in his coffin. Would Evelina pace ceaselessly before him then? When
he was in his grave, would she wait eternally at the foot of it, and
would those burning eyes pierce the shielding sod that parted them?
Life had not served to separate them--could he hope that Death would
prove potent where Life had failed?

Ralph came in, tired, having done his father's work for the day. The
room was wholly dark, but he paused upon the threshold, conscious
that some one was there.

"Alone, father?" he called, cheerily.

"No," returned Anthony Dexter, grimly.

"Who's here?" asked Ralph, stumbling into the room. "It's so dark, I
can't see."

Fumbling for a match, he lighted a wax candle which stood in an
antique candlestick on the library table. The face of his father
materialised suddenly out of the darkness, wearing an expression
which made Ralph uneasy.

"I thought," he said, troubled, "that some one was with you."

"Aren't you here?" asked Anthony Dexter, trying to make his voice
even.

"Oh," returned Ralph. "I see."

With the candle flickering uncertainly between them, the two men
faced each other. Sharp shadows lay on the floor and Anthony
Dexter's profile was silhouetted upon the opposite wall. He noted
that the figure of Evelina, pacing to and fro, cast no shadow. It
seemed strange.

In the endeavour to find some interesting subject upon which to talk,
Ralph chanced upon the fatal one. "Father," he began, "you know that
this morning we were speaking of Miss Evelina?"

The tone was inquiring, but there was no audible answer.

"Well," continued Ralph, "I saw her again to-day. And I saw her
face." He had forgotten that his father had seen it, also, and had
told him only yesterday.

Anthony Dexter almost leaped from his chair--toward the veiled figure
now approaching him. "Did--did she show you her face?" he asked with
difficulty.

"No. It was an accident. She often left the front door open for me
when I was attending--Araminta--and so, to-day, when I found it open,
I went in. She was asleep, on the couch in the parlour, and she wore
no veil."

At once, the phantom Evelina changed her tactics. Hitherto, she had
walked back and forth from side to side of his vision. Now she
advanced slowly toward him and as slowly retreated. Her face was no
longer averted; she walked backward cautiously, then advanced. From
behind her veil, he could feel her burning, accusing eyes.

"Father," said Ralph, "