Lady Jane
9781465682994
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
It was in the beautiful Teche country, on a passenger train of the Louisiana and Texas Railroad, that “Lady Jane” first saw a blue heron. The month was July, the weather was intensely hot, and the dusty, ill ventilated car was closely packed with a motley crowd. Among the travelers were Texas ranchmen, cattle dealers from the Opelousas, Cajan farmers from the Attakapas, nuns, priests, itinerant merchants, tired, dusty women, dressed in cotton gowns and sun bonnets, and barefooted, white headed children, very noisy and restless, wandering constantly back and forth between the water tank and their lunch baskets, eating cold chicken or munching stale biscuit. The ranchmen and cattle dealers talked in loud, good natured voices; the nuns bent over their prayer books; the priests yawned and nodded; the merchants displayed their wares; the children fretted; the babies cried, while the weary mothers patted, tossed, and coaxed them with untiring love and patience; and the train flew on, with its hot, dusty passengers, over as beautiful a country as ever was seen, through level stretches of sugar cane and rice, crossed by narrow bayous that intersected the green plane, catching here and there gleams of sunlight, like silver threads, through the dark cypress swamps, whose bleached trees were crowned with hoary moss, while the trunks were clothed in living green, and festooned with the lovely blossoms of the jasmine, and wild passion flowers entwined with masses of delicate vines, twisted together in cords and loops of luxuriant verdure, that clambered upward from the dank soil toward the sunlight and the blue sky. In places the track seemed to run over beds of glossy latanea and swaying swamp grasses, where glistened little shallow pools covered with lily pads and white fragrant blossoms. In spite of the intense heat, the day was beautiful. Great banks of white clouds drifted across the sun, softening its ruddy glare, and throwing fantastic shadows over the floating prairies and purple islands of cypress that dotted the broad yellow expanse. Now and then, a flock of birds, startled by the rush of the train, rose up with a shrill cry and noisy whirr of wings, and soared away in a long, trailing line toward the lazy drifting clouds. Of all the passengers, there were, perhaps, none who noticed or cared for the strange and beautiful scenery, that constantly changed as the train sped on, except the quiet occupants of one seat, who were so unlike those around them as to attract no little attention and curiosity. They were a woman and a child; the lady, young, elegant, and pretty, was dressed in deep mourning; the little girl, who was about five years of age, wore a white cambric frock, plain, but exquisitely fine, a wide straw hat, and long black silk stockings, and her neat shoes were tied with tiny bows. Her skin was delicately fair and rosy, her eyes of purple blue were shaded by long dark lashes, and her hair, of a pure golden yellow, hung in a thick, wavy mass down to the loops of her black sash. She was a dainty, delicate little creature, and, although very warm and very tired, was evidently too well bred to annoy others with restlessness or impatience, but remained quietly kneeling on the seat, at the window of the car, her bright eyes fixed on the beautiful landscape, as the train rushed along.
