Pine Bluff daily graphic., 1918-07-06
CONFESSIONS
By AGNES C. eRocAN.

Douglas, back among the shadows, sighed as the tender words came to him. Something about:
 "When breeze of sprinstime blows the
 lilac blooms apart,
 The image of ones first love is shaken
 on ones heart"
 "That's true," he murmured invol. untarily.
 Judith swung around on the stool. Speaking from experience?" she teas ed, but the serious face of her flancee checked further raillery.
 Dearest" he said, "come here. That pathetic little song has awakened nem- ories; perhaps owe you 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 mem- ory that stirs in my heart. but makes me love you more. Yet. it Is there. every springtime. with the coming of the flowers. It was spring time when I 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. "An un- easy conscience would be the more truthful explanation of my memories" he said. "I 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 ne, and aimlessly one eve ming I made my way to the cottage home. Hardly more than one room 1t was, and spring flowers blooming all around. There was white rufled curtain Tn the. window. and Marie's potted flowers nodding there, too, She wore white muslin cap on her head, and her eyes would dance beneath it's saucy fold, as talked my stammering French"
 The man paused, again he sighed. 'I thought it was love-" he said. "Marie's invalid mother would. call to us cheer fly from her couch as we sat side by side on the porch stone at twilight. And one night, when the scent of flow CTS, and the stlvefing moonlight seem- ed to fill the world with magic, l asked Marie to be my wife.
 "Quick and fearful was her accept ance.
 "'My sonr called the mother from her couch, and 1t was done. After that, know not how. tie romance fled. Evenings upon the porch stone, grew to he wearisome realities, Marie with her pretty tricks of expression but the amusing peasant girl of the workroom." >-s.
 Douglas paused; Judith. with a catch in her. voice spoke.
 "And then?" .e
 '1 came away" he answered slowly. 'back to this country"
 "The French girl loved you?" Ju- dith persisted.
 Across the mans. eyes flashed 6 memory of Marie's oft-repeated assur- ance. Tmpatiently he nodded his head.
 His fiancee arose wearily. "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? Oh r she turned on him fercely. "did you send her no consol;Ig message? Did you not try to learn what became of that poor little unhappy thing, with her, sick mother7"
 'I wrote her," the men answered doggedly. "saying that 1t had all been a mistake. Her response came, but much was unintelltgible to me-"
 Judith's lip curled scornfully. eff you still have that letter. may I see it?" she asked.
 F'"I will bring 1t to you." Douglas promised. But his dancee shook her head.
 "You may mall it." she said. "I do not wish to sec you again until I have thought things out"
 'You mean-f' he demanded. but the girl eluded his, outstretched arms.
 The scent of spring flowers seemed nauseating. as he gfoomily passed out through the garden, then in desperate resignation Douglas searched out the old French letter and mailed 1t.
 After a misery of waiting Judith summoned him by telephone. <,
 @'Aiarie'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. All was well that ended well.'"
 Douglas SpOke eagerly: If Marie