The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1907-01-12

man here who dosen't look a ford
sinner"
She followed his eyes down the
table, and they indicated man of
about 80, whose profile alone was
visible to them.
'tHe is very handsome" said
Marion.
Sand this really seems to become
him, just as it does you," her friend
went on. ''They are playing Lar
GO of Handel's now. If this keeps
up, Miss Lamont, / shall be confess
ing all my sins to you"
ooh, no, mol" she cried, with
pretense of stopping her ears. 'Not
to me, please. l am too young"
''To young to be shocked, per-
haps?" he asked, and laughed. Then
he leaned toward her and looked
along the table. 81 suppose" he
said, "your soul is just like that-a
glimmering whiteness, with here and
there your good works burning like
little candles"
Marion laughed. "And you want
me to believe" said she, "that yours
is as completely black"
"No," said he, mot black-only
scarlet. And, after all, I would rather
you believed nothing at all about
me-"
'Why?" asked Marion.
'Well," said he, "you are a de-
butante, and your illusions must not
be shattered"
eff they are false?" she asked.
"Illusions are no more false than
anything else" said he. "An illu-
sion is like woman or rainbow
beautiful vision set above a man
somewhere between him and heaven.
1t is intangible, but it is real; it
fades, but the memory of it lasts,
and, anyhow, it is good for him to
look up"
Marion said, "I see you still have
illusions, though you are not de-
butante.''
'No," said he, mot illusions, but
theories. I live near the earth my
self, and if I look up, it is through
other mems eyes"
At least, he could look down very
pleasantly. He smiled and said /:
s'Miss Lamont, you remind me very
much of a friend of mine. l haven't
seen him for six years until to-day"
eve are alike?" Marion asked.
"Ifs just an expression" he an
swered. "When two faces wear the
same look the minds are relatives.
Thinking of him has made me talk
so much about illusions, and per-
haps has made me so considerate of
/
yours"
s'Then, if it is a pleasure to be
reminded of him." said Marion, "tell
me something about him for re-
ward"
"You would rather hear it than
confession of my sins? 1 shall like
better to tell you. Besides, you
have the eyes that understand. Per-
haps if / have an illusion left, it is
that my intuitions are trustworthy"
81 rely on mine," said Marion.
81 should imagine that you do, .
he answered. $50 did my friend.
There wasn't an illusion he didn't
enshrine in the lofty temple Of his
thoughts. When he was IS he was a
happy burning incense before his
ideals that he wasn't good for much
else. The next year a friend went
back on him-forged his name, and
disappeared.
'sHe foreswore friendship, took up
philanthrophy, and went to work in
a mission church, where he fell in
love with one of the girls in the
choir. Her mother kept a shop,
but what did it matter? Not Bit
to my friend. 1t brought about a
quarrel with his father, though.
who disinherited him and died. You
can guess that the relatives kept the
money and turned up their noses al
the little saleslady. By this time
most of my friends illusions were
gone. Experience is an iconoclast
| The temple had been desecrated, and