The Birmingham age-herald., 1923-03-11
The Lost Garden

Will you take clgarette! l asked, seeing that the story was about to com mence, and knowing that he was an in- veterate smoker.
 He raised the open case passed him and examined the contests with idle curiosity. For that moment, at least, they had no meaning to him. That little incident made me more i'll at east than anything which had happened before. As he pushed the case back to me he began:
 ''When I was boy in New Orleans, I loved Marie Vivrain, and she loved me, and it was always planned from our childhood that we should marry. You see that talk glibly of love, but that is the privilege of old age, is it not?
 Tn fact, there was no mystery about love for us two, and we had taken it for granted since childhood that we would go through life hand in hand, just as we walked every day to school. It was a happy match, everyone said, for we were both rich, and we were a fine couple to watch at a dance on horseback-it made no difference where.
 ''You see, was not a clown, sir, and Marie was beautiful. All New Orleans waited for the announcement of the date of our wedding, and all New Orleans was at the ball at which it was to be told"
 He paused and drank from his goblet in the way that fine wine should be drunk first with little bow to me, and then a long, slow draft. He set it down with the same slow motion, and those unusually black young eyes were staring into the past with glance of fire. In them I saw the splendor of that ball. heard the hum of hrnl Vxrsth laughter, saw the swirl of the dance. By canting my CT I could almost catch the trembling complaint of the violin.
 Wherever we danced, wherever, we walked, we were the center from which laughter and happiness radiated. How gay we were how gay! Then the great moment cme, and we stood hand in hand halfway up the great staircase, and the father of Marie was below us and spoke to the crowd of young, upturned faces.
 "Out of them all I chose one pair of eyes I suppose it was because he was so tall and loomed above the rest. Also, he was yellow-haired, and all the rest were of the southern darkness.
 "Still it WIS more than a matter of height or the color of his hair. It was the hunger of his eyes as they fell upon Marie. It made tbe hot blood run to my face at first, and then I turned to Marie, and for the first time knew how I loved her. Her father finished speaking there was cheer ing and -clapping of hands, and Marie was on the step below me blushing and laughing up to me and driving me down so that we could lose ourselves in the crowd. Down we ran through shower of roses and came at the foot of the stairs into swirl of people, score reaching for my hand at the same moment.
 "That was how lost Marie The num- bers swept her away, and when the con- fusion and excitement died down she was not near me. broke from the circle and started to find her, and the moment began to search a deep uneasiness came over me and grew as l went from room to room through the big mansion. Still there was no trace of her until I came to little alcove away from the noise of the ball. room. The moment crossed the threshold l saw Marie standing close to that fellow with the yellow hair and the unbearably bright eyes.
 ''He held her hands and leaned above her, and she looked up, partly fascinated oH0 PoAIAy tCAAIICus COulO uOC near the words, but the deep, impassioned murmur of his voice was enough.
 'I am of French descent, sir, and like that people, my temper rises quickly. There was a devil in me when stepped before them-a devil that made Marie shrink away and that turned the man pale when he faced me. Yet he was cool.
 '1 said: Marie, I have not been pre- sented to your friend.'
 "And her small voice answered me: This