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Still
less
might
Woodley
Poindexter
strain
the
statutes
of
parental
authority
--
the
father
of
a
Creole
belle
--
for
years
used
to
that
proud
homage
whose
incense
often
stills
,
or
altogether
destroys
,
the
simpler
affections
of
the
heart
.
Though
her
father
,
and
by
law
her
controller
,
he
knew
to
what
a
short
length
his
power
might
extend
,
if
exerted
in
opposition
to
her
will
.
He
was
,
therefore
,
satisfied
with
her
late
act
of
obedience
--
rejoiced
to
find
that
instead
of
continuing
her
reckless
rides
upon
the
prairie
,
she
now
contented
herself
within
the
range
of
the
garden
--
with
bow
and
arrow
slaying
the
small
birds
that
were
so
unlucky
as
to
come
under
her
aim
.
Father
of
fifty
years
old
,
why
reason
in
this
foolish
fashion
?
Have
you
forgotten
your
own
youth
--
the
thoughts
that
then
inspired
you
--
the
deceits
you
practised
under
such
inspiration
--
the
counterfeits
you
assumed
--
the
"
stories
"
you
told
to
cloak
what
,
after
all
,
may
have
been
the
noblest
impulse
of
your
nature
?
The
father
of
the
fair
Louise
appeared
to
have
become
oblivious
to
recollections
of
this
kind
:
for
his
early
life
was
not
without
facts
to
have
furnished
them
.
They
must
have
been
forgotten
,
else
he
would
have
taken
occasion
to
follow
his
daughter
into
the
garden
,
and
observe
her
--
himself
unobserved
--
while
disporting
herself
in
the
shrubbery
that
bordered
the
river
bank
.
By
doing
so
,
he
would
have
discovered
that
her
disposition
was
not
so
cruel
as
may
have
been
supposed
.
Instead
of
transfixing
the
innocent
birds
that
fluttered
in
such
foolish
confidence
around
her
,
her
greatest
feat
in
archery
appeared
to
be
the
impaling
of
a
piece
of
paper
upon
the
point
of
her
arrow
,
and
sending
the
shaft
thus
charged
across
the
river
,
to
fall
harmlessly
into
a
thicket
on
the
opposite
side
.
He
would
have
witnessed
an
exhibition
still
more
singular
He
would
have
seen
the
arrow
thus
spent
--
after
a
short
interval
,
as
if
dissatisfied
with
the
place
into
which
it
had
been
shot
,
and
desirous
of
returning
to
the
fair
hand
whence
it
had
taken
its
departure
--
come
back
into
the
garden
with
the
same
,
or
a
similar
piece
of
paper
,
transfixed
upon
its
shaft
!
The
thing
might
have
appeared
mysterious
--
even
supernatural
--
to
an
observer
unacquainted
with
the
spirit
and
mechanism
of
that
abnormal
phenomenon
.
There
was
no
observer
of
it
save
the
two
individuals
who
alternately
bent
the
bow
,
shooting
with
a
single
arrow
;
and
by
them
it
was
understood
.
"
Love
laughs
at
locksmiths
.
"
The
old
adage
is
scarce
suited
to
Texas
,
where
lock-making
is
an
unknown
trade
.
"
Where
there
's
a
will
,
there
's
a
way
,
"
expresses
pretty
much
the
same
sentiment
,
appropriate
to
all
time
and
every
place
.
Never
was
it
more
correctly
illustrated
than
in
that
exchange
of
bow-shots
across
the
channel
of
the
Leona
.
