xpected. The
light within was truth--truth. It seemed that in a world of sham and
illusions and evasions this one woman had understood, had lived with
truth.

The man laughed. A low, mirthless, dry laugh that was nearer to a
sob.

"Was that it, Lucy?" he queried. "Truth? Then let us have a little
truth, for once! I'll tell you some truth!

"I lied a while ago. He did _not_ die a soldier's death. I told the
same lie to you long ago. Words. Words. And yet you went to Heaven
happy because I lied to you and kept on lying to you. Words. And yet
you died a happy woman, because of that lie.

"He lied to you. He took you from me with lies. Words. Lies. And yet
they made you happy. Where is truth?

"You lived happy and died happy with a lie. Because I lied like what
they call a man and a gentleman. _Truth!_"

He looked searchingly, wonderingly at the face before him. Did he
expect to see the light fade out, to see the face wither under the
bitter revelation?

"I've been everything," he went on, still trying to make his point,
"I've done everything, that men say I've been and done. Why?

"Well--Why?" he asked sharply. "Did it make any difference?

"Hard, grasping, tricky, men call me that to my face--sometimes.
Well--Why not? Does it make any difference? Did it make any difference
with you? If I had thought it would-- But it didn't. Lies, trickery,
words! They served with you. They made you happy. _Truth!_"

But as he looked into the face and the smiling light of truth
persisted in it, there came over his soul the dawn of a wonder. And
the dawn glowed within him, so that it came to his eyes and looked out
wondering at a world remade.

"Is it true, Lucy?" he asked gently. "Can that be _truth_, at last? Is
that what you mean? Did you, deep down, somewhere beneath words and
beneath thoughts, did you, did you really understand--a little? And do
you, somewhere, understand now?

"Then tell me. Was it worth the lies? Down underneath, when you
understood, which was the truth? The thing I did--which men would call
fine? Or was it the words?

"Is that it? Is that the truth, Lucy? Was it the fine thing that was
really the truth, and did you, do you, know it, after all? Is there
truth that lives deep down, and did you, who were made of truth, did
you somehow understand all the time?"

He sat awhile, wondering, questioning; finally believing. Then he
said:

"Lucy, a man out there wants his answer. I will not speak it to h