the hand that had held, all this while, to the chair,
and balled it into a fist.

"Don't strike him," said Sylvie quietly, not moving from her place by
the door. "Don't ever strike him again--_Ham Rutherford_!"

Hugh's bones seemed to crumble; his knees bent; he leaned back against
the chair, holding to it behind him with both hands. The gun clattered
to the floor. In the silence Sylvie walked across the room and lifted
her face. As if for the first time they saw her eyes, black and
brilliant and young, sharpening the softness of her features. She looked
at Hugh mercilessly, pitilessly.

"I've been able to see you for a long time now, Ham Rutherford," she
said. "And the instant I first saw you, I knew your name. Ever since the
night you told me that story about the river, I've been watching you.
You are a great and infamous liar! Yes, I know that you once killed a
man for telling you that. Kill me if you like, for I am going to repeat
it after him--a liar, hideous and deformed outside and in. I have no
pity for a liar. Not even your physical misfortune shall shield you!
You have made too great a mockery of it. You brought me here, blind, as
helpless as one of the things you catch in your traps, and you played
the hero with me. And you fed me with lies and lies and lies. I've eaten
and drunk them until I'm sick. Now stand up and look at the truth. You
are to eat that until _you_ are sick.--No, Bella; no, Pete; I'm going to
speak; no one can stop me. I know you love him. How you can look at him
and see him as he is and know what he has done and still love him, I
can't understand. Now, Hugh Garth--the name you tried to make me love
you by--I'll tell these people that love you, some of the beautiful
fables with which you tried to win _my_ love. Maybe, then, they will
begin to see you as you are. Here is the first: 'There was once a very
noble youth who had a friend--'"

"Don't!" Hugh groaned pitifully, his head bent before her.

"Perhaps I won't; after all, it's not interesting unless you're fool
enough, or blind enough, to be tricked into fancying it's the truth. But
let me tell them some of the other things. This noble youth, this man
sacrificed his life for his friend and bore the blame of that friend's
guilt. He is as handsome as a Viking, the very ideal of a girl's
imagination, strong and shapely and graceful. Has he a humped shoulder
and a lame leg and a scarred face revealing his scarred soul? Answer
me."

Hug