ill be in her
right mind to-morrow and frantic to get hold of you again and get you to
forgive her. Oh, I know her. And I don't want her to get hold of you
again. I want you to be quit of her. I want you to see, as clear as day,
how your husband was right about Mercedes, all along."

"Oh, do not speak of him--" Karen moaned, covering her face as she sat on
the bed beside Mrs. Talcott.

"I ain't going to speak about him. I'm going to tell you about me and
Mercedes," said Mrs. Talcott. "I'm going to explain Mercedes. And I'm
going way back to the very beginning to do it."

"Explain it to me. What is she? Has it all been false--all her
loveliness?"

"I don't know about false," said Mrs. Talcott. "Mercedes ain't all bad;
not by a long shot. She feels good sometimes, like most folks, when it
ain't too much trouble. You know how it began, Karen. You know how I'm a
sort of connection of Mercedes's mother and I've told you about Dolores.
The prettiest creature you ever set eyes on. Mercedes looks like her;
only it was a softer face than Mercedes's with great, big black eyes. I
can see her now, walking round the galleries of that lovely house in New
Orleans with a big white camellia in her black hair and a white muslin
dress, standing out round her--like they wore then; singing--singing--so
young and happy--it almost breaks my heart to think about her. I've told
you about Mercedes's father, too, Pavelek Okraski, and how he came out
to New Orleans and gave lessons to Dolores Bastida and made love to her
on the sly and got her to run away with him--poor silly thing. When I
think it all over I seem to piece things out and see how Mercedes came
to be what she is. Her mother was just as sweet and loving as she could
be, but scatter-brained and hot-tempered. And Pavelek was a mighty mean
man and a mighty bad man, too, a queer, tricky, sly sort of man; but
geniusy, with very attractive manners. Mercedes has got his eyes and his
way of laughing; she shows her teeth just like he used to do when he
laughed. Well, he took Dolores off to Poland and spent all her money as
fast as he could get it, and then Senor Bastida and the two boys--nice,
hot-tempered boys they were and perfect pictures--all got killed in a
vendetta they had with another family in Louisiana, and poor Senora
Bastida got sick and died and all the family fortunes went to pieces and
there was no more home and no more money either, for Dolores. She just
lost everything st