The Birmingham age-herald., 1911-04-02

1 promised to marry awaited him, he hired widest and most romantic parts of the 1 Pyrenees. It was toward the close of the day when Alfred saw approaching him a cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen, and in the midst of the party rode Lucille de Meyers. Of course he greeted the lady, of course he was asked to join In the party But scarcely had he done so than one of those sudden mountain storms which, gathering force from some un- known caverns of the giant hills, swept down upon the travellers
 The horse of the Duke, who was riding alongside of LlAle, frightened by tho thunder and vHN lightning, ran ava, with it's rider, and in the sudden darkness the party became dispersed. In 8 flash ol lightning Alfred saw Lucille sitting upon ledge of rocks The electricity played about her; she seemed unmoved and sai there pensive with her head resting upon one hand. Alfred sought her and then and there begged that she would recall the i past-would forgive it and would be his wife. Lucille looked sorrowfully at Lord Alfred and said: All that is buried-is gone, never to return. And even should I consent to what you ask, you are not | free. Your troth is plighted to Miss
 Darcy; there lies your path of duty
 ''Then it is the Duke,' said Alfred
 Neither you nor the Duke," replied Lu- cile. we meet possibly for the last time have taken my decision When I next see you--if l ever do--it will be too late I for you to talk of love marriage with
 me. Pray release my hand"
 The storm, breaking as suddenly as il had arisen, now withdrew it's cohorts into | the mountain depths. The setting sun sent a red and glorious ray through the 1 fastnesses of the mountains as the Duke came riding back, having at last gained Alfred rode back to Serchon with the party--and was not without hope. But that night thought came to him and kept him awake-the thought of Matilda. Ills honor was plghted and his honor l was violated. It was in vain that he said I to himself, When I came to this fatal i spot had nothing to blame or reproacn myself with; l honestly believed that loved Matilda"
 l When Lord Alfred's carriage stopped before the little house at Bigorre oecu- and to which had recently come that ia natical genius Mrs. Darcy's brother, Sir Ridley MacNab-Alfred saw, walking In the garden in a white morning robe the ] young and fair Matilda. It was little, wild garden and more fair than the flow CTS, more fresh than the dew Matilda was walking there. She sprang to him at once with a face of such sunny sweet ness, such gladness and radiant confi- dence that his heart gave throb to think how false his mind had been to her.
 "Oh. how could I have strayed from this sweet child.' he thought. Look up, my sweet fower," he said as he clasped her in his arms. My heart unto thee has returned as bee to its fiower' Never to wander agan?' asked Matilda as she returned his fond embrace. No more.' said Lord Alfred, and kissed her.
 Perhaps Sir Ridley had suspected some thing of what had taken place at Serchon -perchance the Duke Luvois had not con- cealed his irritation at the interference of Alfred in a suit which he had supposed all his own and destined to successful conclusion. However, Matilda, whatever she had heard, said nothing more of Al l freds wanderngs of heart, and tbe two were married according to schedule-Ai- | fred had Matilda's fortune and she had his affection. They were happy. The inci- dent of Lucille seemed to be plotted out | from his life and hers. There was, of course, a ghost there, away back amid the shadows, ghost which only came at silent midnight hours to murmur of what might have been, and drag from the deep gulf of the past thoughts and mem orles which were torment to Alfred The final and absolute rejection of the Duke de Luvois by Lucille had so ranked in the heart of that scion of an ancient