An Unpardonable Liar

have no particular reason for drinking the waters, and whose only regimen is getting even with their appetites. He could pick out every order at a glance-he did not need to wait until he saw the tumbl

g, smiling, to their thirty ounces of noisome liquor. Then, there was Baron, the bronzed, idling, comfortable trader from Zanzibar, who, after fifteen years of hide and seek with fever and Arabs and sudden death-wherewith were all manner of accident and sundry profane dealings not intended for The Times or Exeter hall, comes back to sojourn in quiet "Christom" places, a lamb in temper, a lion at heart, an honest soul who minds his own business, is enemy to none but the malicious, and lives in daily wonde

ar swaying impulsion in the walk of both. He walked as far as the gate of the pump-room, then sauntered back, unfolded a newspaper, closed it up again, lit a cigar, and, like Hagar, stood watching the crowd abstractedly. He was an outstanding figure. Ladies, as they waited, occasionally looked at him through their glasses, and the Duchess of Brevoort thought he would make a picturesque figure for a reception-she was not less sure because his manner was neither savage nor suburban. George Hagar was known to some people as "the fellow who looks back of you." Mark Telfo

iately puzzled, for each had a sensation of some subterranean origin. Telford immediately afterward passed out of the gate and went toward the St. Cloud gardens, whe

d to himself, "not to

pheus Richmond, whose beautiful and brilliant waistcoat and brass buttons with monogram adorned showed advantageously in the

dpoint, he did not like him personally, and he said that he never could. He had instinctive likes and dislikes. What had startled him at the pump-room and had made him come to the gardens was the conviction that this was the man to play the part in the scene which, descri

n, whose thoughts being much with the little vices of man, anticipated his wishes and offered him a light. In despair Hagar took it, and asked if he chanced to know who the stranger was. Baron did know, assuring Hagar that he sat on the gentleman's right at the same table in his hotel, and was qualified to introduce him. Before the

the other's shoulder. The hand was dragged down and wrenched back and forth with a sturdy clasp, in time to a roll of round, unctuous laughter. Then Baron took him up hurriedly, and

happy to meet. The talk began with the remark by Hagar on the panorama below them, "that the thing was am

and Judy to marionet

prises, according to the idiosyncrasy of the man in the greenroom." He smiled

njoy the sardonic humor with which Punch hustles off his victims.

st be done, to do

st absolut

been a deal on red carpet in his time, did not prepare him for the sharply incisive words just uttered. Yet it

g accosted by some one, he left the two together, ex

said abruptly, "You were singin

It came slowly toward him. The eyes closed steadily w

What was

hant of the negro woo

rt of Lo

of Tellavi

gh some suspense was over, and then

es, you are the only man I've seen in Herridon who loo

still? You see I've been in a

hat. I confess I c

boorish to be pardoned. On the face of i

nce-was so unusual that I did

coincidence?" said Tel

ions. "That you should be there listening, and that the song should

meet," said

. Presently he added, "May I ask th

use, then, "Certainly

grayish, and he looked straight before him without speaking. At l

essed

if Mrs. Detlor re

chances are she did not; if y

wince still more. A score of things to say or do flashed through his mind, but he gave them up instantly, remembering that it w

her in many years. W

not doing so to-day-that is, if you wish to see her and not merely leave your card-becau

e was cool irony in the tone. "You are tolerab

n to know, because Mrs. Detlor sits for a picture at my stud

thing to Mrs. Detlor about having met

sufficient. Surprises, as you remarked about Punch

d: "Excuse me, I did not say that, though it was said. However, it is

eeping motion-a little mocking exc

him between his teeth, "By

en of might after their kind. The hatred of the better man

the passage of time. He had had no breakfast. He had read none of his letters-they lay in a little heap on his mantelpiece-he was sketching upon the canvas the scene which had possessed him for the past ten or eleven hours. An idea was being born, and it was giving him the distress of bringing forth. Paper after paper

