An Unpardonable Liar

m roun an de

er your chillu

long way up de

place whar de s

d comes in

njo, then put her hand flat upon them to stop the vibration and smiled round on her admire

g it for years and years, and I should have to think too hard-no,

here came through the window fa

p an lo

urden on

ugh her smile a kind of frightened surprise, but she di

the prompter was, but the host-of intuitive perception-saw that this might not be agreeable to the

s. Detlor seemed in a dream, though her lips still smiled and her eyes wandered pleasantly over the heads of the company. Sh

ightly, then warmly, and her voi

p an lo

urden on

an git

rd comes i

d comes in

d songs, so that even those present who had never heard an Americanized negro sing we

the first note one of the young girls present made a start for the window. Mrs. Detlor laid

rent most to George Hagar. The others only saw the

ssed an arm round her shoulder. This was pleasant to the young girl.

f rain. The chant continued for about a minute. While it lasted Mrs. Detlor sat motionless and her hands lay lightly on the shoulders of the young girl. Hagar dropped his foot on the floor at marching intervals-by instinct he had caught at the meaning of the sou

e occurrence had been ordinary. "It is a chant hummed by the negro woodcutter

lpheus Richmond was the name by which his godmother knew him.

or, the Prince desired greatly to appear familiar with people and thin

her then and there to ride with him on the morrow, but he remembered that he could drive much better than he could

it?" said t

the flaring Alpheus, a jewel

e voice, but he felt that she did not wish the matter to go farther. The thing was irregular if he w

urther development of the incident. Her mind was in a whirl of memories. There was

when he stepped quickly between the Prince and the win

an has done us a service; otherwise we had lost the best ha

d the other protestingly as he

of his will as he knew it, and believing that he acted firmness without possessing it, save where he was purely s

ation and asked Baron to sing "The Banks o' Ben Lomond," feeling sure that Mrs. Detlor did not wish to sing again. Again she sent him a quick look of thanks and wa

oo gentlemen brought by sons who ate their legal dinners near Temple Bar; invalided officers from Hongkong, Bombay, Aden, the Gold Coast and otherwhere; Australian squatters and their daughters; attaches of foreign embassies; a prince from the Straits Settlements; priests withou

e methods of the true traveler. He never was guilty of sightseeing in the usual sense. But it was his habit to get general outlines fixed at once. In Paris, in London, he had taken a map, had gone to some central spot, and had studied the cities from there; had traveled in different directions merely to get his bearings. After t

d valley wrapped in that green. He saw it under an almost cloudless sky, a

is like getting a peep over the wall on the other side-the other side of Jordan. An

ng is certain, there'd have been bad luck for both of us, this way or that, with a woman in the equation. He was a fool-that's the way it looked, and I was a liar-to all appearances, and there's no heaven on earth for either. I've s

r, suddenly remembered something. He puffed the cigar fiercely and immediately drew

can't go for another three days, and he needing the dollars. *

can't flood a memory with cognac. I've tried it. For God's sake don't drink any more. What's the use? Smile in the seesaw of the knives. You can only be killed once, and, believe me, there's twice the fun in taking bad luck naked, as it were. Do you remember the time you and I and Ned Bassett, the H.B. company's man, struck the camp of bloods on the Gray Goose river? How the squaw lied and said he was the trader that dropped their messenger in a hot spring, and they began to peel Ned before our eyes? How he said as they drew the first chip fr

found your wife, and she wasn't as straightforward as you are, Jack Gladney, I'd as like as not get things in a tangle. You know I thought it would be better to let things sleep-resurrections are uncomfortable things mostly. However, here I am to do what's possible. What have I done? Nothi

e full particulars next mail. I'm just off to Herridon for the waters. Can you think it, Gladney-Mark Telford, late of the H.B.C, coming down to that? But it's a fact. Lunch

is pocket, tore up the envelope and let it fall to the ground. Presently he said: "I'll cable the money over a

sash which just peeped from beneath his waistcoat-in all, striking, yet not bizarre, and notably of gentlemanlike manner. What arrested attention most, however, was his voice. People who heard it invariably turned to look or listened from sheer pleasure. It was of such penetrating clearness that if he spoke in an ordinary tone it carried far. Among the Indian

in evidence at wild west shows, or as poets from a western Ilion, who ride in the Row with sombrero, cloak and Mexican saddle. Indeed, a certain officer of Indian infantry, who had once picked up some irregular French in Egypt and at dinner made remarks on Telford's personal appearance to a pretty

irm, chuckled coarsely and winked at the waiter, and Baron, the Afrikander trader, who sat next to Telford, ordered champagne on the strength of it. The bronzed, weather worn face of Telford showed imperturbable, but his eyes were struggling with a strong kind of humor. The officer flushed to the hair, accepted the grapes, smiled foolishly, and acknowledged-swallowi

