Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1894-09-06

daughter, then at Villiers. As their
eyes met, something like an electric
shock seemed to pass from one to the
other.
Fielding Clark 2, cried Stern.
Kate gave start. Barry Villiers
Yves Fielding Clark, the dramatist.
Talbot's father was the author of the
play for which they had received the
tickets. She turned an amazed look
upon her father. His face frightened
her. 1t was exultant and denuncia-
tory. For . moment Storms face
seemed to have the same effect upon
Barry Villiers. He seemed discon-
certed, III at ease. In Stern's hands
were the press notices crumpled into
ball. Villiers was the first to regain
his cOmposure.
"Sinclairp' he cried, "John Sim
clair, this Is q surprise"
Stern turned to his daughter.
"Leave us for a moment, Kate, he
said. II have few words to say to
this-this gentleman"
Kate rose, and with a wondering
look at her father quilted the room.
When she was gone he fixed search
ing look on Barry Villiers. That
gentleman promptly held out his
hand. Stern contemptuously disre-
garded it.
al don't know why you are in my
house." he said slowly. ''But no doubt
you can explain it. should say you
are a man who could explain anything.
Perhaps you can explain this" He
held up the crumpled ball Of paper.
These are press notices of play
produced last night. That play was
mine. You stole it. You are . liar
and villainl'
Villiers put down his hat. ''Sin-
clair" he said, and his tones were al
most plaintive, 'you will regret those
words. Yet, they were spoken in the
heat of the moment, and l forgive
YOU"
His retort was so staggering that
Stern gazed at him dazed. He nearly
apologized.
mo doubt, pursued Vilhers, "you
think the worst of me. 1t is not un-
natural. But there are extenuating
circumstances. own the play was
yours. own used it. But at the
time you came to me it was really
lost. had mislaid it. i had no
knowledge of your real name-I take
it that the agreeable young lady who
has just left us is your daughter-I
had no means Of reaching you. I
sought for you; advertised for you
under the name Of Sinclair; in the
tide of London life you were swept
away. Then, Sinclair mean Stern
Il was tempted. There came to me
the great temptation of my life. /
was worked out; q manager stood at
my elbow and l took your play. 1t
was culpable, very culpuble; but
the question is: What are you going
to dor" He paused and looked, not
altogether without anxiety, at the
man he had wronged.
Stern stood before him detected.
To third party he might easily have
been mistaken for the one who was
most to blame. What was he going
to do? The hot fire of vengeance had
died from him. He stood now with
only the cold ashes of lost hopes.
"Of course" said Villiers, ''you
could harm me, prosecute me; but it
would be unchristian )" Stern thought
Of the sandwich boards and glared at
him. "Give me the opportunity,
he went on, hastily, ''of making atone
ment. We are both middle-aged men.
Why live in the past! Why should
we cloud the happiness of others?"
1.-THE happiness of others? What
do you mean?"
"I'll explain" said Villiers. "You
know me as Clark. Villiers is my
name, and Talbot Villiers is my son.
You may not have noticed the like
ness. He takes after his mother"
THANK Cod" cried Stern, fervent-
ly; but the relationship troubled
him.
He loves your daughter. The
match seemed to me an undesirable
one, and l came here to-day to break
iuoff. Now it is the dearest wish of
my heart? Why should we blight
their lives?"
Stern gazed at him amazed. Here
was fresh sophistry. Villiers had
robbed him, and now held out q net
for him. Stern's brain grew hot.
II say we, but, of course mean
you. l have no power to do any
thing. You have the power. II you
are so unchristian as to expose me,
you do so at the price of their happi-
ness, at the price of youth and inno-
cence. You shall have all the money
] took for the play. may be a vii
lain," said Villiers, with virtuous
burst, ''but l have conscience.
This is feeble atonement, Stern;
call it, if you like, the beginning of
one but do you accept it,"
Stern could make no reply. The
desire for vengeance had fled; but in
its place WAS dull longing for JUS
tice. Then he thought of Talbot, of
the afternoon in the Strand. "Go,
now. I'll send you my answer"
He walked as if he were carrying the
boards into the shadow of
the room and sat down on chair.
Barry Villiers stood in the sum
light. He gazed anxiously at Stern,
and was about to open his mouth
when his eyes fell upon the door of
the inner room. 1t had opened, and
Kate Stern stood on the threshold.
With smile Of relief the man of the