An Unpardonable Liar

(1900)

CHAPTER I.

AN ECHO.



"O de worl am roun an de worl am wide--
O Lord, remember your chillun in de mornin!
It's a mighty long way up de mountain side,
An day aint no place whar de sinners kin hide,
When de Lord comes in de mornin."

With a plaintive quirk of the voice the singer paused, gayly flicked the
strings of the banjo, then put her hand flat upon them to stop the
vibration and smiled round on her admirers. The group were applauding
heartily. A chorus said, "Another verse, please, Mrs. Detlor."

"Oh, that's all I know, I'm afraid," was the reply. "I haven't sung it for
years and years, and I should have to think too hard--no, no, believe me,
I can't remember any more. I wish I could, really."

A murmur of protest rose, but there came through the window faintly yet
clearly a man's voice:

"Look up an look aroun,
Fro you burden on de groun"--

The brown eyes of the woman grew larger. There ran through her smile a
kind of frightened surprise, but she did not start nor act as if the
circumstance were singular.

One of the men in the room--Baron, an honest, blundering fellow--started
toward the window to see who the prompter was, but the host--of intuitive
perception--saw that this might not be agreeable to their entertainer and
said quietly: "Don't go to the window, Baron. See, Mrs. Detlor is going to
sing."

Baron sat down. There was an instant's pause, in which George Hagar, the
host, felt a strong thrill of excitement. To him Mrs. Detlor seemed in a
dream, though her lips still smiled and her eyes wandered pleasantly over
the heads of the company. She was looking at none of them, but her body
was bent slightly toward the window, listening with it, as the deaf and
dumb do.

Her fingers picked the strings lightly, then warmly, and her voice rose,
clear, quaint and high:

"Look up an look aroun,
Fro you burden on de groun,
Reach up an git de crown,
When de Lord comes in de mornin--
When de Lord comes in de mornin!"

The voice had that strange pathos, veined with humor, which marks most
negro hymns and songs, so that even those present who had never heard an
Americanized negro sing were impressed and grew almost painfully quiet,
till the voice fainted away into silence.

With the last low impulsion, however, the voice from without began again
as if in reply. At the first note one of the young girls present made a
start for the window. Mrs. Detlor laid a hand upon her arm. "No," she
said, "you will spoil--the effect. Let us keep up the mystery."

There was a strange, puzzled look on her face,