 a most peculiar place. I picked it up from the floor 
 of the coffee house here. It was upon the day of the 
 first communion at Pere Bertrand s church, when Numa 
 acted so badly." And then he told Monsieur Varain 
 
 428 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN PICKS UP HIS DUCK 
 
 of the fight that old Telesse had had with Numa and 
 of his strange actions afterwards. 
 
 Monsieur Varain listened to him with the greatest 
 interest, and when his host had finished he again picked 
 up the ring and examined it for a long time in thought 
 ful silence. 
 
 " I have seen this ring before," said he. " Of that 
 I am certain. But where I saw it I cannot now remem 
 ber. Do you know anything more concerning it, 
 Landry?" 
 
 Monsieur Landry, who had been waiting for this 
 question, smiled mysteriously. 
 
 " I do," answered he. " What I am now going to 
 tell you is, to me, the strangest part of it all. But a 
 few days after I found this ring I saw upon the finger 
 of a young lady, here in my store at Landry, another 
 so exactly like it in every particular that you could not 
 have told the two apart." 
 
 He paused impressively, to give effect to what he 
 had said. 
 
 "And the young lady?" cried Monsieur Varain 
 impatiently. " What was her name? " 
 
 Monsieur Landry raised a fat forefinger to empha 
 size his words, and leaning across the table spoke very 
 slowly : 
 
 " The young lady was a visitor at Belrive," said he, 
 " and her name was Lawrence Miss Julia Lawrence, 
 of Lawrence Hall plantation. I have heard of the 
 name and place before, but I cannot remember when or 
 where I heard it. Ever since the fever, as you know, 
 
 I have " 
 
 429 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 He broke off speaking, suddenly, to stare in astonish 
 ment across the table. 
 
 Monsieur Varain had risen to his feet with a cry 
 and now stood before him white and trembling, trying 
 vainly to say the words that his quivering lips refused 
 to speak. 
 
 The old doctor was at his side in a moment, support 
 ing him, while Monsieur Landry hurried to the side 
 board for some brandy. 
 
 But Monsieur Varain waved his friends aside impa 
 tiently and resumed his chair. 
 
 " It is nothing, nothing, I assure you," said he. " I 
 am growing old, and it unnerved me a little to hear 
 unexpected news. And such news as I have just heard. 
 Do you know, my friends, to whom this ring belongs? 
 It belongs to the girl at Belrive that is called Aline, 
 and that girl is my granddaughter." 
 
 In his astonishment Monsieur Landry dropped the 
 brandy bottle. 
 
 " Impossible ! " he cried excitedly. 
 
 Monsieur Varain smiled and shook his head. 
 
 " It is only too true, I am happy to say," replied he. 
 " I have searched long for my grandchild, and I am 
 sure that I have found her at last. I must indeed have 
 been blind not to have understood this thing at once, 
 but what you have just said convinces me. I have 
 thought all along that this girl Aline was the one I was 
 seeking, but I have so far been unable to find any proofs 
 of her identity. I know that it is very late, but 
 I am sure that you must be curious to understand this 
 matter, and as I am too excited to even think of 
 
 430 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN PICKS UP HIS DUCK 
 
 sleeping I will explain it to you, if you care to 
 listen to me." 
 
 Monsieur Landry was in his seat in a moment. 
 
 " And I assure you, my friend, that I have no inten 
 tion of going to bed until you explain this matter to 
 me," he cried. 
 
 " It is needless for me to say that I am equally inter 
 ested," added the old doctor from his seat at the head 
 of the table. 
 
 Monsieur Varain slipped the ring upon his finger 
 and gazed at it sadly for a moment. 
 
 " I will begin by telling you where I saw this ring 
 before," said he. " It was upon the finger of Monsieur 
 William Lawrence, of Lawrence Hall plantation, and 
 this same Monsieur Lawrence afterwards married my 
 only child. At the time that I saw the ring I was 
 overseer of his father s plantation, but at the time he 
 married my daughter I was his father s enemy. We 
 had a quarrel, the details of which I will not go into 
 now, and I left Lawrence Hall, vowing vengeance upon 
 the whole Lawrence family. 
 
 " Therefore, when this young William Lawrence met 
 my daughter secretly, taught her to love him, and finally 
 married her, while she was on a visit to a friend, you 
 can imagine my rage and mortification. I cast my 
 daughter from me, and she went to New Orleans to 
 live with her husband. His father, furious like myself, 
 had disinherited him, and he was in the direst poverty. 
 
 " My wife died in less than a year after my daugh 
 ter s marriage, and I was left alone in the world. It 
 was then that I began to relent toward my daughter, 
 
 431 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 but my foolish pride would not let me forgive her, and 
 she died without my ever having seen her or having 
 written a line to her. I was a hard-hearted man in 
 those days, my friends, and I have paid dearly for my 
 cruelty. 
 
 " How I made my money and built my store at 
 Mouton you well know, and in the days of my pros 
 perity I sought to make some restitution to my dead 
 daughter. I knew that she had left a child, and I 
 determined that if I could find this child I would do all 
 for it that I would have done for its mother. I am sure 
 now, my friends, that I have found her, and you must 
 know what a pleasure and a happiness it is to me to 
 have done so. I have been a lonely man, with all of my 
 wealth and position, and the thought that I will have 
 my grandchild to make happy my declining years seems 
 almost too good to be true." 
 
 He turned upon his friends with a beaming face, and 
 fairly hugged them in his delight. 
 
 Monsieur Landry, who was almost as excited as 
 Monsieur Varain, turned to that gentleman with a 
 sudden intelligence in his eyes. 
 
 " Do you remember how strangely you acted at 
 the picnic, when you first met the girl? " he asked. 
 " Did you suspect then that she was your grand 
 child? Was that the reason that you sent her to 
 the convent? " 
 
 Monsieur Varain nodded a smiling assent to these 
 questions. 
 
 " Yes/ answered he. " I was suspicious then. She 
 was the image of my dead daughter." And then he 
 
 432 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN PICKS UP HIS DUCK 
 
 told of his hopes, his fears, and his failure to learn any 
 thing of the girl s parentage, while his two friends 
 listened to him in rapt attention. 
 
 When he had finished the old doctor turned to him 
 with a curious smile. 
 
 " You have told us everything but the fate of the 
 father," said he. " What became of him? " 
 
 " He is dead, the girl told me herself that he was," 
 answered Monsieur Varain. " He left New Orleans 
 just before my daughter s death, and settled somewhere 
 in the country, I know not where. My daughter died 
 as she was going to the place, and I was told of her 
 death by friends, who did not know of the husband s 
 whereabouts." 
 
 The old doctor leaned back in his chair and lit a 
 cigar. 
 
 " I will supply the information," said he. " The 
 father died within a short distance of Landry, at Mr. 
 Parker s place, in fact, and I was his physician." 
 
 Monsieur Varain gazed at him in utter astonish 
 ment. 
 
 " You cannot mean what you are saying," cried he. 
 
 The old doctor smiled grimly. " I assure you that I 
 do," he replied, and then he told him of the fever epi 
 demic and of the man that had died in the long white 
 house, while Monsieur Landry listened to him in eager 
 silence, shaking his head from time to time, as the 
 memories of the past came back to him. 
 
 When the old doctor had finished, Monsieur Landry 
 sprang to his feet in the wildest excitement. 
 
 " It has all come back," he cried. " My memory 
 
 433 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 has returned. Ah! Why did I not think of this 
 before. Did you not know who this girl was, Lemaire, 
 you who remembered all? " 
 
 " Of course I did," answered the old doctor. " Did 
 she not live with Telesse, who was this man Lawrence s 
 overseer? " 
 
 "Why, then, did you not tell me who she was?" 
 cried Monsieur Landry. 
 
 The old doctor looked at him curiously. " Was she 
 a person of sufficient importance to warrant my speak 
 ing to you of her? " he asked. 
 
 Monsieur Landry nodded thoughtfully. " Yes, you 
 are right," said he. " Who would have thought that she 
 was a relation of the rich Miss Lawrence at Belrive? 
 And the two rings must have been cut with the Law 
 rence crest. The one here must have been given to this 
 Aline by her father." 
 
 " It was," answered Monsieur Varain, " and it was 
 taken from her by a man named Numa. It was he who 
 dropped it in the coffee house and lost it. And now, 
 my friends, I must hurry to my granddaughter, for I 
 have been separated from her too long already." 
 
 " But think of the time of night," remonstrated Mon 
 sieur Landry. " You must wait until the morning, my 
 friend." 
 
 Monsieur Varain laughed. " How foolish I am," 
 said he. " I have forgotten everything in my excite 
 ment. But I will go to Belrive the first thing in the 
 morning, and you, Landry, must go with me to help 
 explain, and to tell the story of the father." 
 
 " I shall be happy to do all that I can," answered 
 
 434 
 
MONSIEUR VARAIN PICKS UP HIS DUCK 
 
 Monsieur Landry. " And now let us go to bed, or we 
 will get no sleep this night." 
 
 They saw the old doctor to the door, and then Mon 
 sieur Landry led the way to the spare room where his 
 guests were to spend the night, for Monsieur Varain 
 had insisted that his host should not go to the trouble 
 of preparing two rooms. 
 
 Monsieur Varain entered, and lighting the lamp went 
 over to where Felix lay upon the cot that had been 
 prepared so as to leave the big, double bed for his 
 exclusive use. 
 
 For a moment he bent over the sleeping clerk, and 
 then, the impulse to tell of his discovery becoming 
 irresistible, Monsieur Varain gave the cot a little shake. 
 
 Felix sat up and rubbed his eyes in sleepy bewilder 
 ment. 
 
 "Whaz dhe matter? " he asked excitedly. " Iz 
 dhoze house h on fire? " 
 
 Monsieur Varain hastened to reassure him. 
 
 " No, no," he answered. " I have good news to tell 
 you. I have picked up my duck at last, Felix." 
 
 For a moment Felix gazed at him in puzzled silence, 
 and then, the memory of their drive coming back to 
 him, he sank back upon his pillow with a sigh. 
 
 " Daz fine," said he, " but for me she h iz h alwayz 
 dhe same h alwayz dhoze poule d eau." 
 
 435 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 OLD TELESSE SEEKS A RECKONING 
 
 THE bleak November day had scarce begun to 
 break when Carey arose upon the morning 
 after the meeting at Landry. 
 
 The impatience with which he dressed himself sorely 
 puzzled the slow-witted boy who brought him his coffee, 
 for his master had been almost apathetic of late, and 
 when Carey finally hurried out to his horse the little 
 negro gazed after him curiously. 
 
 " I clare toe goodness ef I don b leeve Misto 
 Carey s done bin tuck queer in de haid," said he to 
 himself. " All dis week he bin cussin me fo wakin 
 he up soon in de mawnin , en now he done wake up 
 fore I calls him." 
 
 But had he known the reason of his master s impa 
 tience he might have changed his opinion as to the 
 cause of it, for the eighth day had at last arrived and 
 Carey was hastening to learn what Numa s fate had 
 been. 
 
