Waterbury evening Democrat., 1906-10-22

reason why she should ever meet him l again. He was, so far as she knew, married to Millicent Chyne more than year ago, although she had never seen the announcement of the wedding. He had drifted into Loango and into her life by the merest accident. and now that the simiacine plateau had been finally abandoned there was no reason why any of the original finders should come to Loango again. And the creepers were pushed aside by one who knew the method of their growth. A silver glory of moonlight fell on the veranda floor, and the man of whom she was thinking stood be- fore her.
 You" she exclaimed. Yes"
 She rose, and they shook hands. They stood looking at each other for Q few moments, and thousand things that had never been said seemed to be understood between them. "Why have you come?" she asked abruptly.
 ITO tell you story"
 She looked up with sort of half smile, as If she suspected some pleas antry of which she had not yet de- tected the drift.
 "A long story" he explained, (which has not even the merit of being amus- ing Please sit down again"
 She obeyed him.
 The curtain of hanging leaves and flowers had fallen into place again. The shadowed tracery was on her dress and on the floor once more. He stood in front of her and told her his story, as Sir John had suggested. He threw no romance into it, at- tempted DO extenuation, but related the plain, simple facts of the last few years with the semi-cynical suggestion of humor that was sometimes his. And the cloak of pride that had fallen upon his shoulders made him hide much that was good. while he dragged forward his own shortcomings. She listened in silence. At times there lowered round her lips smile It usually came when he represented himself in a bad light. and there was a suggestion of su- perior wisdom in 1t as if she knew something of which he was ignorant
 He was never humble. It was not a confession. It was not even an ox- planation, but only story; very lame story indeed. which gained noth- ing by the telling. And he was not the hero of 1t.
 And all came about as wise old Sir John Meredith had predicted. It is not our business to record what Jocelyn said. Women-the best of them-have some things in their hearts which can only be said once to one person. Men cannot write them down: pictures can not print them.
 The lame story was told to the end, and at the end 1t was accepted. When Sir Johns name was mentioned-when the interview in the library of the great London house was briefly touched upon-Jack saw the hutter of small lace pocket handkerchief. and at no other time. The slate was wiped clean. and 1t almost seemed that Jocelyn preferred it thus with the scratches upon 1t where the writing had been.
 Maurice Gordon did not come back in an hour. It was nearly 10 o'clock before they heard his footstep on the gravel. By that time Jocelyn had heard the whole story. She had asked one or two questions which somehow cast a different light upon the narra- tive. and she had listened to the an swers with a grave. judicial little smile-the smile of judge whose yer dict was preordained. whose knowl- edge had nothing to gain from evi- dence
 Because she loved him she took his story and twisted it and turned 1t to a shape of her own liking. Those items which he had considered i'm portant she passed over as trifes; the trifles she magnified into the corner stones upon which the edifice was built She set the lame story upon It's legs, and 1t stood upright. She believed what he had never told, and much that he related she chose to dis credit-because she loved him. She perceived motives where he assured her there were none: she recognized fhe force of circumstance where he took the blame to himself-because she loved him. She maintained that the past was good: that he could not have acted differently: that she would not have had 1t otherwise-because she loved him.
 And who shall say that she was wrong?
 Jack went out to meet Maurice Cor don when they heard his footsteps. and as they walked back to the house he told him. Gordon was quite honest about 1t.
 T hoped" he said, "when I ran against you in the woods that that was why you had come back. Moth ing could have given me greater hap pIness. Hang it. I am glad. old chap-
 They sat far into the night arrang- Ing their lives. Jack was nervously anxious to get back to England He could not ri his mind of the picture he had seen as he left his fathers presence 10 2, and take his passage to Africa-the picture Of an old man sit ting in a stiG backed chair before a dying fire. Moreover. he was afraid of Africa. The irritabilIty of Africa had laid It's hand upon him almost as soon