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

promise. It is worth a step back to the past to be sure that it is dead and the
 future shut from it. Do you think we could live with the living so lightly as | we do If we were not sure that the doors of the tomb could not open-that they were not locked with the key which Fate keeps for our sakes? What if the | dead could return-the corpses awake?'
 "Nonsensel' cried John. What has such a rhapsody as that got to do with the case? I tell you to look out for de- | signing woman and you reply with such
 nonsense as that We'll go your way and when you are well hooked do not say that I did not warn you. Meantime,
 I must go and ride out with Matilda. But
 will not send the doctor to patch up that internal Beau-that's flat.
 And I shall ride to Serchon.'' gro see that coquette?" Yes" Well, have it
 so. then. Why did you break with her | in the first place, if you are still so
 attached to her?' "I am not attached
 to ner-why do you think so? It was
 her own fault that we parted anyway.
 could have loved her more had she
  like a delicate weed-it needs to oa crushed, to be trampled on, to have It's full fragrance extracted. 'Tis an old simle, but true one.'' ''Well, well,
 have your own way cried John. 1T
 am off and the door banged behind him as he hurried to meet Matilda Darcy
 and take her for her morning ride. When
 John had gone Alfred sat down and wrote the following note to Lucille: Your note
 reached me today at Bigorre. l need not say that it commands my obedience. Be- fore night l shall be at Serchon. A line will reach me at Duvars Inn. Pray in form me when and where l may wait
 upon you and return the letters. Very sincerely, Alfred Vargrave.'
 | The sun set in gorgeous colors among the summts of the Pyrenees as Lord AL fred rode along the mountain road lead ing to Serchon. So intehtly was he mus ing. with slackened rein, as he rode along that he did not hear the sound of horses hoofs coming from the direction of the side paths of the mountains until rider
 and horse emerging from a mountain pass almost ran against him and came near to precipitating the young man and his steed down an abyss. The stranger. fhauling hard upon his reins, drew his steed back upon it's launches, and then, reigning in alongside of Alfred, apolo- gized for the occurrence, speaking that pure Parisian accent in delicate idio,n French which extracts from the lan- guage all that is most fascinating in it. After apologies on both sides Lord AL fred offered the stranger a cigar, and side by side they rode into Serchon. As they
 rode along the stranger began discoursing
 upon the grandeur of the scenery, the glory of the sunset. the last colors of which were even then fading from the purple peaks. This, of course, gave AL | fred a chance to indulge in some of his cynicism. Why he inquired, should the sun blush at this world witch,
 should think. it ought to know pretty well 1 by this time?' That trick of blushing is e very old one. The courteous stranger began to talk about the society at Ser l chon. Who is the reigning belle?' asked | Alfred. "Why, whom should 1t be but the Countess de Nevers.'' was the reply, and the stranger went on to extol the wit and beauty of Lucille. You speak like d
 lover," cried Lord Alfred. ''No not like
 lover; speak as feel,' returned the stranger, There is that about the Coun- tess de Meyers which prohibits any
 thought of any man rendering her a love which she would not return understand that an Englshman--one of your own countrymen, perhaps; if so and you are
 English l must beg your pardon-once
 trampled on the heart of Lucile-and
 broke it." Pray, sir, who was this Eng lishman?t q know not. but believe the facts to be as stated We are now with- in two miles of Serchon. Scarcely another word did the two
 chance acquaintance exchange until they alighted at the inn and the Frenchmm in- yited Lord Alfred to dinner. Alfred de-