The dark eyes gleamed indescribably. "What of him?" she asked, with assumed lightness. "Why, he was not hurt at all. I saved him from disfigurement, if not from death. I bear the scars; he goes free."
"I know," said Ralph, "but why were you not married? All his life and love would be little enough to give in return for that."
Miss Evelina fixed her deep eyes upon Anthony Dexter's son. In her voice there was no hint of faltering.
"I never saw him again," she said, "until twenty-five years afterward, and then I was veiled. He went away."
"Went away!" repeated Ralph, incredulously. "Miss Evelina, what do you mean?"
"What I said," she replied. "He went away. He came once to the hospital. As it happened, there was another girl there, named Evelyn Grey, burned by acid, and infinitely worse than I. The two names became confused. He was told that I would be disfigured for life—that every feature was destroyed except my sight. That was enough for him. He asked no more questions, but simply went away."
"Coward!" cried Ralph, his face white. "Cur!"
Miss Evelina's eyes gleamed with subtle triumph. "What would you?" she asked unemotionally. "He told me that day of the accident that it was my soul he loved, and not my body, but at the test, he failed. Men usually fail women, do they not, in anything that puts their love to the test? He went away. In a year, he was married, and he has a son."
"A son!" repeated Ralph. "What a heritage of disgrace for a son! Does the boy know?"
There was a significant silence. "I do not think his father has told him," said Evelina, with forced calmness.