The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1918-11-26
CONFESSIONS
BY AGNES G. BRocAN.

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Judith, in her pretty frock, sat at
the piano and played enchantingly.
Douglas, back among the shadows,
sighed as the tender words came to
him. Something about:
"When breeze of springtime blows the
lilac blooms apart,
The image Of ones first love Is shaken
on ones heart"
"That's true" he murmured invol-
unfairly.
Judith swung around on the stool.
speaking from experienceT she teas
ed, but the serious face Of her f1ancee
checked further raillery.
dearest" he said, "come here. That
pathetic little song has awakened men,
cries; perhaps owe you a confess
sion. I was very insistent you re-
member, probing into your girlish
friendships, to make sure there had
been no other love before me. Your
more generous nature did not require
that assurance.
"What is 1t your song says, Judith?
The image of ones first love Is shaken
on ones heart Well, the pitiful men,
ory that stirs in my heart, but makes
me love you more. Yet, 1t is there,
: every sprlngtime, with the coming Of
the flowers. 1t was spring time when
l met her, the girl who claimed my
first youthful fancy. When I have
told you Of her, the ghost may be for
ever laid, and flowers lose their power
to shake this image on my heart"
The man laughed shortly. IAN un-
easy conscience would be the more
truthful explanation Of my memories"
he said. II had just graduated from
college, when father sent me over to
France to learn that branch Of our
business. My duties brought me in
touch with the peasant class, and
there was among our workers little
maid, golden haired, with the ap-
pealing dark eyes Of child. She was
very shy, Marie.
"She lived farther up In the village,
she told me, and aimlessly one eve
ming / made my way to the cottage
home. Hardly more than one room it
was, and spring flowers blooming all
around. There was white ruffled
curtain in the window, and Marie's
| potted flowers nodding there, too. She
wore white muslin cap on her head,
and her eyes would dance beneath its
saucy fold, as talked my stammering
French"
The man paused, again he sighed. II
thought 1t was love-" he said. "Marie's
invalid mother would call to US cheer
lily from her couch as we sat side by
side on the porch stone at twilight.
And one night, when the scent Of aow-
ers, and the silveriH moonlight SEEM
ed to fill the world with magic, asked
Marie to be my wife.
"Quick and fearful was her accept
ance.
"tMy SOM called the mother from
her couch, and 1t was done. After
that, I know not how, the romance
fled. Evenings upon the porch stone,
grew to be wearisome realities, Marie
with her pretty tricks Of expression
but the amusing peasant girl Of the
workroom."
Douglas paused; Judith, with
catch in her voice spoke.
sand thenT'
81 came away" he answered slowly,
"back to this country"
"The French girl loved your Ju-
dith persisted.
Across the mans eyes flashed a
memory Of Marie's oft-repeated assur-
ance. Impatiently he nodded his head.
His f1ancee arose YEARLY. "You left
her to break her heart" she accused,
"while you found happiness with me.
Do you think can keep you now, Doug
las, with that always between US? Obi"
she turned on him f1ercely, ibid you
send her no consoling messenger Did
you not try to learn what became of
that poor little unhappy thing, with
her sick motherr
81 wrote her." the man answered
doggedly, Saying that 1t had all been
mistake. Her response came, but
much was unintelligible to me-"
Judith's lip curled scornfully. 'If
you still have that letter, may I see
it?' she asked
IT viii bring 1t to you," Douglas
promised. But his flancee shook her
head.
"You may mail It," she said. II
do not wish to see you again until I
have thought things out"
"You mean" he demanded, but
the girl eiuded his outstretched arms.
The scent Of spring flowers seemed
nauseating, as he gloomily passed out
through the garden, then in desperate
resignation Douglas searched out the
old French letter and mailed II.
After a misery Of waiting Judith
summoned him by telephone.
'Marie's letter." she began evenly,
appears also to be confession. The
little peasant girl was marrying you
to benefit her invalid mother. The
true love of her heart, a poor but
honest Frenchman being 'desolated'
thereby. Your departure afforded her
grateful relief. and so as she writes