The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1902-03-15

like a man who had been offered the
Kohinoor in the rough and refused it.
For vague, uncomfortable recollections
of other days were revived when he
met Marcia Wentworth again for the
first time in years.
She was superb in her maturity and
made him see a vision. He was con-
scious OF confusion of things Egyp-
sian in the background Of his mind
Cleopatra. lotus blooms and the Sphinx
for in some subtle way she suggested
the richness and splendor Of more
poetic days.
Fifteen years." she murmured dream
lily, looking at him with sweetly mock
ing eyes. "And /, who was II. am 30.
She puckered her smooth forehead into
knot and made a quaint grirlace
which filled Sanford with mad desire
to kiss her then and there.
Fifteen years." he retorted tragic
ally, land |, who was 81, am
Forgive me-" she laughed with a
deprecating gesture. ''and don't say 1t.
Take the ether point of view. Fifteen
years ago" (consolingly) you were
twice my age Today you are nowhere
near that" and with glance half mis-
chievous, half consoling. she turned to
greet an acquaintance who was making
mis- way toward them.
RELOCATED to the background for the
moment, Sanford occupied himself IN
trying to decide just how much OF that
old Irritation she probably remembered.
She was but slip of a girl in those
days, and though the details had es-
capped him he was still uncomfortably
conscious of the alteration that used to
shine out at him from her unconscious
young eyes. He had vague suspicion
that his conduct had not been above
reproach. He might have forgiven
himself that-for he had been bored!
What he could not forgive was his
Grass stupidity in failing to discover in
little Marcia Wentworth the chrysalis
Of this splendid creature, all softness
and fire.
1t was late in the afternoon and the
Trevor grounds. always famous for
their beauty, were at their best. 1t
was a scene worthy On poet. Indeed.
Mrs. Trevor's garden parties were
poetry made real.
Vatican, with a touch of Omar"
remarked Miss Wentworth as they
were left to themselves once more. Il
feel as IL we were illustrating the Ru-
baiyat."
rs that delicate way of intimating
that you wish me to bring you some
what shall it be?"
"You have missed your cue" she
responded with smiling reproach. "But
then" and the gentle mockery
shone in her eyes once more-"a man
never does remember,"
She gave a sigh. paused for mo-
ment and then continued:
You have evidently forgotten that
we last saw each other where We meet
today-at garden party at Mrs. Ire
vor's. That talent for forgetting
shaking her head at him smilingly-
How much you men owe to til"
He had forgotten--and he spared
for tine now as he racked his brain
for some detail of that far-away after
noon-some trifle which he might res
cue from the debris of the past and
make into a pretty speech. The gods
were mcrciful. Suddenly slim girlish
figure in wh.te rose before him and a
pair of dark, intense eyes gazed into
his. Still be hesitated for moment
before he spoke in order to be quite
sure, for the walls of his memory were
richly frescoed with girlish figures
and he hated to make blunders! Then
he spoke triumphantly. but with just
the rich touch of melancholy meaning
in his voice.
$50 you think that I've forgotten?
Listen, then! Your gown was soft and
thin and white, and you wore a big
hat covered with yellow roses"
He looked straight at her, but her
eyes did not fall as in the old days. In
stead, she returned the gaze unfinch-
ingly, and curiosity, amusement and
disbelief were mingled in her glance.
"Bravo!" she cried softly; but she
was unconv;nced. He saw that, and
was nettled by 1t. Fortunately. he
could not read her thoughts, for she
was waiting to her inner self, "Ah,
me. That | should have to acknowl-
edge to myself that he's just an ordi-
nary flirt after all, How crude must
have been at II. And yet"
Her thoughts went swiftly back to
that day In her girlhood. when she had
met him last. The scene was the same
as tcday-great stretches of velvety
turf, stately trees and groups of peo-
pie laughing and chatting together! On
that afternoon, she remembered the
western sky was blaze of rose color.
How the gay scene had Knocked her
misery. as Sanford. who was devoting
himself to tue beautiful Miss Carroll,
forgetful of her existence. never once
approached her, though he knew that
1t would be their last meeting. as her
family was leaving for Europe on the
following day.
Today she noted with amused ap-
probation the western sky was bank
of pale gold. and the color seemed
more appropriate to the vanished ideals
and lost illusions of 80. Seventeen
and rose color! Thirty-two-and pale
gold!
you were thinking" prompted
Sanford, inquiringly breaking in upon
her reverie.
81 am thinking" she answered,
bringing her eyes back to him delib-
erateiy-'1 am thinking that will tell
you q story. But perhaps" with a
touch of malice. ''you do not like
stories?"
'Cn the contrary. dote upon them.
no hecin /"