 His visit to the stable was a short one that morning, 
 and, giving Wilson a few hurried orders, he galloped 
 away toward the fields as fast as his horse could carry 
 him. 
 
 436 
 
OLD TELESSE SEEKS A RECKONING 
 
 The morning was cold, for the wind had blown from 
 the north all night and had died away at daybreak, 
 leaving the air raw and chill. But the clearness of the 
 sky gave promise of a strong, warm sunlight to come, 
 and as Carey rode along his spirits rose with the fresh, 
 keen air and the glory of the morning. 
 
 The fields were bare and drear, scarred with the 
 furrows of the fall plowing, showing no life save for 
 a few ragged crows and blackbirds that stalked about 
 in moody silence. On every side the levees and canals 
 cut the barren stretch in long black lines, all streaked 
 and dirty with the sodden ashes of the fall burning. 
 
 It was a dreary scene, and as Carey looked about 
 him he was for a moment touched by the loneliness of 
 it all, but the sight of the little cabin now glowing 
 softly in the rosy flush of the sunrise revived his 
 drooping spirits, and he rode on toward it with smiling 
 face and eager eyes. 
 
 Arriving at the cabin he tied his horse to the picket 
 fence and knocked impatiently at the door. There was 
 no answer. 
 
 Again he knocked and again there was no answer. 
 
 Being now curious as well as a little worried, Carey 
 pushed open the door and went inside. The square 
 living room was neat and clean, as Aline always kept 
 it, and a wood fire burned brightly upon the open 
 hearth, but save for the crackling of the fire and the 
 ticking of the clock upon the mantel, the place was 
 silent. 
 
 Going over to the window Carey looked out at the 
 little stable, and finding it empty, with wide-opened 
 
 437 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 doors, he drew a chair to the fire and sat down to wait 
 for the absent Aline. 
 
 " They have gone to Landry," said he to himself, 
 " but what took them there at this hour of the morning 
 I cannot imagine." 
 
 How long he waited he did not know. The sun rose 
 in a burst of golden glory, and the teams trooped into 
 the field in a long, straggling line, while Carey sat in 
 the little cabin and counted the minutes that dragged 
 like years. 
 
 And as he waited his face grew grave at the thoughts 
 that came to him. u Was it not possible," he asked him 
 self, " that Aline had accepted Numa, and had gone 
 to Landry at this early hour to marry him before her 
 resolution became shaken? Was it not probable that, 
 won as he had been by the pleading of her wicked lover, 
 she had at last consented and had gone at once to carry 
 out her determination? " 
 
 Thus he argued to himself until he came finally to 
 believe that this could be the only explanation of the 
 girl s absence at such an early hour. 
 
 Rising from his seat he turned toward the door, when 
 there came a sound of a step upon the little front porch. 
 In an instant he was back in his seat again, his head bent 
 toward the fire as though he had not heard a sound. 
 
 The door swung slowly open and he turned quickly 
 as though startled by this unexpected entrance. 
 
 In the doorway stood Aline, and as Carey looked at 
 her he sprang to his feet in sudden alarm, the cold 
 dread coming over him that his fears had been realized. 
 
 The girl s face was white and drawn as though from 
 
 433 
 
OLD TELESSE SEEKS A RECKONING 
 
 much suffering, and the pain in her eyes was pitiful to 
 see. With one hand she steadied herself in the door 
 way, her slight figure shaking with sobs that told of 
 unspeakable grief and misery. 
 
 In an instant Carey was at her side, his eyes searching 
 hers appealingly. 
 
 " Aline, Aline!" he cried, "you have not married 
 Numa, have you? Tell me that you have not. It is 
 what I have feared ever since I came and found you 
 gone." 
 
 The girl looked at him curiously through her tears, 
 and shook her head. 
 
 " Why should you think that, M sieu?" she asked. 
 " Did I not tell you that I would not marry him for 
 all the world ? No ! No ! M sieu, it is not that that 
 troubles me. It is something worse." 
 
 There was an unmistakable note of relief in Carey s 
 voice when he answered her, and laying his hand lightly 
 upon the girl s arm he pointed toward the chair that he 
 had placed by the fire. 
 
 " Sit down, Aline," said he, " and then you must 
 tell me what troubles you. You are cold and tired, and 
 you must rest yourself before you speak." 
 
 He led her gently toward the chair and helped her 
 into it. 
 
 With a sigh of weariness the girl seated herself and 
 held out her numb fingers toward the welcome blaze. 
 
 " Thank you, M sieu," said she. " It is cold out 
 doors and I am tired, for I have walked all the way 
 from Landry. My uncle stayed behind to attend to 
 some matters and I hurried home to gather our few 
 
 439 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 poor things together, for we are going to leave Bel- 
 rive, M sieu." 
 
 She turned away her head as she spoke, while Carey 
 gazed at her in astonishment. 
 
 " You are going to leave Belrive? " he cried. " You 
 cannot mean what you are saying." 
 
 Aline smiled sadly. " It is the truth that I am tell 
 ing you," replied she. " I have been very happy here, 
 and you have been very kind to me, M sieu; almost too 
 kind I am afraid, for it is on account of your kindness 
 that I am forced to leave." 
 
 Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her 
 hands, sobbing. 
 
 " If you do not understand I will explain to you, 
 M sieu," she added slowly without raising her head. 
 
 Carey stood for a moment in silence, staring at the 
 fire, the red flush of anger rising in his cheeks, and 
 then he very slowly nodded his understanding. 
 
 " I think that I know what you mean, Aline," said 
 he quietly, " but you must tell me all. I know that it 
 will be painful to do so, but perhaps I can help you, 
 and I think that it is my right to know." 
 
 The girl raised her head and faced him bravely, her 
 love shining through her tear-stained eyes as the sun 
 beams shine through the clouds of a rain-swept sky. 
 
 " Yes, M sieu," said she. " It is your right to know. 
 I will first tell you of Numa, and of what he said to 
 me yesterday. He came as you said he would a little be 
 fore sunset, and he asked me again to marry him. Again 
 I told him that I could not do so, and I tried my best 
 
 to make it easy for him, to comfort him, and he " 
 
 440 
 
OLD TELESSE SEEKS A RECKONING 
 
 She paused, her cheeks flushing at the thought of 
 Numa s cruelty. 
 
 " And he? " asked Carey anxiously. 
 
 " And he behaved like the wild, bad creature that 
 he is, M sieu," answered the girl. " He thought that 
 I was mocking him, and he called me hard and cruel, 
 and then, M sieu, I told him that which I have told no 
 one. When you spoke to me so kindly of him I deter 
 mined to give him a chance to prove his love, and if he 
 had acted kindly I might have married him as he wished 
 me to, in the days to come. I gave him his chance, and 
 through his own wickedness of heart he threw it away, 
 and when I told him that he had done so he told me of 
 that which is said of me at Landry, of that which I 
 have but a short while ago heard with my own ears. 
 He mocked me and taunted me, M sieu, until I could 
 have died of shame. 
 
 " He asked me who I was, to refuse his love after 
 what was said of me, and when I asked him what it 
 was, he bade me go myself and learn. 
 
 " And so I went this morning, M sieu, and I have 
 heard I have heard what they say of me a poor 
 creature that they would never think of save to harm. 
 Ah! M sieu, my heart is broken that they should say 
 such things of me. I have come out into the world 
 like the poor, weak forest creature that I am, and they 
 have wounded me, even as they always wound the other 
 creatures of the forest. It is left for me now to creep 
 back to the woods again and heal my hurt as best I 
 may." 
 
 Rising from her chair she went over to the window 
 
 441 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 and pointed out toward the west where the Grand 
 Woods lay, all gray and brown in its winter dress of 
 clinging moss and withered leaves. 
 
 " See, M sieu," she cried, " there is my home. There 
 is where I should have stayed, there where all were 
 kind to me, where all loved me. In all the forest, 
 M sieu, there was not a creature that was afraid of me, 
 and I left them to come out into the world where all 
 are so cruel. Ah ! why did I leave the woods ? the 
 big, kind woods where the birds sang to me all day and 
 the great trees lulled me to sleep each night with their 
 whispering music. See how cold and sad the forest is 
 to-day, it looks as though it felt for me in my sorrow. 
 It is the one thing that cares for me in my trouble and 
 is kind. The only one save you, M sieu, and I thank 
 you from the bottom of my heart. I am sorry that I 
 cannot do as you would have me do and marry Numa, 
 for in that way I might pay you for your kindness, but 
 I cannot do it, M sieu, I cannot do it." 
 
 She sank back in her chair again, sobbing pitifully, 
 her head bowed with shame and sorrow. 
 
 Carey went over to the fireplace and looked at her 
 with troubled eyes. 
 
 " I did not wish you to marry Numa, Aline," said he 
 softly. " It was the one thing in the world that I did 
 not wish you to do. I spoke to you kindly of Numa 
 because in a moment of sudden sympathy for him I 
 promised him that I would do so, and I had to keep 
 my promise. But the time of the promise has passed, 
 and I tell you now, Aline, that if you had married 
 Numa it would have broken my heart." 
 
 442 
 
OLD TELESSE SEEKS A RECKONING 
 
 When he had started speaking to the girl his voice 
 had been soft and gentle, as it always was when he 
 spoke to her the voice of the kind and generous mas 
 ter. But as he went on, his heart overflowing with love 
 and pity, there came into his voice a tone that caused 
 Aline to raise her head and look at him in sudden happy 
 amazement. 
 
 " M sieu! " she cried, " and so you did not mean it? 
 Numa said that you wished me to marry him to be rid 
 of me, and I knew that you did not mean that, M sieu. 
 I knew that it was not so." 
 
 For a moment she faced him, radiant with love and 
 happiness, her eyes answering the silent message in his, 
 and in that moment Carey cast discretion to the 
 winds. With a cry he seized her in his arms and 
 crushed her to him, heedless of the look of terror in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Aline! Aline! " he cried, " I love you. Do you 
 understand? I love you, and I want you for my wife. 
 I have loved you all along, even as I know that you 
 have loved me, and now " 
 
 There was a sudden crash of glass behind him and 
 he turned quickly, the girl still held in his arms. 
 
 Framed in the jagged glass of the window that he 
 had broken was Numa, his face black with hate, his 
 eyes blazing with insane rage and jealousy. In his 
 hands he held a long, heavy rifle, and paying no heed 
 to the broken glass, that tore and cut him cruelly, he 
 thrust it into the cabin before him. 
 
 " Aha ! M sieu Gordon, my friend, M sieu Gor 
 don ! " he cried furiously. " So this is the way in which 
 
 443 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 you have kept your promise to me. This is what you 
 have been doing while I have been waiting in the woods. 
 No wonder Aline refused me. No wonder they say 
 what they do of her at Landry. You are a fine gentle 
 man, M sieu Gordon, but you are a poor friend. I 
 thought that you had settled the debt that was between 
 us, the debt that you have owed me ever since the 
 dance, but I have been mistaken. I always settle my 
 debts, M sieu Gordon, for that is my rule, so therefore 
 I will settle this one now." 
 
 He raised his rifle as he spoke. 
 
 With a quick movement Carey thrust the girl behind 
 him and turned to face his enemy. 
 
