New Britain herald., 1917-07-24
What Happened When Madge Told Robert SaVarin the Life story
 of Lillian Underwood.

I fairly held my breath while Rob- ert Savarin studied the pictured lace 1 of Lillian Underwood which he helo 1 in his hand. I had told him of the wonderful success she had had in her work, and of the gratitude which was hers to the man who had long ago helped her realize her ambitions lie had replied with a tender eXclama- tion 'the dear, plucky child!' and the l caressing information with when ne pronounced the words had startleo me with it's suggestion of long hidden romance
 Could it be that this man so cruelty buffeted by fate had once been at- tracted by the friend l loved so dear ly? I knew that Lillian, with char acteristic self-depreciation, believed
 that the gifted artist who had aided
 her early ambitions had no thought
 of her other than as one of the re-
 cipients of his many kindly acts
 had shrewdy imagined that the con- sciousness of this indifference had added to the hurt she experienced in putting away from her the girllsh TO- mantle adoration she had felt for the artist in that long ago time.
 I don't know exactly what l eX- pected to hear from Robert Savarin's lips when he should have finally fin ished his inspection of my friend picture-perhaps an impulsive little confidence concerning his own feeling. But he put back the photograph with out comment, and, seating himself by the fire, fell in a brown study, which I did not venture to break.
 When at last he spoke it was with an earnestness that startled me.
 "Who is this MT. Underwood? Does
 he make her happy?"
 Happy" The scornful exclama-. tion broke from me without my real izing it. And I didn't know whether to be sorry or glad I had spoken when I saw the look which flashed into the eyes of the man before me. I felt vaguely as if I were rousing from slumber something which would | not be easy to put to sleep again. of You Don't Wish" But there was one point which I decided in an instant-I would not
 shield Harry Underwood. The truth
 might be dangerous to the peace of mind of Robert Savarin, but the truth 1 meant to tell.
 The artist himself aided my de- cision by the words with which he greeted by involuntary exclamation.
 Il can see that he has failed to make
 her life happy he said slowly
 "Would you be breaking any confi-
 dence in telling me a little about it? 1 have very grave reason for ask ing"
 waited a long minute before answering, for I was debating how much or how little of Lillian's life story I should relate to the man wait ing so eagerly for any particulars concerning her. If Lillian's affairs had not been made the subject of so much unfortunate publicity I should not, of course, have felt free to give Robert Savarin any confidence con- corning her. But I knew that when he re-entered his old world of art and artists 1t would only be a question of time until he would hear Lillian's story, not in the loving light in which I could tell it, but tinged with all the
 breezy cynicism of the studios.
 He broke abruptly into my medtta tions.
 "Of course," he said gravely. "If you don't wish to speak of it, please consider my request not made"
 There was a pathetic cadence in his voice that reused me. and when I raised my eyes and met the hurt dis appointment of his own. I made a swift and startling decision. Was It Wise?
 l would tell Robert Savarin the whole of Lillian Underwoods story as I had heard it from her, from the | time that, helped by his generosity l she had gone to Paris to study. l meant to draw such a portrait of the 1 woman as she really was, with all the l brave self-sacrifice that was hers
 that he never would be able to accept l any other portrayal of her, no matter 1 from what source.
 1 But I do wish to speak of it," 1 answered his tentative question with | decision. T am Lillian Underwood's | dearest friend .and 1 know and un- | derstand her few people do. She 1 has had a tragic life in many respects 1 and she has been wonderful in the 1 way she has met and borne every 1 thing.''
 , he interpolated tensely.
 1 I know" I nodded assent tc his as-
 sertion, and then taking my courage
 in my hands I began Lillian's story. Never had raconteur so attentive a 1 listener before. In fact, his interest 1 in my words was such that before l had progressed far I began to feel de- ! cidedly uncomfortable. His eyes fair l ly blazed into mine as l told him of
 Morton's unspeakable cruelty to Lil-