Aaron King listened, amazed.
"I don't think I understand," said Mrs. Taine, coldly.
"No? That is what Miss Willard proposes to explain," returned the novelist.
She turned haughtily toward the woman with the disfigured face. "What can this poor creature say to anything I propose?"
Myra Willard answered gently, sadly, "Have you no kindness, no sympathy at all, madam? Is there nothing but cruel selfishness in your heart?"
"You are insolent," retorted the other, sharply. "Say what you have to say and be brief."
Myra Willard drew close to the woman and looked long and searchingly into her face. The other returned her gaze with contemptuous indifference.
"I have been sorry for you," said Myra Willard slowly. "I have not wished to speak. But I know what you said to Sibyl, here in the studio; and I overheard what you said to Mr. King, a few minutes ago. I cannot keep silent."
"Proceed," said Mrs. Taine, shortly. "Say what you have to say, and be done with it."
Myra Willard obeyed. "Mrs. Taine, twenty-six years ago, your guardian, the father of James Rutlidge won the love of a young girl. It does not matter who she was. She was beautiful and innocent That was her misfortune. Beauty and innocence often bring pain and sorrow, madam, in a world where there are too many men like Mr. Rutlidge, and his son. The girl thought the man--she did not know him by his real name--her lover. She thought that he became her husband. A baby was born to the girl who believed herself a wife; and the young mother was happy. For a short time, she was very happy.