his father's eyes, filled him with bits of poetry and fine language, so that he knew Heine, Racine and Beranger and many another. But this was made endurable to the father by the fact that, by nature, the boy was a warrior and a scapegrace, could use his fists as well as his tongue, and posed as a Napoleon with the negro children in the pl

ong willow rod in his hand, a cocked hat on his head, a sword at his side-a real sword once belonging to a li

nt down over the esplanade and into quiet streets. The little occurrence at the dinner table had set him upon a train of thoughts which he had tried to avoid for many years. On principle he would not dwell

chords were such as are only brought forth by those who have learned them to melodies of the south. He stopped before the house and leaned upon the fence. He heard the voice go shivering through a negro hymn, which was among the first he had ever known. He

uddenly the voice stopped. There was a murmur within. It came to him indistinctly.

p an lo

urden on

e he had left there, nor any there hum it except those who knew the negroes well. Of an evening, in the hot, placid south, he had listened to it come floating over the sugarcane and through the brake and go c

e high road, and I'

in Scotlan

rue love will

bonnie banks

s merely, so apathetic-his feelings were playing at full tide. To him they were the idle, intrusive spectators of his trouble. All else was dark about him save where on the hill the lights of the Tempe hotel showed, and a man and woman, his arm round her, could b

ed his hat to it, walked quickly out into the road and made his way to the View hotel. As he came upon the veranda Mildred Margrave passed him. He saw the shy look of interest in her face, an

lad on some mission for Mrs. Detlor, which, he was determined, should be permanent so far as that evening was concerned. He was soon walking alone with her on the terrace. He did not force the conversation, nor try to lead it to the event of the evening, which, he felt, was more important than others guessed. He knew also that she did not care to talk just then. He had never had any difficulty in conversation with her-they had a singular rapport. He had traveled much, seen more, remembered everything, was shy to austerity with people who did not interest him,

ncisively-he was not fluent. He etched in speech; he did not paint. She looked up at him once or twice as if some thought was running paral

act," she said, "

" he replied, smiling. "I am glad t

laughed softly. "I

in, others which make us anxious to live

kind of fear. You

n show certain tra

each other, but to women they often speak freely, and it mak

swer, but he wanted, not from me

n, chiefly money. Life itself-home, happiness, the affec

mood," he answered. "I need time to

or-or satirical, only look to me to be amiable and merry. 'Your onl

ertinent if I say I do not like your irony. The other character suits yo

irds. That sounds sentimental to a man, doesn't it? But then that is the way a happy girl-a child

hen, do

light in her eyes. "I en

hesitated to reply. He was afraid that he might say something to press a confiden

d: "I am placing you in an awkward position. Pardon me. It seemed

did friend," he replied firm

hastily. "One is s

ith a

nce to any other woman. All wome

lieve that a

Women are creatures of impulse, except those who live mechani

ect, it is not a confessional I would

speak of that incident, and you hesitate. You need not. Yet this is all I can

she was moved. He was curious as to human em

's chant which were added to the tradition

t recognize

cies things, and it was

epeated musingly after her. He was

ld me so. You are ambitious. If you were a dramatist, I would give you three acts of a play-t

ch sent a glow over all her features. In herself she was an inspiration to him, but he had

suddenly came to her that she would be giving a secret into this m

said, "you may tru

h as one sees oftenest in the eyes of children, yet she had seen the

d to him," he said. "It becomes himsel

filling with people, so they went upon the veranda and sat do

serious. Assume your light comedy manner as you listen, and I will wea

," he said. "I shall look forbidd

re quie

t tell you the story, I will try and picture one scene. And when I have finished, tell me if you don't think

usual. She wished to be by herself to wonder how it was that one could be so happy. You see, she was young and did not think often. She only lived. She took a horse and rode far away into the woods. She came near a cottage among the trees. She got off her horse and led it. Under

he smiled and bowed once or twice, but Haga

h for your picture?

ul. Yet there is beauty in it,

r you look at it as an artist. You see s

denly became a woman-as the serious day bre

she said, "but you have no model for

paint you in the scen

as she was; am not-

in the girl's face. I can

d away into the dusk. There was silence for a long time now. His cigar burned brightly. Peop

s," she said gayly, yet w

thrown away

eaded to hear. She was not free (at leas

that girl, God k

ish. She could have thrived on happiness. She did not n

quel wa

ibly

tell me-

eyes and forehead. "You are not asking merely as the art

e wishes to be a friend to that wom

hen she might n

She had said all she could unti

," she said.

a key to the mind of the girl. What did she say

hrough and through. Presently she drew a ring from h

. That is wh

of his cigar he rea

n a window looking out on th

d as God's in heaven I've never forgott