id. "It's right, right. His face shall come i

t the evening before, been shown into the outer room, had playfully parted the curtains between the rooms and entered. She stood for a moment looking at

d, eager, his face shining with a look

He understood. "Yes, I know," he said, "the light comedy manner." He

him to the canvas, from the canvas to him, and then made a l

lied, "and a wicked one, when the

mute, confiding tenderness in the action more telling than any speech. The woman had had a brilliant, varied, but lonely life. It must still be lonely, though now the pleasant vista of a new career kep

or some refreshments and presented both with a rose from a bunch upon the table. The young girl was perfectly happy to be allo

for a time, as though to enter into the spirit of it again; then turned to his model. She was no longer Mrs. Detlor, but his subject, near to him as his canvas and th

gh sweet, awesomely beautiful, girlish features; and though the work was but begun there was already th

en he paused. "Would you

it purposely to look more like Telford. She saw her own face first. It shone out of the canvas. She gave a

udder. That-that is like

id, "I saw him this morning

her feet, caught up a brush and put it into his hand. "Paint in

. "You hate him?" he sa

k her head wearily, as to some one f

been in low tones, that they might not be

"-she pointed to the picture-"and to remind me not to care for anything too much lest it should prove to b

as and, after a moment, filled in from memory the face of Mark

es he drew back

t; only you have added what I saw at ano

her to a seat, then s

t seemed to me you would understand. Yet I hope men like you forget w

to liste

disappointment. When that thing happened"-her eyes were on the picture, dry and hard-"he came forward, determined-so he said-to make the deceiver pay for his deceit with his life. It seemed brave, and what a man would do, what a southerner would do. He was an Englishman, and so it looked still more brave in him. He went to the man's rooms and offered him a chance for his life by a

r gi

o the cousin who had periled his life

t up, went to the archway between the rooms and asked the young girl to play so

matter. Is there anything more shameful than speculation in flesh and blood-the heart and life of a child?-he was so much older than she! Life to her was an hourly pain-you see she was wild with indignation and shame, and alive with a kind of gratitude and reaction when she

ve it into his hand. It was warm-it had lain on her bosom. His hand, generally so steady, tr

you must no

ed, but still held the minia

d a part. She came to know how coarse a

but there is nothing sure, and the woman would not believe that he was dead unless she saw him so or some one she cou

aid, "and I will honor your confidence. To the worl

ut I have not done so these many years. Who would think that of me?-I who sing

here are better days coming f

? I cannot think there will be anythi

ness natural to an honorable man roused in him

n one side. Fairfax Detlor was a coward; and whatever tha

aid "Let me make

outlines she rose, came to him and said, "You kno

or an instant. "It is brutal of me. I did no

ly. "You are very ambitious. You needed, you said to me once, a simple but powerful subject which you could paint in with some one's l

ave

s you ought to be to move the public * * * well? * * * do you think

Godiva passed through the streets of Coventry, as hushed and as solemn. A sob shook in his throat-he was of few but strong emotions; he reached out, took her wrists in his hands, and held them

say it!" she said. "You forget; do not make me fear you and hate myself. * * * I wanted to be your

aim my love-if you would have it, dear-to all the world. * * * And

elp you. Believe me, that is the first thought. For the rest I am-shall I say it?-the derelict of a life; and I can onl

hrough the window-"I say, Hagar, are you there? Shall I come in or wait on the mat till the slavey arrives. *

way into the room. As Baron entered, Hagar and Mrs. Detlor were just

Afrikander genially, determining to have the matter out with him in some sarcastic moment later. Baron's hesitation, however, continued. He stammered, and was evidently trying to account for his call by giving some other reason than the real one, which was undoubtedly held back because of Mrs.