 " I have kept my promise to you, Numa," said he 
 quietly, " and you know well that I have. You also 
 know that you have broken your promise in coming to 
 see Aline after she refused you. * 
 
 He looked at the man before him unflinchingly. 
 
 Numa, surprised at his unconcern, half-lowered his 
 rifle. 
 
 " What you say is of no use, M sieu," he cried 
 angrily. " I have come to settle the debt between us, 
 and I am going to do it." 
 
 A second time he raised the rifle, his finger now 
 curling about the trigger. 
 
 With a scream of anguish Aline sprang forward 
 toward the window. 
 
 "Numa, Numa!" she gasped, " do not shoot. I 
 will do anything you ask, I will marry you to-day. 
 M sieu Gordon kept his promise, I swear to you. He 
 
 made me forgive you, he made me " 
 
 444 
 
OLD TELESSE SEEKS A RECKONING 
 
 There was a sudden crash of smoke and flame and 
 the girl staggered back unsteadily. 
 
 For a moment Numa stood in terrified surprise, 
 aghast at what he had done, and then, with a splinter 
 ing of broken glass, he was gone as quickly and as 
 unexpectedly as he had come. 
 
 Aline gave a sudden gasp and stumbled forward 
 blindly upon her knees. 
 
 In an instant Carey had her in his arms, striving 
 vainly to stay the bright crimson flood that ever 
 widened upon her bosom. The girl lay back against 
 him white and still, her eyes closed, her cheeks pale 
 and bloodless. 
 
 With a cry of agony Carey raised her drooping head 
 and called to her desperately. 
 
 " Speak to me, Aline," he pleaded. " Tell me that 
 you love me, that you are not going to die in this the 
 moment of our happiness. It is too terrible. It cannot 
 be. Speak, Aline, open your eyes and speak to me." 
 
 He clasped her to him in an agony of despair and 
 raised her face to his. 
 
 The girl sighed and opened her eyes weakly. In a 
 moment Carey had laid his face against hers, his eyes 
 filled with a hope and a longing beyond words. 
 
 " Thank God you have heard," he whispered. 
 " Now you must fight for your life, your strength, until 
 some one comes to us that can help us. You must fight, 
 Aline, with all your heart, with all your soul. You 
 cannot leave me now when I love you so." 
 
 The girl smiled sadly and shook her head. 
 
 * There is no use to fight, M sieu" said she weakly. 
 
 445 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " I am shot to death, and I will die. I can feel 
 it coming, M sieu, and there is no use to fight 
 against it." 
 
 She closed her eyes and lay back against him again, 
 as though the words had used up her remaining 
 strength. 
 
 Carey was sobbing now, and the shaking of his body 
 seemed to bring her back for a moment to consciousness. 
 
 " No, no, M sieu" said she slowly, " you must not 
 do that. It is the will of God, and surely He knows 
 best. It is best, M sieu, as you yourself must know. 
 We never could have married, for that would have not 
 been right, and we would have both been so unhappy. 
 As it is, I am dying happily, for you have said that 
 you love me. Had I lived after what you told me it 
 would have been but a torture to me, and now that I 
 am going to die it is a happiness. I saw Numa at the 
 window when you took me in your arms, and I tried 
 to warn you, M sieu, but you would not listen. It is 
 God s will, and you cannot help but know that it is for 
 the best. And yet " 
 
 She raised her eyes to his, the love and life that 
 were in them struggling bravely against her overpower 
 ing weakness. 
 
 " And yet I would have been so happy could I have 
 lived a little longer, M sieu. Could I have " 
 
 She paused and raised an arm weakly, her face alight 
 with love, yet awestruck at the thought of what she 
 was about to ask. 
 
 She raised the arm halfway to his shoulder and hesi 
 tated for a moment. 
 
 446 
 
OLD TELESSE SEEKS A RECKONING 
 
 " Could I but " she paused, and the dying light 
 in her eyes was now appealing. 
 
 " Ah ! M sieu, can I but once? " she whispered. " I 
 love you so, M sieu, and it would be such a happy 
 memory in the other big world to which I am going 
 to which I am going all alone." 
 
 The other arm had crept about his neck now, and 
 with a sob Carey gathered her to him. For a moment 
 her lips lay against his and her cheeks were flushed and 
 her eyes shining. 
 
 " So happy, M sieu, I am so happy," she whispered 
 softly. 
 
 She gasped suddenly and her body stiffened in 
 Carey s arms. 
 
 " So happy, M sieu/ she panted, and her head sank 
 back wearily, the life and happiness vanishing from her 
 eyes like a light that is suddenly quenched. 
 
 With a cry of anguish Carey laid the limp body back 
 in his arms and called to her fiercely, desperately, 
 appealingly. 
 
 " Aline! Aline! " he cried, " come back to me. Do 
 not leave me. I love you, Aline, and if you die the 
 happiness is all gone out of my life." 
 
 He shook her desperately, chafing her cold hands and 
 laying his lips against hers again and again, as though 
 he hoped to infuse into her some of the life and warmth 
 of his own body, but the girl lay white and still like 
 death itself. 
 
 In his despair Carey beat upon the hard wooden 
 floor until his hands were bruised and bleeding, calling 
 desperately for some one to aid him. 
 
 447 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 " Help ! Help ! " he cried again and again, and 
 then after what seemed to him an eternity his calls 
 were answered and the door was flung suddenly open 
 to admit an excited group of men. 
 
 In the lead was old Telesse, and behind him came 
 Monsieur Varain and Monsieur Landry. 
 
 The old man halted upon the threshold of the door 
 and stared before him vaguely, as though he could not 
 believe the sight that met his eyes. 
 
 "M sieu! M sieu!" he cried, "what is the mat 
 ter? What has happened to Aline? " 
 
 He sprang toward the silent figure of the girl in an 
 agony of fear and apprehension. 
 
 In a few quick words Carey told them of what had 
 happened. " It was Numa," said he brokenly. " He 
 shot her through that window, and if we do not get a 
 doctor soon she will bleed to death. Take my horse 
 one of you, and hurry to Landry. Do not spare him. 
 Thank God that he is a fast one." 
 
 " Your horse is gone," said Monsieur Landry. 
 " Numa must have taken him, but I will do the best 
 that I can in my buggy," and the kind-hearted store 
 keeper hurried out with tears in his eyes at this sudden 
 and unexpected calamity. 
 
 " Poor Varain," said he to himself. " It is too sad 
 that he should lose his grandchild at the moment of 
 his finding her." 
 
 In the meanwhile, inside the cabin the three men 
 had taken the girl to her little room and had laid her 
 upon the bed. 
 
 Monsieur Varain knelt at the bedside, his face buried 
 
 448 
 
OLD TELESSE SEEKS A RECKONING 
 
 in the covers, his strong body shaking with inconsolable 
 grief. 
 
 " She is my grandchild, my friends," he sobbed. 
 " The one person in all this world that I hold dear, 
 and now at the moment when after long and weary 
 searching I have found her, I am forced to lose her. 
 It is a judgment upon me for my wickedness and cruelty 
 in the days gone by." 
 
 Mastering his grief with an effort, Carey went over 
 to the older man and laid his hand kindly upon his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " We must be brave and strong," said he. " I love 
 her even as you do, Monsieur Varain, and I had hoped 
 to make her my wife. And you say that she is your 
 grandchild? When did you learn of this? " 
 
 With a sudden summoning of all his strength Mon 
 sieur Varain straightened his bent figure and rising to 
 his feet faced Carey calmly. 
 
 " I learned of this last night, after you left me at 
 Landry, Monsieur," said he. u And so you love this 
 girl and wish to marry her? That is brave in 
 you, Monsieur, when you consider her birth and 
 station." 
 
 Carey held up his hand for Monsieur Varain to 
 stop, and shook his head, smiling sadly. 
 
 " It was not the birth and station that I was marry 
 ing," said he softly. " It was the girl herself. Where 
 in all this world is there another as good, as sweet, and 
 as kind as she? " 
 
 Monsieur Varain nodded. 
 
 " True," he replied, " and if this girl recovers will 
 
 449 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 you marry her, as you have just said you intended to 
 do? There has been talk in Landry and " 
 
 " And it has been the talk of liars," cried Carey. " I 
 will marry Aline, if God spares her to me, upon the 
 first day that she is well enough to do so." 
 
 In a moment Monsieur Varain was at Carey s side 
 and had grasped his hand warmly. 
 
 " You are a gentleman, Monsieur, and what is more, 
 you are a man," said he. " It is a pleasure for me to 
 tell you that this girl, whom you thought a poor, low 
 born creature, is as well born as yourself and fit to be 
 the wife of any man. Her cousin was your guest at 
 Belrive, her name is Lawrence, her family home is 
 Lawrence Hall plantation, and here she lies shot to 
 death by a wretch, and this this, Monsieur, is the end 
 of it all." 
 
 He sank upon his knees at the bedside and buried 
 his face in his hands. 
 
 With a cry Carey staggered toward him, his grief 
 now too great to bear. 
 
 " God! " he gasped, " to learn this at this moment. 
 Ah ! what a fool I have been. It was her birth, the 
 heritage of her blood showing through her sordid sur 
 roundings, and I could not see it. Why did I not know 
 this a week, a day ago. I could have done so much, 
 and now it is too late, for there is nothing to do, noth 
 ing to do." 
 
 He bowed his head in an agony of grief and despair. 
 
 " You are wrong, M sieu, there is something to do," 
 came a voice from the other room, and Carey looked up 
 quickly. 
 
 450 
 
OLD TELESSE SEEKS A RECKONING 
 
 In the doorway stood old Telesse, his eyes fastened 
 sadly on the still figure upon the bed. He had left 
 the room the moment that they had made Aline com 
 fortable, and had shuffled about the living room upon 
 some errand of his own. 
 
 As he stood in the doorway he showed none of the 
 grief that convulsed the features of the other two men. 
 His face was set and gray, with never the mark of a 
 tear upon it, and one might have thought that he felt 
 no pain but for the look in his eyes. The look of 
 stolid, heart-broken misery, that told of a grief too 
 great for words or outward sign. 
 
 In one hand he held his rifle an old muzzle-loader, 
 large and heavy and long of barrel and holding it up 
 for Carey to see he patted its battered stock meaningly. 
 
 " You are wrong, M sieu," said he again. " There 
 is this for Numa." 
 
 Laying the rifle against the wall he tiptoed across 
 the room to the bed and bent above the still figure of 
 the girl. For a moment his lips touched hers and his 
 body shook with the fury of his suppressed grief. Then 
 he straightened himself suddenly, and going over to the 
 mantel took from it the little bags that held his powder 
 and bullets. Very carefully he drew out the long ram 
 rod from his rifle, and very carefully he rammed home 
 the charge, his face as expressionless as though it had 
 been carved from solid stone. When he had finished 
 his loading he put the ammunition back upon the man 
 tel, and swinging the rifle across his shoulder turned 
 to go. 
 
