times, yes, if she would stoop so low! What
man is worthy of a woman who saves his life at the risk of her own?"

"Disfigured? asked Evelina, in an odd voice.

"Yes," cried Ralph, "with the scars she bore for him!"

There was a tense, painful interval. Miss Evelina was grappling with a
hideous temptation. One word from her, and she was revenged upon
Anthony Dexter for all the years of suffering. One word from her, and
sure payment would be made in the most subtle, terrible way. She
guessed that he could not bear the condemnation of this idolised son.

The old pain gnawed at her heart. Anthony Dexter had come back, she
had had her little hour of triumph, and still she had not been freed.
The Piper had told her that only forgiveness could loosen her chains.
And how could Anthony Dexter be forgiven, when even his son said that
he was a coward and a cur?

"I--" Miss Evelina's lips moved, then became still.

"And so," said Ralph, "you have gone veiled ever since, for the sake of
that beast?"

"No, it was for my own sake. Do you wonder that I have done it? When
I first realised what had happened, in an awful night that turned my
brown hair white, I knew that Love and I were strangers forevermore.

"When I left the hospital, I was obliged, for a time, to wear it. The
new skin was tender and bright red; it broke very easily."

"I know," nodded Ralph.

"There were oils to be kept upon it, too, and so I wore the veil. I
became accustomed to the shelter of it. I could walk the streets and
see, dimly, without being seen. In those days, I thought that,
perhaps, I might meet--him."

"I don't wonder you shrank from it," returned Ralph. His voice was
almost inaudible.

"It became harder still to put it by. My heart was broken, and it
shielded me as a long, black veil shields a widow. It protected me
from curious questions. Never but once or twice in all the twenty-five
years have I been asked about it, and then, I simply did not answer.
People, after all, are very kind."

"Were you never ill?"

"Never, though every night of my life I have prayed for death. At
first, I clung to it without reason, except what I have told you, then,
later on, I began to see a further protection. Veiled as I was, no man
would ever love me again. I should never be tempted to trust, only to
be betrayed. Not that I ever could trust, you understand, but still,
sometimes," concluded Miss Evelina, piteously, "I think the he