Detlor turned to the mantelpiece. "We are full up; ev

y, then a painful recognition came into them. She had seen that writing before, that slow sliding scrawl unlike any other, never to be mistaken. It turned her sick. Her fingers ran up to the envelope, then drew back. She felt for an instant that she must take it and open it as she stood there. What had the writer of that letter to do with George Hagar? She glanced at the postmark. It was South Hampstead. She knew that he lived in South Hampstead. The voices behind her grew indistinct; she forgot where she was. She did not know how long she stood there so, nor that Baron, feeling, without reason, the necessity for making conversation, had suddenly turned the

Detlor on the sofa. It was only a sudden faintness. The water re

d about that accident," he

of me-let us go, dear," she added to the young girl; "I shall be better for the open air-I have had a

ron to himself as Hagar showed Mrs. Detlor to a la

at the excursion if you are well

ou have not read your letters this morning." He looked after her for

went over to the mantel and adjusted the mirror, thinking the while of Mrs. Detlor's last words. "You haven't read you

d not touched them and had, therefore, only seen this one which lay on top. "Could she have meant anything to do with this?" He tapped it upw

Baron meditatively but unconsciously. Baron, understanding the loo

used, went over to the archway and drew the curtai

er so long-is staying at the View House there with the Margraves, whom, also, I think, you do not know. I am going down to-morrow, and will introduce you all to each other. May I ask you to call on me ther

GLAD

his pocket. Then he said to Baron, "What did you say

, 'cometh up as a flower,' and al

"You are in love with her, Baron. Isn't it-

ed: "Handicap, my son, handicap? Of course, it's all handicap. But what difference does that make when it strikes you? You can

shoulder. It was now Hagar's turn. He drew down the hand and wrung it

She's a wise woman, I believe, if ever there was one; sound as the angels, or

one subject to another, pulled a letter out of his pocket and said: "But maybe this is of more importance to Mrs. Detlor than my foo

er known beyond doubt. The vessel was wrecked and

it-and was shot but not killed. Meneely brought him to the coast, and put him into a hospital, and said he was going to ship him to England right a

s and defeat all in a moment. There was grim irony in it. "Yes,

You'll do it as it ough

ight,

d of expression. Baron came awkwardly to him and spoke with a stumbling

think of what

t from you; but I'm a rowdy colonial and I'm damned if I take it bac

at last came to a quiet place where she had been accustomed to sit. As she neared it she saw pieces of an envelope lying on the ground. Something in the writing caught her ey

raves, who did not know her origin, but who had taken her once when her mother was ill and had afterward educated her with their own daughter. What had Ida Folger to do with George Hagar, the man who (it was a joy and yet an agony to her) was more to her than she dared to think? Was this woman for the second time to play a part-and what kind of part-in her life? What was Mark Telford to John Gladney? The thing was n

d how cheerful and amiable Mrs. Detlor was. But George Hagar saw tha

were to return by moonlight. Baron did not tell them that a coach from the View hotel had also gone there earlier, a

ssness of an Arab; and his skill had increased with years. This six in hand was, as he said, "nuts to Jacko." Mildred was delighted. From the first moment she had seen this man she had been attracted to him, but in a fashion as to gray headed Mr. Margrave, who sang her praises to everybody-not infrequently to the wide open ears of Baron. At last she hinted very faintly to the military officer who sat on

. He came on slowly thinking how strange it was that he, who had spent years in the remotest corners of the world, having for his companions men adventurous as himself, and barbarous tribes, should be here. His life, since the day he left his home in the south, had been sometimes as useless as creditable. However, he was not of such stuff as to spend an hour in useless remorse. He had made his bed, and he had lain on it without gr

ceness, for, if he had wronged her, he felt that he too had been wronged, though he could never, and wou

three scenes in his life-two of which we know; the other, when his aged father turned from him dying and would not speak to him. The ancient peace of this place mocked these other scenes and places. He came into the long, unroofed aisle, with its battered sides and floor of soft tu

agar and Mrs. Detlor were walking by themselves. Mrs. Detlor was speaking almost breath

e. She asks me to do another, of which I am as