 " Aline will die, M sieu" said he slowly, " and 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 Numa must answer for what he has done. All his life 
 he has made me unhappy, and I have stood it without 
 a word. But he has gone too far, M sieu, and now I 
 am going to bring him back to Landry and to punish 
 ment. He boasts that he always pays his debts, and 
 now he owes a bigger one than he has ever owed in 
 his life before. I am going to seek a reckoning, M sieu, 
 and I will bring him back to Landry, dead or alive." 
 
 In the doorway he turned and looked toward the 
 bed, and for a moment his head was buried in the 
 hollow of his arm, for he was again overcome by his 
 grief. 
 
 Suddenly Carey left the bedside and hurried over 
 to him. 
 
 " Wait, Telesse," said he. " You have forgotten 
 your powder and bullets. Numa will not go with you 
 without a struggle, and what if you should miss the first 
 time?" 
 
 He went toward the mantel as he spoke, but the old 
 man shook his head, the stolidness of his face losing 
 itself for a moment in a grim smile. 
 
 " No ! No ! M sieu, I shall not need the powder 
 and the bullets. It was one shot that killed Aline, and 
 it will be one shot that will kill Numa," said he, as he 
 softly closed the door behind him. 
 
 452 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 LE BOSSU TELLS HIS STORY 
 
 THE sun hung low in the western sky and 
 already the black line of the forest was faintly 
 gilded with its dying light when old Telesse 
 rode into the Grand Woods in search of Numa. 
 
 All day long he had hunted in and about Landry, 
 with the grim perseverance born of despair. All day long 
 he had asked of those he had met the same, oft-repeated 
 question : u Have you seen the man who shot my girl? " 
 -while the people shrank from the hopeless look in 
 his gray eyes. 
 
 And now, having heard no news from the fugitive, 
 he had come to the place where he hoped to find him 
 the place of all others where he thought that Numa 
 would be. Well did the old man know that, once in the 
 Grand Woods, Numa would wait, for a time at least, 
 until he could find some permanent place of safety. 
 And therefore it was that he first searched the country 
 in and about Landry, and came at last to the woods 
 when he had despaired of finding the fugitive else 
 where. 
 
 Riding slowly down the grassy track he came pres 
 ently to his old cabin, standing silent and deserted in 
 the shadows of the barren, weed-grown clearing. For 
 
 453 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 a moment he stopped before it and sat with bent head 
 and tear-dimmed eyes, overcome by the thoughts of the 
 happy days that he had spent there; then he straight 
 ened himself in the saddle, his face took on again its 
 look of grim determination, and he turned his pony s 
 head toward the deeper forest and Numa s hut. 
 
 When, a little later, he came upon it, he found it as 
 silent and as deserted as his own cabin had been, but his 
 face was lit for a moment with a smile of satisfaction 
 at sight of the torn, trampled turf about the doorway. 
 Climbing quickly from the saddle he pushed open the 
 shaky door of the hut and went inside. 
 
 Its one room was in a state of the wildest confusion, 
 as though its owner had left it in sudden and hurried 
 flight. The few poor pieces of furniture were thrown 
 about it in a broken heap, the blankets were gone from 
 the two pallets upon the floor, and the tiny closet in 
 which the flour and food was stored stood with open 
 door, bare and empty. 
 
 Pinned to the overturned table by a long black thorn 
 was a scrap of paper covered with loose, straggling 
 writing, and the old man, picking it up, gave it one 
 despairing glance and cast it from him, for he could 
 not read. The bit of paper fluttered lightly from his 
 hand and lay with the writing downward, a tiny spot 
 of white against the brown of the mud floor. 
 
 With a sigh of disappointment the old man turned 
 to go. 
 
 " Ah ! if I could but read, how much I might learn 
 from that writing," said he to himself sadly. " Numa 
 has been here, and Jean also. But where have they 
 
 454 
 
LE BOSSU TELLS HIS STORY 
 
 gone? Numa has left a paper behind him for Jean, 
 of course, so therefore Jean did not come with him. 
 In this paper Numa has told Jean of where he has 
 gone, and I could tell where he has gone also if I could 
 but read." 
 
 He reached down and picked up the paper with 
 trembling hands. 
 
 " I must bring it to Landry and ask some one to 
 read it for me," said he resignedly, as he began to fold 
 it carefully. 
 
 Suddenly he gave a startled cry and tore open the 
 folds in feverish haste, for scrawled upon the back of 
 the paper in rough, crooked tracery was a tiny map, 
 marked with innumerable dots and crosses and a thin, 
 crooked line that meant some stream. 
 
 For a long time the old man gazed upon it, and 
 then he folded it up and tucked it into the lining of 
 his hat. 
 
 " It is the lie des Cypres," said^he to himself, as he 
 went out to his pony. " It is the lie des Cypres, and I 
 will find Jean waiting for me at the edge of the sea 
 marsh." 
 
 Mounting his pony he made off in a long, curving 
 line through the swamp that opened before him like a 
 great silent vault in the shadow of the night. It was 
 a long ride and the slow pace of the pony made it all 
 the longer, as he picked his way through the bewilder 
 ing maze of cypress knees. 
 
 The sun sank below the edge of the forest, and the 
 moon crept into the sky, filling the swamp with its 
 weird, white light. 
 
 455 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 On every side the trees rose in thick, straight lines, 
 stretching away interminably, to be lost at last in the 
 smoky haze of the marsh fog. Here were the tall 
 cypresses the monarchs of the swamp their tapering 
 trunks fluted with many a dent and hollow, their bushy 
 tops all bearded- with feathery moss, their long, shiny 
 knees dotting the ground far and near, as though 
 placed there to trip the daring stranger who would 
 invade the mystery of their solitude. And here also 
 were the sweet gum trees, their roots sprawling about 
 the ground in great, twisted knots, showing pale and 
 white in the moonlight, splotched with great squares of 
 lichen, looking for all the world like huge, crawling 
 monsters that, having received their deathblows, had 
 writhed and twisted themselves into a horrid, tangled 
 mass awaiting death. 
 
 Here also was the vast, mysterious silence of the 
 swamp, broken only by the dull, monotonous thudding 
 of the pony s hoofs upon the soft ground. 
 
 It was a weird, uncanny ride, and the old man 
 heaved a great sigh of thankfulness when he finally 
 arrived upon the banks of the Bayou des Arbres. 
 
 Tying the pony to a cypress tree he picked his way 
 through the soft mud to the water s edge, where a 
 battered pirogue lay half-buried in the watery ooze. 
 Very carefully the old man slid it into the water and 
 crept inside. 
 
 For a moment he sat with bowed head and trembling 
 shoulders, as though his courage had failed him, and 
 then he gave a sudden hard gasp, and thrusting the 
 paddle into the soft mud of the bayou s bank gave a 
 
 456 
 
LE BOSSU TELLS HIS STORY 
 
 savage shove. The pirogue slipped out into the 
 shadows of the stream and his journey to the sea marsh 
 was begun. 
 
 Like the ride, it was a long, weird journey, made 
 more ghostly by the ever-moving shadows of the trees 
 that hedged in the little stream on either side. 
 
 And so the pirogue glided along silently like some 
 dark specter under the heavy canopy of the cypress 
 swamp, while the stream grew narrower and narrower 
 and the trees grew thinner and thinner, until finally it 
 came to the edge of the woods, where the old man pad 
 dled more slowly and peered about him anxiously, awe 
 struck at the sight that met his eyes. 
 
 Before him lay the open sea marsh, all white and 
 silvery in the moonlight, overhung with a filmy cloud 
 of mist and fog that scattered its moisture upon the 
 tall marsh grass in a vast array of tiny drops, which 
 shimmered softly, like pearls. Far away in the dis 
 tance, and barely discernible through the fog wreaths, 
 a dark blot stood out against the misty whiteness of 
 the marsh, and the old man, looking at it for a moment, 
 swung his pirogue into the shadows of the forest and 
 raised his voice in the long, mournful cry of the marsh 
 fowl. Again he called, and yet again, crouching in the 
 muddy bottom of the pirogue, his head bent forward 
 listening intently, and then from out of the marsh came 
 an answering cry, faint and low at first, rising louder 
 and then suddenly ceasing, in perfect imitation of a 
 wandering bird that has finally returned to its nest. 
 
 The old man nodded his head appreciatively. 
 
 " Jean is wonderful," said he to himself. " If he 
 
 457 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 had not answered my call I would have sworn that it 
 was the bird itself." . 
 
 A dark streak shot suddenly down the narrow lane 
 of the bayou and a pirogue glided into the shadows 
 beside him. 
 
 Le Bossu laid down his paddle with a sigh of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " So you found my map and understood it?" he 
 asked. " That is good. Numa came to the cabin in 
 search of food while I was away, and finding none he 
 left me a note telling me to bring him some to-night. 
 Then he went on to his hiding place. I came at once 
 to the marsh, and left the map behind for you, knowing 
 that you would come to the woods." 
 
 He pointed out toward the dark blot with one of his 
 long arms. 
 
 " Numa is out there on the lie des Cypres," he con 
 tinued. " He told me in his note that he had killed 
 Aline. Is this so? " 
 
 He asked the question in a dull, hopeless voice, well 
 knowing what the answer would be. 
 
 The old man bowed his head. 
 
 " It is so, Jean," answered he, " and I have come to 
 bring Numa back to Landry to answer for what he has 
 done. I know that you have been his friend and that 
 you would help him, that you will bring him food 
 to-night. Now I love you as I would love my son, 
 Jean, but I must tell you now that you shall not stand 
 between Numa and myself to-night." 
 
 The old man s voice was hard, and he laid a hand 
 meaningly upon the long rifle that lay across his knees. 
 
 458 
 
LE BOSSU TELLS HIS STORY 
 
 Le Bossu laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh, for 
 it had in it all of the pent-up bitterness and hatred of 
 many years. Thrusting his paddle into the bayou the 
 little man held it up so that the water trickled off of it 
 in a long row of tiny drops that glistened for a moment 
 in the moonlight and then fell back into the stream 
 again with a soft splash. 
 
 " See," said he, " I have thrust my paddle into the 
 bosom of the bayou and I have hurt it so that it has 
 cried. There are the tears, Telesse. In just such a 
 way did Numa, long years ago, thrust into my heart, 
 and were I to take my paddle and do as I have just 
 done from the mouth of the bayou far, far out into the 
 great sea, I would not bring forth the tears of bitter 
 ness, of agony that his wickedness has caused me. 
 Listen, Telesse, for I am going to tell you to-night 
 that which I have told to no one. 
 
 " You say that Numa is my friend, as all say he is? 
 Now I am going to tell you what sort of a friend I am 
 to Numa. Le Sauvage was my father, Telesse, and I 
 was born in the house where he was shot, near Landry. 
 Of him I will tell you nothing, as you have heard his 
 story so many times, and I will tell you therefore of my 
 life with the old woman in whose keeping he left me 
 when he returned to die at Landry. She was a good 
 old woman, Telesse, a member of his band, and she 
 lived on one of the islands far out to the east from the 
 one where Numa now is. When she was driven from 
 her home along with the rest by les Figilantes, she 
 went with me to the swamp near Mouton, and it was 
 there that I grew up. It was there that I grew up tall 
 
 459 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 and straight and good to see, for you must know that 
 in those days I was not bent and twisted by the anger 
 of God as I am now. 
 
