n her face, and if a woman's hand might be in mine
when the Master tells me that I am no longer needed for the music, 't
would make the leaving very easy, and I should not ask for Heaven.

"I've seen, so often, the precious jewel of a woman's love cast aside
by a man who did not know what he had, having blinded himself with
tinsel until his true knowledge was lost. You'll forgive me for my
rambling talk, I'm thinking, for I'm still grieving for the little
chap, and I cannot say yet that I have forgiven."

He rose, slung his flute over his shoulder again, and went slowly
toward the gate. Evelina followed him, to the cypress tree.

"See," he said, turning, "the shadow of the cypress is long. 'T is
because you have not forgiven. I'm thinking it may be easier for us to
forgive together, since it is the same man."

"Yes," returned Evelina, steadily, "the shadow of the cypress is long,
and I never shall forgive."

"Aye," said the Piper, "we'll forgive him together--you and I. I'll
help you, since your hurt is greater than mine. You have veiled your
soul as you have veiled your face, but, through forgiveness, the beauty
of the one will shine out again, and, I'm thinking, through love, the
other may shine out, too. You have hidden your face because you are so
beautiful; you have hidden your soul because you are so sad. I called
you in the woods, and I call you now. I shall never cease calling,
until you come."

He went out of the gate, and did not answer her faint "good-night."
Was it true, as he said, that he should never cease calling her?
Something in her spirit stirred strangely at his appeal, as a far,
celestial trumpet blown from on high might summon the valiant soul of a
warrior who had died in the charge.

XX

The Secret of the Veil

"Father," said Ralph, pacing back and forth, as was his habit, "I have
wanted for some time to ask you about Miss Evelina--the woman, you
know, in the little house on the hill. She always wears a veil and
there can be no reason for it except some terrible disfigurement. Has
she never consulted you?"

"Never," answered Anthony Dexter, with dry lips.

"I remember, you told me, but it seems strange. I spoke to her about
it the other day. I told her I was sure that something could be done.
I offered to find the best available specialist for her, go with her,
and stand by her until it was over."

Anthony Dexter laughed--a harsh, unnatural laugh that jarred upon