 " We lived in a little cabin far down in the swamp, 
 the old woman and I, and it was then that I learned 
 that which I know of the forest and of the wild things 
 that live there. 
 
 " All through the bright summer and all through 
 the cold winter I worked cutting down the tall cypress 
 trees, and the dollars that I brought each month to the 
 old woman were many, for I was straight and strong, 
 and I worked well in those days. 
 
 " And so I lived in the swamp and grew to be a 
 man and was as happy as the birds that sang about me 
 as I worked, and then came to me my first sorrow. 
 The old woman died." 
 
 Le Bossu faltered, and again he thrust the paddle 
 into the water and watched the drops as they splashed 
 slowly down in the moonlight. 
 
 " Tears, Telesse," said he sadly. " My first ones. 
 I knew not what it was to be unhappy. I buried her 
 with my own hands, near the little cabin, and then I 
 set out from the swamp and walked many days, for I 
 had to forget my sorrow. And so at last I came into 
 the prairies, and I looked at them in wonder, for I had 
 never seen such a country before. And then one even 
 ing, when my heart was sore and my body was weary 
 from my long journey, I came to a house far out in the 
 prairie, and I found what I had come so far to find 
 peace and happiness once more. 
 
 " It was a girl, Telesse, and such a girl." 
 
 460 
 
LE BOSSU TELLS HIS STORY 
 
 The little man paused and held out his arms as 
 though he strove to grasp in them the image that was 
 before him in his memory. In his eyes there was a 
 light that the old man had never seen there before, and 
 the happy smile upon his lips was the first one that had 
 been there for many a day. 
 
 " It was in the evening, Telesse," said he softly, 
 " and as I came upon her the sun was setting behind the 
 edge of the prairie, the great prairie that was as empty 
 and as lonely as my own heart was; the prairie that 
 was filled with love and life when my eyes rested on 
 her, even as my heart was also. 
 
 " Her name was Madelaine the little Madelaine, 
 I called her and the name suited her well, for she 
 was very small. Her cheeks were like the flush of the 
 setting sun, her smile was like the dawn when it wakes 
 the flowers in the early morning, and her eyes, her eyes, 
 Telesse, were like the waters in the forest when they 
 hold upon their bosom the picture of the heavens, all 
 warm and dancing in the sunlight. 
 
 " I loved her from the moment that I saw her, and 
 in the happy days that I spent in the prairie I taught her 
 to love me also, and the sadness in my heart was gone, 
 and I was very happy happy for the first time in my 
 life. 
 
 " And so I stayed in the prairie until I could stay no 
 more, and then I left the girl and went back to my 
 home in the swamp, to work and make the money for 
 our wedding day. It was happy work, Telesse, for the 
 thought was ever with me of what my work would 
 bring me, and so the days went on, and at last I had 
 
 461 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 made the money that I needed to bring me my 
 happiness. 
 
 " It was a bright day in the early winter when I set 
 out for the prairie, and it seemed to me as I went along 
 that the whole world was rejoicing with me in my 
 happiness, for never was the sky as blue, never were 
 the flowers as sweet, and never did the birds sing as 
 gladly as they did upon my wedding day. And so I 
 set out after my lovely bride, happier than I had ever 
 been in my life before, and when I came to the house 
 in the prairie, and ran forward in my eagerness to see 
 her, the old man with whom she lived met me at the 
 gate, all bowed and broken by sorrow, and told 
 me " 
 
 The little man paused and buried his face in his 
 hands, while his poor twisted body shook with the 
 memory that came back to him. Suddenly he raised 
 his white face and laughed, the harsh sound going out 
 across the silent marsh like the cry of a lost soul. Dip 
 ping his hand in the water Le Bossu shook the drops 
 in a whirling spray before him. 
 
 " More tears, Telesse, many more tears, " said he 
 bitterly. " The old man told me that while I was at 
 work in the swamp making the money for my wedding, 
 another lover had come to the prairie. A bad lover, 
 Telesse, who taught the girl to forget me and to love 
 him. Who disgraced her, Telesse, and then left her 
 to bear her shame alone. And she had left her home 
 and had gone away, they knew not where, and that 
 that was my wedding day. 
 
 " The man, as you must know, was Numa, and I 
 
 462 
 
LE BOSSU TELLS HIS STORY 
 
 swore that I would never rest until I had killed him. 
 For two long weeks I searched for him in vain, and in 
 those weeks I went many times to Mouton and drank 
 the liquor that they sold there to drown the thoughts 
 that ever came to me. 
 
 " And in that time the money that I had made for 
 my wedding slipped away as easily as the water that a 
 moment ago I poured from my hand, and I found 
 myself penniless and unable to go on with my search 
 for Numa. 
 
 " It was then that I went back to the swamp to work 
 for more money, and so the days passed bitterly, until 
 there came to me the bitterest day of all. 
 
 " It was deep in the swamp that it happened, Telesse, 
 and I had worked hard, standing up in my pirogue to 
 chop down a tall cypress, the largest in all the forest. 
 Deep into its yellow heart I drove my ax, and then as 
 it began to groan and crack and tremble I pushed hard 
 with my paddle to get away, and the pirogue did not 
 move. I can hear the roar of the great tree now as it 
 came down upon me, crying out in the happiness of its 
 revenge, and it was then, in the moment of its falling, 
 that I knew that God was angry with me and was pun 
 ishing me. Punishing me for the murder that was in 
 my heart, punishing me for my vow of vengeance and 
 my drinking. It was many months before I was well 
 again, and when I crept from my bed I was the poor 
 twisted creature that I am now, but I had learned my 
 lesson. 
 
 " I found Numa in the days that followed, but I 
 did not kill him, for I knew that God did not wish it, 
 
 463 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 so I became his friend and made another vow. I vowed 
 that I would stay with him all my life until some one 
 took upon him the revenge that God had forbidden me 
 to take, or until he gave me some good reason for 
 killing him. 
 
 " If he had ever struck me once, Telesse, I would 
 have killed him. If he had ever given me any good 
 reason to, I would have stabbed him with the knife that 
 I have always carried, for that would not have been 
 revenge. But he never gave me any reason for killing 
 him in all the time that we lived together. 
 
 " There was once a time in Landry, last winter, 
 when I had my knife raised above him, but there came 
 a sign from heaven, and I did not strike. 
 
 u And so you know all now, Telesse, and you must 
 know also that the time that I have been waiting for 
 has come at last. You are here to take Numa back 
 to Landry, and I am here to help you." 
 
 The old man reached across his pirogue and laid 
 his hand upon Le Bossu s shoulder. 
 
 " Poor Jean," said he, " how I pity you. And now 
 for Numa." 
 
 He picked up his paddle as he spoke, but Le Bossu 
 seized his arm. 
 
 "Are you mad, Telesse?" he cried. "If you go 
 out on the open marsh Numa will shoot you like a dog. 
 There is but one thing to do, and I have planned it 
 all while waiting for you. If I get you out on the lie 
 des Cypres safely you will bring Numa back with you, 
 will you not? You will give me your promise that you 
 will bring him back dead or alive? You will tell him 
 
 464 
 
LE BOSSU TELLS HIS STORY 
 
 that I sent you for the sake of the little Madelaine, 
 before you bring him oft" the island dead or alive? " 
 
 Le Bossu s voice trembled with excitement and his 
 eyes glowed eagerly. 
 
 The old man nodded. 
 
 " I will bring him back dead or alive, and I will tell 
 him that you sent me for the sake of the little Made 
 laine, I promise you," answered he. 
 
 Le Bossu leaned forward in his pirogue and smiled 
 his approval. 
 
 " That is right," he whispered, " and now I will 
 tell you my plan. In his note Numa told me to bring 
 him food to-night to the edge of the forest, and to 
 burn some grass as a signal for him to come and get 
 it. He knows that I cannot bring it to him, as the 
 marsh is heavy and I am not strong enough to cross it. 
 Now you must go far out on the eastern edge of the 
 forest until the island is between you and where we 
 are now. There you must wait until you see the signal 
 burning, and then as Numa leaves the island you must 
 come onto it from behind and be waiting there for him 
 when he returns. He will come back from this edge 
 of the forest to the island, and you must hide behind 
 the great oak that is there. Keep your rifle on him 
 from the time that you see him, and do not attempt 
 to capture him until he lays down his own. It is a 
 hard task, Telesse, and the marsh is heavy, so you 
 had best be going before it grows too late and Numa 
 becomes suspicious. I will give you plenty of time to 
 get behind the island before I burn the signal." 
 
 The old man stepped from his pirogue and pulled it 
 
 465 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 out onto the low bank of the bayou. Then he reached 
 out a hand to Le Bossu. 
 
 " Good-by, Jean," said he. " You are a good boy, 
 and I thank you. If I do not come back, you will seek 
 yourself to capture Numa, I know, and will lead those 
 at Landry to his hiding place. Do not grieve for me, 
 Jean, if I should not come back, for since Aline is dead 
 I do not care so much to live. In a short while there 
 will be two of us on lie des Cypres, and you know 
 yourself that but one of us will come back alive. And 
 so good-by, Jean, good-by and God bless you." 
 
 The little man held the proffered hand for a moment 
 and there were tears in his eyes when he finally 
 let it go. 
 
 " You will find me here, Telesse, when you return, 
 and together we will bring Numa to Landry," said he 
 slowly. " We will bring him in the pirogue, by way 
 of Bayou Portage, for it is lonely there, and we will 
 have none to trouble us. You will come back, Telesse, 
 never fear. God is just." 
 
 The old man swung his rifle across his shoulder, and 
 started away. For a moment he turned and looked once 
 more at Le Bossu, and then with a wave of his hand he 
 plunged into the dark labyrinth of the forest. 
 
 Straight to the east he held, ever keeping the island 
 in view, and when after an hour s steady walking 
 through the heavy mire at the forest s edge, he finally 
 paused, a dark blot marred the open sweep of marsh 
 that stretched away to the point where he had left 
 Le Bossu. 
 
 Sitting down upon a fallen tree the old man drew 
 
 466 
 
LE BOSSU TELLS HIS STORY 
 
 an arm across his face, for despite the cold wind that 
 blew from the north it was wet with perspiration. 
 
 Holding up his arm in the moonlight he smiled at it 
 grimly. 
 
 " More tears for Numa," said he slowly, and as he 
 spoke a flash of light showed for a moment in the 
 western fog before him. 
 
 The old man rose to his feet with a sigh of weariness. 
 
 " I have walked very slowly or Jean is in a hurry," 
 said he to himself, and taking up his rifle he stepped 
 into the marsh, striking out across its treacherous depths 
 toward the lie des Cypres, that showed so faint and 
 ghostly in the grip of the moonlit fog. 
 
 467 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 NUMA PAYS HIS DEBTS 
 
 FAR out in the desolate sea marsh stood the lie 
 des Cypres a little mound of dry, clayey soil 
 thrust up by some freak of nature from the 
 muddy, rush-grown flat about it. There it stood in the 
 silvery moonlight, thickly grown with myrtle, with 
 casino, and ragged, stunted palmettoes, laced with the 
 myriad of shadows cast by the single huge live oak that 
 stood sentinel upon it. 
 
 And behind this oak a man lay waiting an old, 
 withered man, worn and tired, and smeared from head 
 to foot with slimy mud from his long journey across 
 the treacherous sea marsh. Crouching behind the 
 gnarled, weather-beaten trunk he waited patiently, his 
 rifle ready in his hand, his head bent forward eagerly, 
 listening: ever listening for some warning sound from 
 the great white waste about him. 
 
 It was very quiet on the lie des Cypres, and the 
 noises from the marsh came loud and clear. The hoarse 
 croaking of the frogs, the squeak and patter of the 
 muskrats, and the long, mournful cries of the marsh 
 fowl that whirled in endless flight through the misty 
 fog wreaths, as though doomed by some relentless fate 
 to flutter restlessly through all their wretched lives. 
 
 But save for these sounds the silence of the marsh 
 
 468 
 
NUMA PAYS HIS DEBTS 
 
 was unbroken, and after a while the watcher crept cau 
 tiously from his hiding place and bent above the rude 
 fire that burned fitfully near the foot of the great oak. 
 He was numb and cold from his long journey, for the 
 north wind was bitter as it swept across the barren 
 marsh, and the heat of the fire was grateful to his 
 shivering body. 
 
 How long he knelt by the flickering fire he did not 
 know. The wood burned itself away to dull, glowing 
 embers, the stars paled, the moonlight lost itself in the 
 swaying shadows, and the wind blew cool and strong, 
 fresh with the sweetness of the coming day. 
 
 A sudden sound broke the silence of the dying night 
 and the old man crept cautiously to his hiding place 
 again. Once more came the sound, the low, whistling, 
 sucking sound of the marsh, as it reluctantly releases 
 its grasp upon the feet of those who dare to tread the 
 many pitfalls of its muddy depths. 
 
 The old man grasped his rifle tightly and listened to 
 the sound as it came nearer and nearer, sucking, pop 
 ping, whistling, broken now and then with the sullen 
 splashing of shallow water. 
 
 In the east a long rosy streak showed suddenly 
 against the darkness of the sky. The trees began to 
 show themselves slowly in the growing light. The 
 palmettoes thrust their long fingers skyward and waved 
 them wildly in the morning breeze. The myrtles shook 
 their tiny leaves joyously, as though in sudden merri 
 ment at the coming of the morning. The old man 
 crouched low in the shadow of the oak and waited 
 breathlessly. 
 
 469 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 The noise from the marsh came loud and clear, and 
 then it ceased entirely. There was a sudden crashing, 
 breaking sound from the thick growth of myrtles upon 
 the island s edge, and a man dragged himself slowly 
 into the little clearing by the oak tree. 
 
 It was Numa. 
 
 Peeping cautiously from his hiding place the old man 
 gave him a quick glance and sank down again in silent 
 amazement, for he did not know the Numa that stood 
 before him. 
 
 Gone was the old, careless, boyish look that had 
 made his face so handsome. Gone was the quick spar 
 kle of his eye, the bright happy smile upon his lips, 
 and in their place was the dull, lifeless look of hopeless 
 sorrow. His face was gray and drawn and his eyes 
 were dark with agony and pain. 
 
 Stopping at the fire he laid down the food that he 
 carried and placed a few dry sticks upon the dying 
 embers, his rifle ever ready in his hand, his eyes ever 
 fastened upon the thick hedge of myrtles that screened 
 him from the marsh eyes that were wide and star 
 ing now, with the frightened, desperate look of the 
 hunted. 
 
 A noise came from the marsh and he sprang into 
 the myrtles with rifle cocked and ready, to return in a 
 moment with ashy face and trembling limbs, all un 
 strung at the gnawing of some vagrant muskrat. 
 
 For a moment he stood at the fire, striving to control 
 himself, and then with a hoarse cry he threw himself 
 against the great oak, trembling and sobbing in a frenzy 
 of utter fear and dejection. 
 
 470 
 
NUMA PAYS HIS DEBTS 
 
 " Ah, God! " he cried. " What have I done? What 
 have I done? " 
 
 The wail of his cry went out over the desolate waste 
 like the moan of a soul in torment. His rifle slipped 
 from his trembling hand and lay at his feet unheeded. 
 
 The moment had come, and the old man stepped 
 from his hiding place, his long rifle leveled before him. 
 
 " I have come to bring you back to Landry and to 
 justice, Numa," said he. 
 
 With a cry Numa turned and saw him, standing for 
 a moment in speechless terror, his face like death, his 
 eyes rolling about wildly, desperately, seeking some 
 means of escape. 
 
 "Telesse!" he gasped. " How did you get here? 
 Has Jean betrayed me? Jean, the one friend that I 
 thought would help me? " 
 
 He lay back against the tree and his arms dropped 
 to his side in apparent weariness. 
 
 The old man shoved the muzzle of his rifle against 
 Numa s breast and shook his head meaningly. 
 
 " No, no, Numa," said he. " We will have none of 
 that. Keep up your hands or I shall be obliged to 
 shoot you." 
 
 Numa s hands went up instantly, and again he asked 
 his question. 
 
 " Was it Jean that betrayed me? " 
 . The old man smiled grimly. " Yes," answered he, 
 " it was Jean, and he told me to tell you why he did it 
 before you left this island. He did it for the sake of 
 the little Madelaine." 
 
 Numa s face was ghastly in the light of the coming 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 day and his hand went for a moment to his throat as 
 though he were choking. 
 
 " The little Madelaine," he whispered hoarsely, 
 " and Jean was " 
 
 " To have married her," answered the old man 
 slowly. 
 
 Numa s head sank upon his breast. 
 
 " I see, I see," he moaned. " That is why Jean was 
 ever with me, waiting for his revenge. And you, 
 Telesse, think of how I have tortured you with the 
 memory of the man that you did not mean to kill, and 
 Aline God ! but I owe a debt, Telesse, an awful debt, 
 and I must pay it all to you, to the world, before I go." 
 
 The old man nodded thoughtfully. 
 
 " Yes, Numa," said he, " you owe a great debt, and 
 you must pay it. All your life you have made my life 
 a torture to me with your threats. All your life you 
 have played upon my fears, making me do that which 
 I should not have done, and now it is only just that I 
 should bring you back to the punishment that you 
 deserve. I stood your threats, Numa, and did for the 
 most part what you commanded me, and perhaps I 
 should have gone on in that way to the end of my days 
 had you not gone a step too far. You may tell them all 
 that you know of me in Landry when I bring you there, 
 but bring you there I will. Why did you kill Aline, 
 Numa? The girl that you loved, the poor, innocent 
 child that never did you any harm. Why did you do it, 
 I say?" 
 
 The old man s voice was commanding and his gray 
 eyes flashed as Numa had never seen them flash before. 
 
 472 
 
NUMA PAYS HIS DEBTS 
 
 Numa raised a hand to heaven. 
 
 " I swear to you that I did not mean to kill Aline," 
 answered he. " The shot was meant for M sieu Gor 
 don. I aimed at him carefully through the window 
 and then as I pulled the trigger Aline rushed before him 
 and " 
 
 His voice broke and he covered his face with his 
 hands as though to shut out the vision that came to 
 him. 
 
 " And then you killed her my child and your loved 
 one," the old man finished for him sadly. " Why did 
 you do it, Numa? Why did you do it? I could have 
 stood all your threats, your torture anything but 
 that." 
 
 Numa sighed and drew his hand across his ashen 
 face. 
 
 " Mon Dieu! It is all like some horrible dream," 
 he groaned. " It cannot be true, and yet it is true. 
 Ah! Telesse, Telesse, what have I done? What have 
 I done?" 
 
 He closed his eyes and lay quietly against the tree, 
 apparently exhausted by the emotion that tore his very 
 soul. 
 
 After a time he raised his head wearily and held out 
 his hands with a gesture of despair. 
 
 " I am ready to go, Telesse," said he brokenly. 
 " You may tie my hands and I will go before you as 
 peacefully as a child, for my heart is broken." 
 
 The old man, caught by the ruse, lowered his rifle 
 and fumbled in one of the pockets of his coat. 
 
 " I had a piece of cord when I left " he began, 
 
 473 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 and then he stopped suddenly, for Numa had stooped 
 for his weapon like a flash and was rising with it ready 
 in his hands. 
 
 The old man s rifle leaped to his shoulder, a long, 
 black streak, and the roar of it rolled out upon the 
 marsh like the thunder of some monstrous cannon, scar 
 ing the marsh fowl until they filled the air in whirling 
 clouds, screaming discordantly. 
 
 Numa s rifle clattered to the ground and he stag 
 gered against the oak, clutching wildly at the ragged 
 hole in his breast. 
 
 " God ! Telesse, you have killed me," he panted. 
 " I never thought that you would do it." 
 
 He laughed horribly and drew his hand across his 
 brow, leaving a long bloody smear behind it. 
 
 " You will take me back to Landry, and I will go 
 even as I said I would like like a little child," he 
 sobbed as he staggered to the ground. 
 
 The old man bent over him and tried with trembling 
 hands to soothe him. 
 
 " You made me do it, Numa," he faltered. " If you 
 had gone quietly I would not have harmed you." 
 
 Numa shoved him away impatiently and half-raised 
 himself upon one arm. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he whispered, " I know that. It was a 
 desperate chance and I took it. I did not think that 
 you would shoot anyhow. But it does not matter. I 
 prayed for death, even as you came upon me. I wanted 
 to die fighting, not at the end of a rope, and yet " 
 
 He paused choking, and lay back again with closed 
 eyes. 
 
 474 
 
NUMA PAYS HIS DEBTS 
 
 The old man thinking him dead, laid his hand upon 
 his heart, and the pressure of his fingers awakened 
 Numa from his stupor. 
 
 He shook his head weakly. 
 
 " No, no, Telesse, not yet," he sighed. " But it will 
 come in a moment the death of which I have won 
 dered so often. Do not think too badly of me, Telesse. 
 If Aline had loved me I would have been a different 
 man a different man," he murmured drowsily. 
 
 A ray of light from the rising sun fell across his face 
 and roused him suddenly. 
 
 " The sun, Telesse," he cried, his voice now strong 
 and clear. " The sun is rising rising on my last day. 
 Help me to my feet that I may see it and die standing, 
 like a man." 
 
 The old man lifted him carefully and then at his 
 command let him stand alone. 
 
 For a moment Numa stood still and straight, with all 
 of the strength of his old, boyish figure, his eyes fast 
 ened upon the eastern sky where the sun was rising in 
 a flood of gold and amber. 
 
 Before its growing light the fog was melting away, 
 showing the brown stretch of the sea marsh, all fresh 
 and salt, waving slowly in the morning breeze. And 
 back of the marsh the Grand Woods lay a long reach 
 of purplish-brown and gray rising faint and hazy in 
 the light of the early morning. 
 
 Numa stretched an arm toward it longingly. 
 
 u The woods! " he cried. " My woods, my home, 
 and I am looking at them for the last time " 
 
 His voice trailed off into a wail and his head sank 
 
 475 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 upon his breast in an attitude of utter despair. Sud 
 denly he gave a great cry and staggered back, his eyes 
 wide with terror. 
 
 " The the death. It is coming, Telesse," he 
 shrieked. " The sun is rising and yet it is growing dark 
 cold and dark." 
 
 He paused, swaying drunkenly, his face convulsed 
 with fear and horror. 
 
 " So so cold and dark " he panted, and then he 
 sighed and closed his eyes as he stumbled forward 
 upon his face. 
 
 Old Telesse was at his side in a moment and bent 
 his ear to the lips of the dying man. 
 
 " Numa, Numa, you are dying," he cried. " Have 
 you anything for me to tell them at Landry?" 
 
 Very slowly Numa opened his eyes and smiled again 
 the old, careless smile that his questioner knew so 
 well. 
 
 "Tell them that that bad as I have 
 been I died as I have lived for I paid 
 my debts my debts," he whispered and was 
 
 gone. 
 
 ******* 
 
 The stars shone down upon the little village of Lan 
 dry and strove to calm it with their tiny, twinkling 
 lights, for it had had an exciting day, and excitement 
 was a thing to which it was wholly unused. 
 
 Late that evening, even as the bells of the Angelus 
 rang out upon the quiet air, two men had moored a 
 pirogue upon the banks of the Bayou Portage and had 
 taken from it the body of a third one, wrapped tightly 
 
 476 
 
NUMA PAYS HIS DEBTS 
 
 in a swath of coarse, woolen blankets. Up the wide 
 street they carried their ghastly burden to a hut upon 
 tihe edge of the town, while the people followed them 
 in a wondering throng, listening in breathless silence to 
 the story that they told. 
 
 Then had come the old Doctor Lemaire and the 
 coroner s jury, with its verdict of self-defense, at which 
 the people had raised a loud cheer before they returned 
 to their homes, walking along in little groups, talking 
 excitedly with endless gestures of the affair that had 
 broken the usual quiet of their village. 
 
 And now the night had lowered its dark curtain upon 
 the little drama of love and life and death, while the 
 actors rested, for they had played their parts and they 
 were tired. 
 
 In his cabin at Belrive the old man slept with Le 
 Bossu, while at the big house Aline lay in restless, tor 
 ment fighting bravely for the love and life that she 
 fain would win. 
 
 And in his ruined cabin on the edge of the town 
 Numa slept the sleep of death lying stark and still in 
 the pale light of the holy candles. 
 
 Deserted and alone he lay, save for the presence of 
 a single woman a tall, a beautiful woman, whose 
 proud head was bent low with sorrow, whose lips ever 
 moved in prayer and tender supplication. 
 
 All through the long night she kept her solitary 
 vigil, her hands softly caressing the dead, handsome 
 face, and then, as the sky grew gray with the coming 
 morning, the door of the cabin opened slowly and a 
 man stood before her. 
 
 477 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 For a moment he hesitated, gazing at her in appre 
 hensive silence, and then he called to her angrily. 
 
 u What are you doing here alone alone with him, 
 Jeanne? " he cried. 
 
 The woman raised her head wearily, and in her 
 haggard face he read her unspoken answer read it 
 and knew, and turned away without a word. 
 
 Very slowly the woman pointed toward the open 
 door. 
 
 "Go! Go! Jean Marie, you fool," she sobbed. 
 " Go and leave me with my love," and the man passed 
 out into the newborn day, striving through his shallow 
 egotism to drive away the memory of the dupe that he 
 had been. 
 
 478 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 CHRISTMAS CHEER 
 
 IT was Christmas at Belrive and the big house was 
 in the state of cheerful confusidn that always char 
 acterized that day. Even the weather seemed to 
 have fallen into the holiday spirit, for the sun shone 
 warm and bright in a cloudless sky, and the wind, 
 though fresh and cool, had lost its blustering coldness. 
 
 All through the morning the negroes had trooped 
 from the quarters in a long, straggling line, laughing, 
 shouting, and filling the air with their endless cries of 
 " Crismus Gif "; to stop finally at the porch of the big 
 house in a state of blissful anticipation. And here, 
 Carey, with the assistance of Marjorie, handed out to 
 them their presents, with many a laugh and joke and 
 word of good cheer. Here the grinning negroes 
 received their gifts clothes, tobacco and blankets for 
 the old scarfs and ribbons, and gaudy trinkets for the 
 young fruit and nuts and candy for the children that 
 fought and scuffled noisily for the possession of their 
 treasures. 
 
 In the big kitchen Aunt Felonise stormed about 
 among her throng of assistants, preparing the Christ 
 mas dinner, while in the back lot Uncle Bill made 
 
 479 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 preparations for a grand barbecue that was to be given 
 for the field hands. 
 
 It was a time for joyousness and merriment, a time 
 when every face wore a smile of contentment, and the 
 happiest, the merriest, the most contented of them all, 
 was Monsieur Varain. 
 
 All through the dark days when Aline was battling 
 for her life, he had stayed at Belrive, watching, nursing, 
 praying, his sad face sadder still, his gray head bent 
 with grief and sorrow. 
 
 And then had come the time when the grim angel 
 that had hovered about Belrive had folded its wings 
 and had stolen away, and Monsieur Varain s face had 
 become brighter and the days had passed for him more 
 happily. 
 
 He had become a great favorite of Aunt Betty s, 
 and many and lively were the arguments that he had 
 with the little old lady arguments that ever ended in 
 her favor, with the mention of her dead husband, for 
 Monsieur Varain was a model of politeness. At Mou- 
 ton, the work in his big store went on under the super 
 vision of the faithful Felix, whose wonderfully worded 
 reports were among the few things that amused his 
 employer during the period of Aline s sickness. 
 
 And now Monsieur Varain was spending his Christ 
 mas at Belrive the first happy Christmas that he had 
 spent in many a year. All the morning long he had 
 bustled about the house in a state of the wildest excite 
 ment, running upon the porch to throw bits of silver 
 to the smiling negroes, going out with Aunt Betty on 
 tours of inspection to the kitchen, making endless trips 
 
 480 
 
CHRISTMAS CHEER 
 
 to the big front parlor to see that a certain armchair, 
 that was placed before the fire, was warm and soft 
 with cushions. Here he would stand in blissful expecta 
 tion, patting the pillows, consulting his great gold 
 watch and moving the chair from side to side to get 
 the proper effect of the fire, for old Doctor Lemaire 
 had said that at twelve o clock that day Aline could 
 come downstairs for the first time, and Monsieur 
 Varain must see that everything was made comfortable 
 for her reception. 
 
 And there was another at Belrive who awaited the 
 coming of the girl eagerly and happily. In the days 
 of her sickness Carey had seen but little of Aline, and 
 in that little he had spoken no word of his love, for 
 the old doctor had said that there must be nothing to 
 excite her. But now she was brighter and stronger 
 and almost well, and he knew that on this day (this, 
 the happiest of all Christmases for him) he could speak 
 to her and tell her of that which he longed to say. 
 
 It had not been an easy task to explain to Aline her 
 changed condition and the new life that was before her, 
 and the kind words and endless patience of Aunt Betty 
 (who had been chosen for the purpose) created a bond 
 of love between her and the motherless girl that time 
 only served to strengthen. A labor of love, Aunt 
 Betty called it, and in it she was ably assisted by Miss 
 Lawrence, who had hurried to Belrive at the sudden 
 news that her cousin had been found. 
 
 Many and pleasant were the hours that she spent 
 with Aline during her convalescence, telling her of the 
 wonders of Lawrence Hall, recounting the stories that 
 
 481 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 were still told there of her dead father, while the girl 
 listened to her in silent wonder, scarce believing that 
 it could all be true. And in these hours the two cousins 
 came to love one another with the strong, lasting affec 
 tion that was the heritage of the Lawrence blood. 
 
 Of her mother Aline had as yet heard but little, for 
 Monsieur Varain s visits had been short and there had 
 been but little talking, by the old doctor s command. 
 But on her pillow ever lay a photograph an old, 
 faded photograph of a quiet, sweet-faced girl that 
 smiled at her and brought her peace and quiet in the 
 days of her suffering. 
 
 " It is your mother/ Monsieur Varain had said to 
 her softly as he laid it beside her, and at the same time 
 he had given her the ring that in the days gone by she 
 had sacrificed so bravely. 
 
 And so she had passed the time of her sickness in 
 an atmosphere of peace and loving kindness, a peace 
 and kindness that she had never known, growing 
 stronger every day both in health and in the affections 
 of those who lived about her. 
 
 It had been arranged, as a compliment to Aunt Betty, 
 that she alone should attend Aline in her descent to 
 the parlor, and when, at twelve o clock, she helped her 
 charge down the broad stairway her kind old face 
 bore a look of triumphant happiness that was reminis 
 cent of a dozen spring pilgrimages all rolled into 
 one. 
 
 " Miss Aline Lawrence s compliments, and a merry 
 Christmas to you all," she shouted gayly from the head 
 of the stairs, and then in a moment she had delivered 
 
 482 
 
CHRISTMAS CHEER 
 
 her smiling charge to the excited little crowd that was 
 waiting in the hall to receive her. 
 
 Away to the parlor and to the big armchair they 
 bore her triumphantly, and then, when she was enthroned 
 in state before the fire, they clustered about her with 
 words of love and kindness, until the girl s pale cheeks 
 were flushed with happiness. But in the moment of her 
 happiness she did not forget the ones that had loved her 
 in the days gone by. 
 
 " Where are my Uncle Telesse and little Jean Le 
 Bossu? " she asked after a time. 
 
 Aunt Betty smiled at her thoughtfulness. 
 
 " They will come this evening, my dear," answered 
 she. " We are going to have a little reception, followed 
 by dinner, as we always have every Christmas, and the 
 old man and Le Bossu will be here a little before the 
 guests arrive." 
 
 The girl s eyes shone happily. 
 
 " Ah! I shall be so glad, so glad to see them again," 
 said she. 
 
 And so they sat and talked merrily before the fire 
 until the tinkle of a bell warned them that it was time 
 for lunch, and then they all arose to go, leaving Aline 
 in the care of Aunt Betty. Carey was the last to start 
 from the room, and as he reached the door Aunt Betty 
 tiptoed after him and laid a detaining hand upon his 
 shoulder. There was a suspicious moisture in her eyes 
 as she whispered to him and she patted his cheek fondly 
 for a moment with one of her wrinkled hands. 
 
 " If you have anything to say to her, my dear, I 
 chink that she would like to hear it now," said she, 
 
 483 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 and slipping from the room she closed the door quietly 
 behind her. 
 
 For a moment Carey stood and looked at the girl 
 as she lay back in her chair, waiting for the return of 
 Aunt Betty. Her face, though white and pale from 
 her long sickness, had lost none of its beauty, and as 
 she sat smiling in the firelight, her eyes shining, Carey 
 thought that she had never seemed as sweet and as 
 beautiful before. 
 
 Very quietly he crossed the room and knelt beside 
 her chair. 
 
 " Aline, Aline," he whispered, " I have come again 
 to tell you that I love you. Many things have hap 
 pened since I spoke to you at the little cabin in the 
 fields. You were poor then, and I was -rich and your 
 master. Now you are rich, very rich, and the condi 
 tions are changed. In the life that is now before you, 
 you will have your choice of many men better men 
 than I but none will love you more. Your answer in 
 the cabin was yes. What is it now, Aline? " 
 
 He bowed his head and waited for his answer. 
 
 The girl smiled, and in her eyes was the happiness 
 of a lifetime. 
 
 " My heart has not changed with my fortunes, 
 M sieu" answered she. " It seems that I have loved 
 you always. I loved the little boy that fought for me 
 in the road that day, so long ago, when Numa strove 
 to kiss me, for it was you, M sieu, even though it 
 slipped so quickly from your memory. 
 
 " I was a lonely child and I did not forget so easily. 
 And then I saw you on the Bayou des Arbres, and I 
 
 484 
 
CHRISTMAS CHEER 
 
 knew in a moment who you were, for it was my heart 
 that told me. And when I came to Belrive you rescued 
 me again from Numa when he sought to kiss me in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 " It was then, M sieu, that my love came to me in a 
 great flood that lay heavily upon my heart, lay so 
 heavily, and yet and yet gave to me such a strange 
 feeling of happiness. I fought it, M sieu Mon Dieu, 
 how I fought it, all alone, through the long nights in 
 the little cabin, and yet it grew and grew as the days 
 passed on, until I thought that I would die with my 
 shame and sorrow, for I did not think that you, M sieu 
 Gordon, could ever come to care for me. 
 
 " It was then that I wished to return to the woods, 
 the kind woods that I knew would soothe and comfort 
 me, and then came Numa with his tale from Landry, 
 and my heart was broken. And you came, M sieu, and 
 I was happy, and then came the shot and all was black 
 and whirling, but as I lay in your arms my love grew 
 and grew, until " 
 
 She paused and looked at him with eyes that shone 
 happily through their mist of love. Very slowly her 
 arm crept about him and her head bent down toward 
 his own. 
 
 " Until sometimes I think that I must have two 
 hearts, I love you so, M sieu/ she whispered softly. 
 
 For a moment Carey held her in his arms, and then 
 he laid her back among the cushions and looked at her 
 rebukingly. 
 
 1 You must not call me M sieu any more," said he. 
 " It is Carey now your Carey." 
 
 485 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 But the girl shook her head and smiled. 
 
 u You will always be M sieu to me," she answered, 
 " my M sieu, as you have always been." And as Carey 
 took her in his arms again she softly whispered, " My 
 
 Late in the afternoon, yet some time before the 
 guests began to arrive, the old man and Le Bossu came 
 to the big house, dressed in their best and eager to see 
 Aline once more. Carey met them upon the porch 
 and led them into the parlor, where the girl received 
 them with a cry of joy, kissing them tenderly. And 
 here Carey left them alone with Aline, to tell her all 
 that had happened since her sickness, in the woods 
 and at the little cabin in the field that had been her 
 home. 
 
 When he returned toward nightfall to tell them 
 that the guests were beginning to arrive, he found the 
 little man curled up upon the hearth rug, telling a story 
 of the woods one of the stories that he loved so much 
 to tell while the girl lay back in her chair, softly 
 stroking the gray head of the old man who sat beside 
 her. It made a pretty picture, the three of them sit 
 ting in the firelight, and Carey was loath to disturb it, 
 but the little man caught sight of him and scrambled 
 to his feet with a word of warning. The old man rose 
 also, and the two of them stood for a moment in 
 awkward silence, awed at the handsomely furnished 
 room, at the voices and laughter that came from the 
 hall, at the quiet dignity of the big house, for the charm 
 of their simple talk was broken, and they were afraid. 
 
 486 
 
CHRISTMAS CHEER 
 
 Carey came over to them and laid his hands upon 
 their shoulders kindly. 
 
 " I do not know how to thank you two for all that 
 you have done for Aline," said he huskily. " As long 
 as there is a Belrive you shall have a home and the 
 choice of all the cabins is yours. You shall work only 
 when you wish, and Aline will look after you, as you 
 looked after her in the days of her poverty, will you 
 not, Aline?" 
 
 There were tears in the girl s eyes when she answered 
 him, and she beckoned for the old man and Le Bossu 
 to come to her. 
 
 " You will see me every day," said she, " and I shall 
 live only to make you happy. You will live in our old 
 cabin, will you not, Uncle Telesse?" 
 
 But the old man shook his head. 
 
 " We have spoken of this thing, Jean and I, and we 
 are going back to the woods," answered he. " It would 
 not be the same at the cabin without you, Aline, and 
 you know that I only came to Belrive that you might 
 go to school. We will come to see you often, Jean and 
 I, and in the days to come perhaps Le Bossu will tell to 
 your children the stories that in the forest you loved 
 so much to hear. We have lived all our lives in the 
 woods, and it is there that we would die. M sieu Gor 
 don is kind, very kind, and I thank him, but we will go 
 to the woods to our old home." 
 
 Aline smiled. " Yes, you are right, Uncle Telesse," 
 said she. " It is only in the woods that you will be 
 happy, and I will come to see you often, for I love them 
 even as do you and Jean." 
 
 487 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 She looked after them with fond eyes as Carey 
 slipped them through the folding doors into the dining 
 room, and then the guests came in from the hall in a 
 laughing, talking throng. In they came, headed by 
 Aunt Betty, the jolliest of them all the family from 
 Sunnyside, Monsieur Landry, Mr. Parker, the old 
 doctor, and Father Bertrand all of them with a word 
 of greeting and good cheer for the girl that sat in the 
 big armchair before the fire. 
 
 And when they had all of them spoken to Aline 
 Tom Bayne slipped over to her side and whispered in 
 her ear. The girl smiled, and looked at him reas 
 suringly. 
 
 " She is with my cousin, Julia Lawrence, and you 
 must tell Julia that I wish to see her at once," said she. 
 " You will find them in the dining-room." 
 
 Tom Bayne quickly gave her a look of the deepest 
 gratitude. 
 
 " I ll do it," he whispered defiantly. " I ll do it 
 to-night or die." And turning away he hurried from 
 the room, almost overturning Monsieur Landry, who 
 had just succeeded in cornering Aunt Betty. 
 
 Monsieur Landry gazed after the departing figure 
 in ruffled astonishment. 
 
 " Monsieur Bayne is in a hurry all of a sudden," 
 said he. 
 
 The muffled slam of a door came from the dining 
 room, and Aunt Betty laughed, for her quick ears had 
 caught the sound. 
 
 " Perhaps if you were on his errand you would be 
 in a hurry also," replied she. 
 
 488 
 
CHRISTMAS CHEER 
 
 "And what may his errand be?" asked Monsieur 
 Landry curiously. 
 
 Aunt Betty laughed again and pointed to Mr. Par 
 ker, who was making his way toward them. 
 
 " Perhaps our friend here can tell you," she an 
 swered. " He has been on a similar errand for some 
 
 time." 
 
 Mr. Parker joined them, his red face beaming. 
 
 " I suppose that Mr. Landry has told you that our 
 candidate was elected by an overwhelming majority, 
 and that Paul Hebert is again the sheriff at Mouton? " 
 said he. 
 
 Aunt Betty nodded. 
 
 " Monsieur Landry has made his report, and it has 
 been a most satisfactory one," she replied. " We would 
 now like to hear from you. I am waiting for the news 
 from Mouton, Mr. Parker." 
 
 Mr. Parker s red face became suddenly grave. 
 
 " I am afraid that my report is not as satisfactory a 
 one as Mr. Landry s," said he. " She is going to 
 marry a drummer from New Orleans, Miss Betty, and 
 she told me that she had been in love with him all the 
 
 time." 
 
 He paused and his face took on a look of comical 
 despair. 
 
 Aunt Betty looked at him quizzically for a moment, 
 and then she suddenly nodded her head, as though she 
 had made up her mind. 
 
 " I am not going to say that I have made a mistake, 
 Mr. Parker," said she, " for it is always a woman s 
 privilege to change her mind. So therefore without any 
 
 489 
 
ALINE OF THE GRAND WOODS 
 
 preliminaries I am going to tell you that I don t think 
 that the Lord ever intended you to marry, after all." 
 
 Mr. Parker s face brightened instantly. 
 
 " By Gad! Miss Betty, you never said a truer thing 
 in your life," he cried, " for if He had intended me for 
 matrimony I would have been married long ago." 
 
 " Of course you would," answered Aunt Betty, " and 
 now if you will excuse me I will go out and see how 
 dinner is coming on." 
 
 It was a noteworthy fact that Aunt Betty, who 
 moved about very quietly, made a great deal of unneces 
 sary noise as she went down the hall, and when, after 
 rattling the doorknob, she went into the dining-room, 
 she found Tom Bayne and Marjorie sitting very far 
 apart at the long table in a state of blissful confusion. 
 
 Tom was very flushed and proud as he led Marjorie 
 over to her, and he had to clear his throat violently 
 once or twice before he could speak. 
 
 " I have been to the seashore, Aunt Betty," said he, 
 " and Margey says that I can stay and " 
 
 " And dinner has been ready for some time, only 
 Tom wouldn t let them come in to announce it," Mar 
 jorie finished for him, blushing furiously. 
 
 Aunt Betty s eyes were dim with tears and her voice 
 actually trembled when she answered them. 
 
 " I ought to give you both a good scolding," said 
 she, " but instead I am going to give you each a kiss, and 
 then I am going to throw open the doors and call them 
 in to dinner before I become an utter idiot with all this 
 happiness and cry like an old fool." 
 
 And then she kissed them both, and the guests filed 
 
 490 
 
CHRISTMAS CHEER 
 
 in to dinner, leaving Aline alone at the fire, for she was 
 weary after her long day. 
 
 And so she sat in the firelight, thinking of the happi 
 ness that was to come, and presently she fell asleep with 
 a smile upon her lips, for she was very tired. And as 
 she slept the door opened softly and the old man slipped 
 into the room, followed by Le Bossu. 
 
 For a moment they gazed at her with loving eyes, 
 and then they crept out again as softly as they had 
 come. 
 
 Never a word did they speak until they were outside 
 in the dark, and then the little man broke the silence 
 with a sigh of wonder. 
 
 " And to think that she was a great lady, and we 
 never knew, Telesse," said he. " We should be happy 
 at the happiness that has come to her." 
 
 The old man nodded thoughtfully. 
 
 " Yes, we should be happy, Jean," he replied. " I 
 am happy, and yet " 
 
 There was a catch in his voice and he paused for a 
 moment to look at the big house before him the big 
 house with its many lights and its sounds of happy 
 voices and laughter. 
 
 For a long time he gazed at it in silence, and then 
 he turned with a little sob and laid his hand upon Le 
 Bossu s shoulder. 
 
 " Come," said he, " let us go back to the woods, 
 Jean, you and I." 
 
 THE END 
 
 491 
 
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